Archive for April, 2003
“p.s. why don’t you update your journal one of these days, eh? :-P”
30 April 2003Because I don’t feel there’s anything to say… :-/
A Time to Frag
14 April 2003Wanna hear how lame I am? I’ve been playing Quake III again, the past couple days. Haven’t done that since… oh yeah, the semester at ASU East, when it was impossible to do anything else.
Anyhow, what’s been up lately? Hmm… I’m so used to saying “not much” because that tends to be the case but I guess it isn’t. I have a new job: working at Harkins… Yeah, my little brother actually has seniority over me, isn’t that crappy? But it’ll mean more free movies, so it’s all good.
I have a double date this weekend. Lisa and I are going with Kaleena and Matt to some chinese place. I’m not sure if I just don’t know the name of the place or if they haven’t decided on it yet. Either way, I have a date. Now, I guess, it’s just a matter of deciding whether or not I’m interested in Lisa. I guess that’s what dating’s for. Hmm… Some things were easier when I just crushed on any female that’d give me the time of day, but I guess junior high can’t last forever.
Speaking of female, suppose I should cover the whole field… Had dinner with Sarah from work today. I can’t call her Sarah from work anymore, though, because now she works at the tux shop, not officially a part of Sears, and my own employment at the craptastic department store may not last much longer, either. Anyhow, went to Applebees, bought appetizers but I mainly just soothed my throat with Dr. Pepper. We talked, not about much in particular, but we talked hypothetically about friendships and relationships again. I’m thinking I need to be less adamant about “not needing relationships” with her, because it’s probably giving off the wrong impression, like I’m afraid of commitment or… gay, or something. But I guess I’m just sick of setting myself up to be someone else’s stomping ground. Hate to sound cliché, because it doesn’t really effect me so much any more, but “tired of being hurt.” Yeah, might be good to clue her in on that part.
At any rate, I find myself pretty much where I was a month or two ago with her… I’ve decided, yeah, I’m definitely attracted to her. I’m semi-interested in her. But I don’t really care. Last time I made the mistake of thinking I should force myself to care just because I didn’t have anything better to do, but I’m gonna stick with the instincts this time.
Hmm… I don’t think it’s part of “covering the field”, but still on the subject of women… I was reading Genelle’s journal tonight, and I dunno… A feeling struck me that hadn’t before. “I don’t care about any of this.” Not in a dismissive, “don’t bother me with this stuff” sort of way, which wouldn’t make sense anyhow considering I’m going to efforts to read it. But it wouldn’t be the case even if she was plastering my walls with photocopies of her journal. No, I guess it just feels like I’ve reached that point where I just don’t feel any… attachment, or investment, in her. She’s gone about her life and her own things and I have mine, and though I’m sure I’ll continue reading her journal, I’m not sure if it’s always going to affect me or mean something to me. I wonder if I would’ve reached that point with everyone in my past, could I have continued access to their journals.
Ouch, that won’t feel nice when she reads this. But I should keep in mind my whole point of having this journal: putting things down for my own sake, and being as honest as possible to anyone who feels responsible enough to read it.
Argh… well, it’s 3:08 and I’ve gotta be at work by 9:30… Time to go. I’m babbling anyway.
Damn…
3 April 2003Stepped on the scale today after cleaning the cat’s box. 225. Shit. I must be stupid. I seem to recall, while still thoroughly engrossed in my exercise and diet last semester, that I hit an inpenetrable barrier, a plateau right between 210 and 215. So, of course, I stopped trying. For months I’ve been stepping on the scale occasionally, only to be amazed at how consistent my weight has remained. Once I remember nearing 218 or 219, but within days I’d be miraculously down in the lower teens again. Perhaps I thought I’d achieved some sort of weight-loss immortality. Why was I not smart enough to consider the plateau effect might work in reverse, inevitably exhausting itself and skyrocketing my weight again? No doubt, my easy access to Honey Lager and such similar grown-up treats hasn’t helped either… Fuckin’ maltose! It has to have a higher glycemic index than pure sugar, doesn’t it?
So, in light of all this talk of screenwriting and independent filmmaking and the great hidden desires to try one’s hand in front of camera as well, I’ve decided I might implement the Hollywood diet. No, not induced vomiting… My gag reflex would never allow it. No, I’m just leaning towards near-starvation. Granted, most of those in Hollywood who diet this route are women, but if Guy Pearce can do it, so can I.
Don’t fret… I’m not developing an unhealthy concern for my body image. See, thing is, this dietary revelation has occured at the most opportune of times. I am flat broke. Flat. Broke. Yes. I. Am. Typing. Like. This. For. Effect. Flat broke. Worse yet, I’m actually digging myself quickly into greater debt than slacker-friendly student loans. Yeah, credit cards. They really are the great evils of the modern world. You can quote me on that. I stand by that fact even while I benefit from the false haven of financial well-being they provide me.
So I’m absolutely out of money. And I’m gaining weight when I’d like to be losing more. What, then, seems most expendable in this equation? Food, of course. I certainly can’t spend additional money to visit a gym. And what little cash or credit I have could be spent on more enjoyable things than sustenance. So food is out.
(I suppose I should impose a ban on alcohol, too. It isn’t a real hindrance at this point, but it has potential to be more taxing on wealth and weight than food, and more treacherous in its illusion of sanctuary than credit. So I’m taking it out preemptively.)
Much, much less food. No alcohol. I’ll restart exercise and take on a better diet when time and money permit. For now though, I’ll just deal in an exchange of currency: pounds for dollars.