Dec. 2001
Nov. 2001
Oct. 2001
Sep. 2001
Aug. 2001
Jul. 2001
Jun. 2001
May 2001
Apr. 2001
Mar. 2001
Feb. 2001
Jan. 2001
Dec. 2000
Nov. 2000

Ahh…well, today was really weird, but I think that’s only because I stayed up all night last night doing nothing.

I stayed up until 6:30 this morning, then took a shower, and went to the cafeteria. I’ll tell you one thing…I hate ham cubes. Ham cubes are something that no one should ever have to eat…ever. I went to breakfast before my 8 o’clock film class, instead of usually jumping out of my bed late with the usual curse word, because I stayed up all night. So I go in to the cafeteria, Trueblood, were the hippie asshole who never looks up from his Jerry Garcia or Timothy Leary biography when he swipes your meal card, stood. I hate this guy…every morning that I’ve had breakfast there, he’s there, reading some dumb book that will only make him more dumb, and when you say thanks when he swipes your card, he just looks at you like you asked him to suck your god damn dick or something. Argh!

Anyway, I went into Trueblood, and I got a breakfast burrito and an omelet. I figured the burrito would be nice, and I thought the omelet would suffice. So I sit down to eat, and I took a bite of the burrito…yuk!! A big fat cube of nasty, probably canned, ham entered my mouth. It was disgusting. That was the last of that…on to the omelet.

The omelet tried to fool me…the nasty ham didn’t come in cubes…it was hidden under a layer of egg and cheese in a ground form…they chopped it up, ground it down…whatever. It was still nasty. Disgusting. So much for breakfast.

Then I went to class. Of course, it was boring as hell, and our teacher tried to make it interesting by doing a “hands-on” lighting project, only to find out that we had jack shit for props, lights, hell, plug-ins in that room! Dumb, dumb, dumb…I almost fell asleep.

Then I went to the library to study for a test I had in History…They tell you to get plenty of sleep and eat a good breakfast…0 for 2. I sat down in the library and tried to do some hardcore studying…I slept for about 3 minutes instead. Then I zoned out. I just stared through the window, watching people go from one place to another, watching them go crazy, wondering what was in their minds. Soon enough, it was time to go to the Student center to get a burrito from Taco Bell.

My last Taco Bell experience was a bad one, but this one was alright. I just had a bean burrito, though, and you can’t really fuck those up. Thing is, I thought I had $2 on me, but when I checked, I had $1. So I couldn’t get a drink…damn water fountain!

Then, the most amazing thing happened…I went to class to take the test, and I think I aced the fucker. Now, I know that every time someone says they did damn good, they usually do really bad, but this test was different. It was an ID test, you know…you have terms and you have to write it out and all that, not like multiple choice or anything where you can end up doing bad when you think you did good…I know I did good, cos I knew every god damn one! Anyway, with being that tired and dead, I thought I’d blank out on the test…but I didn’t. I did zone out for a while, but I think I was subconsciously taking in the test, studying my enemy, if you will. I zoned out before I wrote anything. Then my pen hit paper, and boom! Off like a rocket. I wrote feverishly. Crazily. I didn’t stop to look back because I knew I didn’t have to.

But we’ll find out in a week, won’t we.

So then I came back to my room…as I was coming over the bridge, I saw a girl that reminded me of Abby…I know this girl, too, but it had never occurred to me that she really reminded me of Abby. Looks, personality, everything. She was handing out flyers to the kids saying they should vote for some city councilman that is a student. I stopped to talk to her.

“Hey!”

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Fine. You?”

“Fine. You need to vote.” She shoves a little neon yellow paper into my hand.

I give it back. “Sorry, I’m not registered down here.”

“Why the hell not!?!?! You’re here 9 months out of the year…”

“Well, I’m not coming back here next year, so…” I lied.

“Really??”

“No, just kidding around.”

She hits me in the shoulder, hard.

“Ow…” I whine.

Then she starts to get kind of goofy, like Abby always used to when she got excited. She’d jump up and down, from one foot to the next, breathe really fast and short, and make these spastic movements. I know it doesn’t sound it, but it’s really quite sexy…trust me.

“Well, have fun…” I say my goodbye.

“G’bye!!”

And I finish my walk down the bridge…and all I can think about is Abby, and why I haven’t talked to her since I saw her last in person. God, why is it so hard to do? Why is it hard to call someone…I’m afraid she’ll be mad at me for not calling her. I’m not an asshole, I just have my reasons for not calling her…and they’re good ones, trust me.

Some side notes:

*Boo Hoo* Why?? I really liked your writing.

My ex-girlfriend Amy says should talk more about her on my page…this is an inside joke inside these parentheses: (Amy, eye wood luv two tawk moor uh bout ewe butt your stoopid, sew eye kaint)

Never grunt when you help pick a girl up. I didn’t do that, but my friend did.

Today, I edited my match action project for film class. I'm surprised to find out how many peoples' films didn't even match up at all...I don't feel so bad that only one of my shots doesn't match...oh well.

Damn you AOL!!! You've kicked me off so many times in the past hour, just to reconnect me!!!

So, you've probably noticed a change in my writing style on this for the past couple days...less insightful, more just pitiful...well, there's a reason for that.

I started thinking about the people that I write about on here who don't know that I write about them...what if they stumble onto my site, only to find out they're a featured player in the psycho mind of some kid who has a crush on them? Not good, my friends, not good. I can understand that someone who doesn't have a personal site or online journal could get freaked out by this sort of thing. I'm just here to say this: I don't mean any harm to anybody that I talk about on my site. I write posts and entries on here for me, and not for anyone else. I mean no harm and give out no personal information about people who don't know I have this site and that I write about them. the people who I name (Chris, Ryan, Clint, Ferg) know I have this site and know that I write about them sometimes. The people who don't know, I don't mention their names...simple as that.

So, I'm sorry if I offend anyone, except for Ferg, who deserves every slam from me that he gets...

We drove down the strip and got a parking place, then went into La Roma's for a nice slice of pizza. Of course, the pizza is only good when you're drunk, and I've never had it otherwise, so I was surprised to find that it tasted like crap. So we sat there in a bar/pizza place full of kids either going to the NIL8 show or going to the film festival. Clint and I took a corner booth and sat and talked about the crap we have to do for SPC. We have to have a 3 to 5 minute promo piece done by Friday for the anniversary show. And we most likely won't have it done. Oh well.

So we went to the movie house and sat outside smoking(well, I smoked. Clint's a pink lunged pussy!!) While we smoked my Film History TA, Kurush, told me that he hated David Lynch and everything he's done...great. I've got someone who hates David "Fucking" Lynch teaching me about film. Great.

So we went in and sat down. I saw an old friend, someone I met at a party a while back and we talked about my band and his songwriting and blah, blah. I got his number, and we were supposed to "jam" sometime(I hate that word, but I couldn't think of another to describe that we were gonna play guitar together, so...), but I never called him, and I never saw him, and I forgot his name. but we talked to him and his girlfriend, and we sat together, laughing it up before the movie started.

Then, a film by the Brothers Quay, In Absentia, played. It was fucking cool, but a little freaky. I can see where Tool got they're inspirations to make their videos. Then Blue Velvet came on.

First off, they started it without putting on the anamorphic lens on, so it was all bunched together and crap...and out of focus. So they got the lens on the projector, and then they guy ran down the aisle like mad to pull the curtains. Then they fucked around with the focus for an hour, trying to get it fixed. They got it mainly, but the left half of the screen was out of focus. That was probably because the gate was all fucked up and wasn't pushing the film right against the plate thing. Oh well. It still fucking ruled.

My favorite part was when Dennis Hopper was asking Kyle MacLachlan's character what kind of beer he liked. When he said Heineken, Dennis Hopper flips out. "Heineken! Fuck that shit! Pabst's Blue Ribbon!!!" Fucking awesome!!!

So we left after it was done, and we went to Ferg's cos we were still wired from the movie, and woke his ass up. Then, after an hour of watching "Cops: Too Hot For TV" I got tired and went to bed.

I walked in, laid down, and couldn't get to sleep. I laid there listening to the people outside...then I heard some screaming and something that sounded like gunshots. I just listened, waiting for a cop car, or police sirens, or something. I never heard them, and I eventually fell asleep. I guess there was no murder!

Or I could go see Blue Velvet at midnight. I think that is in favor. I haven't actually seen it before and I want to. And what would be better than seeing it for the first time on the big screen? Plus I have to watch and review a film from the Big Muddy film festival for a class, and Blue Velvet is in it, so I can kill two birds with one stone.

So, hopefully one of these choices pans out, because if it doesn't, then I'll just have to go edit my film...yuk.

Yeah, and Arvid changed his url. It's http://www.barfood.org go there!!!!

And, apparently, my fashion sense isn't good enough for some people. Ha! Red! Well, good luck.

Today, I stood up for myself. (Actually, Wednesday, but I still consider it today, because it’s like 12:30) I actually stood up for myself. It’s not something I do often, but I was personally attacked by a teacher, so I stuck up for myself. I’m happy and scared at the same time. Here’s why:

If you read my last post, you know that I really don’t get along with my film teacher. Well, today, after our films were pushed back a week and our treatments that were due moved up, I gave my pitch of my next film. It is a narrative drama, that concerns a relationship between and alcoholic father and his son.

So I gave my pitch, right after a really knowledgeable kid gave a well thought out pitch of a film version of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart”. She totally ripped his idea apart, which was completely do-able and planned out, and then said she didn’t really know how well the story would translate to film because she wasn’t familiar with the story. She wasn’t familiar with “The Tell-Tale Heart”! Honestly, if you are teaching ANY class, let alone a class that deals with narrative structure and story telling, you should know classic authors and their works, such as Edgar Allan Poe. Hell, if you watch the Simpsons, you should know about Edgar Allan Poe!

So she rips his ass hard, then tells me to get up there. So I pitch my idea, and she rips it, telling me killing off a character is the easy way out. Okay, yeah, maybe, but then she says this:

“You need to read books, watch more PBS, and watch films that don’t come out of the MTV generation.”

Whoa. I couldn’t believe she said that. She just “assumed” that I don’t read and don’t watch good TV and I don’t watch good films, films that aren’t WB-Dawson’s Creek-shitfests that only the “MTV” generation would watch. Go here to hear a rant on that.

The thing that gets me, though, is she had the nerve, the guts, the balls even, to tell me that I need to “read more books” when she doesn’t even know who Poe is. Oh my God. Then she tells me that I know nothing of what I want to do my film on, assumes that I know nothing of family interaction and problems between fathers and sons. Jesus! Everyone who has a father, and I think we all do, knows how problems between parents and they’re children are. We all have problems with our parents. Okay, but that’s not the point.

She ripped me a new ass on my proposal…that’s not a big deal. When you give an assignment one day, due the next, without telling us beforehand, you can expect crap. Yeah, my idea needs work, but I didn’t really have time to flesh it out. Then she rips everyone a new ass on their ideas, and tells us she expects more out of us.

Then she rips on the class about not being prepared for an assignment that was originally slated for next week, and would’ve really taken a couple days to do right, that she moved up a week. She took us from 8 days to less than a day, then expects greatness when she didn’t even tell us what she wanted.

So, I got pissed. I took the constructive criticism well, I have been thinking about what she said and how I need to better flesh my idea out, but I couldn’t get my mind off of the personal attacks she used to berate me in front of the class. She couldn’t find anything else to bitch about, so she took to slamming me personally, instead of my idea.

I thought about it, and emailed her. I told her that I didn’t mind her criticism about my idea, but I would not stand for the personal things she said about me. I told her that I didn’t think it was fair that she moved up an assignment because she had a family emergency and couldn’t grade our films, so she moved them back a week and moved next week’s assignment up a week. I told her that I thought film was supposed to be about challenging yourself and your audience and how I didn’t think that she had faith in her students to overcome the technical challenges to get their thoughts and ideas on film. I told her that I respected her as a person, that I wouldn’t ever tell her she wasn’t a good enough teacher, like she told me I wasn’t a good student, although she really isn’t a good teacher. And I told her that it was wrong to assume things about her students who she doesn’t even know.

So, she emailed me back, and we’re supposed to talk tomorrow, although this is posted under Thursday. So, I don’t know now whether she’ll kick me out of her class, make it hard for me to pass, make it hard for me to get into Production 2, because we basically need her blessing and the grade, plus all she has to do is “blacklist” me in the department, and I might as well not be a film major anymore.

Tomorrow, I will flesh this out, and you will learn more of my struggles with the film department…ha!

“I've got this thing somewhere in between empty and dark always in my heart.”—“Semi-OK” by the Mr. T Experience.

I’m feeling “Semi-OK” today. Not great, but not that bad, either. It seems I have a huge cast of characters I always talk about, and no real explanation on who they are…maybe it’s confusing, maybe it’s not, but I might get around to adding a “Cast of Characters” thing on the side, just so people know who I’m talking about. Maybe not, though. It might invade their privacy, and I don’t want to do that.

I saw all three of the girls that I’ve been talking about recently today. I saw the nice twin, the evil twin(both of which aren’t twins at all), and the crush. Sounds like a play…

First off: The nice twin.

I had the dreadful Film Production class at 8 o’clock this morning. It wasn’t too bad, although we had to watch a sales video that my teacher tried to pass off as an instructional video. She’s so dumb. The people in the Wednesday section, section 3, which I’m in, had their films taken away from them because she wasn’t present on last Wednesday’s class, and our TA couldn’t grade the films, so he took them to hold for “safe keeping” until she could grade them. That meant until tomorrow, apparently. And the film was due, edited, tomorrow. So she gave us section 3 kids an extension until next week. But, in lieu of turning in our films this week, she moved and assignment up from next week to this week. So now I have to write a film proposal/treatment for tomorrow, which she just told us about today. But all the other kids don’t have to turn theirs in until next week. Argh!

So anyway, back to the good twin. She said her usual, “hey dude!” when I walked up to her, and we talked for a little bit. Nothing much, just chatty conversation. What sucks is, I have her number, and I’m just too scared to call. I got it to get a quiz from her, and now it sits there, post-it-ed to my door, staring me down every time I leave the room.

Second: The crush.

I went to History class early, just to sit there smoking cigarettes outside and read the Daily Egyptian. I was listening to some music on my headphones, and class time arrived. I sat there, waiting for her to come, waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Finally, I figured I should probably go inside and get a seat before my teacher started lecturing. So I went in. Well, it turns out, my watch is about 7 minutes fast, so I was basically 5 minutes early. I sat there, though, just happy with the fact that I didn’t have to confront her, or be confronted by her, about my crush on her. So I sat there and waited for him to start lecturing, when she walked in. She either didn’t see me or was completely ignoring me, I don’t know which. Probably the latter, because I’m oh-so pessimistic about these things. But anyway, I had a perfectly good look at her for the whole period. When she sat down, she looked around to see if I was in class, I think. That’s good, I hope. Maybe she was relieved cos she thought I wasn’t. Who knows? Anyway, I took my mind off of her and focused on my newspaper.

At the end of class, I got up to leave, and there she was, standing right behind me. I saw her out of the corner of my eye. And she said nothing. Not one thing. After we got out of the lecture doors, I headed outside, and she took a hard left for the bathroom. Then Clint came out, and we walked back to the dorms together. Her-1, me-0.

I think I’m giving up on her anyway. I should give up on her. I’m finding myself acting totally weird and obsessing over this one girl who probably isn’t really “that” cool in the first place. I think I’ve taken everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl, related it to her somehow, and made her the “perfect one.” I’m sure I’d freak if I actually got to really, really, know her, and she wasn’t what I built her up to be. So now I’m gonna try to branch out, maybe spread my obsessions. Which leads us to:

Third: The evil twin.

Now, I normally talk about having an extreme dislike for the evil one, but today, and last Friday, she was quite…I hate to say it…cool. Yeah, she actually was. Last Friday, I was outside after taking a really simple quiz in my Film Analysis section, and she came out, with the TA. They started talking about films and how our TA hates every film known to man, and then they asked me what my favorite film was. I told them I didn’t know, and really, I don’t. It depends, I said. That’s my classic cop-out. It depends. Then we got to talking about Kurush’s(that’s my TA) hatred of Ang Lee. The evil one and I sided together, defending Ang Lee and his films. It turns out he hasn’t even seen Lee’s best films, The Ice Storm and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. So, we sided together, like enemies coming together to destroy one common enemy. Then we parted ways, like all enemies do after the defeat of the “common enemy.” Besides, I had class.

Now, I always knew that she dressed cool, and dyed her hair and all that shit that doesn’t really matter, but I can actually say that I found her very nice after discussing film with her. So today, in Film Analysis, she sat in front of me. I made eye contact with her every once in a while, and we both smiled. Then I sneezed…loud. It was cool. And she said, “Bless you.” That was nice, considering I may have sprayed my germs all over her neck, although I covered my mouth. Then, her attendance slip fell on the ground behind her, and I bent down to pick it up. So did she. I grabbed it first, and she grabbed my hand along with her slip. It was kind of like in a movie. We both looked up, almost bumping heads, both holding onto the slip and looking at each other and not really trying to stop. Then realizing what was going on, what we were doing, being dumb and staring into each other’s eyes and holding onto a stupid slip of paper. I quickly let go, and she said thanks, and I said no problem. It was kind of ironic that a movie-like scene happened in Film Analysis.

But this may be just wishful thinking. I need to realize, however hard it is for me, that when a girl is nice to me, that doesn’t mean she automatically wants to date me, to get to know me better, or even be my friend. But I still can’t get evil twin’s face out of my mind.

Case in point: Chris and I were walking to Grinnell, our nightly food stop on campus, and we found a set of keys. Just a random set of keys, just laying there on the sidewalk…but what do you do when you find them? I thought about taking them into Grinnell to the lost and found, but I don’t even know if they have one. Then I thought about taking them into the towers to give them to someone for a lost and found, but I didn’t know if they had one, and what if the person that lost the keys doesn’t live in the towers? What if they live off-campus? They wouldn’t think of going into the towers to look for their keys, would they? I know if I lost my keys, I’d probably retrace my steps and pray that they were still there. So what did we do? We left them there.

When we got up to Grinnell, Chris realized that he had forgotten his meal card, and he had to go back to get it. So I waited there and smoked a cigarette, and Chris went back to his room to get his card. On the way back, I watched him talk to this guy that picked up the keys, asking Chris if they were his. Chris said no, and went to his room. I thought the guy just left them there.

Chris got back to Grinnell and we went in. He told me about the dude, asking him about the keys. We got our food and walked out. We walked by the keys, and they weren’t there. What happened? Who knows, but the guy could’ve stolen them. Or the rightful owners could’ve came by and found them. I can’t know for sure. But I do wonder.

Any time I find something like that--keys, money, whatever--I always want to help, but never know what to do. I’m not one of those people who look down at the keys and think “Glad that’s not me.” I never do that. I always want to find the person and give them their dropped keys or pen, and see that look on their face. That look like you helped them, and for a split second, even though they don’t want to show it, they are genuinely grateful. Many times that I’ve done that, I never get thanked. Never. But I really don’t mind it, except in the case with the pop machine money. Usually, people are too embarrassed to thank you. Other times, they’re too busy to thank you…that’s why they dropped something and didn’t notice it in the first place.

This dude needs to post! Soon!

Yes, it’s true…I’ve been silent recently. And here’s why:

I went home this weekend. And I can’t post at home, cos my computer at home sucks. It’s always good to go home, to see some old friends, hang out with my family, that sort of thing. My dad actually went in to have surgery on Thursday, so I went home to see how he was doing, and I had band practice as well. That went okay, but not great. And my dad is fine, although he’s having trouble getting up from laying down and stuff. No one can realize how happy I am that he went to the doctor and went through with having surgery. He’s so damn stubborn, there’s no way he would’ve went if it wasn’t serious.

I got to see an old friend, Rebecca, while I was home this weekend. We hung out on Saturday night over at her apartment with her roommate and roommate’s boyfriend. It was okay, but the roommate’s boyfriend’s brother was there, and he’s all sorts of hippie, and I’m not into that sloppy lifestyle at all. So, I was stuck listening to crap I didn’t want to hear, like jam bands and crap, and I was sort of miserable in that aspect. Other than that, Rebecca and I hung out in her room and talked. We had a good discussion about life, and about people and how they are, and she consoled me and told me everything would be alright, cos I was monster depressed for some reason. I still am a little bit, but it’s gonna pass. If I have a nervous breakdown, you’ll be the first to know…ha!

So, Ryan and I drove back today. He’s a good roommate, and a great friend, so much, in fact, that we can sit there driving in silence and not feel weird or feel like we have to talk to each other. If there’s something to say, we talk, but if not, we don’t. We had a good discussion on the crappy Taco Bell we ate at. Let me tell you about that one:

We walked into the Mt. Vernon Taco Bell. It was relatively busy, especially for a Taco Bell. I waited behind one guy, then I went up to order. Usually, they say “Can I take your order?” or “Can I help you?” or, at least, “Whatcha want, asshole?” I didn’t get anything but a blank stare from this kid, who was definitely the town idiot in every respect. Finally, after staring into his vacant eyes for about 30 seconds, I said “Can I get two bean burritos, a Baja Chicken Chalupa with NO TOMATOES, and a small drink?” And I swear to God, the kid just looked at me like I’d asked him to tear down the Great Wall of Fucking China, and then said, stating it like I should’ve known: “We don’t have any soda.” Wow, okay, well, I wasn’t aware of the Great “Soda” Scare of 2001, but fine, whatever. (a side note: I hate the word soda…it’s pop, and if anyone says different, bugger off!!!) So I told the fucker that I would be parched for the duration of my stay at Taco Bell, and told him to forget the drink. So I wait for my food. I wait, and wait. Finally, my number is called, and I get my food. My chalupa seemed weird, being wrapped in a “gordita” wrapper, so I opened it up at the counter and lo and behold, I found a BEEF GORDITA WITH TOMATOES…yuk! So I explain to the lady after politely saying “excuse me” that I ordered a BAJA CHICKEN CHALUPA WITH NO TOMATOES! Oh, sorry, she says, I’ll fix it right away. So I wait for that, and open it again, just to check. Of course, I get the dirtiest looks for checking their work, but I found that it was wrong yet again. “Excuse me again, but I asked for CHICKEN, not beef.”

Well, apparently she trusts the vacant guy over me and goes to talk to her manager. “Should I give it to him?” she asks, thinking that I couldn’t have possibly asked for CHICKEN because it wasn’t up on the idiot box that magically tells her what grub to construct. It’s like a TV, but it tells her what to do for 8 hours. The manager tells her to give it to me, regardless of what I actually ordered, because she could see in my gaze that the two bean burritos I bought were about to be thrown around the lobby if I didn’t get my CHICKEN chalupa. That, and no one is ever happy without pop.

So, I get my very stale chicken chalupa with no tomatoes and go sit down by Ryan, who had troubles of his own with the Taco Bell idiot that I didn’t witness because I was busy dealing with my own.

So, a little recommendation: Never, ever, in your life, go to the Mount Vernon Taco Bell in Southern Illinois. You’ll regret it, plus, they never have any “soda.”

Today was quite an uneventful, sit-on-my-ass kind of day. I didn’t really do much, and she never emailed me back, either.

I can’t really tell you much about that situation. I should’ve been able to, but I didn’t go to that class today. It’s kind of a mixture between my laziness, and my embarrassment. If I did see her, I would’ve probably hidden in the back of the lecture hall and made a mad dash out of there as soon as the class was over. But I just decided not to go. I’m sort of lucky she dropped the other class I was in with her, because I have to go to that one.

I went to Film Production and luckily my teacher wasn’t there. Phew. Our grad assistant talked a little bit, in his slurred foreign voice, about budgeting, but nothing much happened in that class. We watched his films, which were pretty good…a lot better than the one our real teacher did. That’s kind of sad, really. She did this experimental film that was about 10 minutes long and she told us that it took her 3 years to shoot it. 3 years. Apparently, it was a labor of love. Gosh, I kill me.

After that, I walked back in the rain with my tiny umbrella. There were all these people with these huge ass golf umbrellas, and they had plenty of room to keep two people dry. I was thinking I should get one of those and ask sopping wet cute girls if they wanted some space under my nice, huge umbrella. Then I thought about how stupid I’d look if I had a huge golf umbrella. Argh. Maybe I should just give up searching for ways to find girls and just let them come to me. I’ll be waiting a while, that’s for sure.

On my way back into my building, my friend Ferg screamed my name from his porch. He wanted to get some breakfast at Trueblood, and I was pretty hungry, too, so we went and had some nasty ass breakfast burritos and some relatively good English muffins. They’re only good, of course, because they are in the package and you help yourself and toast them. I guess only Trueblood can screw up an English muffin.

Then, after I was sopping wet from the rain (my umbrella doesn’t help much), I came back to my good old room, and I sat down at my computer. And I didn’t feel like getting up. I sat there and did pretty much jackshit. Then I realized that I didn’t want to go to my class (the one that she’s in) because I didn’t really want to face her on such a crappy day, plus I was tired and I didn’t feel like moving. So where did I go? Wal Mart!

Ahh, Wal Mart, the blowjob of consumerism. My neighbor Chris and I went to pick up smokes for me and some ping pong paddles. We have a table on the third floor here in the dorms, but the RA is never in to give us the damn paddles, so we went and bought our own. I bought some regular smokes and then I bought some loose tobacco and rolling papers. I’ve decided to roll my own cigarettes for a while to see how they are. I can tell you now, I’m not a big fan. It’s alright, but nothing compares to a damn good, prepackaged Phillip Morris treat. God, I need to quit.

We played ping pong for a while after we got back and then I got pretty tired. Those 8 o’clock classes will do that to you. So I went back to my room to try to rest a little bit. By that time, my class I skipped was over, so I wasn’t feeling like I should be somewhere at the moment. I also skipped my Film Analysis class because I had taken that class at my junior college, but it didn’t transfer, and I had already critically analyzed that film . That, and I didn’t feel like being in the rain. So I sat in my room and did nothing.

I got an email from a reader who told me I had real guts just emailing her. He said he would’ve never done that. That made me feel a little better, and it was cool to get an email from someone who reads the page and was thoughtful enough to put forth the time and effort to give me a little boost. I can’t thank you enough, man, it really helped.

I was told today that this weekend, when I go home, I will be 45 minutes from a blog celebrity! Yay!

Telling you that Valentine’s Day was a complete downer would be an understatement. I’ll tell you this, I really wish I could be with Arvid , drinking. I’m doing a little bit of the same right now. There’s not much else to do when you’re single on V-Day.

News from the crush front: I haven’t heard back from her yet, and I don’t ever think I will. All day, while logged into Yahoo! Messenger (I like to use AOL better, though), I would get these email alerts, and what would happen? My eyes would light up, I’d drop whatever I was doing and make a mad dash for Yahoo! Mail. I would get to the front page, and it would say…Inbox 1. Yes! I would click on it, hoping that for one moment the network would fuck up and I would get to find out, but still overcome with the excitement of knowing. Then, it would come through, and I’d look at it. Nothing. Usually an ad or a forward, nothing straight for me. And especially nothing from her.

I sent one of my ex-girlfriends, who is still a really good friend, a valentine, and I never got so much as a reply from her either. I think that some power, greater than mine, is holding me back from ever having another connection with a member of the female species. Maybe it’s just that I was due for a drought, but I think my time should be up by now. Here’s the deal:

I have had a girlfriend ever since I was sixteen. I’ve never been single for more than two months, until a year ago. Valentine’s day last year was the last time I actually had any “relationship” type of event. The time that Abby broke up with me.

I don’t want to really tell too much of a back story , because I’ve already posted that crap, but I’ll just say that we had both fallen for each other, fast and hard, and then she moved to Edwardsville, and we tried to keep it together. Well, on Valentine’s Day 2000, she received a dozen roses from me. She got them and called me, totally excited and happy. Then she felt guilty, I suppose, and told me:

“I have to tell you something,” she said.

“What?”

“Well, this is bad, maybe, but, you know that English guy, Mike?”

“Yeah.” Of course I remembered him, that charismatic Englishman that stole my name. Bastard. He was about to take something else I thought was mine.

“Well, we’ve been seeing each other for a little while, going out on dates and things…are you still there?”

I didn’t answer.

“I’ve tried Duckey, really.” Duckey was her nickname for me. I reminded her of that dude from Pretty in Pink. “I’ve really tried, but I’m lonely.”

That sealed it for me.

“Okay,” I said. “Do whatever you want. Just be happy.”

And then I hung up the phone.

I’ve never been much of one to hold a grudge, seeing as how I usually love the person involved, and you can’t hate who you love. But I’ve also never been one for breakups. Who is? I just shut them out of my life until I’m ready to have them back, if they still want in. If they want to be friends and mean it, and we do eventually become friends again, it is always a little while before I get back into the swing of things.

So, Abby and I are friends again, as I am with all my ex girlfriends, and I’m happy to have them in my life. I just want someone new to spend most of my time with.

It’s been eventful, to say the least.

There was a time when I was little that I could get up at 6 am and feel nothing. I wanted to get up that early. I’d sit and watch the damn farm reports on TV, waiting for the cartoons to come on. Now getting up at 7 is an impossibility. But when I have class at 8, it’s a must. So when I woke up at quarter after 8 today, expletives were in my vocabulary:

“FUCK”

I jumped off my lofted bed, almost fell, totally ignoring the glass that may or may not be there. (My roommate was setting up a fish tank and dropped a glass thermometer. He probably got all of it swept up, but we can’t be sure) and dressed in record time. My film teacher is a major ass, most of the times locking the door after 8 o’clock. So when I got there at 8:30, I thought I’d be waiting outside of the class room just to turn in my stuff. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked, but I still got the dirtiest look from her…argh, she’s so dumb! I’m really thinking about getting a petition against her. Most of the people in class know more than she does about film. It’s pathetic, really.

“GOD DAMN”

I went to World History a little early, and I sat outside. I walked up to the free paper machine to get a copy of the Daily Egyptian that I wasn’t gonna read, and I saw her, the girl I have that super duper crush on. I was wearing headphones, so I slipped them off, and decided to sit down beside her. There was another dude sitting there, and he was a little close, so I got up again, sick of feeling like sardines on a bench that obviously sits three comfortably. At first, I was actually a little afraid that I had sat down between her and a friend, but luckily, he wasn’t. He was just sitting close.

We sat and chatted for a little bit…no big deal, nothing of substance was said, really. She seemed distant, so I didn’t press anything. I’ve been told by many of you lovely readers to tell her about my crush on her. I could not. Of course I could not. I’m not brave, not in the least, but back to what I was talking about.

We went inside and she said something jokingly to me:

“You’re a geek.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Then she explained:

“My friend and I were looking at the Yahoo! Personals pages, and I found your personal ad.”

Oh shit, I thought, I AM A GEEK!

“We set one up too. It’s pretty funny.”

Phew! Not a geek. Thank God.

She became distant again after that. She just kind of sat there, not really taking notes, not really reading her paper, not really sleeping, though she wanted to. She tried to sleep for a while, and I looked over at her face, just to see if she was asleep. She opened her eyes and looked at me, and I quickly looked away, hoping she didn’t catch me and accuse me of staring at her, like she did earlier about this other guy. I think she might have, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.

Class got over, and we smoked cigarettes and I loaned her a pencil to take a test with. Then I started walking back.

“SHIT”

As I was walking back after World History class, it started to rain…then it started to rain heavier. And there I walked, with no jacket. I don’t need to explain any farther, I’m sure.

I got back to the room and thought about telling her. I got the bravery up. I built it up. Real big like. I went to her personal on yahoo and looked up her profile through her name. I figured she might use a different alias or something, but she didn’t, so I got her email address, which I think I already had for some reason, but I think I couldn’t find it or something…anyway…with my real big courage stuff, I emailed her.

It didn’t go through, because the network was fucked up.

“Shit”

Now, I’m in a bind, see, because if she did get it, and I send her another, I become that dude from Swingers who leaves like a whole shitload of messages on that chick’s machine. But if I don’t send another, my real big bravery is wasted. So, I sent another, saying generally the same thing, with a post script that said if she got another email from me, forget one of them. So, I sit here and blog after this, not knowing what’s gonna happen.

My roommate, Ryan, is a big hip hop aficionado. He’s a moderator on a hip hop lyric posting board, and he posts lyrics and other things he writes on web boards and such. He’s really good, actually. Of course, I said actually because he’s a white boy like me, and we all know how terrible white guys are at doing things involved with hip hop. ( Vanilla Ice , anyone? I like Vanilla as much as the kitschy next guy, but come on) Anyway, he got in a little fight with some moderators on another board, so I helped him out a little bit by getting a name and posting some nasty nude pictures with the mods’ names on them. Funny stuff, really, and I hadn’t really had any good mischievous fun like that in a while, so I was happy to oblige.

I actually took a stab at posting a verse of my own on the board he moderates, and most people laughed at my verse, but then followed with a comment that it sucked. I don’t claim to be a “lyricist” or anything, but Ryan said that he has seen worse, and he liked my verse, so I was pretty happy with my debut into the hip hop world.

I went to class today, my one class of the day, totally unprepared for anything that was going to happen, but I wasn’t worried in the least, because I was on cloud nine this morning. Despite the lack of sleep I got, I woke up pretty early for me (a half hour before class) and did some rounds on the internet. I checked my email, and I actually got one! Apparently, someone likes my little spot on the web enough to ask me to write for their site . I was ecstatic, as I’m a fan of said site, and have been for about four months. All I can say is yay! and hope that my lack of indie cred doesn’t hinder my ability to write good things for them.

My mom thinks I’m bringing too much into my life right now, trying to make films and write papers, and produce a sketch comedy show, and get a girlfriend and all sorts of other things I have a toe or two dipped into. I disagree with her, because I think staying busy is good for me, but I have to love my mom for worrying.

I’m not a momma’s boy, because I’ve never really known her. Her and my dad divorced when I was 7, and she moved away. I stayed with my dad, which is quite odd, considering the amount of children go with the mother instead of the father in a divorce. About when I was 12, my mom married a wonderful man by the name of John and moved to Florida with him. My stepfather is a hilarious, loving, talented human being with a heart of gold. I love him to death, unlike most kids with stepparents. Anyway, I talked to my mom today, because she sent me a check and an article on online film sites, and I hadn’t talked to her for about two weeks. That’s how our relationship has been since she left. I’ve talked to her for an hour every two weeks or so. I can’t really blame her, but I can’t enjoy the fact that I see her for one week out of 52 in the year. She can’t really know me, and I can’t really know her. And that’s why we butt heads a lot.

For a long time, I blamed her for everything that went wrong in my life. When I couldn’t get what I wanted, I would tell my dad that I was moving down to Florida to live with her. I knew I would never, and so did he, but it was always a good threat when I fought with my father. Every time I would visit Florida to see her, I would eventually end up screaming at her, blaming her for leaving me, for ruining my life, for everything. I remember screaming so loud that it hurt, and I started crying. Once, she sent my brother and me home early because it was so hard for her to deal with us. Things still get emotional when I see her, and I don’t mean in a good way. We argue with each other all the time, because we are the same. She thinks she’s right, and I think I’m right, and we both know we’re right, and we’ll fight each other to the death to prove the other wrong. My dad just believes me, even if I’m wrong, but my mom (who got it from her mom) will fight to the death for her feelings, convictions, and morals. And I love her for giving me that trait, and I love my dad for giving me the trait that helps me pick my battles.

My brother and I had a falling out with my mom’s side of the family. We pretty much see them on major holidays and family events. I’m the black sheep of that side, because I dared, in a southern Baptist house, to proclaim, loudly and proudly, and at a quite naïve age of 15, that I didn’t believe in God, and if there was a Jesus Christ, I denounced him indefinitely. Of course, my views on religion are a little more settled now, but I still can’t grasp the whole supreme being thing. Not that I look down on Christians…it’s good to have a hobby. My motto is to believe in what you want to believe in, and to believe in it with all your heart…I just haven’t found anything to believe in that much yet. But back to my being the black sheep…I feel like I’ve never been treated with the same respect on that side since my mom and dad divorced. I don’t know how my brother feels, but I feel this strange disconnection, and I don’t know what it is.

My grandmother, the powerhouse in a small, rural Illinois package that she is, is very rancorous. Most of her children have been married and divorced. And she has a wall with the six kids’ pictures on the wall with their spouses, and after one of them gets divorced, down comes the picture and up goes the last picture she had of them alone. She totally ignores and shuns the divorced spouse of her children. It’s almost as if she despises them and hates everything about them, and maybe that’s why I feel like I get shit on every time I go there, because all of my cousins live with the parent that is my grandma’s child, not the spouse. But my brother and I live with my father, so we are looked down upon as traitors of the bloodline. I don’t know what to do about it, and I guess there’s nothing I can do.

So, I might be writing for Yahtzeen now, and I’m proud to be a black sheep in a flock of THE Shepherd’s whitest, most loyal flock.

“If we see the girl in pink again, what are the first two things we’re gonna ask her?” Clint asked.

“One: Does she have a boyfriend,” I said. “And Two: What’s her name.”

“That’s right, because we don’t want to know her name if she has a boyfriend,” Clint said.

Of course we don’t, I thought, because it would kill us to put a name to someone so beautiful.

We got into the party, and it was a virtual bust. Most of the regulars were there, but not many others. It wasn’t quite the sausage fest we had expected, so that was good. Clint and I bought a cup and decided to start in, quickly.

Our mission last night was not to pick up girls, or to drink ourselves stupid, but to come up with an idea for a name for our sketch comedy show on SPC. About five minutes after I started in on my first beer, I had one.

“Clint!” I screamed. “Short Bus Pioneers!”

“That’s pretty good!” Clint screamed over the deafening soundtrack.

So, our one mission for the night was over. I went over and talked to Chris , who was playing darts with a girl named Beth, and I told him the name. He laughed. He went over and told Waggle the news. Waggle, a big, boisterous person, with a good sense of humor, just looked at me with a wide-eyed stare and pulled one of those laughs with no noise coming out of his mouth. After that, a big belch of laughter bowled over me, Chris and Clint.

“That’s fucking awesome!” Waggle said.

Clint screamed into my ear, “I guess that’s a keeper.”

So, with that over with, Clint and I were free to enjoy the night with no worries. We had been mulling over name ideas since Thursday, and couldn’t come up with one. Finally, we had.

More people started showing up and I ended up seeing some good old friends from Allen I, my building, and some friends that had moved out after last semester. We partied and talked and smoked and drank. We talked about drunk girls trying to hard to get attention and drunk guys making horrible passes at those same drunk girls. Then I sat down by myself on the couch.

This beautiful girl sat down beside me and asked for a light. Of course, I was happy to oblige, and I pulled out my trusty Zippo. She was a regular, just like I had become, and she asked me what my name was.

“I know I probably ask you this every weekend, but what’s your name?”

“Mike.”

“Do you remember mine?” she asked.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“It’s Mel,” she said.

“Nice to see you again, Mel.”

It was very weird, because I’ve never been approached by a girl at one of Waggle’s parties. Usually, I just sit as a wallflower, saying, “no, thank you”, to the aforementioned trying-too-hard girls, saying they liked my jacket and that it was coming home with them before the end of the night. Of course, I have to say, “not without me in it” when those situations arise, but its always in humor.

After a while, I decided that I will always act like a wallflower at Waggle’s parties, and I will always just let things coma as they come. If I ever meet a girl at one of these things, good, but if I don’t, that’s fine too. I’m just going to go and have fun, and not pressure myself with meeting a wonderful girl to sweep off her feet.

I sat outside until the last possible minute waiting for her, smoking cigarettes and reading the Daily Egyptian. If anybody walked by, I would look up, my eyes surely full of hope, just to be disappointed again. Eventually Clint came and we went inside to hear our professor butcher the English language once again.

This is a weird moment in my life right now. I haven’t had a girlfriend in over a year. Sure, I’ve had flings, but no real serious relationship. And that’s what I want. I know it sounds pretty bad, a 20 year old male college student wanting a “relationship”, but I really do want one. And a good one. One with mutual loving and caring. And friendship. I just can’t seem to find the right person. And maybe that’s my problem, I’m looking too hard for “the one” so I let other possible relationships slip by.

At the points in my life that I don’t have a relationship, when I try my hardest to get one, I always have these periods of profound sexual doubt. And it doesn’t help when my “girl” friends tell me they think I’m bisexual. I am comfortable with my sexuality, for sure, but every time I get dumped and can’t get back on my feet, I figure I can at least get on my knees for some guy, if you know what I mean. There were times when I thought about just saying “fuck it” and going celibate, but my hand cramps up too much and I’m afraid I’ll get carpal tunnel syndrome. :P

I know I’m straight, though, because every time I see one of my ex-girlfriends, I get all emotional and want to grab them and kiss them and fuck like rabbits. But that’s probably too much info for anyone to hear.

Speaking of that, I went over to my friend Ferg’s place after I was done talking to her. He asked me what I was doing, and I said I just got done talking to a girl on aol. He asked me if I was “hooking up” and I politely said that, no, I wasn’t.

“She’s just a girl who’s blog I like.”

“Do you link her blog on your site?” Ferg asked. Ferg’s a frequent reader of my blog, and he knew that I linked quite a few other people.

“Sure.”

“Does she link you?” he asked.

“No, she’s like a blog celebrity,” I said. “Her linking me would be like Madonna thanking Dave Coulier in her album liner notes.”

We laughed, because everyone loves a good Dave Coulier joke, and we started watching Loser, that wonderful Jason Biggs flick…yuk. Ferg had some leftover pizza, though, so we cooked it in his huge microwave that’s about 1000 watts over the limit set by the school. Not only is it a beast, but it cooks by hours, so you have to time your food yourself. It’s a great piece of American machinery.

Ferg always has the oldest, nastiest electronics known to man. He has an old VCR that doubles as a video camera. That thing is a beast and a half. You take off half of it, which weighs about 30 pounds itself, and stick a lens on it, and you can video anything you want, as long as it is within the three foot radius the cord allows.

He’s got a computer with a “turbo” button, too. Remember those?

His TV isn’t cable ready…but that’s not really his fault, it’s mine. I gave him that TV.

I’ve been downloading an awful lot of cheesy ass metal lately… Prong and Pantera . Cut Rate by Prong is by far the best speed metal song ever recorded!

I sat by her again today. I don't know how this is turning out. I like her, but I don't know how to approach her about it. Maybe I'll just give her my site address and let her figure it out for herself. I don’t know. But I do know if I don’t tell her quick that it might be a little too late. I’ll come back to this.

I started out the day tired and dragging, like every Tuesday and Thursday when I have Film class at 8 am. I listened to the new Stephen Malkmus album that I illegally acquired on my mp3 player on the way to class. I stood there for a while, waiting to fall asleep in class, but having a cigarette first. I went into class and saw that one girl that I thought was a twin of the mean girl…this was the “nice” half of the alleged twins. We hung out after class, walking back to the Allen complex and talking about film class, our film ideas, the recent film we shot, and talking about each other. I learned that she swims for the SIU team, that she went to the University of Tennessee in Nashville and that she hated it. This was the same girl that I told was cuter than her supposed twin. I guess it worked, because I was approached by her. She came up to me and initiated the conversation. Wow. That hasn’t happened in a while.

So back to my major, super-duper crush. I was sitting in front of Lawson Hall, smoking a cigarette, surprise, surprise, and I was reading the student paper, the Daily Egyptian. Apparently there are 4 student deaths per semester. She came up to me, startled me out of my busted meth lab article, and I was totally smashed.

She had pink glasses on with a little heart made of rhinestones in the corner of her left eye. She had on a black shirt that just touched the top of her dark blue jeans, that just happened to be rolled up about an inch. Over the black shirt she wore a light blue button-up sweater. She was the most beautiful sight I have seen in quite a while. I became totally enamored right then and there. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even move my eyes away from her. All I could do is stare into those eyes of hers and hope for something.

“Let’s go find a seat,” she said.

“Yeah.”

We went into the lecture hall and took a seat in the middle. Luckily, no one really sat that close to us, so I figured that if I could muster up the courage, I could ask her for her number without anyone listening in and me getting really embarrassed. I can tell you up front, I chickened out in that area. But anyway, we sat there, listening to our foreign teacher butcher the English language, her doing a crossword puzzle, and me looking over her shoulder at the comics. She made a mark on me with her pen, and I sarcastically scolded her for it. She said she was sorry and promised never to do it again. Then some weird things started happening.

She leaned towards me a little bit, and kept brushing her arm against mine. I didn’t know what the deal was…she wasn’t really taking notes or anything that would cause her to move her arm around like that. Then her hand brushed up against mine, and for a second, I thought she was going to grab it. She looked up at me and I did the same, and we were locked in a gaze for a split second, then she turned her face and yawned.

Since I wasn’t taking notes, I started to put away my books into my bag. She said, “Good idea,” and started to put hers away too. She told me how she needed to talk to the TA after class, and our teacher let us go. We said goodbye to each other, and went opposite directions. I stood outside for a little bit, actually not waiting for her, but Clint, my friend who happens to be in the same class. He decided a while back not to sit by me in class when she was around so I could try to work my (as he would say) quote-unquote “magic” on her by myself.

Thanks Clint, but it doesn’t seem to be working as well as I had hoped.

Zine news: The interview I did with Arborvitae Records is up now. Look on the sidebar for it. Also look for new reviews coming soon.

I finished filming today for Film class. It was just an editing exercise, so, it was no big deal. I'm proud of myself, though...I actually got everything done today that I needed to get done. And I didn't procrastinate or anything.

My neighbor Chris and I went to Walmart today after I got done waiting in line at the dreaded Post Office. Those people...ugh! Mean and inconsiderate, they are. Anyway, we were in the Electronics section and I pulled a little trick off of one of my favorite TV shows, Ed. I went up to a beautiful older chick (not too old, mind you, but maybe 30) and hit on her. She was really hot, actually. I pulled one of the dumbest things, too. I'm always pulling dumb things at Walmart, but that's another story...anyway, I went up to her and noticed that she had a fountain drink in her cart. I said that I was conducting a survey (obvious come on) and I was wondering what she was drinking. She looked at me like what I said was the worst pick up line she had ever heard, and said, very quietly and with obvious disgust, "Diet Coke."

I said thank you very much and walked off in the other direction. I quickly pulled Chris off in another direction, and we left the Electronics department quick. No matter how old a woman is, every time I make a pass on one, I get embarrased so badly that I have to leave, even if I'm doing it as a joke or a dare. That's why I almost always never have a girlfriend that's not a friend first, I don't stick around long enough to see if it worked or not.

So me and Clint have decided to do a show on SPC-TV. It's going to be a sketch comedy show, like Saturday Night Live or Mad TV...but our influences are more like the State and the Kids In The Hall. We've started writing some skits, and it's going pretty good, so far. We've got some pretty funny stuff, like a Johnny Knoxville spoof and a sketch about that Subway dude, Jared, from the commercials. So, all in all, it'll be pretty good, I hope, and I'm hoping to possibly get it on here for downloads or something.

My approval rating is at 65% right now...c'mon people! Am I that bad...really? Well, alright, but I want to know who is coming to visit my little spot on the internet, so if you like my page, or read my page often but can't stand it, or if you hate every aspect of what I have to say, please, drop me a line. Email me here: mike@grillburn.org . Please, for my sanity.

The last paper I wrote was senior year in high school. I wrote a general research paper on serial killers, and I got an "A". Good deal. Well, I decided to go to junior college, Lake Land College in Mattoon, IL, mainly because it was cheaper than going straight to a 4 year, and my parents fell right into that bracket where we didn't get financial aid and we couldn't afford a 4 year. So, I took radio/tv classes at LLC for two years, and I had a really cool Comp teacher who didn't make us write papers, and in any other class that we had to do projects, I usually did video projects so I could convince my R/TV teachers to give me extra credit for doing extra video work. So, for two whole years, I didn't write a paper. Then I came down to SIU-C.

The only reason why I didn't take comp 2 at LLC was because they told me I didn't need it for an R/TV major. When I switched majors to film, I was told I needed to take comp 2. No big deal, but I still put it off for a semester. So this semester I am taking it and writing a paper today. The first one in 3 years...argh. It's my first draft. It's due tomorrow. But it's okay, because I'm doing it on Paul Thomas Anderson, and how he is a leader in the world of cinema. Blah, blah, blah...you get the clue.

I'm watching Undressed on MTV...is anyone like this? There's no girls in my building that are as beautiful or as open...uh...minded...

Speaking of Napster, I went to get a bunch of new Weezer tracks from their new album…well, they were supposed to be new Weezer tracks. It said “NEW WEEZER ALBUM” really big like that, and so many people had them. I got a lot of them and then started to listen…and I heard Pavement songs from Slanted and Enchanted!!!! I swear to God! Did this happen to anyone else?

Lately, I’ve been chatting in these weird chat rooms on Yahoo chat. I keep on going into the Older Women for Younger Men room and see how many PM’s I can get before I can even type a word. It’s real funny, because my friend’s mom chats all the time on Yahoo, and I’m scared of stumbling onto her.