Journal Archives from theDreamworld ... January 2002

Today has been a bad day emotionally, and I've felt very alone. Dustin has been on my mind a lot over the last few weeks, but another person as well - my dear departed friend Ken Rice. Between classes today I couldn't concentrate on schoolwork, so I put everything aside to write a poem about my thoughts. This is dedicated to you, Ken. I love you and will always miss you. I hope you're at peace.

I think my biases are blinding my reason. I watched the State of the Union address last night, still suffering from an ugly headache, and I just couldn't believe anything George Bush said. Anything that I actually believed might happen I was sure would either happen despite his efforts or simply because it gave him some political credibility. A lot of stuff I just felt were lies. I know that a lot of people probably would call me un-American or something, but it has nothing to do with not being patriotic or anything, I just don't trust the man. And so much of what he talked about was: 1) the war, which any idiot in his place could have done as well (except maybe Ralph Nader, who would have had no idea what to do), 2) recent Congressional bills or approvals (which by definition are not to his credit but to the credit of Congress), 3) the budget and the economy (which you would never know from his speech are both in sad shape and hurting the country, and 4) the the stances of the US to various world governments (with a major setup for taking the war to Iran and Iraq since Afghanistan is obviously boring the American public since nothing is happening, and Bush figures that most Americans still believe the age-old propaganda that Iran and Iraq are the seats of all evil in the world (and don't get me wrong - Iran and Iraq are dangerous, but only because of oppressive regimes that we (the US) have allowed to remain in power for over 20 years)).

Still, even though I realize that all State of the Union addresses are a big game of political posturing, I just was sick of the smug attitude Bush held as he spun his web of reelection strategies (namely: make the war last forever so that people will be unsure about changing presidents mid-struggle, improve the economy which only started failing after Bush got into office in the first place, and make anyone that stands against the Bush policies and actions get cast as un-American and pro-terrorism (it worked for McCarthy; it'll work for Bush)). I'd like to think that the American people would see through all of this, but Americans are notorious for barely watching the news and never looking deeper than a casual glance. I hope everybody proves me wrong, but the polls that give Bush such high approval just scare the hell out of me, and by the time Bush is finally out of office we'll be spending billions a day to pay military expenses, be spending millions more a day to help rebuild the countries we've bombed back to the Stone Age, and be suffering a depression because with the wild spending he has and the existing recession (as well as increasing unemployment) there is only one result for America under Bush and that is a full-scale depression. And that will all really suck.

So let's he I'm wrong. Let's really hope that my biases are in fact blinding my reason. Because the results if I'm right will just make life in America a hell of a lot worse that anybody is ready to deal with.

I have had this wicked headache almost all day and a number of moments of sweeping depression that just washes in and takes everything I have to keep from crying. I had maybe a half dozen ofd those moments with nothing to trigger them, and while I still haven't really felt happy today (see yesterday's entry), I haven't felt poorly other than those few crying jags.

I don't know what's causing this, but with the headache pounding away I just feel like hell. I think I might be getting a cold. I've had this nasal drip thing occasionally down the back of my throat since I woke up, but a lot of times that's just a result of my allergies. This time I think it might be more, though. I hope not, but it would explain a lot.

But the end result is that my head feels like it's going to split open, and for better or worse this is all that I can stand to write tonight. Hopefully I feel well enough to post a decent Journal entry tomorrow. That would be nice.

I'm feeling ... iffy. I'm not sad, not tired, not angry, and not worried, yet I have this just weird, not happy or enthusiastic feeling. Part of me has wanted to lie down today or just be a couch potato watching TV or ... just sit back and think. I guess this is better than being depressed or exhausted, but I just still feel like a whole lot is missing. I wish I were happy more often.

Maybe I bring this on myself. Maybe I expect too much. Maybe I don't put in enough effort. Maybe I just don't deserve to be happy. Maybe I don't know what it even means to be happy.

I really feel like I have happy moments. I even remember times where I've been happy for a while. But it's been a long time, and I even begin to wonder now if it's all just a fantasy.

Today was the Annual Meeting for the Collingwood Arts Center organization (the group that revolves around the Art Center where I live and create stories). The Annual Meeting is the only time the membership openly votes, electing and reelecting Board members who are supposed to see to the operation of the organization. Normally, or at least normally for the way this organization has operated over the last 15 years since its creation, there are only a handful of members (or at least members who show up), and the same people get elected or reelected to the Board or they get their friends easily elected to the Board. Today was different. People have been riled up by the crap that has been going on at the Board's allowance, and people have joined as members in record numbers in the last few months. A casual head-count during the meeting gave me about a hundred people, and the final tally of voting ballots was 102 (and I know for a fact that a few people didn't hand in ballots).

The meeting took forever, running for over two hours simply with arguments and wastes of time. Then there was a vote, followed by three hours of the most lengthy, questionable vote counting since Florida's 2000 presidential elections. The wait was worth it, however.

The first good result was that the membership rescinded the sale of the Steinway Grand Piano so that it remains a possession of the Arts Center and a benefit for the artists. The next good result was that all five of the Board members up for reelection were voted off the board. And the final good result was that eight (possibly ten, depending on how the recount vote results) new board members were elected, all of whom are decent people interested in supporting the arts, two of whom are residents in the building. As a bonus, three remaining Board members, the last troublemakers who are left, made complete asses of themselves by yelling and threatening during this meeting. Two of those three may be voted off of the Board in the next Board meeting, but if not they are up for reelection next year and are very possibly at the end of their respective reigns of terror.

I certainly never expected to spend most of my day at this meeting, but the possibilities for new and much more productive operations of the Arts Center are very strong, and that is a wonderful thing.

"Andromeda" just gets better with every episode. For those of you not in the know, that's Gene Roddenberry's "Andromeda," one of his unfinished ideas that his widow Majel Roddenberry, has managed to get made into a series years after Gene's death. This is also the series that gave a new lead role to Kevin Sorbo after "Hercules" was wrapped up as a series. There's a whole bunch of people in the cast, including Gordon Michael Wolvert, who I am quite sure was in a short-lived Sci-fi Channel series that I can't seem to remember the name for but really liked (it was like "Genesis Earth" or something like that). In any case, I find that I am more and more impressed as time goes by. The scripts get better, the actors fit into their characters better, the special effects get better, and the guest stars get better in each successive episode, and I don't exactly think "Wow, this is as good as it gets" when I watch an episode, but I am generally so satisfied that I don't believe they will excel any further.

I like this kind of pleasant surprise. "The Simpsons" is often the only show to consistently seem as good or better every week, and I don't casually pass off how hard it really is to stay even really good, let alone keep getting better.

It also helps that I'm a big sci-fi and fantasy fan. I'm pretty demanding about fantasy and sci-fi TV series, but sometimes they really come together: Star Trek:TNG, Babylon 5, and the early seasons of Sliders all fit that bill. Fantasy never seems to make it, unfortunately. But sci-fi has gotten really good in the last few years with the willingness of studios to actually provide money for good sets and effects as well as good stories. My favorite sci-fi series, Doctor Who, had tremendous stories and tremendous actors, but the BBC gave them about enough money for a ham sandwich to make each show, and unfortunately the sets, props, and effects sucked. If you used your imagination, the show was great, but some people just always thought it was a joke because the alien villains always looked so hokey. I guess it was an acquired taste.

But like I said, "Andromeda" has been great. Next weeks episode looks to shake things up a lot by changing two or three characters (one is to leave forever, one to be forever changed, and something else, apparently ...). I hope that they don't fuck up a good thing (which is often the case when I'm starting to really appreciate a TV show), but I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

It's a good thing I love to read because I've just been burning through books like never before the past couple of days. Tuesday, around classes, I read a novel by J.M. Coetzee called Foe. This book was going to be part of my Contemporary Fiction class before I dropped it, and I had been interested in it since I bought it. It's a retelling of the Robinson Crusoe story from the point of view of a woman who supposedly washes ashore on Crusoe's island and them gets them all rescued. Crusoe dies on the voyage back to England, but the woman and Friday try to make their way by selling their story to Mr. Foe, the author in the book who represents Daniel DeFoe. The concept is great; the story leaves a lot to be desired. In fact, I finished the book actually frustrated that such a great idea had been so wasted. I can't deny that there were some good concepts inside, but they just got lost in the drek.

Thursday, around classes, I read the longest, most boring three stories about sound classifications for my linguistics class - man, you have no idea how much crap that was ... Anyhow, I also read an anthologized collection of poems by John Ashbery that were interesting (although confusing in the typical Ashbery way). I generally find interesting little things in poetry, though, so it was kindof nice.

Today I read three chapters from textbooks about children's and adolescent literature. Interesting stuff (for a textbook at least), but it dragged for a while. Then I read a short book called The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson. It's geared for a "child" audience, but it seemed to me that anyone (of any age) could really get into this book. There was a lot of reality here where things in life just don't turn out well in the end, and for a book, particularly a children's book, to be realistic without seeming mean-spirited is tremendous. There are definitely aspects of the book I didn't like including what I thought were unnecessary racist attitudes, but it was definitely a good read (and it won the Newbery Award for Children's Literature, so I guess I'm not alone in thinking this).

After that I started reading an adolescent novel called Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes by Chris Crutcher. I'm about 4/5's of the way through, so I don't have a full assessment of the book, but I have to tell you - this book is intense. It's so real, so full of the reactions and fears and angers and misactions of people that are ostracized because of their looks and of people who are abused. It hits home with me on so many levels that I can't begin to explain it to you. Imagine a book that covers obesity, bulimia, domestic violence, child abuse, spousal abuse, abortion, bullying, deaths in the family, religion, relationships, and peer pressure (among other things) all in a head-on, intelligent, direct manner. It's all there. I'm somewhat amazed. This is the sort of book I want to write for an adolescent audience. This sort of no-holds-barred honestly about fear and anger and loneliness and human interaction. Yes, it's incredible.

So if you're looking for a good book to read, regardless of your age, read Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes and be sure to keep well away from Foe. You'll thank me later.

If you've read the Journal over the last week, you'll possibly remember that I dropped one of my college classes after struggling with the decision for a couple of days. I had dropped because the Dragon Lady that was (is) teaching the class ... well, she just scared me. More specifically, I just felt that she was setting the class up so that some people were destined to fail. I foresaw the class not simply being difficult for workload but also because of her perfectionist attitude and the unwieldy size of the class (35 people). I was reluctant to drop the class because it's required and she is generally the only person who teaches it (only one section is generally offered and only in Spring semester), but I just decided I didn't need to take a class with a professor who would "kick my butt" (that's a quote from my advisor who is also the head of the department about what to expect from the Dragon Lady).

Well today, while chatting with one of my classmates that I've had a number of classes with before, I found out that she gave him a zero for participation today (announcing it to the class, no less, and trying to mildly humiliate him) even though he didn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise around everyone else. This was, to my mind, vindication of my dropping the class because it's exactly one of the things I had feared would happen. Like I said, she has arranged the class so that some people are simply set to fail. I actually thrust my fist into the air and screamed out, "Yes! I am vindicated!" into the classroom where we were chatting (people were just getting in and class was about to start in a few minutes). It was sort of amusing and led to a discussion of the class among a bunch of us (we're all Creative Writing majors).

During part of the discussion, I heard from Josh, a senior with a good talent for writing, that Lawrence Coates is supposed to teach the class next year. I had heard of the possibility from John Wylam, the department head, at an earlier point because he wanted to have someone in the department teach the class (it is a required class for Creative Writing but has been taught for a long time by profs from the Literature department). Even if Lawrence teaches the class with pretty strong demands, he couldn't possibly be as irrationally impossible as the Dragon Lady. So that comes as a great relief. Granted, he hasn't been definitely assigned to the class yet, but at least it looks like there's a very strong chance of it happening.

There were actually a few other amusing things going on today, including the skit my group did in Language Study class which revolved around a taste test booth for Soylent Green (mmmm ... it's people-icious), but feeling justified in dropping that class has brought an end to the nagging little voice in the back of my mind.

I met with John Wylam today, the head of the Creative Writing department and one of my academic advisors. Since I was formally accepted into the BFA program last semester, I had to get things formalized with various paperwork so that my two degrees are both properly recognized by the university.

John is a great guy and one of my professors this semester, but I don't really understand him. He seems to have varying ideas. Specifically, I met with John about two years ago when I was first ready to return to college, just before my first semester started. At the time, John was fairly dismissive of me, telling me that I couldn't formally enter into the Creative Writing program until I had completed the first four courses of the program which lead to the BFA acceptance portfolio. That was fine. I can follow the rules. But John also went to great lengths to tell me how much of a waste it would be to attempt to get two degrees. He assured me I'd be better off with a major in Literature and a minor in Creative Writing (or vice versa). I wouldn't be dissuaded and explained to him the reasons I specifically wanted both degrees. He continued, at length, to argue strongly against my pursuing both degrees. Eventually I left and we seemed to both feel we had made our point. I actually was concerned that John would make it difficult for me to get a Creative Writing degree at the same time as I got the Literature degree, but I figured I should just wait until I had to deal with it, having already planned to work largely on the Lit. degree first.

And today John couldn't praise me enough for taking two degrees. He said he believed that more people should do that so that they could get the literature background and the critical background that so many writers never receive. He even told me he thought I was brave to pursue both degrees. And there was never a hint that he could ever have considered taking two degrees to be bad or a waste of time.

I was completely at a loss to understand this complete change of attitude. Sure, two years have passed, and people change their minds all the time, but this is a complete reversal of opinion (let alone the fact that John obviously never even recalled trying to convince me to settle on just one degree). I'm not really sure how to feel about this. I have hypocrisy, but it doesn't feel like John's being a hypocrite. I just don't understand the change.

But maybe I should just let it ride and appreciate the fact that there won't be a struggle to go through to get my second degree.

One Thousand. Four Digits. Maybe not much as things go, but it's nice to see that the number of visits to this site since the beginning of October made it past 1000 hits yesterday. Yes, that's only about an average of ten hits a day, but heck, I haven't submitted this site to search engines or added metatags or anything like that. I haven't even posted on boards or newsgroups to get people to check me out. Yes, I've joined a few webrings, and I attribute most of my traffic to them, but some of those webrings only have a half dozen to a dozen member sites where someone might have connected from.

For those of you who've visited - Thanks (Tell your friends!). This site has turned out to be not everything I had expected in some ways and way more than I could have hoped for in others. There's still a lot a want to do, namely writing lots more poems and stories to add to the site, and I still need to find the motivation I have always struggled find to push me to write more often. I definitely want to do more, but I can't complain; I like what I've been able to do.

Heck, managing to keep postings going on an almost consistent daily basis, even when I was without a computer, has made me almost believe I can do anything with this site. Now I just need to make the next steps to build upon what I've created so far. Nothing really flashy is needed, but I think there's lots of room for expansion.

I hope you'll keep checking in with me so that you can see the developments as they happen. And hey, drop me an e.mail or sign my Guestbook. I'd really like to know who makes up this mysterious thousand ...

Today, in America, we celebrate the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a leader not only of the Civil Rights movement for African-Americans, but a leader for equality and peace and brotherhood for all of mankind. Dr. King was a great man. He was not perfect - no one is - but he stood against great opposition and fought for a more perfect world, a world we should all strive for, and a world I hope some day we may come close to achieving.

I am a firm believer that equality must be for all people if each of us is to be free. Women cannot be free unless they are equal with men, and women who wish to "turn the tables" on men will only hurt their cause and keep many others from achieving equality. Statistically, white Americans will be outnumbered by black and Hispanic "minorities" in the not-too-distant future, but that is not a definite determinant of equality. Gay men and women may be receiving more tolerance, but we are far from reaching equality with our straight brothers and sisters. And this is a world-issue. People from one country are not better than those from another. Everyone is equal, everyone must be treated as equal, and everyone must feel equal, otherwise absolutely noone is equal and everyone suffers from intolerance. And sadly, intolerance breeds hate and hate breeds violence.

The current was in Afghanistan is something I find upsetting, but it is emblematic of hatred and inequality worldwide. Dr. King knew exactly what the problem was and how it had to be turned around. He said:

This website is all about love and peace. I cannot express to you how much I venerate Dr. King for his beliefs and dedication. And for his dedication Dr. King was killed. Fortunately for the world, his words and his deeds live on, and his dream, the same dream that is a large part of theDreamworld, is a dream still held and desired by many people around the world. Dr. King is as close as people come to being what I would call a hero, and today, on his national holiday, I want to reprint the entirety of the speech he delivered from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC, on August 28, 1963 - the "I have a dream" speech. I am sure most of you have heard sound bites from this speech, but please take a moment to read the words and join me in dreaming the dream. Together, we can make it happen.

But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.

This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality.

Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of the, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring." And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!'"

I love The Simpsons. I'm sitting typing away during the ads of a new Simpsons episode tonight, and I am just as happy as could be. The Simpsons is like my one-and-only television show that I really make sure I watch. In fact, I try to watch the reruns of the Simpsons most weekdays because I enjoy them so much.

Now don't get me wrong - I have a "friend" named Sam who has every episode of the Simpsons videotaped and he watches them over and over again, memorizing all of the lines. He even has the Simpsons albums on CD. Yes, he's the cartoon equivalent of a Trekkie. So as obsessed as I may be, I'm not as bad as others.

A lot of my Simpsons frenzy started before the Simpsons were even really there, when I started following Matt Groening's "Life is Hell" cartoon, and irreverent farce with Binky and Bongo Bunny and Akbar and Jeff (... are they brother, lovers, or both? ...) "Life is Hell" is still my favorite strip of all time, and even the Simpsons only barely eclipses is for quality ("Life is Hell" is more cynical, but the Simpsons maintains its humor for longer periods).

If none of you have ever read "Life is Hell," it's no wonder - it's been banned or yanked from lots of paper for its controversy. In fact, even the cleaned-up versions that are collected into small books ("Love is Hell," "School is Hell," "Work is Hell," "Akbar and Jeff's Book of Fun" ... there's a bunch of them if you can find them). Anyhow, I recommend them wholeheartedly, but expect a bit of trouble in finding them.

So you'll excuse me for a short Journal entry, but the Simpsons are just about to come back from commercial ...

As expected, I hate linguistics. I mean, who really gives a damn how many different ways you can pronounce p in the English language? Some of the stuff is all right, maybe even interesting, when you're talking about things like dialects or prescribed languages or even origins of words and the changes they've gone through. And I suppose that the basis for all of that starts with the symbol/sound connection, but I honestly just don't care. I have no desire to learn that part of things.

The amusing part of this is that this class is required for Creative Writing students, as is we're really going to be thinking deep thoughts about how the the followed by the schwa sound is the common usage of the word "the." Who the hell is going to be thinking about that when they write a short story or a poem (or a novel, for that matter). It's ridiculous. Who the fuck cares?

But I have to learn this crap whether I like it or not. The true irony of this situation is that this Language/Linguistics class is acceptable even though I hate the material, and the Contemporary Fiction class I dropped was completely unacceptable even though I looked forward to all of the material. Now that's fucked up!

So yesterday was a whole day of reading textbooks, mostly chapters about various sounds and pronunciations in the English language. Yea. This morning I read some poetry by the first few poets we'll be discussing in my Contemporary Poetry class, and I relaxed to some Saturday morning cartoons. Then I had some fun on the computer playing Baldur's Gate. I won't have much opportunity to relax like that in future weeks, but after a whole day of reading linguistics, the break was more than appreciated. And heck, I'm just about to the point where I'm getting tired of Baldur's Gate, which is good because once I get to that bored point I won't be wishing I could spend time playing around. That might just get me through the semester.

But then again, I'm definitely going to need something to offset the brain drain of lingustics.

Last night was the first Thursday night reading for the semester. The Creative Writing program has this every Thursday night as a required "Community Time" for all people getting a major or minor in the department. Some nights there are two readings by graduate students, a requirement of them to read their poetry or fiction for a half hour each; other nights are special guests that read their works for the full hour. These special guests are published poets and authors, often professors at other universities, and sometimes nationally recognized writers who have received much media attention. Last night's guest was a fiction writer I had never heard of who teaches in California. His first two pieces of fiction, both short, were very good ... quite amusing. The third piece, a long, dry diatribe about why humans tell stories, was very belabored and left a bad taste in just about everybody's mouth.

But I hadn't intended to write tonight about the guest speaker. What I wanted to tell you about was Dustin. Or more accurately, missing Dustin.

It occurred to me as I was walking to the reading last night, having just finished my Contemporary Poetry class, that Dustin might (and should) very well be at the reading. I know that he has a minor in the Creative Writing program, so he needs to attend most of them, and even though he isn't in any of my classes it might just be possible that I would see him after all. In fact, I was rather excited about the possibility because it simply hadn't occurred to me at all before that to realize I could potentially see him every Thursday night. And I was looking. I wanted so much to see him, so much to try to talk to him. Just to have one more chance to try and get closer to him. Anything...

It's bothering me. I wonder if he's on campus and if maybe he'll be at other readings or if he didn't come back after break or if he dropped Creative Writing as a minor or ... what? Anything. Just let me know something ... anything ...

All I wanted was another chance. I miss him so much, and now I think that it's true - I'm never going to see him again. It really bothers me. I wish I had another chance. Just one more chance.

And now I can't wait 'til Thursday. Just maybe he'll be at the next reading. Maybe. I hope. I hope.

Well, today saw some resolution of some of the things that got me upset on Tuesday. The things that aren't resolved, ... well ... there's not a clear way to resolve those issues at the moment. But even though there are still some things that worry me, I feel pretty good about things. And why worry about the other stuff when I'm relatively happy? No good reason I can think of.

Well here's the deal about Tuesday. I started out getting up early for school. It was 7 AM, so not all that early, but earlier than I'd been getting up in a while, so I was a bit flaky all day from the reduced amount of sleep the night before. Add to that my continuing concerns that the Board of Directors for the Arts Center will attempt to close the operation and leave me homeless (see my earlier Journal entry on this; I don't think this has much chance of happening, now that I've thought it out logically, but it stillhas me bothered), and with that worry on top of the lack of sleep, I already had a bit of anxiety. So I got ready to head to school and went for a quick pee before I left and - the toilet stopped up. So I tried to unplug the toilet with no success. I had to give up because I had already screwed with it long enough to get me running late, so the toilet was left stopped up when I left. Once I got on campus, it was almost impossible to find a parking space. Does everybody have classes that early in the morning? Why are all of the parking spaces full at 9 AM? Anyhow, once I finally got a parking space way on the far side of campus, I had to run across campus to get to my first class on time. This was pretty much the way the whole day ran, with me running from one place to the next and barely getting to classes on time and getting nothing else accomplished.

Believe it or not, this much aggravation I could have dealt with all right. I would have been frustrated, but I would have dropped it at that. And my first two classes were actually great, even though my real professor wasn't there (for my Children's and Adolescent Literature classes, the professor had a sudden death in the family and had a substitute cover the first three days of class). My third class, though ... that' where things went awry.

The third class, my Contemporary Fiction class, was shaping up to be great before class actually began. I looked forward to reading and discussing all of the books that were chosen, I saw more people than I could believe in the room before class started (probably 25 out of the 35 people have been in other classes with me, one of whom I last saw in the first class I had when I returned to college two years ago). But then the professor arrived. Or should I say Doctor. She was insistent on being called Doctor, but let's just call her the Dragon Lady. Yes, the nine large novels plus expected handouts would be sure to keep me busy reading. Yes, the short paper on each book plus the critical paper plus the discussion paper plus the small group project paper plus the large group project paper were likely to keep me busy. And yes, her policy regarding attendance was quite Draconian (five or more absences and you automatically fail but miss even one class and you can't qualify for a letter grade that you might other wise have the points for (say you had 95/100 points for the class but you missed one class because you had to have your liver operated on ... too bad, you get a B)). As much as all of that would demand of me, that was okay. But she also insisted that everyone participate in every class or you lose points. A class of 35 people meeting for 75 minutes, and she expects everyone to talk. It's just no possible, and she's automatically setting people up to fail in this area (and participation counts for 20% of the class grade). Even that alone might not have gotten me, but the research paper she wanted for today (assigned Tuesday, due Thursday, with three or more references and an accompanying list of 10 books fitting the subject), a research paper based on a subject that was somewhat difficult to find reference books for (hard to find the references in the first place, and then hard finishing the books since they were checked out or not there at all).

I struggled with the issue of what to do about the class for two days, talking to a variety of people (including my academic advisor and a professor and on- and off-campus friends) to get their opinions. In the end, I dropped the class. That was this morning, and I'm still not pleased with the decision. I'm glad not to have the Marquis de Sade for a professor, but I may still have her at another time - I have to take that class, and she is very often the only person to teach it. But in the end, I just don't need the frustration.

That was the big thing that affected me. I pretty much just bitched about it with my fellow students, and I tried not to let it bother me. In fact, I didn't think it really was bothering me that much, but two classes later, in my Contemporary Poetry class, I was staring longingly at a good-looking guy and felt sort of lonely. Then more lonely. Then everything hit me at once, and being tired and cold and worried about whether I'd have a place to live and having the Dragon Lady make my life a living hell and seeing really attractive guys all around me all the time but being constantly alone ... it was just too much.

I held things together pretty well for the rest of class, but by the time I was in the car and driving back to Toledo I was fighting back tears. I'm sure some of it was just a bit of the ole' chemical imbalance that pushes depression on me, but the combination of things just overwhelmed me. In fact, I'm quite sure that's what led to my bad dream that I mentioned in yesterday's Journal. And you know, I don't need to deal with that shit. So that's why I dropped the Dragon Lady's class. It's just not worth it.

So now all I need is to see the Board of the Arts Center get replaced and find a boyfriend - no problem! Well, even if either of those are unlikely, at least I do feel much better. And I'll take feeling better any day.

I had a dream last night, a mild nightmare actually. For those of you who haven't read earlier Journal entries on a similar subject, I don't ever remember my dreams. I'm sure that I do, everyone dreams, but I don't remember them.. I haven't since I was about nine. I do remember nightmares because they usually wake me up, even if only briefly. That was what happened last night.

When I woke up last night, I was crying a steady stream of tears. I remember a fair amount of the dream, and I had been crying the same way at the end of the dream and the emotions were so strong that I think that's what woke me up.

The whole concept of the dream isn't as strong and doesn't make as much sense as it seemed to last night, but I was infatuated with this young guy and followed him around everywhere. We had a simple friendship, although I seemed to be very much the follower, and I simply idolized my friend. At some point, someone bad (some older guy with a connection to my friend) came around and made my friend go with him into this ... area ... it was like a cellar or something accessed through a small hole in the wooden floor that was just big enough to squeeze through. He was down there for a long time, and I was worried about him, hoping that he'd come out soon. Other people joined around me in holding a sort of watch over the hole, and eventually a case (like a briefcase) was passed up through the hole and the hole was sealed. The case was full of huge, beautiful handcrafted gems which I knew had been produced by my friend. I said something to this affect to the assembled people and they gawked over the gems and became oblivious to the blocked hole, even covering it with boxes and crates. I knew somehow that the man that had taken my friend had wanted the case of gems and that my friend had thwarted him but sacrificed myself, and I was just numb with the knowledge. I couldn't believe that nobody else around me realized this; they only seemed to care about the damn jewels. I kept waiting there, and sometime later there was movement and my friend unblocked the hole, pushed aside the boxes, and crawled out. I sort of broke down at that point, crying uncontrollably, falling to my knees, and crying out "I'm sorry" over and over again. I felt that I had failed my friend and then abandoned him, and even though I was so moved that he had come back, I felt unworthy of him because I hadn't been there for him. I kept bawling and wailing as he slowly walked toward me, and he simply knelt and held me as I cried, rubbing my back. He didn't say anything, but the way he held me spoke a million words, and I still kept crying.

And that's where I woke up, still crying. It was still very moving for me, and I couldn't stop crying for quite a while. I thought about the dream for a moment and considered getting up to write some notes to myself about it, but I decided to just try to calm down and get back to sleep since I had to get up early. I actually got back to sleep fairly quickly, but the dream is still with me. Parts of it just don't seem to make as much sense any more (a small hole in the floor? fist-sized cut gems?), but the emotions seem as real and understandable to me now as if I was experiencing them right at this moment. It was unsettling but somehow calming as well. I know it was largely a result of being so upset earlier in the day, but it still seems significant to me.

A lot has happened today, and this goes down as one of the most confusing and upsetting first days of classes I've ever had. I should probably write about it now to get some things out of my system, but I just want to forget about it briefly, so today will cover a completely different topic (there'll be plenty of time in the next few days to discuss all of the various issues and events from this first day of classes). So, instead of something about the freaky aspects of my day, I would like to instead talk about what a difference a nice attitude and a kind word can make.

During a couple of my classes today I had little forced introductions to an unknown classmate (you know the routine - tell your partner who you are, where you live, what weird fetishes you have ... the usual). I interacted with two very nice, very polite girls, and I left class feeling really good just from having a polite conversation and a kind word. I am invariably polite to those I meet, even moreso to people I don't know or people who wait on me as a server or cashier. I open doors for people, I ask people how they are and expect an answer, I say please and thank you, excuse me and bless you - they're all little things, but I always have felt that courtesy is what makes for a decent society. I have no idea where I got this from because it certainly never came from my family, but I've always been this way, and I'm very pleased with this aspect of myself. So when I find others being similarly courteous, I notice, and it makes me feel good. You'd think this would be a regular thing, but it's not. How many people don't say 'thank you' when I hold open the door for them? How many people run into me and don't even say 'excuse me?' How many people ask to borrow something from me and say 'please?' How many people hold a door open for me or ask how I'm feeling or say 'it was nice talking to you?' Not very many. And that's a shame.

How much energy does it take to be simply courteous? What could be lost with that minimal amount of effort? Think of all that could be gained by a few kind words and a pleasant attitude. In theDreamworld, everybody's courteous, pleasant, concerned, and just nice to know. Sadly, the real world has a long way to go to even have rare moments like that. It disappoints me, and it means a whole lot to me on those rare occasions when someone is truly nice.

So today was good for those things. Those two girls were very polite and kind. And two people actually held open a door for me at different points today. A couple of people even asked how I was and really wanted to know. It was great to have those things happen. And I'm glad I had those moments of courtesy to balance out the things that got me upset. But I'm not going to talk about them just yet.

It has been a pretty up and down day, but the continuing thought is that 'classes start tomorrow.' Technically today was the first day of classes, but I only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays this semester, so tomorrow is my first day. I must really be some sort of geek or something, but I'm excited about going back. I'm always this way when a semester starts, and it only fades after a few weeks. I'm looking forward to all of my classes, I'm looking forward to seeing students and teachers that I like talking to, and I'm looking forward to learning new this. Yeah, that's pretty geeky of me.

It'll be an all-day thing, running me from early in the morning 'til late in the evening. I'll be up at 7 AM and back around sometime after 8 PM (and on Thursdays more like back around 9:30 PM). There's quite a bit for me to attend to tomorrow, but I am so looking forward to all of it.

And I have to admit that I keep hoping that I'll see Dustin somewhere, maybe even in one of my classes. It's ridiculous that I'm so obsessed, but I've felt so much like something's been missing since last semester ended. I really want another chance. I can't say for sure that I can have the courage to finally talk to him - I mean really talk to him - but I want to think I would. I still feel so much like I made a huge mistake not saying something before last semester was over, and I wish I could have another chance. And honestly, to some extent I just want to be able to see him again. I hope that doesn't sound too pathetic.

In other news, I've been slightly disturbed by the news that the Board of Director's for the Arts Center has decided to try to close operations and sell the building to a Charter School. Similar things have been said in the past and not come to pass, but it scares the hell out of me every time. I don't want to lose the place I live, and I can't easily afford to pay the costs of a conventional apartment as easily as I would like. And honestly, it goes even beyond simply my worries and needs - I just don't want to see the loss of this type of opportunity for the struggling artists of Toledo. Many of us are college students with no parental support, and the low-cost availability of studios in the Arts Center is key to many of us being able to attend without struggling with various jobs at the same time to see ends meet. Yes, I'm worried. Maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe I'm paranoid. But I'm worried.

Okay, maybe I'm a heartless bastard, but I have absolutely no sympathy for fools. Granted, the executives in Enron took everybody for a ride and almost certainly committed exchange securities fraud to pad their own pockets, but they did this once it was inevitable that the company was going under. Did they screw over their stockholders? Maybe. But those people who held stock were going to lose out one way or another. And I have no sympathy at all for those people because playing the stock market is like gambling - sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, and a lot of the time it doesn't matter how much you know, it's just a matter of fate. Those people who lost hundreds, thousands, and even millions of dollars when Enron declared bankruptcy and voided the value of their stock should never have played the market unless they were prepared to lose. That's just part of the way it is with stocks.

Now the people who lost their pensions and their jobs, I have some sympathy for them, but not a lot. I'm sorry, but thousands of people lose their jobs everyday, and why should I feel worse for these people. Regardless of what the Enron executives may have done, those people were going to lose their jobs because Enron was already out of business by the time the execs figured out what was going on. Was it fair that everybody lost their pensions? No. But life isn't fair. And guess what? Lots of people lose their pension benefits everyday in America, too. In fact, corporate America is doing everything they can to eliminate pensions to cut their costs. Once again, the Enron employees weren't any different, they're just in the spotlight. And as far as the employee-owned stocks, I have no sympathy for their losses there. Yes, they had their stocks frozen and couldn't sell once they knew things were going bad, but as I said before, they should have been prepared for the worst case scenario if they were going to take stocks in the first place.

The whole idea that these people should be babied because Enron was really big or because so many people were affected is ridiculous. All sorts of companies fail every year in America. What about their employees? What about their stockholders? Does anybody care? Does the government consider bailing them out? Does anybody look into whether the average Joe faired worse than management? No. The answer is no; and just because Enron was bigger, that doesn't change a thing.

There's this whole idea that if a company is big, they should be saved by the government or some such nonsense. When the airline industry was losing money after the terrorist attacks of September 11th, the government saw to bailing them out. Why? They've been milking the American people for years. They should have been covered. Just because things go bad for your business, the government shouldn't be bailing you out. Certainly not just because your company is big. Where was the government to save LTV Steel? What about small business? What about colleges that can't survive a tough economy? They all suffer through their business deaths quite alone.

So why doesn't Enron and it's employees and shareholders have to suck it up and learn to live with their losses? I mean, sure, investigate for any securities fraud and prosecute people as appropriate, but quit whining about the rest. The money's gone. It's a shame, but that's the way it is. I'll tell you why Enron is getting so much attention: George W. Bush. It seems that Enron officials knew as early as at least four years ago that they were screwed. Yet they gave more money (lots more money) than any other contributor to Bush's presidential campaign and to various Republican campaigns in the last election. They knew that the company was financially fucked, and they gave tons of money to Bush. Hmmm ... I wonder if there's any correlation. Mmmmyeah.

Well, you'll have to draw your own conclusions, but the evidence looks pretty damning to me. I won't spend the time itemizing everything here, but Bush looks mighty suspicious already (and I'm not surprised). I just hope that the Democrats aren't too soft to tear Bush apart for this. The Republicans are merciless when it comes to prosecuting a wayward Democrat, but the Democrats always want to go soft so that they don't look vindictive against the Republicans. To some extent, it's a good practice, because many of the witch-hunts in Washington are exactly that - witch-hunts. But Bush needs to be exposed to the American public for the slimeball that he is. It's bad enough that people don't see how Bush and Ashcroft are ripping away all of our Constitutional rights, but the public should not have this whole rich-get-richer crap (such as Enron or the rich-person's tax rebate) without being shown what is really happening.

What goes around comes around Mr. Bush - fess up now, and maybe the American people won't completely despise you.

Today was meant to be a day of rest, and I have pretty much achieved that. I watched some Saturday morning cartoons, I took a leisurely hot shower, I had nice meals (including a nice egg and cheese omelet for breakfast), I finished reading The Catcher in the Rye, I played a bit more Baldur's Gate and test-played a demo of Sheep and Tropico that just came on my MacAddict Magazine Disc, I had a brief visit from Nathan (although he caught me at a moment after dinner when I was sort of sleepy), and I watched various shows on TV during the course of the day. Yes, I was very much a couch potato today. But heck, after tomorrow, I won't be able to do that until mid-May.

One of the amazing things today was watching reruns. Almost everything recently has been reruns, and that's been fine for me because I've just avoided TV and done other things. Today, though, I realized how much I missed during the first viewing of a lot of programs. You see, during last semester I would watch shows and try to read books or write parts of papers while watching TV It allowed me to get work done (albeit a bit slower than if I had focused my attention directly on my schoolwork) without burning myself out or hating the constant reading and writing. I realized today, though, that I really missed a lot from these TV shows. Take Gene Roddenberry's "Andromeda," a fairly decent sci-fi show in its second season. I had seen today's episode before, and I pretty much knew all that was going to happen, but I watched this with very few distractions today and just saw an almost entirely different episode. I hadn't missed plot points, but I missed the richness of the show - and today's episode wasn't even among the better episodes that I've seen in this show! So even watching TV today was rather rewarding.

I finished The Catcher in the Rye, and there are things I like and very much appreciate, but there are things I don't think were so great. I guess I was really hoping to be completely swept up in the book because of the way so many people talk about it, and I wasn't. Don't get me wrong, I think Salinger captured a lot of real, impossible-to-explain thoughts and feelings of teenage boys, and I thought Holden was really believable as a character, but I just felt wanting for more. The ending is what actually spoiled it for me (although there were small stylistic things throughout that seemed odd). In the end, Holden basically says, "Well, that's where I'm gonna stop. I don't wanna tell you any more. Too bad for you." This is a stylistic thing - Salinger wants the story, told through Holden, to reflect the way Holden is - enjoying tangents more than a focused story and having some contempt for traditional ways of looking at things. That's fine, and it works great throughout the book, but the ending just seems lame even considering Holden's attitudes; he just doesn't seem like he'd get bored of talking and telling a story. Maybe he'd veer way off in various tangents, but he wouldn't just stop when he knew there was more he could talk about. I don't know. I guess it fits his attitudes to some extent, but I just wanted more. <...pouts...>

The sad things is that I had really wanted to be excited by that book, and I had expected it to be so much better than the other two books I read over break, S.E.Hinton's Taming the Star Runner, and J.K.Rowlings Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - that's why I left Salinger's book for last. But as it turns out, I liked the other two books better. Hmmm... Maybe I was just expecting too much.

I drove down to Bowling Green today to buy the books I need for my classes that start Monday. Forty-eight books. Forty-eight fucking books, and I know almost beyond a doubt that one of my professors will be adding a few other books during the semester as visiting poets have readings (although fortunately, those will be relatively quick reads). I still have seven more books to get (they weren't in stock yet) and I already had three books in my own collection, but even so I've already spent about $360 and most of the books I bought are used! Out of all of these, four are anthology textbooks (they have textbook-type materials but use short stories and poetry throughout as examples), five are books of poetry, and the rest are straight literature. Granted, about twenty are children's books, but they aren't picture books, they're the kind of books you would read to kids or have kids of 8-12 reading. It's a great collection of books, but it's daunting to think that I'll be reading and studying all of these in their entirety over the next fifteen weeks. I'll definitely be spending a lot of time reading this winter.

I had a couple of interesting observations during the book-buying process. First, the University Bookstore (the on-campus, campus-run bookstore, as opposed to the two independently-owned, off-campus bookstores) is still in Saddlemire Student Center, where it has been seemingly forever. This is interesting because the new Student Union is set to open with a big party at midnight on Sunday/Monday now that it's completed. The bookstore has a huge chunk of the new Union, yet they aren't in there. In fact, they told me (I just had to ask) that they were shooting to be in there in March sometime. What the heck is that all about?

Anyhow, my other interesting observation, more an amusing observation actually, was the new plastic bags the University Bookstore has for bagging purchases. Let me first explain that the school is Bowling Green State University, shortened to BGSU or BG for common use. BG started a big marketing campaign a couple years ago that plays on the shortened use of BG, using a tagline of "Get the BiG picture" (get it, big picture, BG, B-i-G, ... yeah, okay, so it's sort of lame ... but it's an attractive marketing campaign). Anyhow, BG has jumped on the bandwagon with this BiG logo in every department and in the advertising for every function. So anyhow, back to what I found interesting at the bookstore (this really is relevant, ... really). The bags they have are orange plastic (BG colors are orange and brown) with black lettering saying BaG, in the exact same style as the BiG logo. Sure, this isn't earthshattering or roll-on-the-ground funny, but I really got a kick out of it because it says to me that the University is able to laugh at itself a little bit and doesn't take the BiG marketing campaign all together as seriously as I might have otherwise thought. I was just pleased to see a simple, good-natured sense of humor.

When I got back to the Art Center, Dennis Lange was trying to remove the grand piano even though he had been told about the special meeting called by the membership to reconsider selling a historic artifact of the building. He was quite belligerent (as usual), and it took a whole slew of people to manage to get the piano locked up until things are resolved. The whole building is in an uproar about this whole thing. It's ridiculous in a way because Dennis Lange has always caused problems for the tenants and robbed the building of historic artifacts and nobody has stopped him before (even though they should have), and now they are all outraged and screaming for vengeance. Why now? You've got me. One way or another, this will all blow over fairly soon. But hopefully this will bring about some changes and perhaps the Board of Directors can move closer toward advancing the interests of the Collingwood Arts Center. Hopefully.

I hate rooms without heat; I hate people who don't care if they hurt others in their selfishness; and I hate werewolves.

Until mid-afternoon we were without heat in my entire wing of the building. As I mentioned yesterday, the power to only the boilers was not working, and no reason could be found. After a whole hell of a lot of searching, it was a simple short in a thermostat. As of now, the heat in the wing is actually about comfortable - in both rooms even. I sure hope this is the last of the heating problems for at least this year. I've had quite enough.

Early this morning I woke up (because I was freezing even bundled up in bed). I got up for a warm shower and made my way down to the office to give Joné a birthday card. While I was there (in addition to learning that we were at that time no closer to having heat than last night), I found out that the Board of Directors for the nonprofit organization that runs the Arts Center had voted last night, in their monthly meeting, to sell the Steinway Grand piano from the Tenants' Lounge to a particularly nasty boardmember named Dennis Lange who invariably causes numerous problems for the building (he calls the tenants "animals" and "prisoners" and has been known to sell antique fixtures from the building for his own gain). The cost to him is virtually nothing even though the piano has a tremendous monetary value as well as a historic value to the building. This also is clearly a conflict of interest for a boardmember to purchase something from his own organization, and it is completely contrary to the statement of purpose of the organization: to support artist-tenants in the creation of their artforms. This is very aggravating and has caused an uproar among the membership of the organization. This group is so fucked up ...

And during much of the day, I played Baldur's Gate on my computer again, thinking that today may be my last chance to play for a while since classes resume on Monday. I went to this section where I sail a ship to a mysterious island which ends up being populated by werewolves. Lots and lots of werewolves. More werewolves than you can count. And they suck. These nasty beasties are just about the toughest creatures to fight that I've come across in the game, and they move in packs. I fought so long and was so ripped apart that I spent a lot of the day doubting that I could successfully survive the island and return to the mainland. Ugh ... Well, my characters lived (barely), and now I can find other monsters to beat me up. But I'm not sure when that will be. I have a lot to get done in the next few days, so it's left to be seen if I'll be able to find any more time to play. But it was a nice way to relax while it lasted.

It's cold again. After all of the work getting the boilers running properly, the power to the boilers for some reason shut down today. The rest of the wing has power; even the lights in the boilerroom have power, but the boilers themselves aren't getting power. Robert (the handyman for the building) came in tonight after I had the office get in touch with him, and together we spent nearly two hours tracing electrical lines and checking fuses. We know where the power cuts out but are baffled as to why. Tomorrow we should be able to get the heating repair company to come in and work through the problem, but in the meantime it's rapidly getting colder in this whole wing while there's no heat. It just figures that things would seem to finally be working and then an unprecedented new problem crops up. Grrr ...

And I talked to Christiana today. I called her in Dallas to see how things were going with sorting and cleaning her grandmother's house to make it ready for rental. It sounds like she's just short of being overwhelmed, and she must simply have mountains of things to sell. She sounds like she has everything in hand, but she's still going to be quite busy for a while. I was pleased to hear that she gave all of the various food items and some clothes and useful items to a somewhat poor family that lived nearby. She also has a lot of stories about old family documents including all of the documentation for the ten-year custody battle that her parents waged over her. That information in itself sounds like it was quite revealing.

I realized that I'm really going to miss Christiana. She's going to be gone for quite a while, and I have so few other people that I feel I can trust and relate to. And loneliness just sucks. I hate being lonely.

But that's how it goes. I'm cutting this Journal entry short so that I can get bundled up in bed. It's going to be a cold night.

Wow! The new stuff from Apple is quite drool-worthy. The new iMac is very cook looking and very powerful for an into-level machine. It's a little pricier than I would have expected, but I suspect that prices will drop notably over the course of the year. The new iBook is nicely upgraded, too, even though the changes aren't very significant. And while Apple's new iPhoto software isn't something I'll have much use for, it is nicely done. In fact, iPhoto is only a small drop in the bucket with the vast array of new OS X software that was introduced or announced for release soon. All-in-all, a major showing for MacWorld Expo. I wish I could go to one of those things! <drool...>

And that has been my happy though for the last 24 hours. I've been sortof kicking butt in Baldur's Gate again (it's been kicking my butt slightly more than I'm kicking its butt, but I have the power of saving). And I have certainly been having fun with Baldur's Gate. I only have a few more days that I can go like this. Once school starts, I won't be able to fritter away a whole day (or multiple whole days) like this. I do regret somewhat that I haven't written another chapter of Hope, Need & Fear, but I think the mindless entertainment has been very beneficial and has relieved a lot of stress.

One potentially good bit of news is that after more work with the handyman today, I think we have good reason to believe that we may have finally solved the heating problem in my one studio. This would be great if it proves to be true, because I'll want to use that particular studio much more when school is going on. Hell if I can study when I'm freezing to death, so having the heat level be comfortable would be a big help.

And to balance that out, I suppose, there was bad news today as well. After a week of being amazed by Nemesis, my fish, that she has consistently been alive when I thought she was already dead from the cold, she is now sadly dead. Definitely dead. I wish there had been a way to move the aquarium, but it just isn't something that could be done without big problems - and I'm not sure it would have saved her anyhow. Regardless of those doubts, I am still upset that she's gone. I really liked this particular fish, and losing her just sucks.

And the last little tidbit is that my hit counter for people visiting this site passed 900 yesterday. I had hoped to be at that point by the end of the year (honestly, I'd hoped to be up to 1000 at the end of the year), but it just got to that point yesterday. I don't suppose it's big numbers in comparison to other sites, but it's quite satisfying for me, I assure you. Thank you all for visiting! I appreciate it.

My mother and grandmother visited today for a while. We had lunch together at Olive Garden (mmm, Artichoke/Spinach Dip on Tuscan bread ...), and exchanged useless information. It's amazing how little I have in common with my family and how little they really understand about me. We went back to the Arts Center so that my mother could show me the latest backpack full of photographs (my mother and father single-handedly keep Kodak profitable), and continued the mindless banter. My mother was amazed at how cold my one studio is. This is the typical, frustrating little item nobody would understand in my encounters with my mother; I have told her for a month, during phone conversations, that it's quite cold and I keep bundled up or use the other room a lot. Now she acts as though she had no idea it was remotely cold. Actually, I shouldn't say that it's an act; I actually think she just doesn't pay the slightest attention to anything I say and is thus truly surprised when she learns about something she should have realized long ago. That's one of the things that bothers the hell out of me - the fact that she seems to want to talk to me but then doesn't listen at all (or chooses to disregard what I've said as wrong or inaccurate because I obviously don't know what I'm talking about).

Why the hell does this woman spend any time with me? It's so obvious she doesn't give a damn, so why put in even the minimal effort that she does? I just don't know. I question my own actions a lot of times. I mean, anybody else that I might meet would drive me crazy and piss me off if they acted the way my mother does, and I would avoid having anything to do with them. I know, I know, ... "but she's your mother..." Well, that doesn't entitle her to deserve my time or respect. Both things should be earned, even among family members.

And eventually they left. It was actually fairly painless as visits by my mother go. I wish I could spend more time with just my grandmother because she is the one member of my family I truly love, respect, and admire. Unfortunately, my mother never lets her out of her sight anymore now that she's older and has had a few painful falls in the last two years. In a way I'm glad that my mother has the concern and responsibility to take care of my grandmother now that she needs it (I wouldn't have given her enough credit for getting past her own selfish needs), but as with everything my mother takes this too far and practically ropes my grandmother down. My grandmother is almost never allowed to drive anymore and thus never gets to see her friends or do various church functions (my mom can forbid her from driving but won't use any of her own time to drive her around), and she is not really even allowed to shop in the mall or such things without someone right by her side. It's ridiculous! Little kids of 4 years old have more freedom! But I'm not in a position to take care of my grandmother myself, sadly, so it has to be left as it is. And it could certainly be far worse for my grandmother, so I shouldn't complain.

Anyhow, today was pretty decent as visits go. If only they could always cause so little anxiety.

Man, I am kicking ass in Baldur's Gate. Yes, I realize that I'm showing signs of becoming both a hermit and a geek, but I only game for hours upon hours day after day a very few times a year. It's just a really simple release and lets me relax and enjoy myself (and hone my hand-eye coordination. Maybe it's just the kid in me that still wants the chance to enjoy childhood ... that's okay, too.

In any case, I've covered more ground in the game than at any other time I've sat down to play. There's the original game (which encompasses 5 CDs) and then an expansion (Tales of the SwordCoast, another very packed CD), and then there's Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn (a 4 CD set that runs on OS X). I had previously been playing the original and hadn't added the expansion set when I was playing before my old PowerBook was stolen, and now I'm playing the expansion (which adds three areas, some new quests, and more items to the original). I might even wrap up the whole thing before break ends (although I doubt it - I have other things I want to do while time is left). I do admit that I want to see the sequel, if for no other reason than just to see how it runs on OS X and to see what improvements have been made (the game is a continuation of the old concept with a follow-up story, but I expect there have been some tweaks to the game that improve things in some fashion or another. But I guess that will wait.

In other news, MacWorld Expo starts this week, and Apple has made it clear that big things will be rolled out that will amaze and astound. I'm psyched. Apple always has great products, and this Expo looks poised to reveal a few amazing things. Probably a lot of new toys that I'll want but not be able to afford. Even just the stuff I know is exciting - one company is previewing a piece of software that will add the power of a personal organizer to the iPod, Apple's 5GB Firewire MP3 player. That would make it incredibly desirable (as if it isn't already).

Nathan and I went to see "Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Rings" today. It was fantastic. Being the purist that I am, I noticed a few unfaithful aspects compared to the books, but those were all very minor issues. The action, the fullness of background and detail, the 'reality' of people and places, and the clear visual sense of the purity of goodness and the corruption of evil were all more than I could have even hoped for. As I had expected, it was a movie that will be worth seeing many times.

Among the wonderful, but not necessary, aspects of the movie were the always alluring (to me, anyhow) beauty of Elijah Wood and the startling beauty of the actor who played Legolas (Orlando something ... Orlando Jones? Is that right?). Orlando doesn't hold a candle to Elijah in my book, but without Elijah for comparison he is one incredibly gorgeous young man.

I must have been in a zone for boywatching today because after the movie Nathan and I went to dinner at Al Smith's Place (a local chain of restaurants that serve 'home cooking'), and the host and waiters were all very attractive young men (young being the operative word - probably 17 or 18 each by my guess) who were at least mostly gay (I mean at least the majority of them were gay, not that they were each individually mostly gay). Anyhow, the host was fairly attractive, definitely gay, and had enough attitude to be quite a put-off. The waiter who waited on Nathan and I was very cute, had the slightly upturned nose that I find absolutely gorgeous. He might not have been gay, but one of the other two waiters was almost certainly so. While we were there, a few potentially-gay young men showed up, chatted for a while with the host, and got a table. I haven't been to Al Smith's Place in a while, but it used to predominantly be female servers (at least at that location). There are certainly no complaints to the management on my part; I'm more than happy to stare at a bunch of hot guys during a nice meal out. It was just unexpected is all.

And not long after we left, I could feel the depression coming on. I don't know what it is, but there's something about staring at great looking young guys like that - guys that I can't be sure are gay but seem to be; guys that are much younger than me and shouldn't even be guys I should be attracted to; guys that are way out of my league - not super hot, but attractive enough that they could certainly do a lot better than me (at least for looks). And, I don't know, it just makes me feel more alone than I am (not that that seems possible).

So I was sortof down for a little while. I got over it pretty quickly this time, though. I lost the happy-buzz from the movie, though, and that's a bummer. But I can keep remembering the movie, so I've got a lot of happy memories to last.

You might think from my Journal entries over the past few days that my mind has finally wandered off of obsessing over Dustin. You would be wrong to think that.

Yes, I have been keeping myself busy with other things, but Dustin still fills my mind. I see his face in my memory, think about his smile or his laugh, and think once again about how much I wanted to rub his shoulders. For the most part,they're happy, longing thoughts. I have moments of getting quite sad at thinking that he's not around and I might never see him again, but those are pretty few. Actually, there is pretty much nobody that I've admired from afar that has captivated me this way. I'm usually more sad about not getting together with that person, and I usually don't think about them much at all once they're out of my daily routine. Dustin's different, though. He's special.

And I guess that's the thing that makes me keep writing about this in my Journal. It's not that I'm whining about wanting him (well, ... I am, but that's not the reason I'm writing). It's this whole newness and strangeness. I've never felt this way about someone, and it's a wonderful feeling. I've felt that I've been in love before, but it was never this wonderful, this lastingly happy, this overwhelming, this pure. Am I saying I love Dustin? Well, no. I love things about him, and I really think I could love him, but I'm always hesitant about tossing the word love around casually. I mean, I don't really know that much about Dustin when you get down to it. And I guess that's the logical side of me talking. But the emotional side is hooked. If Dustin showed up somewhere next semester and asked me to follow him without asking any questions, I know I'd do it. Is that crazy? It might be, but I just have such strong feelings for Dustin that I know I'd go to great lengths to keep him happy.

In general, I've become rather distrusting of people. I wasn't originally like this, and I fought it for a long time, but I got burned by people time and again because I was too trusting. But Dustin takes me back to where I want to give him my trust. That's kind of scary, but it's also kind of wonderful. Can you understand how much Dustin affects me when I tell you that he allows me to overcome that fear of trusting? That's a big thing, a wonderful thing.

Today I almost spent all of my time playing "Baldur's Gate" on my PowerBook. It's been quite a while since I've played, and it sucked me in just like it has in the past. I did have a number of breaks, though.

I spent a lot of time screwing around with the maintenance man again to try to get the heat working properly in my room. That's still being worked on. I can't fault him for effort, but we're getting nowhere fast. There's a call in to the heating repair company now to see if they can fix things, and hopefully things will get worked out tomorrow so that I won't have to spend another cold weekend.

Fortunately, I've been playing "Baldur's Gate" in my other studio, which is a very comfortable temperature. I've been playing at my desk so that I can hook up to my full speaker system and really get into the game - it's great!

I had a call from Nathan this evening which gave me a break from the game, and I had a call from Christiana in Texas early in the afternoon (she's overwhelmed with the amount of things she has to sell to clear out her grandmother's house). It was good to hear from both of them, and it was good to take a break from the game. In fact, I made sure to take breaks so that I wouldn't get a stiff neck (I tense up while I'm in battles) and wouldn't get a headache (I tend to strain my eyes just a bit from overconcentration). I took breaks to eat lunch and dinner, watch the Simpsons, watch Jeopardy! (what can I say, it was a nice change from a role-playing game), and relax at various points over a pot of tea (three pots over the course of the day).

So it was a very laid back day today. I've been having no luck at all connecting to the government's FAFSA site on the web to file for my Financial Aid, but I'll keep trying. It has to have a slow moment when everyone else in the country isn't filing, doesn't it? Well, I'm hoping so.

I did have a bit of rather good news today. I was about to take my fish, Nemesis, out of the tank and send her to fish heaven, and I realized at the last minute that she was still alive. She's quite sedated by the cold, but she's still alive. I'm hoping she can pull through the next day or two until the heating problem is solved, but it was unquestionably a relief to see that she wasn't dead after all.

So it's been a good day. A very simple day, without a doubt, but a nice relaxing day with no forced responsibilities. It's been great!

Optimizing the drive yesterday took an incredibly long time, but the performance and responsiveness are great. I had a moment of panic today when my PowerBook wouldn't recognize its harddrive. I was freaking out for a while, but things worked out okay. Just an ugly freaky moment of panic ... but it's over now ...

So I had planned to just knock out my last few tasks today and then play. Humph! No such luck. I spent a lot of time today with the maintainance man trying to see about getting the heating problem solved. The situation is better, but work still needs to be done. With the new information he got at the end of the day, he should be able to do some other things tomorrow that will put everything to rights. Meanwhile, I did get my various little tasks accomplished (including getting my problem-e.mail account to work), and have pretty much everything wrapped up.

On the very down side, I not only didn't have time to play, but I also have been cold. So cold, in fact, that Nemesis, my new fish, is dead. The custom aquarium I have (it is a tank inside a gutted original all-in-one Macintosh computer) really isn't designed for a heater, and it shouldn't matter. But when the room is well below 60 degrees Fahrenheit all day, the tank just gets too cold. So I'm sad about this but also pissed off. I really liked this fish, too. It had character and was one of the prettiest ones I've had in a while. Now I'm not sure what to do. Even if the heating issue gets resolved, I'm not sure if I should take the chance with another fish again until the outside temperatures are stable. I'll have to think about this some more.

So today wasn't a real winner exactly. I wrapped up a lot of important things, but those small gains were completely soured by the bad stuff. I'm hoping for much better things tomorrow. Just a nice relaxing day with no problems ... reading some Salinger, playing some Baldur's Gate on the computer, watching some TV, listening to some music ... just relaxing.

As I write this my computer is working hard at optimizing its hard drive, all 45 GB. It's taking quite a bit longer than I had expected, so the Journal entry for today will be posted a bit late, I'm afraid.

The good news is that the optimization is the last thing to set up the computer. Everything's installed, tweaked, customized, and backed up. It's great! So now I'm ready to finish a few little things here and there (file for financial aid on the web, update some web accounts, get my one e.mail account working, e.mail some friends, ... different little things).

It's all good, though. In fact, I finished reading the third Harry Potter book while the computer is optimizing, and I've started reading Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, which I've never read, believe it or not. It's great to be able to read for pleasure and not for a class. It's just a whole different experience when it's something you want to do, not have to do. I'm not sure what else I'll read over break. These three books I've read in the past couple of days are all I had planned on reading. And I shouldn't read anything else. It's just an excuse to not write, and I had really hoped to push myself into writing a second chapter of Hope, Need & Fear. We'll see how that goes.

At this point, I want to just get all of the last little tasks finished and sit down to relax and play games on the computer, visit some people, and watch a couple of movies (most notably Lord of the Rings). It seems like I've been going full speed with different projects since school let out for the semester, and I want to just lay back for a little while before the frenzy of college returns.

So that's it for today. A short entry, but it's weird going back to writing these by hand rather than direct entry. I'm glad it's only for tonight - it's a real pain in the ass.