currently: Blah

*listening to the radio--The Buggles "Video Killed the Radio Star" is on*

Okay, this is my real entry. I've been so busy or tired lately that I'm thinking about wearing adult diapers so I don't have to lose time going to the bathroom. I joke. Ha. Ha.

It hit me today that I am becoming my mother in horrifying ways. I'm buying useless shit to subsitute love. I've mentioned this before, I'm sure. Dear Gods, I've got to stop doing this. Yet nothing's making me happy. If I buy movies, I don't even have time to watch them. I try to give myself time to play games every other day or so... but that's not making me happy; it's only distracting me from being miserable.

I could say I'm a victim of our culture. "More is good," as Morrie would say. But I know better. At least, I thought I did. What the fuck is wrong with me?

The last few weeks, all I've been thinking of in my free time is, "What can I do to be happy?" But have I done anything? No. I'm too consumed with work and school, which is only making me more miserable. I can't wait for this semester to be over. I used to care about my grades. Now, I just want to get these classes over with so I can sleep. I'm seriously considering taking next semester off. There would be no point in taking classes if I'm not even interested in doing well, right? There'd be no point in wasting more money.

Stress is about to break me. In related news, a coworker of mine had a seizure/heart attack the other day. Several months ago, he was kicked in the head by a horse (this may explain some things about how he acts... but anyway). This apparently caused some neurological damage, and the messages sent to his blood vessels by his brain were screwed up.... so, they all swelled and filled his heart with blood. He was back at work today (dumbass). He's only twenty-one years old. Frightening, isn't it? I've probably referred to him previously by some charming nickname, but I can't recall it at the moment (he's not cockass). He's the mororcycle racer who's engaged. Why he's working in retail hell... the world may never know.

So, I've got two papers ahead of me. I believe this will be a long, sucky night. At least I don't work tomorrow... But I won't get to enjoy a gratuitous amount of sleep as I usually do on my days off. Dammit.

A princess bride personality test!
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yeah, whatever.

What Sign of Affection Are You?
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Which Rainbow Brite kid are you? By Growing.

What Labyrinth Charater are you most like?
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Joy. Now I have to study for a geography test, write a paper on Japanese politics, and write that RP I was supposed to do the other day. >_< KILL ME. KILL ME NOOOWWWWWWWWW.

And I bought the LOTR gift set today. The Argonoth are so sweet. ^*^

I had to play a little bit of PSO before going to bed, dontcha know? I was extremely bored and didn't really have time to do anything else in an hour. So, I played. Mindlessly. I finished the Heat Sword Quest on Hard mode and was rewarded with 2 level ups, 2 brionics (my first rare weapons, and I found them back to back--same room--dropped by gigaboomas), and lots or meseta. My dorkdom is so big that it splits my pants. I can't even use the brionics yet. And their sell value is crap.... grrr. In the DC version, you could resell rares for mucho $. Not so, now.

Okay, off to bed I go. I am boring and bored and tired. And I don't want to press my luck with my computer. (it hasn't frozen in over an hour--amazing!)

well, my computer is being a complete piece of shit.... I'm convinced it is not a software problem, but a hardware problem. In a desperate effort to make the piece of shit work longer than five minutes, I took off his shell and cleaned out his internal fan (which was just gross, I might add, and yet another reason to quit smoking).

I've tried to write in my diary two different times today, and Yakumo froze both times. So, I'm writing in notepad and saving every other line.

I didn't even bother to write my RP that was due today because I was so frustrated with computers. Hooking Pai up to my printer would take more effort than I am willing to exert right now. I'll write the RP later... I don't care how many points I get taken off; I'm in a generally apathetic mood aside from my aggravation with this POS I'm sitting in front of.

I am wishing that Rask would get online either on AIM or PSO sometime in the next fucking YEAR, but I'm not holding my breath. Chris-kitty is putting off getting a bba, though he tells me he will get one. Bah. I keep playing with greedy strangers PSO and getting so annoyed with them that I leave the game and start a locked one. If they can't share, fuck 'em. Damn n00bz.

I feel like writing more on the pursuit of happiness, yet I'm too aggitated to even try to gather my thoughts on that at the moment. Perhaps later.

I'm starving for attention. Starving. FEED ME.

Fyxation
current level: 36
Varaha is level 87
new items: another booma arm (I seem to be finding a quite a few animal parts, I think).

Today... has been a shitty day. -_-

I was writing my soc. paper earlier when my computer crashed. I tried to bitch about that here and it crashed again. I tried one more time... it crashed again. I'm not sure what's wrong with it. I suspect that it's overheating or there's a short somewhere, because it's not a software problem. In any case, I leaned my forehead against the monitor for about five minutes, trying not to scream or cry or smash the harddrive into a billion pieces.

I don't feel like writing my other paper now. Fuck it all for a day. As for this paper, I don't know what the teacher expects nor do I give a fuck. She's a horrible teacher, so I don't care what she thinks of my paper. Meh. Here it is... in all it crappiness:

Upon picking up Tuesdays with Morrie, I was not certain what to expect. I read little quotes written on the cover by newspapers across the country. I thumbed to the back of the book and read the little blurb about the author, Mitch Albom. Finding that he was a sports journalist made me even more reluctant to shell out twelve dollars for a book I had never heard of by an author I had never heard of, but curiosity won me over. Before I got to my car, I was reading the first chapter.

I initially was not sure how to approach this story of a dying man and living man. Being the slow reader I am, perplexed with dyslexia, I hoped something in the book would command my attention and not consume too much of my precious time. I am very greedy with my time. The first few pages were promising, though. I was introduced to two men, one dying and one eager to spend time with the dying, learning to accept death. Morris Schwartz, the dying, had been Albom�s professor in the past. However, he stayed in this role to his last days on earth and even after.

The book is an unfolding tale of Albom�s experiences with Morrie and touches on all the thoughts we normally push aside until faced with death. It retells their conversations about the most important parts of being human and living as one. Morrie had been the sort of teacher only found in movies. For a teacher to have genuine interest in whether a student were learning from his/her course or simply offering up whatever he/she wanted to hear seems unbelievable to someone of my generation. Morrie was concerned with his students as people. He encouraged them to speak with him and listened when they did. He befriended them and showered them with affection. He was there for them if they had questions about anything. He loved them and was loved by them. Why else would they put forth the effort to visit with him or speak with him before he died and took with him all the wisdom he had yet to impart on them?

To the very end, Morrie was Albom�s teacher. Together, they debated what is truly important in life. They discussed the significance of their actions. In Morrie�s last months, the only thing he was interested in was the quality of his time left in the world. Though he struggled with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig�s disease), he grew to accept the inevitable and not be consumed with self-pity. This is part of his last lesson to Albom: quality of time. This is the lesson in Tuesdays with Morrie that I learned.

For years, I have fought with having no direction and no goals in life. I�ve toiled through journals of introspective babble, trying desperately to find some shred of evidence that what I was doing with my life was what I wanted. As I read Albom�s dictation of Morrie�s words, his simple aphorisms that each of us should heed, I felt myself agreeing with his thoughts. I hungered for spending time as I want to spend it and not as society has told me to spend it. I wanted to do something with my life and to be content with it when it comes to an end.

Many people in our country live very unhappily in their last days. They regret not having done this or that, they feel worthless, they feel like there is nothing left for them to accomplish but death. The elderly are never prepared for death before they are old, which makes it a mystery and something to be feared. I think Morrie was conveying that it is important to accept that we all die one day, which is why we should live our lives to the fullest and avoid putting things off until it is too late.

After bringing up an old friend with whom his relationship had soured, Morrie describes regret and pain to Albom for not having made up with the old friend. He says, ��Forgive yourself. Forgive others. Don�t wait, Mitch. Not everyone gets the time I�m getting. Not everyone is as lucky.�� (167)

I found Morrie�s calm and collected approach to his own death so refreshing. It is how death should be. He did not envy the young, for he was once young himself. And when he allowed himself a dose of self-pity, it was a small dose that quickly passed, and he carried on with his day.

Some of the most profound statements Morrie made were purely his opinion which had formed from experience with people. He said, ��The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. We�re teaching the wrong things. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn�t work, don�t buy it. Create your own. Most people can�t do it. They�re more unhappy than me--even in my current condition.�� (35) I agree with him so strongly on this point. More and more people are unhappy, and it is trickling down from generation to generation because the wrong things are being taught. Instead of trying to create a new culture, people settle for the faulty one. Only when they are sick or in their last years do people try to get their affairs in order, settle old debts, or make amends. Why not do that when it matters and when you can appreciate the results?

In the chapter, �The Seventh Tuesday,� Morrie and Albom touch on this subject again and explore the reasons people fear aging. When we are young, we feel immortal and never imagine ourselves one day being connected to oxygen machines or having someone else bathe us because we are too weak to do it ourselves. And we are disgusted with the thought of this. But why? It is bound to happen, yet we are taught--either by the media or by not being taught otherwise--that being old is being unwanted. We shuffle our Gramps and Grannies away in nursing homes, where we cannot be reminded of what it is like to be old.

Aging is a part of life, and not a flaw to be covered up. Morrie eloquently says, ��It�s very simple. As you grow, you learn more. If you stayed twenty-two, you�d always be as ignorant as you were at twenty-two. Aging is not just decay, you know. It�s growth. It�s more than the negative that you�re going to die, it�s also the positive that you understand you�re going to die, and that you live a better life because of it.�� (118) He also explains that people that long to be young again are dissatisfied with their lives.

I stopped when I read this. I think I�m one of those people. Every year, when I grow a year older, I get the birthday blues. I typically ask myself, �What have I accomplished so far? What�s my reason for living? Am I happy?� and other equally depressing questions. On top of this, I feel guilty for asking myself these questions.

Reading this book only made me wonder more what it is I am doing with my life. I am only twenty-three, and I am already unhappy with where my life is. If Morrie were alive and I were telling him my story, I think he would tell me to enjoy my life while it is here and reject what is expected of me.

I do not fear aging or dying, but I do fear the future. If I am unhappy today, I know I will be unhappy tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. I dread that. Morrie might tell me to do everything I can to be happy today and even if tomorrow were a bad day, I would still feel good about it because I was enjoying my life.

So, I was sitting in the house I grew up in when I turned the last page and re-read the little blurb about Mitch Albom. As cliched as it sounds, I said to myself, �Never judge a book by it�s cover.� I set the book in my lap and thought about all the messages Albom was trying to pass on from his experience with Morrie Schwartz. I stared out the window and looked at the autumn leaves, absorbing Morrie�s lesson as tears threatened to spill down my cheeks. And I decided I have to do what will make me happy. I have to find out what I want out of my life and pursue it with outstretched arms, instead of living my parents� dreams or running blindly into an uncertain future of which our culture approves.

I believe that time is all I have. Morrie re-affirmed this. I should make the most of it today. I should hold onto as much quality time as I can, as he did--not only in his last days but throughout his entire life.

This is the second time I have written this paper. The first time, my computer crashed as I was writing up the last paragraph. I did not come back to the computer for a few hours, and when I did, I actually laughed and thought about how Morrie might have handled the situation. I said to myself, �That was anger. I dislike being angry, so I�m going to put that aside and experience something better for a while. Detach.� Now that I am done rewriting this, I believe I owe myself some quality time.

----

That was it. Pretty shitty, yes? Oh, well. That's life. And death. And everything in between.

currently: blank

It's been a long, dull weekend.

I dreamed last night that two juveniles were stealing shopping carts, and I was talking to them. They ended up being just a little younger than me. One of them was coyly thieving my cigarettes. And somehow, we ended up talking about LOTR. Stupid dream. A bit later, and I'm not sure if this was in the same dream or not, aliens were herding humans onto a giant transport ship. Uh... yeah. The perspective had changed, and I wasn't in the dream anymore. Never saw the aliens but did see an enormous ship on the horizon. Even stupider.

The week's been rough.

Aside from having to write two papers tonight (one 4+ pages and the other 5+ pages) and I'm not even done with the book that one will be about, I've been fighting emotional downpours.

*turns on VNV Nation, FuturePerfect*

Overwhelming loneliness... the kind that makes you strangle your pillow... and mind crippling apathy are my favorite dishes. It's hard to get up and go to class when you don't even give a fuck about anything, let alone some silly grade that ultimately means nothing. And no one's interested in how I'm doing in school, anyway. My only reasons for going were my brain wants knowledge (which it isn't getting) and I can live at home (which makes life easier).

But to hell with all that.

I want out of this routine. I want away from this city. Mostly, I want away from these self-destructive thoughts. I'm sick of everything from sitting at home in silence (no, this is not an inviation to go out) to feeding the parking meter when I go to class. LONELINESS. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh!

I don't spend quality time with anyone, and this newborn human that I've become is shriveling back up into a fetal state.

I haven't talked to Toni in months. I see Kuroiko off and on, but we're both so busy that the time is often short. Rask is always working. People at work are constantly trying to get me out, but I barely have time for my own friends, let alone new ones.

What I need is a good cry. A moment of self-pity. But I can't even grant myself that.

The book I'm reading for sociology (the one I have to write 5 pages on) is actually rather good... but it's only intensifying these feelings swirling in my head. I just know my paper is going to be uber-depressing if I get it done. they say that time will heal
that truth will set us free
well that depends on what you choose to believe.

...

i believe in you
you believe in me
but i have no trust in anything.

The FuturePerfect is uncertain.

Fyxation
current level 33?
Varaha level 87
new items: another pd, booma's arm, grass assassin's arm

It really really sucks playing without a keyboard, but there's no way in hell I'm importing one for $107. That's ridiculous. I wish Sega would get on the ball and release the NA version. NOW. If my computer were near my tv, I could at least IM my party. But my comp's in my room and the tv's in my den. Shite.

currently: I so stoopid

*listening to VNV Nation, Empires*

So, I slipped into my sociology class and everyone was handing in papers. I turned to one of classmates and asked her what that was... to which she replied, "that's the 5 page paper we're supposed to write on that book blah blah blah."

My response: "BWahahahahahah" *moment of silence* "I'm screwed again, aren't I?"

I didn't know about the paper at all, and I'd never heard of the damn book in my life. I get 5 points off for every day the paper is late. I guess I need to go find the book, ne?

And yet... I have no inclination to care. If I bomb this class, I'll have lost money and time. The teacher said I'll be able to make a B if I do well on the next quiz and get a decent grade on the paper. Heh. Hmm.... Eh, I still don't care.

I have another RP due monday. 4+ pages of the tyranny and broken spirits revolving around slavery. That's the short version. That teacher gave a paragraph description of what to put in it. Though I really do like what I read and feel strongly about it, I hate writing analytical shit. It's so forced. >_< I can only stretch my BS so far before it starts leaving skid marks on my brain. There's a pretty image.

Incoming fan-girl babble:

I made a RAmarl on PSO named Murasaki. I was going to make her Murasaki Neko, but it wouldn't fit. My last ranger was a Shironeko, a lil white bot. This new one is a human chick with red hair and glasses and has a purple uniform. I should come up with a story for her... like Shironeko was uploaded with Murasaki's brain wave patterns or something. Bah. I don't even have time to write stories anymore.

The itch to play has returned. Must go kill things. But I'll wait til this song is over. *dozes off in VNV Nation Land*

It's so friggin' cold that my teeth were chattering while I was driving home from class. T-shirt, jeans, and a trench coat and my cold-blooded ass are apparently not suitable for 20 degree weather.

*wiggles and bounces*

Rask is supposed to be on tonight around 9, maybe. =D Haven't gotten to talk to him in sooo long. Murr. Maketh me sad.

I dun wanna work tomorrow. ;_;

Murrr.

Fyxation is now level 23. Slow... but I can do hard mode (and get my ass severely kicked) now.