February 18-19, 2001 — Beaches and poetry

I have a headache and I'm very tired. But I love you so much that I'm going to write a journal to make sure that I don't fall two days behind. I won't promise that it'll be a long journal or a good journal, but so long as you remember that it's all about the love, it'll be worth it.

Uh huh. Luckily, Sunday was practically a day off for me anyway, so there's little to write about. And when I say, "a day off," I mean in the life of a university student who seldom attends classes. So we're talking some major lethargy here.

My only burst of energy came early in the afternoon when I decided to go shopping at Value Village. I bought a few kids books and some Transformers party hats, and I'm a better person for it. There's a picture of me wearing said party hat over at my IAM.BME page if you're interested.

Speaking of which, I've been spending a lot more time updating my BME page as of late. I'm not sure why; I just felt the need to write really short journals and to try to be vaguely witty as a change from my epic and cynical entries over here. I'm not sure how well it turned out, but at least I got to share a webcam shot of me wearing a Soundwave party hat with the rest of the world.

After getting back from Value Village, I must've spent about 8 consecutive hours in my room. It was pretty nauseating, really. But I cleaned up a little and I did a lot of laundry, so at least I was vaguely productive. Emphasis on vaguely.

Today I got slightly more accomplished in spite of an unproductive start to the day -- after lunch, I decided that I wanted to go see a movie whether or not something that I wanted to see was playing. (Don't pretend you don't get in those moods sometimes, too.) And it turned out that "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" was starting at the Paramount twelve minutes from when I checked the listings. Always up for a challenge, I hopped on the subway and made it midway through the previews.

I enjoyed "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" a lot more today, my second time through. I was less distracted, people in the audience weren't laughing at strange times, and, well, it was on an IMAX screen that almost took up my entire field of vision. Best $3.00 I've spent in awhile.

After returning home, I set to work ensuring that I could have gregsucks.com email running by the end of this week, or early next week if the DNS changes propagate too slowly. I then updated the BV3 site for the third time in as many days with a picture of the new art for the CD single and changed the sheets on my bed back to my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ones. And while the untrained eye might not notice, my room is slightly cleaner. Or at least more ordered. Sure, you can still say countless piles of garbage on the webcam, but now I've looked through those piles and organized them into piles with distinct themes.

For dinner, I couldn't really see a way of avoiding sitting with Middle House without looking like a snob. How I yearn for the days when I could just be antisocial without people taking it as me thinking that I'm better than them. If only they could understand that it's not me that's too cool for school, it's school that's too cool for me.

Not much happened after dinner. I talked to Angie for a fairly long time, and it was nice to get some things off my chest. We talked a lot about our plans for the summer (all of mine involving a desire to be near beaches -- the other details just don't matter) , and she showed me a poem that I'd posted in a National Capital FreeNet newsgroup a long time ago. It went like this:

face scorched by lovesick blizzards;
drowning in snowflakes...
sitting on a swingset frozen in the dawn,
footsteps wiped clean by the wind.

It makes me miss parts of Richmond since I know which swingset I was thinking of.

But even bad poetry won't save this journal now.