May 22-23, 2001 — There's no convincing you

I've had just about enough of this rain. I end up getting wet while walking on my way to and from work, on my way to and from lunch, and on my way to and from the bus stop in Richmond. Not only that, but my shoes also squeak rather loudly if I walk on a smooth floor after being outside in the rain, and there's nothing more humiliating than squeaky shoes.

During the first sentence of that last paragraph, I knew that it was doomed. Now that I've decided that I'm more than lazy enough to leave it as it is and to leave it as the introduction to this journal entry, I'm certainly not confident enough to recommend that you continue reading what will undoubtedly be one of my more, "Hey, it's been two days since I last wrote a journal, I'd better not let it get to five days again," entries. Yeah. One of those. Fuck.

Alright. So. Most importantly, I'm ecstatic that thanks to the shortened workweek, my week if already half over. My current assignment continues to drive me to the brink of insanity as I copy and paste my brain into the consistency of raw tofu. (I've never touched raw tofu, but I assume it's unpleasant to the touch and very much un-brain-like.) Beyond causing my brain to denature, I also have to learn to force myself to spend the entire day making pages less attractive, less standards-compliant, and more bloated than they were before. I'm learning to deal with that twitch that comes with adding a red horizontal rule that fades to white about five times to each and every page. I think they should have gone all out and added little "Under Construction" animated GIFs with the little man working that pickax until the end of time, trapped in all of perpetuity on a tacky Web page that probably has links that increase in size when you move your mouse over them and a useless Flash movie that delays entering the site by thirty minutes. And Sisyphus thought he had it rough...

Now that I'm completely out in the open with my holier-than-though commentary on Web design in spite of the fact that I'm not very good at it myself, and now that I've referenced characters from Greek mythology that I know almost nothing about, I think I'll proceed to do some unnecessary name-dropping to ensure a permanent place in your heart. (In the chamber you reserve for blind hatred, I mean -- I don't know about you, but at least one or two chambers of my heart are reserved for negative emotions. Atriums, probably. My ventricles manage to keep it real, though...)

It occurs to me, though, that I'm not really worth anyone's blind hatred. So let's move on then.

Since playing football on Sunday, I haven't been able to walk properly. My muscles still ache three days later. I'm somehow managing to have a limp in both my left and right legs. I'm not quite sure how to describe this other than telling you to picture a lot of shuffling and a lot of looking like I sound when I try to speak French. (Awkward and out of practice, that is.) I'm convinced that this ongoing pain in my legs is a sign of something, and I'm pretty sure that that something is good health. Feel free to post conflicting opinions. Hell, feel free to post anything -- it's starting to feel a lot like I'm talking to myself again...

I'm starting to wonder, though: would I be writing this if I didn't feel obligated to the people who visit my site? In the beginning, getting 10 visitors in a day was pretty intense, but I wrote a journal entry several times a week because I needed somewhere to write. There were a lot of things that I didn't think I could come out and say to another person, and this was my place to say them. But I've gotten over a lot of that, and after living in residence for eight months, it's tempting to go back to not communicating with anyone for awhile, to return to wandering graveyards in Richmond and writing out journals by hand in tree-houses hidden in forests.

But it's good to have motivation. Something to keep me writing. So I'm not complaining at all; I just wonder if this is as honest a reason for writing as I used to have. I wonder if it matters.

Probably not.