So. Merle found my page and read everything.

And chances are she’s read yours too. Well maybe not read, but painstakingly scoured it for comments I’ve left. And she told her friends too.

Believe it or not, she wasn’t that devastated/angry. The resulting fight didn’t even crack our all-time top 10. It was down at about #43 greatest. She was pretty stunned and hurt, but there were no big surprises for her to read. No startling realizations that I hid away from her. The worst was the comment flirting I’ve done with Wonderplum (boy she hates you). But even there she didn’t have a much of a right to cause havoc since she’s been guilty of the same offense in the past.

So I apologized and we moved on. Except now, out of the blue, a couple of times a day she’ll hit me with a question about something I wrote months ago. Things I don’t even remember writing, let alone what I was thinking or going through at the time. And it just stuns me, the amount of new perspective she has.

So I’ve privatized everything and don’t really know where to go from here. I guess I’ll be taking a break for a while. Hopefully everyone will still be here when I figure out how to proceed. I’m not sure if I can continue with her reading, and I’m not going to do things in secret either. It was one thing when she didn’t know about it. It’s another thing if I have to lie about it. sigh.

So it’s been one year since I wrote my first entry. I was sitting in Weldon library, dead tired after a night shift, not feeling like researching and working on a large assignment anymore. A bland and joyless entry, perfectly matching my caffeinated misery. Today would be a good day to shut things down and start a new Xanga I suppose. Annotating my 25th year in a semi public manner turned out much more brilliantly than intended or imagined. I should figure out a good way to archive all my entries and comments. I want this year catalogued in some way too.

Saturday, October 02, 2004

So tired. This blog that is a few days old has zero merit. I guess a nice picture of Totoro is ok. Maybe I will throw my Animetric avatar in there and link my sig there to here. I don’t know why I feel the need to spout drivel online. Other blogs actually offer something. This one? who knows? I doubt it. I can’t really write anything too interesting if I want to remain anonymous. So tired right now. Have to get that lousy pattern recognition assignment done for Monday if it kills me, which it is. Coffee coffee coffee coffee. Weightlifted today even though I was exhausted. If all else falls apart at least I have that going for me. Homecoming weekend is going on right now. I could care less, except it increases hassles at work. About two and a half hours left until I have to be at work, not really enough time to do anything really beneficial especially when I am feeling this tired.

Anyway, I went to a place called Witch’s Woods last night with Merle and another couple. A Halloween themed carnival type setup with haunted houses and a hay ride through the dark. We had drinks before but despite wanting to, I couldn’t really get into it. Maybe the alcohol had a numbing effect but the costumed, high school kids, jumping out from every corner and yelling, didn’t really frighten. The four of us had to have been in the upper 1% age bracket. By the time the local kids reach mid twenties I doubt Witch’s Woods is high on their list of things to do on a Saturday night.

In other news, I’m not happy here. Numb and frustrated. I need a job. and out.

blahhhhhhhharrrrrrrggggggggggg

I think that the people who procrastinate the most tend to be the most intelligent, sensitive and creative. (I also think they tend to commit suicide the most) These are the people that, when they need to do an unpleasant task, can create and envision within their minds, with vivid horrible detail, all the lurid nightmare scenarios that could possibly be involved with it. They do this so well and so quickly that it invokes an awful feeling that slowly seeps into every crevice of your body and you just want to suppress it with something else. So you write on Xanga when you have a million things to do. It’s the insensitive simple individuals who doggedly and gleefully jump in and plod ahead, oblivious or uncaring of the consequences of failure.

Blueberry has died.

Goodbye my friend, you leave this world a less colourful place.

2025 me here: There was a fish picture here. I wonder if I picked a dead or alive one.

Hello. It’s been a quiet morning and afternoon. I want to write here but am having difficulty seizing one of my swirling thoughts. They are encased within an impenetrable gelatinous blob of turmoil. Turmoil I don’t believe I’m entitled to but have nevertheless. I would like to live one day in someone else’s head, listening to their stream of consciousness. Would I find more complex and elegant reasoning or something cruder? Maybe that’s part of why I enjoy Xanga, except the experiences and ideas expressed here tend towards the shallow and inconsequential. A window into a truly interesting and insightful mind is so rare. but beautiful. I don’t believe myself to be particularly intelligent, I probably think slower and more freely disconnected than most. My expressed opinions tend to be vague or ambiguous. It’s difficult to have forceful opinions when you’re so open to possibility. It’s a drifting stream punctuated more with colour and music than vocabulary. Not a great attribute for someone on the verge of starting a career firmly grounded in rigid logical structure. My sister, who’s in art school, probably has the right idea. I have a suspicion that path would have fit better. Running a scientific maze will be challenging. But the challenge won’t be the work, it will be in finding some way to not be miserable in it. I wonder if someone else is living my life somewhere. I wonder if it fits them as poorly as this one does me.

I need to find a good used bookstore in Boston. And I wish I had a really high quality pair of earmuff headphones so I could listen to my Horrorpops album in peace and clarity. Promising interviews aside, I’ve had a terrible week. I feel constricted here like I knew I would. Not enough energy. I bet I inherited bad mitochondria from mom.

I’m managing the fish tank in Merle’s brother’s room now that he’s away at college in Salem. He only had one fish in there, the cichlid, but now I’ve made some additions and it’s a dysfunctional community of five. The Cheat is my favorite. Blueberry might die because of constant harassment from the three-spot gourami.

2025 me here: Looks like I had pictures of fish here.

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Mystery Cichlid, “Hercules”

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Clown loach, “The Cheat”

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Turquoise dwarf dourami, “Blueberry”

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Three-spot lavender gourami, “I need a name still”

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Plecostamous, “Puckers”

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My private comedy of errors continues. Turns out the man who crashed into me from behind is a lawyer and has filed a claim and is lying about which lane he was in to shift most of the liability on to me. So I have to go to the police station and give the details now. Officially I’m just visiting here but Merle’s mom told the insurance woman I was living here, which is a mistake because then I’m not an occasional driver and the insurance wouldn’t cover me. Then Merle later told them I was on the way to a job interview which cements the living here story. And the Harvard guys now want my references which means there’s a solid chance they want to hire me but they stipulate I must include a research mentor reference. But I had a frosty relationship with my research mentor at best and he’s always impossible to get a hold of. And I left my cherry chap stick in my shorts and Merle did laundry and it stained a whole bunch of her clothes with red streaks. And I have to mow the lawn but can’t get the decrepit family lawn mower to start and my hand blisters hurt still. The End.

Guess who crashed Merle’s Civic in a three car accident on his way to Harvard (but still got there on time)? 

I wisely didn’t bring it up during my interrogation. Would you hire the guy who crashed on the way to the interview? I figure I’ve got a 20% chance on landing it, I wasn’t terrible but didn’t nail it either. Some of my personality came out at the end which was a good thing. Now I have to prep for another one at 3. The fun won’t begin until I pick Merle up at 6 in her smashed up car though. 

I’m feeling the pinch of stress over a couple of upcoming interviews. One tomorrow at Harvard, the other a phone interview for Northeastern that could commence at any moment. It’s gratifying to have been contacted for a few interviews after less than two weeks of serious searching, but also a jolt. These two are the first interviews I’ve ever had for something relevant to my career. I’m a little intimidated that one’s at Harvard too. I don’t feel prepared to sell myself and all my references aren’t in. I suppose I should look at them as more of a learning experience than a legitimate shot. The deck’s already stacked against me because I don’t have a green card.

I’ve been on a major Beatles kick lately. They always cheer me up. I need a little of that.