i’ve stopped counting

Hmm… maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Settling into my room and making it a pleasant place to be only makes me feel worse for not having anybody to share it with.

This new cave has rather convenient hooks installed at random points on the walls. I am using one to hang a dream catcher. I really hope it works. I would love to wake up from a calm sleep, fully rested with my head full of that “today is a new day” optomism I took for granted eight years ago. Of course, that was eight years ago. I’m not sure I would recognize that feeling now. Tomorrow, if I behave, I will hit WalMart soon after I get up to get a lamp, a small table-type thing, and a poster hanger. I think it’d be nice if my room somehow became a place I didn’t mind being awake in.

I take complements BADLY. I didn’t get any complements other than “I’m proud of you” from family members until maybe six months ago, I don’t really pay attention. If I do get a complement, I either think the source was being sarcastic, or I just do something stupid like change the subject or let “Retard Eric” start yapping. Of course, about thirty minutes later I suddenly realize that I got a complement and spend the rest of the night kicking myself for taking it badly. Grr! Eric need learn like complement!

changes, changes, changes, Changes! All around me! AAAA!

The psychic hostility of my apartment caused me to ask the friendly desk lady at the area desk to help me find an empty room nearby. This morning she found one, so I’m moving all my crap about a minute away. I’m sure one of my roommates is going to break out the party keg and celebrate my disappearance, but I don’t care; I’ve already told him what he can go do. Quick note: If you’re any of the perhaps two people who read this page and actually call or visit me, be wary that my phone number, IP address, and mailling address will change.

The work atmosphere may be changing. We’re getting a new full-time staff person to (I guess) help me do what I do without being asked - work on the webpages. This should be mighty painful. I hate watching people work on webpages. It’s like watching somebody on the “Millionare” show. I know they are coding themselves into a not very professional-looking oblivion, but I am powerless to stop them. … I just realized none of that made sense, but this may well be one of my longest updates, so I do not care. Skip to before the aimless chatter - the other change is that we will temporarily only have me doing all the dirty work for the college computing services. Get better, $#%*@&! (please).

I am pondering scanning a number of my screwy cartoons for posting on my webpage. Slappy seriously deserves the index page honors. If you need to know why, I’ll be happy to tell you. Maybe I need to start a portfolio-style thing on my webpage. I could post photos of black-and-white cracks in the sidewalk and a picture of a pencil in a garbage can. People will flock to my website and declare me the most-artsiest-type person alive. I will rule the world with my random attempts at photographing my thumb point-blank. And I will move all my stuff to a page like www.betterthanyouartperson.com . And lo, I will win daily awards of online publishing and will retire at 21 and learn to like fishing.

Woot. Updater now has its own directory on my webpage.

Sometimes when I’m going from point A to point B, I randomly go in a less usual way. Take the stairs instead of the elevator, whatever. Sometimes when I’m just wasting time, I’ll go sit outside and wait for some good conversation. I think too much about how my entire life can change based on random, meaningless decisions. For instance, I decided to sit alone in the dining area at Wendy’s instead of taking food to go. No reason to stay there, no reason to hurry home. That changed a lot of what I’ve been thinking about since then, and likely most everything else. Stop to adjust my shoelaces (yes/no) ? Sit over this way or over that way while waiting for class to start? Skip my meaningless statistics class and mosey to my next class or hurry and get there late? Those all seem meaningless, but choices like that drastically affect everything. Sixty million variables. I think I’ll just say whatever happens, I’m glad I decided for the food court.

in response to
‘my cursor is a banana and i dont know why’

my telephone is a walking stick.
my orangutan is a desk lamp.
my zebra pelt is a rubix cube.
my pencil sharpener is a very close friend.

Click here for the newest updater.exe version. It doesn’t really do anything different, but the behind-the-scenes stuff is drastically improved. This is more of an attempt to get me to put more effort into programming than it is to give Dave a new toy for his computer. Perhaps soon I’ll have a much improved version of updater.

I got a hit from somebody searching for ‘big booty’ on netscape. They found me somewhere between the ‘Big Ol’ Booty Bonanza’ and the ‘911 BOOTY CALL’. I am rather confused by Netscape’s association of me with male ethnic booty porn. Of course, mentioning male ethnic booty porn will only increase the odds people will find this page in their endless searches for male ethnic booty porn. Male ethnic booty porn. Male ethnic booty porn. I’ll probably regret doing this, but at least it might make a girl laugh and improve her day. Male ethnic booty porn. Male ethnic booty porn.

Tomorrow is the first day of classes. Again. Something like the twentieth time I can say that. I am looking forward to most of my classes, so that is a big improvement over the zero classes I cared for last semester. Life hasn’t really been improving all that much, but I suppose at least I have more hope than usual that things may turn out better, or happy if I’m lucky. Tomorrow, if I find the bloodmobile, I’ll be going for my ninth session of what I like to call ‘rapid weight loss.’ Yes, you heard me. Nine. I am a galloneer and I want to be a 1.125 galloneer. Some people collect stamps. I collect free t-shirts and little scars on the inside of my left elbow.