honestly always was my best policy.

i just dont care for it much now.

see. to be honest would need me to say more than i have to.

and i dont think i have to do anything more than i have to.

my life sucks. i dont think anyone would argue that long. im approximately 3 weeks from homelessness. and i have an exact number of 3 paychecks left. there isnt any jobs. none for me it seems. there isnt any place to go to. i most likely will sell off some of my stuff, and dump the rest in some storage lot, till i can get something figured out. but this isnt good. why does my life end up this way? college wasnt supposed to guarantee you a spot on the street... but thats what it did for me. and maybe homeless people have it better off than me... atleast in one respect... they dont have 20,000 dollars in debt tied to them... college did that to me. all this shit about building work experience. or working hard. or letting opportunity knock. its all a bunch of crap. i busted my ass harder than anyone else around me, and look where thats taking me to. its not a pleasant topic. nor am i in a pleasant mood. people dont like the sincerity of attaching someone to a plight. not just a someone, but a Someone. a person you know. i think two of them at work were ashamed to look at me when they asked me the final question, "what are you going to do... are you going to end up living in your car?" and my answer was. "if it has to come to that" like i have a fucking choice. oh sure. im sure the staff is friendly and room service is grand at that 5-Star deluxe joint up the road. the pleasantries money can afford. the niceties that arent afforded to all of us. money just buys insulation. innoculation. isolation. just some distance from it all. and ill be right in the middle of it. hows that for a pleasant thought?

reality isnt about being pleasant i suppose. its about being quaint. bumping elbows with anyone and everyone. people from the top of the pile... and people at the bottom of it like me. its all ebb and flow. its about moving between stations... and hoping something doesnt mix into a slurry. like being a 24 year old fuck up. having a college degree and no place to live. being the lone gunman at every occasion, standing alone as always on the knolls. being the one that gets ignored by choice. or being the one that gets treated disparingly. and why not. isnt that what we teach our kids about homeless people? dont well tell them they are dirty. loathesome. undesireable. isnt that what ive become.

dignity is that line that separates it. i guess. the line that calls out who fits that role, and who doesnt. but whats dignified about being a 24 year old loser. whats up and comming about the person that cant con a girl to dinner? what distinction do we give someone who isnt good enough for a job? what do you call the person that just is the opposite of together, by our standards?

its the person that gets treated like shit in every relationship running. the one who fears the world love. because love just brings more shit. and its been slathered on a bit too thick already. and forget for a moment that a person like that has any feelings left. theyve paid their dues in memories. but it just doesnt cash out to much. never take him seriously. always look for the cute worthless boy instead. decline an offer. ignore his hand thats opened. call him names. if you even choose to call him back. thats the way it should be, shouldnt it? shouldnt be that we feel sorry. we dont want to do anything out of pitty. and besides. that frat boy is cute anyhow. why waste the feelings on some scruffy 24 year old piece of garbage. it will rot and disappear soon anyhow.

Current Musical Selection: Kenny Rogers - Just Dropped In

well this is a moment folks. i do believe this is my first legal download of music from the internet... now thats not to say that none of the songs i have now, are of anything but illegal nature... but this is the very first, on-demand, type of purchase ive ever made. yes. i resorted to the shit snorting itunes site to do it. so... of all the non-conformist, unrecognizeable artists one-hit songs that are never attributed to them... i chose this one. cracks me up every time i hear it on the Big Lebowski. so i thought id start it up... just to see what condition my condition was in.

Current Musical Selection: Audioslave - Like A Stone

well.... hunched over a fuming bucket of chemical stripper, i found myself questioning why i was hanging around here. its a warm, bright, friday night. the kind of night everyone has plans for. the ones where youd be damned to find a keg of natty light in stock anywhere in this town. and im up to my elbows under shelving units, trying to erase the pile of goo thats all over my floors. its staples. its sterile. or atleast i will be after all these fun fumes im breathing in. i guess some people find out things about their life in the oddest of circumstances. i think i found a pen. or a french fry. regardless. after picking out all the recongnizeable pieces of shit i find, i get to bathe this whole area in something we dropped out of planes in Vietnam. except this bucket is purple. clearly the orange would have clashed with staples color pallet. its a hazy synthetic smell. not overpowering. not pleasant either. but it waifes about. some times i can smell it, sometimes i cant when i walk away from the bucket. i could have always burnt out my mucus membranes, so im not really sure. the shit is quite slick. slippery. but after i slop a pool on the blackened and gunky tile, the shit starts to congeal. after twenty minutes it will buble. thicken. stink more. then cure into stringy bits of shit, the shit that used to be on the floor, into a rubber cement like substance... that glistens more like snails or semen. then i get to use these fabulous rubber gloves and scoop it all up into a bucket and bag. then deposit it directly in the dumpster. its a good feeling! must not have been a pen. maybe some sort rodent tail. regardless. its a friday night, and im evaluating the shit thats rotting underneath shelves. i wonder to myself, where did i loose any sense of a life i had? how come im not one of those people, getting phone calls about the hot party, or the cool place to be? when did i become so, so fauxpaux that i get this treatment? ick. some of it sloshed back on my arms. i can feel it run down them like water... yet it feels heavier than water. or more lathargic. more blackish stuff to scrape up. id get sick of it. but i dont have much else to work with. it is a friday night. and. somehow that means im the only one that doesnt have plans. well me, and the gi joe arm i found under this pannel. everyone else has something to do. someone to do, even. and im scraping away the staples barnicles from the shelves. at 9pm at night. and its a friday. i always sort of figured i wasnt popular. but never this bad. never this much stuff stuck to the tile. never had to use a nylon brush on the shit before either. its alot like scouring pots and pans really. just with more caustic chemicals. and i suppose ive applied my own variety of caustic wipes over the years to my friends and social life. but alot like the tiles, ive kinda been cut through a bit too much i suppose. when the colored striations of the tile come off... then i know ive put a bit too much stripper on it. so i take a wet paper towel, and i wipe it down, feeling the smooth, pale color of acid burned tiles through the rubber gloves. and that leaves me with another 4 foot done. i take a razorblade tool and do the last bit of scrapings to pull the now snot-like strings up off the tiles, so i can take clean water and mop it off. friday night isnt all that great. i gotta tell myself that. i have to lie, and say how much im not affected... or is it effected by friday nights anymore. unlike the cool kids... the guys driving motorcycles shirtless past me with blonde girls on the back of the bikes. seems like everybody has some place to get to. cept me. thats why i get to clean and peel off the shit from the floor. staples janitor all the way. and its friday night. my phone rang as i was walking into the building. for minute... i just got happy.. relieved that maybe id have an excuse... that id have a reason... or a life. it was an automated message from my bank, reminding me to authorize this month bill pays online. i savored it. as much as anyone should. in fact.. i wish id let it go to voice mail... so i could listen to it again, as i searched for the tubs of chemicals... so that i could use it like a parachute... to bail me at the last second, from plummeting downwards in the uncontrolled spiral... that would save me. that would pull me up.... and separate me from the earth once again. but by the time i thought of that, id already found the gloves. it was a little late. even though it was very early on a friday night.

well jacko got off. with little boys. and while im not quite sure whether he was guilty of it in this particular instance, this one becomes a head scratcher. you see. it becomes a practical problem of how to put away repeat sexual offenders. on the one hand it would be much easier if we just drug them out of the holes they lived in, and locked them up. on the other hand, we have to be legal about this. michael jackson is rich. he can afford better representation that id say any other sexual pervert could afford. and it worked. and while i do believe in the rule of law, and preserving the rights of those until proven guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt... which this jury could not find for. i have that feeling about him. that feeling where you go, "gee, this isnt how its supposed to end" i have no doubt in my mind that jackson believes in what he does. no doubt whats so ever that he cares for children. but he fits a pattern folks. he fits a very specific pattern of probable future sexual offenders. various early life pyscho-stigmatizers were appearant in this mans life, that in the general course of policework, would lead you to this mans door 30 years later, when boys end up missing and abused. and for his defense, jackson admits to us; "i sleep with young boys. i read them stories. i tuck them in. i give them hot milk." that was the defense. i do this to lots of boys. it look bad. but i dont believe that it constitutes criminal wrong doing. jackson didnt think so. but i would still be knocking on this assholes door when underoo's turn up missing. you see, for jackson, sex is not normal. for a man who's friends are chimpanzee's and liz taylor; for a man who owns a complex named after a fairy tale, a man who is so self conscious about his own image he parades in public in surgical masks.... nothing is normal. and for us. enticing young boys in the privacy of one's bedroom, is also not normal. sexual or otherwise. jackson is indeed guilty. guilty of our pitty. guilty of our despair. guilty of our dark fears. jackson is guilting of being perverse. but thats not a crime. thats a reality. and were left with the probably's, and the most likely's that jackson did, but that we'll never know much about. as far as hes concerned, it will be harder than ever to make something stick now, after this finding of fact in california circuit court. and i dont really know how else to express what i feel, aside from a let down of nothing.

forget that its out of focus.... 

so a bit of story i suppose. sunday i was pissed... thought id go for a drive.... start driving all is fine... just as its about to get dark, on the interstate... BAM rumble rumble... car rolls hard right.. the road is running a jog to the right, so i down shit, break, and throw the wheel to the left to compensate for it... the rumbling is violent i can feel whatever pounding against the floorboards... and i guess i forgot about traffic... so i panic break as the car isnt slowing down or correcting... so i jog it right, then all the way left to break it...... i loose the back end... it fishtalils out away from me, and the car is skidding pretty well out of control towards the left across both lanes of traffic. i slid to a stop with the only the right front tire on the gravel shoulder of the road... everything else is pointing down in the median. i get out to look. turns out i absolutely shredded this tire... smoke is pouring out, ive got huge 60 foot skid marks across the lanes... then i see the tire is so ripped and shredded that its tangled inside the wheel well and caught up on the skirting and ripped that out... 2 pieces of trim came off and were laying in the right hand lane, and the tire was pretty well wrapped around my coil spring, jammed into place.... hence my inability to turn the wheel... smoke is just pouring out from it. it stinks to all shit. i just stare at it.. then i get a blare. some semi comes flying past me by about 8 inches. i shit myself a bit i think... then remember where i am. i walk back to the drivers side and see bald patches on the front tire from the skidding.. but it looks ok.. then i set about on the task of changing a spare tire while inches off the passing lane on the interstate. which turned out to be better than i thought. most people stayed off me. the real fun was in trying to pull the damaged wheel off the hub. with near liquified rubber and steel belts going every which way it was hard to separate what was trim, molding, steel, tire, and assorted debris. the top picture shows you how bad the tire warped around the post. nuts. i guess im glad i didnt snap the suspension off. guess im glad a lot of things didnt happen. and im thankful that i DO know how to drive and handle myself. regardless... i put the spare on and baby-ed her off the interstate, and limped to a service station. i eventually had to get two new front tires installed this morning.. the drivers side was so blemished from the panic stop that the wrench-monkey said it wasnt safe to drive on anymore. so 130 bucks poor-er. ive got new tires. new pictures. and another story to tell.


whats wrong with this picture

Current Musical Selection: Meatloaf - I'd Do Anything

well... its not that i forgot that i had this... just i havent had any kind of time in quite a long time to do much with it. sigh. its all very busy. too busy. filled with things that dont really matter. things that just frustrate me to no end. i try to tell myself at night, right as i take that last look at myself in the mirror, i try to say, "its going to be better in a few months" and im starting to have a hard time believing myself. schools going to be done. and then what? ill have no job. no place to live, less than 50 days after that point. truely, then what? i try not to think about it much. but it creeps in at night, when you bring the covers over your eyes sooo tight, that you think it might shut out the light of those dreams.... dreams that are bright with their dark thoughts. dreams about the rest of your life, with nothing. no direction. no place. and no one. and its then you realize you are suffocating... hiding under heavy covers. in the dark, all alone. and its just all a dream. and its only a few months away.

its all so depressing really. thinking about the future. it used to seem clear. predictable. possible. now its a subject id rather not finding myself thinking through. but its supposed to get better. thats how i lie to myself. thats how i have to project it. like cynicism. that just oozes out of me now. i suppose that its all really just one and the same. everything tied to everything else. and then again. its hard to be taken seriously when you take it on like i have lately. its hard to want to believe thats all my serious options are in life anymore though. which is worse? laughing at your odds; or your odds are just laughter? so i grew this way. and... sometimes. i wish for once.... i just pray...... that id get something i could take serious again. i wish i had inspiration. i wish i had desire. i wish i had committment. i wish i had it all. i wish i wasnt me. i wish i wouldnt do the things i do.. or that i would fall in the traps ive always set myself up for. i wish i could have paid attention or answered a question better... or maybe just smiled instead of saying something. or that someone else could have done that once or twice to me. hell. i wish alot of things were different right now.

Current Musical Selection: Dimmu Borgir - Masses For The New Messiah

well... its only been like a month since ive posted. hardly that. but something just as close. guh. i dunno why. i sit here alot. for precious few moments at a time. but im here, in my chair, starring down pixels alot. but its never often enough. just get too busy with life. applying for jobs like mad. [averaging about 1 every other day] and such. oh and work! we cant forget the fun that is work. computing taxes. thats a great joy. then i have to eat. sometimes. dont forget dumbass homework. kinda like the latin im not getting studied for tomorrow. 2nd latin exam. something like 300 lines covered i guess. i prolly know a good 100 lines pretty well. the rest. eh? ive read it once. i just hope the exam is kind to me. im kinda lacking in motivation right now. if the text came last week, id be ok. but now that the 1 month and under countdown is underway... it makes it hard to focus. kinda like how i couldnt focus on my recitation in class.... turns out mark gave me a 23/25. fucking shocking. appalling even. but appreciated. i walked around babbling latin in meter about kissing little boys for 2 weeks to get that. then i walked into class and just fucking brain farted the last 3 lines. sigh. it happens. its over with. its ONLY latin. although. im already looking ahead to when i might have money. several purchases come to mind of necessity; however.... the university sent me this shit on a trip to rome through the alumni association. as much as a dispise the alumni association, and the u. rome looks neat. very neat. almost neat enough to say ive earned it, some day when i can afford it. and in a way i hope so. after beating my self up so many years over this foreign language requirement... it would be nice to put it to work for a week.... just reading the random things all over rome. seeing everything ive read about. the places where Horace just happens to spend his days walking around [which are still around], or the guestimate location a bit farther north, where G. J. Caesar crossed the Rubicon river. or even just the rock piles that remain of the Temple of Jupiter Stator... where Cicero conveined the Senate against Cataline. it would be so fullfililng to me to see all this shit that ive spent so many nights staying up to memorize, and spell, and identify with. to see them. to stand there. to walk around them. to picture it just like all these stories say so. just to view rome. that i think is something i would really enjoy now... now that ive put myself through this.

i used to be one of those people who could just fall asleep at any time, any where, when tired. lately ive been back on the... cant fall asleep for shit... pattern. its not good. i have class in seven hours. sigh. class where i didnt do any homework... and havent memorized any latin. then i go straight to work. im not even going to start about how happy that place makes me. sigh. lots of sighs tonight. just no yawns. thats what i could really use. one long, drawn out. tiring. yawn. y-a-w-n.

so i tried to fall asleep in bed. i just ended up laying there. rolling around. scratching my leg periodically. just couldnt fall asleep. it shouldnt be this hard. babies manage to do it. just not me. retarded monkeys can fall asleep. but not me.

the worst part about not falling asleep right away, is that you start thinking. i think about alot of stuff. sometimes its balancing my checkbook. sometimes its computing gas mileage. once in a while its about guessing how much money ive made for staples. tonight i did the worst of all. i started thinking about myself. i started thinking about the moaning, whining things about myself that i always sit and draw on about. i thought about my hopeless love[less] life. more about its patheticness. or my level of patheticness... or the degree to which it has progressed into a state of pathetic. sigh. dammit jeremy. i got this sigh trick from you!. .... .... .. . . . .

anyway. i was thinking about what i should do. given, that nothing is going to happen for me. understand that im leaving the best chance of getting any, as often as possible, or the best odds of finding a member of the opposite sex, that i ever will... i find my self rolling around, thinking about what happened in the past. i tihink about faces. i think about names. i think about people. i think about myself. i think about the things ive said. what ive done. and why id ever do things like that. it always ends up the same. and i realized that tonight as i beat the pillow and flip it over. that i when it comes down to one specific case, im always eating blame for it. but i didnt run across that right away. it took a half hour of random thoughts pouring around my empty head, before i get to that point. ... .


i get there by leveling with myself . i try and sit and be honest with myself about everything thats happened to me. then i think of the time table. i know that in a few months im gone. and ive lost probably 90% of the people i should have said something to, that i never did. and i realize that there still is someone around i need to talk to. its not so much about declaring undying, unbeknownst love. for what im thinking about, its more about coming clean. its about talking about the past. talking about what happened. and talking about what that meant to me. about how i felt. about how it took me so long to deal with it. its about, i suppose, about wanting to move forward, one looked behind. its about saying goodbye. some nights i think that i need to. other nights i could never imagine it. but i still am at a loss for words. i can imagine being face to face again. but i cant think of what id say. i know what i need to say. i know what i should say. but everything doesnt work out that way late at night, in your head. i guess what i want to say is what they dont care about. and generally speaking, no one else that reads this will either. and thats me. its me that cared. its me that wants some closure. its me that wants to walk out the good guy. and if cant do that. then let me walk out. but i have to confront it. to save some dignity. to confess to what was. to see through the things that will be. its all rambling. its all probably wrong. and its all in my head at night. just none of it has very specific words i guess.

sigh.


so i sit up. i cant stand laying down anymore. i cant stand thinking about it anymore. because i wish i could do it. i wish i could sit down, and have some memorable talk about it. i wish i could say it all... and it would be heard... and it would all be ok. maybe there could be appoligies. maybe not. maybe there could just be an understanding. i guess thats all i wanted. someone to understand me. i thought i had that once. im constantly mistaken about the truth of that. and so, late at night i get reminding of those things. so i get up and walk around my empty apartment. i try to look out a window.. but there isnt anything to see. its all dark out there. its empty across the corn field. all is still at night. and for all the troubles i bring myself.... you always find yourself wishing, deep down inside, that someone else would come along and complicate you again. because its so hard looking at nothing. its hard with nothing out there. for all the bets, and all the promisies, and all the assurances people make me. the words that - dont worry - -- well find someone for you-- -- youll get someone-- all of that isnt really any help to me. it really is hopless for me. its as hopeless as the fields are black out there. its as warm as the earth is cold. its as emotional as the rotten stalks laying on the dirt. i realize that at night. nights when i cant sleep. when i find myself being more and more convinced that i am alone. and that i always will be. sometimes i used to think that i could go back and fix those mistakes that i thought i made... take back some words i said.... undo some phonecalls... all just in vain hopes of bringing someone back out of the darkness for myself. but its empty out there. and its empty in here. the only mistake was not knowing anything else was anything but a mistake in judgement. i had judged myself to have had, and to have held what i thought was someone. whatever i thought love was. but that was my mistake. i wake up to the truth, because its the truth that is substance in the darkness. but its still dark out. darkness through the window. it always was dark for me. the room always will be empty. and it sometimes gets hard to fall asleep by myself anymore.


sigh.

i think im running into a problem of motivation... i realized this as its about 3pm, when urinating in the bathroom. i was trying to decide what i was going to do with the rest of the day. there are millions of words in books that i need to have read... plenty of latin to decypher.... even laundry to wash. so i walked back out. sat down. and played about 4 hours of MVP Baseball. killed the whole day. so then its about 8pm. and im thinking i could get something done. yes. yes i could. i could get several more innings in. and i did. then rolls around 10 pm. i take a break to sit on AIM for a while. looking at my latin pile. it dawns on me that i have 20 lines to memorize before wednesday. i know 3. sigh. so i chat on AIM a while longer. and now im sitting here. about 11pm. on a wasted day. i got nothing done. not even my regular latin homework. i guarantee mark will call on me now. but. strangely i dont seem too worried. i just. dont have the motivation to worry. and i think thats a problem. i think its a big problem. seeing as how i only have about 1 full month to finish EVERYTHING academic in order to graduate, ive somehow run out of steam already. sigh. this isnt good. this is really, really not good. i want to get done. i want to be the hell out of iowa. but it seems like i cant force my self long enough to finish it. i assume ill spend the entire week at the library again. and all of this weekend as well. i have 8 pages due on a book i havent even bought yet, due friday morning. i work approximately 40 hours between then. and i still have all that latin to memorize. and im only taking 2 classes. it shouldnt be hard. it shouldnt be THIS hard atleast.....

sometimes life is just difficult to grasp. i guess i never tried much to think about how we all end up where we do. one of the girls from work is from africa. so its always interesting for me to stand around and talk to her. shes not much of a talker, but over the past few months shes opened up a lot more. turns out she, for the first time in 14 years, saw her mother. i guess its a long and complicated story, but growing up her father told her lies about where her mother had gone, when they had divorced. eventually she found out they divorced but never saw her. i guess the other day, an uncle of hers who lives in the states and helped sponsor her to come to america for school, flew back to africa to find her mother. and he emailed pictures to her. she brought them in to work. i was floored. there stood her mother. and apperantly a brother and a sister shes never known. in what looks like fucking National Geographiclike Africa. some small village. like seriously in a jungle. it was so breath taking. and in a sense so stupifying. i couldnt imagine being her. i couldnt imagine not seeing my mother in 14 years... not knowing i had brothers and sisters. and not even knowing if my own mother was alive or dead. she seemed kind of shell shocked about it too. things like that make you wonder about this world. how that kind of thing happens. but it does. and its infuckingcredible.

Current Musical Selection: Sangween - Shots and Bottles [live]

so yeah.. there is nothing quite like having something no one else does. like this recording of the now defunct band playing one of their more popular songs. and why do i have it? haha because. its the recording of the show we put on last year, we got them back and they dont sound bad. just one bands sound was off. but its do able. just wait and see.

this is the last week before spring break. and i cant wait. my goal is to turn out atleast 2 assignments for soc. then plow through a lot of latin. zero fun time for scott. no cancun. no aspen. nothing fun. just fucking iowa. the place where no one stays if they have money. *sigh* so here ill sit.

i wish i were tired. i slept in till 11am this morning... that throws me backwards like 4 hours in sleep patterns. but tomorrow starts the same time as always. and ofcourse i have the rediculous 3 hour lay over between class and work. rediculous because by the time i get to the car, and drive all the way back home. i have 40 minutes till i have to do it again, and drive back into town to be on time for work. its rediculous. i can take a nap. or i can make something to eat. but not both. never fails that they dont think about my schedule when they write the schedule. yet they always wonder why im pissed off at the place and cranky. well that and they are retards. all of them... *mutter.*

still not tired.


ughghghghghg....


not tired.






not.




fucking.








tired.

got your head out of the clouds... back down on the ground.... and you dont talk so loud. now you dont walk so proud. anymore. and what for?

well i got the latin exam back. 80. i was hoping for something a bit higher than that. i lost like 13 points on my cakeass translation. or so i thought it was. bitchy stuff. 2 points for a verb not staying passive. 1 point for mashed tenses. 1 for this. 3 for that. 1 for something. 2 for nothing. but it read well. it was good english. it took no liberties. and it was about as litteral as it could be to still support the well constructed english without liberties. but i guess perfection is the name of it all. not a name that was familiar to me on that day.

without you........... i knew the storm was getting closer. and then all my friends said i was high. but everyone weve ever known is here. i never wanted that to die...

interesting week. i spent it talking more than i should have. its stupid of me. i chatter away to people like it matters. like my stupid comments mean something.. like someone cares what i say. like what i say has some importance. .. . i just kept on doing it. its a nervous thing maybe. maybe its just my way of being excited. regardless. they talk, i listen. i talk, they wont listen. sometimes its not the message. its the medium. i suppose im as dumb as anyone else. or just as naive to think i am like anyone else. maybe all along i was right. the ruin comes on in phases; not at once. there isnt any magical wooden horse to bring inside the city walls to signify the end of Troy as we know it. instead. its just my ramblings. because i lack the semblance of mind to shut my mouth. no wonder im desparate. i attack anything like its a last chance.... and in doing so... maybe i make it out to be that way... maybe my last chance never happened. and im sitting here bemoaning something i was never going to get. that would make alot more sense. instead of me talking so much. talking my way past the cold thoughts of the realness of my situation. so much goes past us with out thought. yet, when thsoe moments counts. i try to pass over the thoughts. sucessful or not. its an attempt. its a pass. and it fails. i suppose i always did fail. to lesser degrees or greater. ive always lost when it came to that. born the looser. destined to watch the winners. thats what destitute means. thats what it means to be an idiot and squander whatever i have. its just an invitation to forever. the signature of the fates. and other cliches i ought best leave un-stated. being a cute boy wold be easier. having a talent would make it simpler. money couldnt make it worse. but i have none of those. i have just myself. just my thoughts. and i have no doubts why its just me at the end of every day. i have myself because no one else would have me. and i guess that leaves myself for myself. alone from me, but never more alone than any person could ever be with themselves. destitute doesnt cover it. and neither do disenfranchised ramblings.

.

well; ill find out monday... or probably wednesday... but i felt ok about the latin exam. the last couple quizes that i didnt do so well on; i felt like i didnt know parts of them going out the door. just as i took them, i knew, that i didnt know it. some stuff looked like id never seen it before. and i couldnt figure out any of the meter patterns. well. this time around. i knew all the meter patterns [even did the section i didnt have to!], and the TA said i did "markedly better" than on my quizes of late. as far as the translations sections i dunno. the prepared one didnt quite make good english, but i stayed with the litteral. and the sight passage was actually familiar to me. which, i guess isnt fair for everyone else, but ive read it somewhere before. so i feel ok about it. im not saying i got an A on it. but i passed it. i had to have. and that makes me feel much better. i spent from 5:30ish to 9pm studying for it. then took an hour break, then kept at it till i fell asleep on the couch at 1am. so maybe the cram session paid off for once.

other than that. this is the first weekend ive had off from work in 4 weeks. its not fair. i never get 2 days in a row off anymore. and im always working atleast part of the weekend. and ive had to spend this one playing catch up in my soc class. with luck, ill have my paper to turn in monday. 1 of 6. sigh. progress is still progress.

yeah. that is me. 

well this is the week of oddities... turns out Head, the guitarist from Korn has found god, and subsequently decided devilishly good metal is no longer appropriate. he intendes to give more details to the members of his new found church in some sort of coming out speech. then the poser band of choice for all the kids, blink 182 is done. permanent hiatus. ha. i think the reason is pretty obvious. travis isnt the kind of guy to mesh with that band. mark and tom play off as goofy 19 yearolds; while travis is all about metal and is married to a playmate. see any problems? i think with the crowd of teenie boppers that latched on to them; they finnally had to give in. and as far as korn is concerned, i think they knew the end was near as well. they still vow to carry on. but its not really going to happen. each album becomes more of a stretch and is farther down the charts. the boon years for rap-metal-core are done. hence limp biscuit, and kid rock havent been heard from excepting random arrest warrants. sigh. i guess we are stuck with the trends now. shit like [not so] good charlotte, pneu-metal, and bands that want to be old school/or nostolgia acts.. like the darkness, kings of leon, and motley crue, kiss incarnations, and whom ever is composing whitesnake and quiet riot now.

anyways.

friday scares me. my latin mid term. its looking fair on paper. just alot of shit to be familiar with to translate a paltry 8 lines. something like 300 lines. but its going to be worth buku points. and i need a good score. 80ish or better. all i do want for the class grade is my C. but i have a feeling im going to need to score better than C's on the exams to get that. just to get out of here. but im not in panic mode yet. ive passed everything ive been given so far. zero missed assignments. no attendance penalty. so if i keep on this streak. of atleast passing everything i take. im in the clear. i dont care so much about my grade, or my gpa now. i care about making it through it all. and this is starting to weigh on my mind.

other things on my mind. saturday night andrea and i went to see Million Dollar Baby. after watching it we started talking about stuff on the way out to the car and i was talking about how i had an old, old relative that had died of alzhiemers related illnesses and such. well, oddly enough. saturday night the last of my family members in the des moines area passes away. my great aunt ruth; whom i hadnt seen in probably 8 years; died of a stroke. the normal phone calls came out. now couple with emails from my mother about whats going on. mom seemed kind of upset about it. i think shes realized the edge of the family tree on her side. sure there are some kids and great grand kids. but they are so remote from us, that weve never met most of them, and some we dont even have names of. dads side doesnt have many left either. so this is kind of something to think over. funeral is friday. there is no way staples will let me out for it. besides. thats my latin mid term. i hope aunt ruth would understand. my uncle bob would have [her husband, whom died about 4 years ago]. hed laugh. ask me about baseball. maybe even take me out side and tell stories to get away from the adults which we both found boring at times. other times hed just fall asleep snoring in the middle of them. aunt ruth would just shake her head. and just keep on talking. course. i was like 6. but i remember being at the acerage... back before the east side of des moines became inhabited. when we could stand on the hill and see the interstate from their house, just past the horse barn. now there are stop and go lights, kwik shops, and cigarette outlets less than a block away. everything is paved. 4 lanes. its kinda hard even finding where they used to live. everything has changed. and it really was so long ago. like when i was a kid; and we go out to the farm. being 4 or 5 and running through strawberry patches was something fun. id eat so many, and get so tired, uncle roger would have to give me a ride back to the house on the tractor. i remember the first time seeing a deer gutted there. i remember the turkey sheds. it seemed like a million little baby turkeys all fluffy peeping around. and a field of grown turkey wandering around, never figuring out where the rocks were coming from, that id throw at them. all those years where wed have the whole family over at the farm for thanksgiving. the year we had like a 40 pound turkey. had to have been like 1985... i was in school... but my brother didnt exist yet... and it snowed about 4 feet on thanksgiving day. and we were all stuck at the farm. all 20 of us. back then the road was dirt and gravel county roads. now the interstate runs about 70 yards from where the farm entrance was. back then, 3000 acres of corn and beans meant something. today its just a profitable chunk of land to sell off to kwik shops and cigarette outlets. the family changed when they moved off the farm. bob and ruth still had theirs. but ray and dorthy moved off a long time before [they farmed the land that was eventually sold to the state for the Living History Farms, hint hint.. and that was in the early fifties]. but we all realize our mortality at some point. everyone gets old. we all die. families shrink. but they grow too. for now, im nearing 30. i shouldnt speak as though those years when i was 5 are like they were yesterday. they were, in actuallity 20 years ago. a generation ago. things have definitely changed. and im not 5 anymore.

Current Musical Selection: Ronnie Dio - Heaven and Hell [live in 1996]

i think of all the various versions of this era of Sabbath, for some reason, i keep coming back to this post Sabbath recording of Ronnie's band playing the song. just have to keep thinking back about how he was kicked out of Sabbath both times, yet he'll still play the music from those times for the fans. Sabbath, really meaning Iommi [and Ozzy for moneys sake] refuse to play anything from outside the 1970s. like 20 years of catalogue doesnt exist for the band. which is really sad. i liked alot of the later Sabbath [read- NON OZZY] material. dio ranks at the top of those times. and for some reason, him running right back into the Dio band fold, and still playing this stuff just a year or so after the falling out, never seems to phase his performance. imagine if Ozzy adopted that attitude.

on and on. on and on. its. HEAVEN AND HELL.

so anyways, whats new with scott's life? --- well jobs are coming up as the main heart attack for me. its mid february. come may 20 something. ive got to get a real one. ive been applying to one a week or so. just dont have the time to do more than that now. waaaaaay too much stuff for school is coming up, and i never get any time off at work. but im trying.

there is a big black shape looking up at me. oh! it said, i know where you ought to be. it said, come with me and ill give you desire. but first. youve got to burn, burn, burn in fire!

valentines day is tomorrow... im not thrilled about that. i hate the day. its really not like any others. its built around feeling lonely if you dont fit the description. xmas can be about gift giving in general. presidents day is just about shutting down the post office, thanksgiving is about eating. yet valentines day. its about making yourself feel foolish about love. to love love is about as sensical as hating hatred. yet. we give it a whole god damned day on the calendar! you spend money, buy things, and spoil the ones that love you. so where do you end up when you have no one that loves you? who do you spend the money on when its just yourself? how do you properly reflect on the spirit of lovemaking/love sharing, when the day only reminds you of the heartbreak of the years past. its a hard day to make it through. for me atleast. i just keep reminding myself of all the mistakes ive made; or the mistakes others made for me. it all ends up the same. you end up alone and thinking about it all and a day you are supposed to be spending with someone whom loves you. but you realize there isnt anyone to spend a day like that with. and its pyschologically a hard day to make it through. even if you want to stay with the snide commerical application of cheezy cardboard valentines and stale peppermint candy hearts; the day just echos upon its empty self as a day for nothing other than being un-alone. so here i sit. but i guess as a kid growing up, i always knew how it would end up for me. i was never the one getting valentines. i was just the one that had to buy them for the other kids. rules and all dictated such. until i stopped about 3rd grade. no fancy valentines collection box did i make, nor did my pen grace a printed comic Archie poem. i sat in the back of the room. and i didnt get one valentine all day. twenty years later i think about how unfair it was. i think about myself at that age. but i never can remember whether or not i expected to get any of them. i just remember how it felt not having anyone else like yourself around you. kids would sing. play games. pick each others noses. all the stupid garbage little kids do. and i sat at my steel desk. which i remember had a screw that had backed out underneath of it, that would cut into the top of my thigh when i sat in it. i would sit there and scrape my leg over the head of the screw. and i would sit there. a part of me wants to say i was comatose for it. but i know i had to have been lucid. thank god, though, that i dont remember any of it. just sitting there alone, as the kids did some cupcake version of musical chairs. no teachers interjected. no kids offered to let me in. no one really ever noticed me sitting in the corner by the window that afternoon. thats what valentines day is like. unless you are on the inside... and youve got this great person that loves you for all immortality, then you are on the outside. outside the group. away from the closeness. pleading for despiration. but all together destitute. in the corner of the room. with no valentines to show for it. so tomorrow everyone will have sex. and cry and cuddle. and get flowers and stuffed animals of all sorts. i guess all i can hope for is that same desk and a screw sticking out. because thats all i have anymore. just myself. and the things that i remember.

Current Musical Selection: Hawks loosing to Wisconsin

well i cant say i miss " P. " any. he played well. but he wasnt much for the team. tonight showed the team has moments that they can play. aside from a 20 to 2 run by Wisconsin; Iowa held the game all night. fuck P. my first memory of that kid was when i was out for a walk one night, and i came back across through boyd to cross the street in front of hillcrest. and who do i see? P and a certain unknown football player; with super soakers, hosing down unsuspecting drunk girls. their own atheletics department version of Girls Gone Wild. just without the girls knowing it was supposed to be fun. so P is running around to the cheers of his friend "P yo crazie nigguh. " as i continue moving, i see two DPS guards standing 30 feet behind him. letting them do whatever. arms crossed. should i have been P, id have been hit with the tazer. that was early fall of P's first year. a year later, he pleads to a lesser count to evade felony sexual assault. and ive never been surprised why. so if the hawks loose without his fabled 17 points per game. then so be it. but im glad that P is gone. and the women of campus [or even Des Moines now] might be safer because of it.

the last week was pretty rough for me. i was sick for most of it. according to the nurses on call line; i had a possible virus based infection. it involved lots of headaches, chills and sweats, as well as some throwing up. i slept about 18 hours a day. just beat the shit out of me. but im almost over it now. starting to get my apetite back. but 3 tacos stopped me at lunch today. and as all my real friends out here know. 3 tacos for me, is like tieing a shoelace. so. like i said, im getting much better.

well..... im bored. im tired. and im bored. and i cant fall asleep. and im sitting here. so here goes. yay for boredom!. yeah. fucking boredom. fucking insomnia. fucking grocery shoping too. seems like every kid that works at the Fareway is about 12. fucking a. the girl at the register was cute. if you were into fucking 8 year olds. she looked like one of those girls you see on the cover of Teen Beat, throwing love notes they wrote at the Backstreetboys. the kind of girls that cry when the Backstreetboys video ends. yeah. the munchkin that pushed the groceries out was small enough to fit in the cart. i didnt want to ask how illegal it was for him to have a job. besides. he probably couldnt spell the term Age Descriminatory Hiring Factors for Employment.

i watched Ballistic: Exs vs Sever. its garbage. i watced The Punisher. semi good. and i watched Collateral. acceptable. im really getting depressed at the low volume of really good movies there are in existence. of all the movies ive sat through in the last few months... they all hardly make my ITS FUN TO WATCH list. pathetic.

i am jack's undaunting sense of horrific flashback.


well class starts tomorrow. back to fun with Magister Marcus. we all adored the Magistra, but Mark isnt going to make us do shit. no one is demanding otherwise. im sure hell have assignments... probably some quizes too... [he mentioned vocab is still important {bwahahaha}]. but tomorrow marks the begining of the end really. come may something er other, i will be done. hopefully on my way far, far away from this wretched place. while i did learn a few things here... aside from latin, bits of hebrew and a miserable failure of spanish. some things really just never meshed well with me. and i cant honestly say without remorse of heart, that im going to miss the university of iowa. i might miss being a student. getting information on subjects no one does. being nameless in a group, being expected to be worthless to society. but ive spent too long here. for far, far too little. i am no different than when i walked into the doors of Phillips Hall, that first morning on campus. back when i actually carried a map with me to jog my mind how to find that North Hall, that was hidden from view... and now i carry it because i have no clue what the hell the names of some of these buildings are anymore. campus has changed. kids have changed. and all for the worse. ive seen some very bright individuals fail out of this school; ive witnessed idiots graduate with honors; and ive seen cheaters out score me in plain view. at times, this place brought me to my knees... on the bring of academic ruin, to financial disdain... and even to the ends of my own sanity. but tomorrow is the first of the last.

when i was a kid, i used to get anxious about school. while i never wanted to start classes and leave home; i never wanted to miss a chance to be there either. i remember being quite a problem child in 1st grade.... how much i hated school. i hated the teacher. the kids hated me. i had no friends. they all made fun of me. they would say shit to me. throw shit at me. take my things and hide them or break them. and i never cried. i never cried for myself. so many times i felt like i was in that same mold again here at the university. i hate the school. i hate the teachers. the kids truely hate me. i have few true friends. theyve never understood me here. and they tried so hard to pieces of me away from myself. and i wont forgive this place for that. ive still never cried for myself. and i will not weep for this place either.

cheers to the last semester.

VALE! VALE!