MY DIARY Random Thoughts and Observations

In an effort to allow the world at large know what I am really like, I hereby declare that every day I'm here at UGA and have e-mail, I will update this diary with random thoughts and observations. A lot of them will relate to yours truly, while others will just be notes on the world. There won't be any really juice bits here -- my mother reads this, after all! -- but there will be the chance to get inside my head.

March 10, 1997

Often I feel like a big geek. Most of the time it doesn't get to me -- I'm used to it, after all this time -- but sometimes it embarrasses me.

Today I went to the UGA Bookstore and bought a refill for my Cross pen. (In case you don't know what a Cross pen is, it's a really expensive, fancy pen you buy out of a display case instead of a rack. They come with their own little boxes, kind of like jewelry. I got mine as a prize in a writing contest at UMass.) Anyway, I bought the refill and, as soon as I left the store, I opened up my pen, tore open the package and shoved in the new ink refill. Then I put the pen together again and tried it. It didn't work.

By the time I figured this out I had made it up to the Memorial bus stop. It was more complicated to put together the pen than I had thought. So I'm standing there for about five minutes puzzling over this, completely absorbed, when suddenly I realize somebody is standing in front of me going, "Ahem!" like they want to talk to me. Looking up, I recognize this guy Mr. Lenton from my Latin class. (Another note: The reason I call him Mr. Lenton is because I don't know his first name, which is because our professor is an old Southerner who calls everyone by Ms. and Mr.) Standing in my face, Mr. Lenton says, "Hey, venio is a third conjugation verb, right?" (He's referring to a word on a quiz we had earlier that day.) I nod and he smiles with relief. "Good," he says, and runs off to catch a bus.

I look down at my pen and realize what a goddamn geek I am. I'm so absorbed in putting together my pen that I don't notice a guy from my Latin class, who asks me because I am getting an A+. I AM SUCH A GEEK!

*

Sometimes I think I'm going to commit a homicide -- particularly when I'm in my bullshit film history class. I like the films we watch -- mostly -- and I have read a lot of things about them that I like, but everything my professor says leads me to hate HIM and THE FILMS. Today's in-class diary goes something like this (I took notes during class that were not exactly relevant to the "discussion"):

12:15: I suspect pretense, hyperbole, bias is on the way.
12:19: B.S. has arrived.
12:28: I have already stopped listening.
12:41: Blah blah blah... Jargon city!
12:49: He is making me mad.
12:59: Break time -- I want to break his neck!

Other notes from today's class:

The more he spews this b.s., the more excited he gets!

Translation: really awful crap!

NOTE: Gross overgeneralization, superficial stab at surrealists as individuals!

His understanding of surrealism is seriously underdeveloped.

CONCLUSION: I could not possibly care less about this! I am singularly unimpressed. Beautiful? Classic? Haunting? Fascinating? Try TEDIOUS and LAME!

Don't get the idea that I don't like films or that I'm some lowbrow type or that I don't know art. I know surrealism and dada and everything else and the stuff my prof fed me today tasted bad.

*

After this class, you can imagine what kind of a mood I was in. On the bus back to my part of campus, I started playing a game. I call it Jeans, Khaki, Gym Shorts. What you do is look at everybody you see from the waist down and check out what they're wearing -- jeans, khaki, or gym shorts. If you find someone who ISN'T wearing one of these three forms, you must label the person as a subversive and shun them for life.

Why do so many people have such boring tastes in clothes? They all dress the same! There are so many kinds of fabric and fashion in this world -- especially now -- and yet they all wear jeans and khaki and gym shorts and white T-shirts.

Ever since I was about 14, people have told me I look super-European. I have had about a billion people come up to me with the obvious assumption that I'm German. People on the street have asked me questions in German. Shopkeepers talk to me like I'm a foreign tourist. My professors ask me how I'm getting "all the way back home" for spring break.

I take this as a compliment and I DO think I look German, but really this phenomenon stems from the fact that everyone dresses the same, boring, old way. If you don't dress like they do you must be European! This is the same phenomenon that makes naive people think gay men are straight -- "Oh, he's not gay -- he must be EUROPEAN!" Conversely, many gay men think European men are all gay just because they dress a lot like how American gay men dress -- DIFFERENTLY!

Seen enough of my mind for today?

March 12, 1997

I missed a day already -- but what a day. After my Latin exam at 10, I spent practically my entire day with Caleb in total bliss. First we went to lunch, then I did some web design work. Around 2 I came up with the brilliant idea of going to the State Botanical Garden of Georgia. What a beautiful place! Caleb and I were there for around three hours, enjoying the flowers, trees, animals, bugs, the river... It was like paradise. After that we went home and had dinner at one of the dining halls, after which we went in to downtown and hung around. Next I did some more computer work and then we went to the dining hall for our regular second dinner. I spent the rest of the night writing and designing web pages.

Today is beautiful again. I had another Latin exam (that makes four days in a row), and even though I forgot/didn't know to study, I bet I once again got it all right. Mostly I've been writing and working on web pages today. What a life I have!

March 15, 1997

Sadly, I must report that this diary idea is not working out. I am too absorbed in putting together the graduate school home page and in just running my life and sending email to keep a diary. I apologize. When and if I get my act together, look for more entrees...

March 20, 1997

At last, with one class behind me, I am able to relax somewhat. Now I have only two exams left -- one in film history, one in Latin. I am sure to do reasonably well in the former and exceptionally well in the latter.

April 3, 1997

Another quarter, another class. This time it's French and it's really getting me down. I've studied Latin, I've studied German, and I've studied Russian, and none of them gave me a problem. No problem speaking or writing or remembering. French is so much more frustrating. It doesn't sound anything like it's written. The other languages were so easy to figure out. Now I feel really stupid. Please feel sorry for me!

April 4, 1997

Today, at my job at the dining hall, Caleb and I had the privilege of working with Regina. Regina is a big, bouncy, booty-rap-lovin' black woman with a big pineapple-shaped weave on her head. Regina is about 5 feet tall and 250 pounds. Caleb loves to "get lovin'" from her in the form of great big hugs. Regina is the nightly salad chief and spends most of her time cutting up carrots and making enormous fruit salads. You would amazed to see some of the salads she had whipped up out of nowhere.

April 6, 1997

What a world we live in today. As I type this, I am preparing a microwaveable chicken flavored, Kroger-brand rice and vermicelli mixture. Boy, I bet it's gonna be good. It's after 2 and I still haven't eaten lunch because I haven't been hungry. Daylight Saving Time explains some of this (it kicked in early this morning), but not all. Why am I so hungry on weekdays when during weekend, I can eat a bagel and a rice mix and be happy ALL DAY?

April 9, 1997

CLASSIC incident at Junkman's Daughter's Brother today. After roaming around for a while, I picked up a card and a gift for my parents. Its their 40th wedding anniversary. Pulling up to the checkout counter, I am nonplussed by the standard alternative types about to ring me up: a big tall guy with a goatee and big horn-rimmed glasses and a shorter women with a shaved head.

As they ring me up, we engage in some small talk and I realize that they're both really nice -- especially the one with the shaved head. There is a brief discussion about the difficulty of removing prices stickers when one has no fingernails.

I hand over my credit card and sign the receipt, then suddenly realize I've been overcharged by about $12. I mention it to the shaved girl and she apologizes profusely, saying it's her fault, she left someone else's transaction on, she'll take it off, etc. I tell her it's my fault for not paying attention. She voids the transaction, puts $12 on my card and hands me a pile of receipts. We chat some more, I get my bag back from behind the counter, and I saunter off, happy that I've bought a good gift.

A couple of minutes later, I'd gone a couple of blocks when I heard someone yelling, "Wendy!" Slowly turning around, I see the shaved girl running across the street. "Hey, this is your card. I left it on the counter. Sorry!" She gives me this crazy smile and I thank her. She goes back to the store and I'm thinking, "You know, I think this girl was hitting on me." This is not a bad thing, mind you, just a slow reaction on my part. I can NEVER tell a flirt!

One more note about life at the moment. For the past week, I've been on a fat-reduced diet. It's really hard for me to adjust to eating so little fat, but at the moment it seems necessary. I mean, I was chugging whole milk buttermilk, cheesecake, ice cream, melted cheese, country fried steak... It was out of hand to the point where it was affecting my digestion!

April 15, 1997

Boy, am I in a pisser of a mood. As I said, I'm on this fat-reduced diet and I've been eating all this shitty food, doing all kinds of walking, trying to be healthier, and IT'S MAKING ME MAD AS HELL! I don't know if it's the hormones my doctor put me on or Caleb egging me on, but I haven't been this angry and miserable for a long time.

Today after French class, Caleb and I went to walk back to the dorm. Normally we take the bus, but now he's making me walk so I can exercise. Anyway, that wouldn't be so bad except that he's practically running, he's walking so fast. He's got these walking sneakers and all this energy I can't comprehend. I felt like I was walking OK, but he just kept speeding ahead of me, smiling and gloating, egging me on. Perhaps it's all in my head, but I feel like he's going out of his way to irritate me by rubbing my shortcomings in my face. I asked him to challenge me, not make me feel like shit. By the time we go to the dorm I was ready to kill him.

Once I got up to my room I was berserk. I wanted to do such violence to myself and to everything in the room. I threw down my book bag with such force that I broke my clipboard. Then I picked up my old shoes and started winging them on the flood at about 100 miles an hour. I was throwing them so hard they were BOUNCING like four feet! Have you ever seen shoes BOUNCE? I was totally crazy. Thinking I might calm myself by dancing, I started listening to "Helter Skelter" by the Beatles, jumping up and down, still throwing the shoes. I got so pissed I started beating on myself with the shoes. I am going to have a huge black and blue on my leg, I know I hit too hard.

Anyway, so finally I'm just sitting on my bed, trembling because I'm so angry and I can't really break anything, and then there's a knock on the door. This sleepy black girl from downstairs asks me to stop the banging because she just went to bed at 7. I tell her I was trying not to do harm to myself and I'll stop the banging. As soon as I shut the door I start to cry and cry and cry. I hit myself a few more times and sob on my bed. I want to scratch my eyes out. I start ranting about Caleb. Finally I sit down and read the paper. That calms me down for some reason. But I'm still upset. Grrrrrrr....

April 30, 1997

I am incredibly stressed at the moment. I'm doing the graduation thing in a month and a half, and handling classes plus apartment and job hunting is wearing down my nerves. I look and feel like a total wreck. My diet is not helping me, nor is this stupid hormone regimen that doctor put me on. I hope I feel better once I'm out of here!

May 6, 1997

I am in a very bad mood. I have been crying and beating on the furniture. Life is too much at the moment. Hormones are also too much. For more on this theme, visit my Poetry Page.

This feeling will pass.

May 10, 1997

I am not so happy to report that I have officially experienced the worst days of eating ever in my life. Caleb and I went into Atlanta Wednesday night to look for apartments and hang out and I swear, the whole time we were there, we were just hit with all kinds of BAD FOOD. My stomach is still upset! Let's see, first, on Thursday, I had this really sick falafel pocket in Little Five Points. I like falafel, but this was SICK! I think it was the sauce; way too tangy.

Anyway, the worst of the bad food came on Saturday, when Caleb, Kristina, Lisa and I headed over to Buford Highway to experience some of the area's incredible ethnic diversity. The place is a actually a lot like L.A. -- tons of Mexicans and Asians. Anyway, after spending about an hour in this incredible Mexican-Asian flea market, we all went to a Mexican restaurant. At first it was good. I mean, our waitress didn't speak English, so we thought it would be. We also got a lot of food for our money. For five bucks, I got a big plate with refried beans, rice, an a chicken burrito.

Anyway, the first sign of trouble came from Caleb, who reported that he suddenly had to become vegetarian because the chicken in his burrito looked like clam. It was rather grey and stringy. My chicken wasn't too great either, but I kept eating it until it was gone. When I got to my beans, however, I discovered that for whatever reason, they tasted like rotten vegetables. I was not pleased. We left the restaurant feeling queezy.

After this adventure, we caught a MARTA bus and went to Hong Kong Supermarket. This place was incredible -- a huge supermarket with nothing but Asian food. The things you could buy in there -- live frogs, quail eggs, cuttlefish-flavored peanut balls (Caleb bought these!), whole beef tongue! Our mistake was to buy the obscure canned drinks they sold. At least that was my mistake. I got a can of star fruit juice. I like star fruit, so I thought I'd like that. Mistake! I swear, it tasted like the crap I used to scrape out of the vegie drawer in our fridge at home -- you know, that gooey slime that used to be cucumber! I tried so hard to drink it, but finally I had to toss it. I spent most of the day dealing with dry heaves. I'd almost gotten better when today Caleb and I went to Taco Bell and I was stupid enough to order a chicken burrito. That goddamn chicken threatened to make me spill my guts. Yuck!

May 17, 1997

Having finally recovered from all that bad food, my newest passion has to do with visiting web sites run by big right wing Christian organizations like the Christian Coalition, Concerned Women for America, and the Traditional Values Coalition. After cruising around and staring in horror at all the wicked anti-abortion, anti-sex, anti-gay, anti-UN, anti-NEA, anti-EVERYTHINGNOTWHITEBRIDEANDCHRISTIAN rhetoric, I entertain myself by using their political action e-mail forms to write to my congresspeople and the heads of large corporations. They write in a pre-written message meant to influence someone to vote or act on their interests, I just erase it and laugh and laugh.

May 17, 1997

With only about three weeks left in school, I must admit that my dedication to just about everything is waning. I can't add much to this site anymore, I have to work on finishing the Graduate School site. I also have a French class and a couple of English papers. Oh, and I also have to get an apartment, find a job, move my stuff to Atlanta, get a plane ticket back to Boston to visit my family, send my stuff back here... Ugh.

June 7, 1997

I can't possibly get into all that's happened to me in recent weeks. But I am in the middle of snagging myself an incredible job in web design...

This is the end of my diary, at least for now. So in conclusion, in case you haven't noticed or just are a complete dummy, let me state something that may not be clear: I am GAY. Actually I do like guys, find them attractive, and am more or less with a guy, but I am GAY. I also like women, I fantasize about them, I've been with them. I could say I'm bisexual, but I'd rather say I'm gay because I mean I'm QUEER, I mean that I am coming from a decidedly non-heterosexual sphere when I think, write, act, etc. Somehow I never get around to saying so and it irks me. I am saying it. I am GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY.

Recently some people have been turned off of my resume because it's so gay. Well, well, well, what will they think of this? WHAT ARE THEY DOING IN MY DIARY ANYWAY?

December 9, 1997

In case you are so out of the loop as not to know... I've moved to Atlanta, I work full time for the Georgia Division of Public Health, am actively involved (and webmaster for!) YouthPride Atlanta. My resume DID almost keep me from getting a job, but I got one, so I'm happy.

I have just redeveloped this site after about five months of neglect, so pardon the lack of additional diary entries.