Keep on Truckin’

Tuesday, 30 April 2002


sign­ing up for my sum­mer hall clerk hours i re­al­ized that red tape is the man­ner in which bu­reau­cra­cies re­main in ex­is­tence. they con­vince you time and again that they have a new or­ga­ni­za­tion­al plan that will make things run very smooth­ly and they make them­selves in­dis­pen­si­ble by fur­ther con­vinc­ing us that with­out their pres­ence, things would go to hell. then they bind us with their red tape and forms in trip­li­cate un­til we are gagged and nau­seous and will fill them out just to be done with them. case in point, the forms that we were shown at an in­for­ma­tion­al meet­ing for sum­mer hall staff (an­oth­er trap of the bu­reau­cra­cy) had been re­placed en­tire­ly by a dif­fer­ent spread­sheet for the fill­ing in of hours, as well, the dorms that the clerks for con­fer­ences are as­signed to are on the oth­er side of cam­pus from the dorms that the clerks live in, which in turn are used by a dif­fer­ent set of clerks who in turn live in a dif­fer­ent set of dorms…ad in­finum. signups were sup­posed to take ten min­utes. they take an hour. we are told shifts are avail­able in one hour increments…no longer, now they are 3 or 4 hour in­cre­ments. so in­stead of work­ing a nice evening shift in the dorm i live in i must haul my ass across cam­pus 4 nights a week to work the grave­yard shift in a dorm that wasn’t even sup­posed to be for the groups i am run­ning the desk for. at least i have my week­ends free. the on­ly un­for­tu­nate thing about that is know­ing that the bu­reau­crat­ic hege­mo­ny WANTS me to feel hap­py about JUST hav­ing my week­ends free. we bour­geois are don­keys and the week­end is the car­rot that keeps us truckin’


Monday, 29 April 2002

4.29.02 INT. KEOUGH HALL, SHOWER STALL 3. ap­prox. 9:23am DAY

my top­ic is emo­tion, feel­ing, what­ev­er term you use to gen­er­al­ize and cat­e­go­rize it. it is in­vi­o­lable and can on­ly be judged by the per­son ex­pe­ri­enc­ing it. er­go, no emo­tion is wrong in the sense that a per­son is wrong in feel­ing it. dif­fi­cul­ty lies when an ide­ol­o­gy cre­ates a fo­rum in which the ex­pres­sion of emo­tion can cause harm. emo­tion is not opin­ion. for ex­am­ple, the fact that i can­not stand my room­mate is not WRONG (emo­tion), al­though my rea­sons for feel­ing so might be (opin­ion). an­oth­er pos­si­ble dif­fi­cul­ty lies in the prop­er iden­ti­fi­ca­tion of the emo­tion by the emot­er. dou­bly dif­fi­cult since emo­tion nec­es­sar­i­ly clouds rea­son. “love is not love/​which al­ters when it al­ter­ation finds,” yet what oth­er word is there that de­scribes the emo­tion (men­tal ex­pe­ri­ence) of be­ing at­tract­ed to some­one? sweet emo­tion. bah! might i be so for­ward as to re­quest your opin­ion on this mat­ter?

to­day i am wob­bly.

Darth Maul’s Ass

Sunday, 28 April 2002

my fever has bro­ken for the time be­ing, but i still have these aches and weird tingly and stretchy feel­ings. i think some un­known force is un­der the im­pres­sion that i am sil­ly put­ty. any­way. some site is­sues. you will need Internet Explorer ver­sion 5 or high­er to get this to ap­pear prop­er­ly if you are us­ing netscape i don’t know what the hell is wrong with the page. it is al­so op­ti­mized for 1024×768 screen res­o­lu­tion. and i’ve added a new link to an­oth­er one of my bud­dies. our film is too short due to lack of enough good shots but its creepy and that is good. i had some beef stroganoff last night, think­ing that a home­cooked meal would be fine for my stom­ach but i yarfed it up a few hours lat­er. i’ve al­so been play­ing Jedi Power Battles, and to­day i kicked Darth Maul’s ass. thank you.


Friday, 26 April 2002

i re­con­nect­ed with a cou­ple of old friends last night and it was good. it was nice talk­ing to them and catch­ing up on what is go­ing on in their lives. it made me feel good to know that out there are still peo­ple who feel the way i do.

edit­ing my last film project is like pulling teeth but it will be fin­ished dammit.

oh shit. i’ve start­ed a new page de­sign. hold on to your knick­ers.

Eric the Half a Bee

Thursday, 25 April 2002

ok so last night at 11, af­ter be­ing gone from my room since 9 in the morn­ing, i come back home to find the door locked. great, room­mate hook­ing up again…well that hasn’t stopped me be­fore and i want in my damn room. i un­lock the door and en­ter in­to the sur­re­al “hookup at­mos­phere” of my room. no lights are on, some sort of soft­core porn/​techno mu­sic is play­ing and i can hear the scrum­pling of sheets and muf­fled gig­gles from his loft. then the sur­prise. the guy from across the hall is there too. on the couch hook­ing up with my (stay with me here) roommate’s girlfriend’s best friend from New Hampshire. did i men­tion sur­re­al? so i drop off my back­pack and leave be­fore the world im­plodes, but not be­fore the guy on the couch asks in the “i just got caught mas­tur­bat­ing” tone of voice about the meet­ing we were both at sev­er­al hours ear­li­er. ex­it stage left.

i de­brief those in the lounge on the hap­pen­stances, and they all agree that it is weird. then a cou­ple of them de­cide to play a prank. i give my bless­ing. they un­screw the peep­hole on the door, tie the door shut so no one can get out, fill a con­dom with wa­ter and squirt it through the peep­hole in­to my room. my room­mate gets pissed ob­vi­ous­ly. sup­pos­ed­ly one of his books got wet and he has a test the next day. shouldn’t he be study­ing in­stead of hook­ing up in a vague­ly or­gias­tic man­ner? no one says any­thing. he makes a com­ment in ref­er­ence to me as a 12 year old. still no one speaks. he leaves sup­pos­ed­ly to go com­fort his woman who is trau­ma­tized by the wa­ter on the floor.

singing “er­ic the half a bee” with steve on the way to get quar­ter­dogs.



Wednesday, 24 April 2002

we have to start pack­ing up our rooms in the next week. it seems kind of dumb that they ex­pect us to move every­thing out of our liv­ing space and study for fi­nals in a lit­tle white shell. hope­ful­ly the weath­er will be nice and i can do my work out­side. i am anx­ious for the sum­mer to get here be­cause it will be much less stress­ful. the good thing is that i have min­i­mal work for the rest of the year. i am start­ing on one of my fi­nal pa­pers and hope­ful­ly i’ll get a good jump on it be­fore the week is over. to­day is go­ing to be a good day. it is sup­posed to thun­der­storm se­vere­ly which is very nice, but right now it is sun­ny and warm. i’ll en­joy ei­ther. thats my goal now, just to en­joy things in­stead of stew­ing in my own juices. i don’t make for a good mari­nade.

HUGE CO…rooster

Monday, 22 April 2002

yeah so i cleaned my room and did laun­dry.

yeah and my mom asked me if i was sa­tan­ic the oth­er day. she meant it too. i think she just as­sumes the worst since i don’t live at home un­der her pro­tec­tive wing. its bor­ing un­der a pro­tec­tive wing, i’d rather go ex­plor­ing. i’m not a lit­tle chick any more. i am a HUGE CO…rooster. she missed me and loves me, i knowiknow. i take it for grant­ed i am sure. but hell, if i don’t go ex­plor­ing, i will be even lamer than i am now. plus she is still there when i need her the most. i don’t take that for grant­ed. some­times when i write this i feel like doo­gie hows­er m.d. but i’m not a tool like he was. my laun­dry needs dry­ered so i’m out for now. 

talked to mol­ly and i (can’t do it) still feel like shit. is it me that needs fig­ur­ing out or does she need to fig­ure her­self out? how do i care for some­one that doesn’t care about them­self?

i’m ob­vi­ous­ly wrong about some things and miss­ing oth­ers.