sleepless fury

march the 4th


This fucking headache won't go away.

I find myself rubbing my brow every 15 minutes in a vain attempt to supress this pain pounding across my cranium. What a pain in the ass. Something must obviously be wrong though, that is the purpose of pain. To inform our consciousness that something is out of ordinary. I wonder if it's physical or mental. How bothersome.

I got to school and got the results back from my math test. My eyes scanned the sheet and they were greeted with a B. A b? A fucking B? My mind was enraged. I looked over the test, and noted that my prof. had marked two things that were correct, incorrect. My prof is a moron. Okay, perhaps I wouldn't really mind and wouldn't be so harsh with my choice of words in describing him, but when there are only 4 tests the whole semester for a 5 credit course, I certainly take one test *very* seriously. That's 25 percent of my damn grade. Anyhow, I went up to him, pointed out his mistakes, and he corrected them promptly. The test was out of 25, and the extra two points pushed me up from a 21/25 to a 23/25. An A. Damn straight.

After school I went to pick up my bike. Thank goodness weirdo-"I'm positive you should know me"-boy wasn't there. I paid the 25 bucks it cost to fix my bike and took off. I can't wait until it stops raining. I'm gonna bike up a freakin' storm.

I got a disturbing email today from a good friend, Gem. I won't state exactly what she wrote, other than at the end of the letter she stated that I was her best male friend, which touched me. She briefly fumbled through her problems and asked for some advice. I thought about her situation - I thought about it hard. I offered my advice on the approach of a "man's" view of her situation. I hope it resolves any problems she might have.

I've noticed that life around me has seemed less and less prolific. People are doing poorly with their grades if they haven't already dropped out of school, people's relationships are breaking apart, people aren't writing as much in their journals, and hell, people just aren't writing. Is the world going through some sort of creative/constructive drought?

It's probably just me. I always over imagine these things into something greater than they truly are. Actually, I hope I am. It would be terrible to see and know that the world wasn't producing.

My father arrived home and we did our usual small talk thing. I helped him out with adding up our phone expenses. I was surprised to find that we phone out to a lot of places. There were a couple of calls to New Mexica, Toronto, Montreal, Alaska, Texas, and of course my surrounding area. It really didn't mean much, I just found it interesting. After we were done that I went down to my living quarters (it sounds so "organized" when I phrase it like that) and went online.

Chel and I spoke for a little. I was embarassed to have to ask questions about things that I already should have known, as I read her journal daily. Perhaps my recall isn't serving me as well as it used to. That scares me.

I find myself staring at this poster I have on my wall a lot lately. It's comprised of a black and white photograph - actually probably two photographs that were super-imposed or edited by computer - of a piano sitting at the bottom of waterfall. It's titled "Watermusic" and was photographed or whatever by George Kavanagh. Hmmm. This poster brings back a lot of memories, not necessarily concerning the poster itself, but by who it was given by. I got it as a present two christmas's ago by a young lady, Kristy. We were involved at one point, but we chose to go our seperate ways. A shame really, she was the kind of lady that I know I would have been happy if I had married her. But I'm way too young to be thinking about marraige now.

The poster not only brings back a lot of memories, but it also has a certain "zen" quality to it. I find that when I stare at it long enough, my mind transcends into a different state, where I think of all these strange things and different posibilities, storylines, kinda like a creative holding cell of sorts that I get to explore. Argh. I can't really explain it besides saying that perhaps like meditation. Either way, I always feel strangely enlightened after staring at it for awhile.

Anyhow, I've noticed that this journal entry has been a little strange. Let's get back on track Randall.

I made a couple of graphics for my page, plus I've also decided to make every Wednesday "word of week" day, as you can probably tell by the graphic up there. Yep, nebulous. My math prof is nebulous. So are a lot of people I deal with daily. That's an unpleasing though.

I haven't written a song in over a week. I just keep playing that "Galileo" song by the Indigo Girls over and over again. What a fun song to play, not to mention a groovy set of lyrics. But I need to get serious and write a song soon. Hell, I need to do a lot of things. Damnit, write Randall! Poetry, a story, a song, an anecdote, an essay, a report!

I know, you're saying "But you're writing right now Randall!". Whatever.

I am an idealist to the tee. Never satisfied with myself. Argh.

We must endure these pains and trials in order to grow and reach new heights.

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