mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This entry sucks. Really. It does. It happened to me last weekend. Not this past weekend, but the weekend before. And it was a much more tangible thing than I was expecting. I think I may have actually crossed that line from adolescence into adulthood. I didn't mean to... It just happened. It was one of those things where all of a sudden, you think, "Wow. Look at me. I'm no longer a kid." It happened while I was thinking about the future. Warning #1: Think about being an adult for too long, and you will eventually become one. I was thinking about how I will be able to juggle the dream of having a family with the dream of having a really neat, schmaltzy job. Because really neat, schmaltzy jobs don't pay crap. Believe me. I've seen them. While thinking this, it was like I could literally see the little red line on the ground that looked like a little border. On the side I *was* standing on, it said, "You're a guy. No worries." On the side I had just stepped onto, it said, "Time to start worrying." I was then presented with two main choices. Follow a path that will allow for a neat job, maybe a chance of recognition, and something that will be completely gratifying in that area of my life. Or, follow a path that won't provide as neat of a job but will allow me to chase the incredible dream of having a wonderful wife, a beautiful daughter, a dog, and a home. I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be married by the age of 27. Whether or not that will happen, I dunno. But it is a round-about, general idea of when I would no longer like to not be considered "sad" and "all alone" by all of married friends. I wish I could go back to the time of friends like Megan and realize how simple things are. I would also realize that -- yes -- time does really go by too damn quick. So, pay attention, kids. Yer ol' bud JP is learnin' ya something here. Before you realize it, you, too, will be looking at the red line border of adulthood. And it ain't a pretty line to cross. Enough with the seriousness... I am writing so late because I came home from work today and thought, Hmmm. I could take me a nice, short nap and wake up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. I woke up almost seven hours later. That means I won't be sleeping much for the rest of the night. That means Hell Day is tomorrow. Well, it doesn't *mean* Hell Day is tomorrow. Hell Day is tomorrow regardless if I slept 24 hours or 2 hours. Hell Day? What the hell is Hell Day? If you are new, you have no clue. So, I will explain. Hell Day is the description of the day where I go in to work at 5am. I work until 4pm. I then drive like a bat outta hell to school -- way across town -- when class starts at 4:25. I am in class until about 10:15. At night. If you do your math correctly, that translates into about a 17-hour day. A day of hell. Hense the name. And thus the reason why I couldn't handle another part-time job. Hell Days aren't really as bad as they seem. My Good Friend Kourtney always writes a really nice email every Hell Day. And I get to eat at the school cafeteria. The food sucks and I almost always end up eating by myself. But it is out of the ordinary. ... Gawd. I just realized that this entry sucks major donkey ass. Does anybody out there who reads this live in Chicago? If so, I will be there next week sometime. Tentatively, anyway. I still don't know for sure 100%. But I would really love another fun trip to the Second City. Ok. This entry sucks. I'm closing shop. I am soon to send up my second Immunity Challenge for Diary Survivor. So, when you see a weird entry from me, now you know what it is about. 11:13 p.m. - Mon., Mar. 18, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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