mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What I did on my Wednesday Vacation I hate being mean. I hate it, hate it, hate it. If you knew me, you would know that being mean is the very last of my qualities. It isn't very becoming. It is more of a last-ditch effort before getting downright ugly. Very few things turn me into Mean JP. I have an exceptionally high tolerance for just about anything. The girls of the family I cook for think they can get me to do things by repeating their request over and over and over, ad nausium. Ask any girl I have gone out with: I have an amazing talent of completely ignoring anything, anybody, at any time, when my will requests it. It's not a talent that fosters healthy relationships, mind you. But when I need to just "suck it up" and deal with things, it is a talent that comes in handy. My "ignore it" mantra is like the wide buffer zone between having "good patience" and "becoming spiteful." How do you travel this buffer zone quicker than finding your toilet after eating undercooked chicken? At the risk of sounding "Soprano's"-esque, you can really piss me off by crossing the line that separates "inconsiderate" and "disrespect." I don't ask for much respect in this world. Let me be who I am, and don't assume I owe you anything (unless I actually do owe you something.) Because I can be downright mean. I tend to take away -- sometimes at a cost to myself -- any amount of pleasure I can remove if you push me to that limit. I'm almost always -- a good 99.5% of the time -- Mr. Nice JP. But get me into the realm of Mean JP, and I can be such a large thorn in your side that you will *wish* -- you will pray to God -- that you had Mr. Nice JP back. Yeah, yeah, yeah... you think to yourself. JP likes to sound tough every now and then. Oooo! I'm scared of this Bizzaro JP! you think with ample amount of sarcasm. I'm just saying... Someone has crossed the line. And I feel I have to be mean. And I hate it. I hate it, hate it, hate it. Let's see... Where was I the last time I updated? That was last night at around 10:15 or so. Yesterday was pretty busy. I woke up at around 7:00 or so for no apparant reason. I hate waking up so early on my days off. That's what sucks the most about working the 5:00am shift -- it sucks when 7:00am becomes considered "sleeping in." I want to wake up and it be lunchtime. (Is that correct grammar? I can't figure it out.) Instead, I watched the last bit of our morning news before the Today Show came on. I dozed in and out a bit before getting up for good at around 9:30. I went and gave plasma at 10:30. The ladies were nice and flirty as usual. Hot Apheresis Chick held my hand as she put the needle in. Again, I think that is standard procedure. But it doesn't hurt to daydream a bit, does it? After that, I was planning on going running. But it is amazing how something as insignificant as a "Tornado Warning" will change your mind about running for a mile or two. I mean, Dorothy was hot, but I am not in the mood to see Oz quite yet. Those munchkins freaked me out, man! Instead, I went to lunch with my friend Janelle the Aussie Who Isn't. She just got a job in Kansas as some kind of medical trial something-or-other. I think they pump her full of drugs to see what colors and shapes she takes on. Or she does that to patients. One or the other. But she left today, and I felt like a nice lunch with the ever-so-wonderful Moi would make a great last memory of Columbia. After that, I ran by the mall to see if my glasses were done. "Two or three more days." They told me that at the end of last week, which was seven days after they said my glasses would be ready in five days. This is Pearle Vision, folks. Good thing I wear contacts. Slow-assed bastards. I went by Barnes & Noble, just to see what they had. I almost bought a book about the Wicked Witch of the West from the whole Oz series. This book is told from the perspective of the Wicked Witch of the West, and protrays her as the protagonist rather than the antagonist. As quoted from a reviewer on Amazon.com: Born to a religious father and an upper-class mother, Elphaba becomes a surprisingly sympathetic character. Her life is traced from birth to death, and along the way we see her development, from horrific baby, to idealistic student and activist, to reclusive wisewoman. I decided at the last minute, though, to not buy it. I have two large papers to write for school within the next couple of weeks. I will be travelling home soon, though, and I may buy a copy for the trip home. After Barnes & Noble, I came home to my 12-year-old (that is, the 12-year-old of the family who I sometimes cook for) wanting me to take her to Wal-Mart. Seems I promised her a trip there sometime at the beginning of the week. I must've been drunk, because I don't remember it. But I was being nice and took her anyway. I came home, took a nap, and woke up late before going to Wal-Mart. And that, my friends, was my Wednesday. Now you are all updated. I am at school right now. I just finished writing a paper on why Hamlet would be better played by a female than a male. You know... despite being a prince and all. I am about to go to my Lit Theory class, where I hope people don't bring up anything I may have said while being under the influence of dark-brown beer and mozerella sticks. You can say a lot when you are loaded with cheese sticks and beer. Class starts soon, so I should pack up and head out. 5:56 p.m. - Thurs, April 25, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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