mychai's Diaryland Diary

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Pressing out entries like pressing wine out of a grape

This happened a few months ago.

I do loads of stuff during the day. I even do a few things at night, which is totally out of the norm for the bizarro-vampire life I lead. So, I sit down, pop up my little entry window for this here diary, I crack my nuckles. I flip over my little sand/glitter/water window my sister bought me. You know what I'm talking about... you flip it over and watch the sand and glitter trickle down.

It usually gets my brain going. Don't ask me why.

But then, my brain does that thing that the old vacuum tube TVs did when you turned them off. The picture would shrink down and turn into a bright white line and eventually fade away.

Those old TVs were neat. If they got more than four channels, didn't weigh 3,000 pounds, and didn't generate enough heat to turn Siberia into a destination resort, I would look for one on Ebay.

I think the technical term for what I'm suffering from is called "writer's block," but I prefer to call it by it's common street name: "Dammitahell!"

Like last time, it'll pass. I'm doing what all of the books said to do: I'm writing "upstream." That is, I'm writing even though my brain is pushing me not to.

So now you, the reader, get to suffer along with me by reading my upstreaming drivel.


I decided yesterday to go totally against the usual grains of my soul. I did something yesterday that I can honestly say I have never done before in my life: I watched three -- yes THREE -- sports games in one day.

I hardly ever watch three games in a month, much less a week. But to watch three games in a single day is unprecedented.

Granted, I only watched the last bit of the third one. But when I was flipping through channels and saw the Cards were playing the Cubs, I set my control down and watched.

Had my mom been here, she would have wondered if I "was on the drugs." This is a total change from my personality. You know... the one that really doesn't like sports and is usually annoyed by them?

I watched the Purdue v. Notre Dame game. My Best Friend Lisa and I watched together... sorta. She lives in Indiana and actually attended Purdue. So, anytime anything interesting happened -- like when Notre Dame made two touchdowns within ten seconds -- I would message dirty words to her via our phones and she would message dirty words back.

We probably spent $10 worth of phone messages yesterday.

Then, I got a free ticket from work to the University of Missouri v. Ball State game here in town. I was one of the 49,000 in attendance yesterday.

Usually, the only time I enjoy sports is when I am actually at the game. As was yesterday, except it got boring around the time when Missouri had 30 points on Ball State.

I quit paying as much attention to the guys in spandex and focused more time and energy on the cheerleaders. Hey... You gotta adapt to survive!

Then, when I got home, I watched the final innings of the Cards v. Cubs. They were in inning 9 when I turned on, and they were still tied. The game lasted until the bottom of the 13th when the Cards finally made a run.

Gosh. I hope I don't become a sports nut. That costs money, time, brain power. I don't want to know statistics and talk about "the game" tomorrow around the water cooler. That's making the assumption that the TV station has a water cooler, which it doesn't. But even if it did, that's where I don't want to be.

Oi. Maybe its time I start growing facial hair.


Yeah, you read that right. I don't -- nix that, can't grow facial hair.

Except one or two individual hairs on my chin and lip. I can grow there. But even then, I only shave once or twice a week.

I have the same can of Edge shave gel I bought 3 years ago. The bottom is rusting through.

I will surely be made fun of plenty when I go to boot camp.


Finally...

I'm a horrible, horrible god.

My sea monkeys didn't last three days. I did everything the 31-page instruction booklet told me. They promised that I could be a complete dolt and not kill these things. I guess the writers of the booklet -- which was originally written in 1966 -- never thought there would be such a boob as me.

Three days after I put the baby sea monkeys in, my Sea Monkey Aquarium looks like the Sea Monkey Titanic sank because of all of the sea monkey carcasses floating up top. I had one hanger-on for a few days, but I guess he/she (I never peeked under its sea-monkey attire to check) decided to join his siblings in the great Sea Monkey Aquarium in the sky, God Me bless 'em.

Maybe this is why I don't have my own little galaxy to reign over.

8:52 p.m. - Sun., Sept. 8, 2002

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