mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Calgon (or anybody, for that matter) take me away! Sorry about not updating over the past few days. But you know that old adage: If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say it. As it has been with my visit so far in Picayune. To put it in the the simplest, barest of observations: I'm unhappy here. I have nothing here to call my own. I find myself on a completely different field of mindset than everyone around me. I am at a much quicker pace than people here. I don't like to stop and chat for ten minutes with everyone I know in Wal-Mart. I also like to go to coffee shops late in the evening so I can read and write in my journal while enjoying a hot frothy beverage. This is really quite hard to do when the only shop that sells decent coffee closes its doors at 3:00 in the afternoon. I don't want to go on and on about how I'm not happy. Like my friend Mike said, I feel as much, if not more, at home in Missouri as I do here in Mississippi. I like to visit, but I just want to go home. My mom and I have a very strict don't-ask-don't-tell policy about a bunch of things. It's really quite complicated and not really verbally agreed upon. But she knows my boundaries, and I know hers. We don't often go past those. For example, when my momma found out that I met Nicole, my travel buddy, through the Internet, she quickly said, "Ok. That's all I need to know." She wasn't disapproving at all. She just didn't care to know anymore because when you meet people over the Internet it's all about sex, sex, sex. That's what older people think, anyway. The other night I was in the living room watching TV. My mom came out of her bedroom -- where her computer is -- and said, "Well, I found me a man." "Oh, really? Where did you meet him, and why are you waiting until 10:30 at night to tell me?" "Well..." she hesitated. "I put up an add on Yahoo! Personals." "OK. Goodnight." God help us all if they end up falling in love and getting married. I don't know what's worse, knowing my mom is posting up a personal ad or knowing my mom is posting up a personal ad on the Internet. I'm reminded of that Seinfeld episode where George realizes his mother is officially "out there," as in the dating scene. If I ever am looking through personals and see my mom's mug tacked to a long description, there won't be enough electricity in the western world to zap me back into existance. I'm back on dial-up Internet access while here in Picayune. I hate dial-up Internet access. I had a cable modem for over a year, and that was absolutely fantastic. Now I am on my mom's Internet access, and the company has no competition in town. This means that they can be as crappy of quality as they want and nobody will leave them. I get disconnected every ten minutes. The bitrate sucks ass. And I guarantee they charge an arm and a leg for the "service." Plus, do you know how long it takes to download porn on a dial-up? If I had any money at all, I would get a DSL connection for the month I'm here. But knowing the companies around here, it would take a month in order to get the connection going. Someone come get me and take me back to Missouri. Please? Ok. I'm all written out. I am going out for a wine tasting event with my mom tonight. Hopefully I can get drunk and forget my worries for tonight. But that is extremely doubtful since I have been to many a wine tasting event and have never had enough to even constitute a full glass of wine. That's why I bring along my own flask of whisky. Have a good weekend. 11:21 a.m. - Fri., May 2, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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