C. Smith's Blurty

Subject:	Call Me Destinova
Time:	3:55 pm.
Mood:	full.
Music:	Dashboard Prophets - Ballad for Dead Friends.

Starting over isn't something that happens overnight. While it's true that I'm not quite the same guy that left Martinsville, I'm not yet what could be called a new man. Here I am being faced with experiences that challenge my beliefs and perspectives. These things are particularly inspiring for someone who spends most of their time in obsessive introspection mode. Over the last two days my journey into newness has substantially progressed. It would be best for me to start at the beginning:

I worked with "She" yesterday and felt that she didn't really care for me very much. Whether is was my nervous speech around her or the millions of "sorry!"s and "thank you"s that I spit out I will never know. What I do know is that she gave me what I perceived to be several looks of discontentment. I came to the conclusion that she must feel nothing for me. BUT...thanks to meggy...I remembered that I am a terrible judge of character. I have an inferiority complex, as well as a persecution complex. Not a nice combination, you should agree. Just because I THINK that "She" thinks so little of me doesn't mean "She" hates my guts.
Then later I saw her again at a work meeting. I never got very close to her, but I did get to see her in her civilian clothes. When a person works they not only wear a uniform; they also wear a work-face. Without her work-face, I didn't see "She" as being so striking. I concluded that she was just another pretty face and that my feelings for her were actually my mind tricking me into having something to be motivated for. I was bummed at first, but then I popped into the foam dance party to volunteer...

I basically sat in a chair and told people to sign a piece of paper and to leave their valuables on the table. In case you're wondering what a "foam video dance party" is, as I was, it's where you have a huge inflatable swimming pool-esque thing and projection screens and speakers all around. Popular dance music videos are shown as college kids dance and gyrate while waist deep in foam. Good times. I don't dance, and I'm not a fan of the music that was being played full-volume ("WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!"), but I had some degree of fun handing out surveys as people left. Believe it or not, most people actually took the time to fill them out! The student activity people acted surprised that I got so many done...I didn't do anything special though. Must just be a latent skill. So I can get surveys done--big fuckin' whoop.

I came back to Trinkle (my residency hall) and met up with some peeps on the steps. We talked for about an hour or so. It was cool to talk, but I felt the old me creeping in. I realized that I am desperate for attention...that HAS been my problem all along. I'm not hyper--I just REALLY want to be someone's main focus. As it was I was barely in the conversation. The peeps are nice and all, but I sunk into total jackass mode trying to keep the fun going. I know that they all think that I'm a grade-A weirdo now. Does this bother me? Slightly. Not so much now as it did last night. While I hate that comical side of myself, I'm glad that I had a chance to see it for what it is for the first time in my life. Maybe now I will have better luck controlling it.

So we talked for a while and then everyone went to bed. I woke up in a bad mood, listened and sang to some music, and decided that I really want to learn to play the guitar. Walter (one of the peeps on the steps) told me that he would hook me up with some basic info if I wanted. I wish I would have brought my guitar! There's this hot girl and a bunch of guys that play guitar outside a lot...I would have tons of resources at my disposal. Come the Monday after fall break I'm going to have my guitar here. I'm going to pick up this skill, one way or another. I've wanted to learn to play for a goddamn long time; here's my chance.

So I get to work, and I am in for five hours. I've never worked there for that long before! It was all good, though; I got to run the breakfast bar. I did a lot of exhausting back-and-forth food retrieval...it was worth it. I got a semi-workout and I think I impressed a few co-workers. And here's the strange thing: I saw "She" and she said "hi" to me. After the work meeting I had decided that I wasn't going to be attracted to her anymore because she wasn't what I thought she was...nada. I AM still attracted to her. It's weird...but I know what to do now. I just have to work with her and treat her like a co-worker. If I ever get the opportunity to get to know her, then I'll do it. There's no reason to be nervous over her! I'd like to get to know her, but chances are that there's no "spark" there. I'm okay with that. She is a goddess; a solid ten in my book. She could be a whore or a ice-hearted bitch queen outside of work, I don't care. In work she makes me feel all squishy inside. I'd like to meet more people like that.

And finally...I am very seriously considering starting a new account here at blurty. This has been great, but I can't stand seeing "Chalz" anywhere here. I'm not "Chalz" anymore; I have grown tired of that name. It's lame! I know, I know: I'm lame too. I feel bad about this because I don't want to abandon my old posts...I could always back them up on disk, I guess...but having them online was awesome. I will reserve my name of choice in just a moment, but the fate of this account and my website are in the balance. Suggestions? Thoughts? Anything? Let me know. In all likelihood, anything and everything "chalz" will be eliminated. Call me Destinova.

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Subject:	Today of all Days
Time:	7:08 am.

It's Friday. Once again, my horoscope claims that I will have a good day for love. Once again, I say that horoscopes are full of shit.

My English teacher gave me a book with info on poetry book contests. I'm going to give him a rough draft of some of my work thus far and get his input. He's a cool guy...but I always get along with English teachers (save for one, but that's a long story). I'm excited about this. The only problem is that most of the contests charge a $15 entrance fee. I don't mind, though, because even if I don't win anything I will be supporting the arts. I'm considering submitting different poems to two different contests. That way, I have double the chance! Since I have my check card, this should be easy. I know I said that I wasn't going to buy myself anything until Christmas, but this isn't a material prize; this is me following my dream. Fuck money--I refuse to live in the shadow of a dollar bill. I'm going to pay anywhere up to $100 right now to see this through. It's $100 worth of opportunity, LoL. I hate writing "LoL" in a journal, but sometimes it's very fitting.

I have a Psych exam in less than an hour and I'm here typing in my blurty. I am such a moron. If I fail any classes this year and try to whine about it, remind me of this moment, ok? I'll deserve it.

I want to take a moment to remember John Ritter, one of the finest actors I've ever had the pleasure of watching. Ritter is a unique and underappreciated thespian and will always have a place in my heart for his vulnerable and comically ingenious performances in films such as "Problem Child" and "Sling Blade". The guy even did an episode of Buffy! My condolences go out to Ritter's wife Amy Yasbeck (also very talented and underappreciated) and the rest of his family. I for one will remember John as the great performer he was. Props to the Ritter.

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Time:	9:32 am.
Mood:	geeky.
Music:	Radiohead - Creep.

Now that work is out of the way I can continue with my important announcement. While I'm still going to update this journal, I will in all likelihood abandon "the chalz effect" ( http://thechalzeffect.cjb.net ) and start a radically different website. I will do this because the chalz effect kind of sucks in my eyes now and is good for nothing more than for friends to see pics of themselves. My new website may or may not be linked here...I haven't decided yet. At the moment, plans are to make it a very abstract site, full of demented art and writings. There will probably be an anti-Christianity vibe, but this will be because I have serious problems with Christianity and may use the opportunity to bitch about the world's favorite religion. There will be graphic imagery and writings as well, so I'll probably be forced to put up a disclaimer. This is only in the "maybe" stage right now, remember. I may decide not to fuck with this. Considering I do decide to go through with this, It's going to take a while. I have six classes, moderate homework, and I work anywhere from 23 - 30 hours a week. I'm not a graphic design connaisseur and making a site look OK takes me quite a while.

Why am I doing this? I suddenly feel artistic again, that's why. Only now, I feel dark. I want to do some fucked up shit with Adobe and Corel and I want to post it. I want to have obscure text and I want to have questionable material. Mainly, I want to do a dark set of work. Anyone who frequents my other site and looks at the art knows that I did a "hell" line. This will be slightly similar to that, but will deal with more sexual matter. Sometimes I think that Freud wasn't so full of shit after all; maybe everything is about sex after all...

I could go on, but that's for the site, should I decide to create it. Even if I do put it up, the chalz effect will remain online. I may not update it ever again, but it will remain not be deleted. I could always go back and add pics or something...it's my homepage. This new thing WON'T be a homepage. It will be something new. That's all that's going to be said about that. I probably won't even mention when I finish it. Who knows.

I said "hi" to "She" today. I think she said something and smiled, but I think it was a fake smile. I was thinking to myself before I came to work that she wasn just another girl and that I had just pinned all these attributes to her because I wanted something to motivate me. When I watcher her working today, though, I came to understand that no matter what this is that I'm feeling, I'm feeling it for her. I am the fish, she is the pole. If I find the worm, I'm biting it. I don't care if it kills me. I didn't look into her eyes today, but I did look at her face. Aside from the eyes, she's...still a wonder. I'm already trying to come up with cool ways to tell her how I feel without coming off as insane or too awfully desperate. I think I have a few winners! Thinking of and using are two very different things, though. I really have nothing to lose save for my image at work by going for it, but my psychological damage, whatever it may be, prevents me from being bold. It's like one of those dog collars that shocks the poor dog if he goes past the markers; it freezes me in my tracks. The hardest thing about this is going to be finding a good opportunity to talk to her. I think she's an introvert! I've never known an honest-to-God introvert before! Well it's time for me to cut. I have clothes in the washer downstairs and I have to find a quarter to dry clothes. Later.

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Subject:	Things are About to Change
Time:	3:27 am.

Things are about to change. Things have been enlightening for me today: I was praised for my writing skills in University 100 today, but was also told that my writing is "redundant". I felt an unwelcome hint of anger at this remark, but I believe it was only the remains of some feelings I was having earlier in the day. I was taken aback by the remark, because above all else I want to maintain my modesty. I told them that I didn't handle flattery very well, thanked them, and left for History 101. On the way to History I first scolded myself for my momentary anger and then felt good about having some negative criticism. I realize that I am a hypocrite when it comes to criticism in that I fully absorb it when it is something that I recognize in myself but don't acknowledge it and become angry at times when it is something that I don't agree with. The whole point of criticism is to guide one to better performance. This is a character flaw that I need to work out. Likewise, I need to work on making my writing less redundant. I agree with Al; I tend to repeat myself. I make synonymous statements that at times serve no purpose other than to expand a previous statement. That's two things I want to work on when it comes to my writing: repetition and capitalization (I have trouble figuring out which words to capitalize when it comes to proper names of books, poems, articles, etc.). Aside from the criticism, the comments were complimentary. The gist of the conversation was that I have a flair for words. I didn't let it go to my head but...I appreciated it. It eased my nerves.

My nerves were in shock because I believe that my roommate is going to try and provoke me. He has a very assertive and strong personality and I don't. Therefore, when he asks me if I'm mad over something silly like his telling me that he doesn't want to hear me talk about horror news (understandable; he's not a movie person) and I respond that I don't get angry over much and that I think that anger is a weakness, he goes into provocation mode. "Riiigghht," he says. I know he's temperamental, but he lets his emotions do too much of his thinking. Just the other day he made the straightforward comment that I am "the most confusing person he has ever known" (in an angry tone). The thing that gets me isn't so much what he says, it's that if I spoke that way to him he would chew my head off. As it is, I drop things and let them slide. It's grating to think that, if the tables were turned, he would be on my ass. I don't talk down to him when I'm mad and he should do the same for me. Anger is a weakness in that respect; angry people become full of themselves. Anger is a false-power.

I'd rather not think about that though. It's not a big problem and I'll just have to deal with it. He's being himself and I have to respect that. Still, I wish he was a little less insistent that his opinions are always right. He talks about askmen.com like they're certifiable, but despite the fact that the writers generally have PhDs, the articles are mostly persuasive with tinges of empirical evidence scattered throughout. I'm not going to argue with him, though. I'm not an arguer. Again: I need to forget about this and let my nerves cool down. Just thinking about it stresses me out. I get along with my roommate, and I will continue to do so, even if it means listening to him and keeping my mouth shut. I'm wrong a lot anyways.

Before History, the big thing happened. Something that will change my life forever transpired there...I read the basic beliefs of Buddha. I had heard of Buddhism, but had never really read up on it. I studied Taoism a little earlier this year, but Buddhism had always been unknown territory for me. Before I talk about this, I need to make one thing abundantly clear: I have NOT converted to Buddhism. I am still agnostic. What I got out of reading the excerts from Buddhist writings is that life is suffering--period. And the source of this suffering is desire. Everything we want for ourselves in life are precisely the things that make us miserable. When you want to fall in love, then heartbreak and/or death will come at some point. When you want to look good, age or disease will eventually take that away. When you desire success, when are you truly successful? With success, there is always another mountain to climb. In the end, failure is always waiting on the other side. The other amazing thing: in Hinduism and in Buddhism, there is no heaven. You are reincarnated until you live a good enough life to escape from the "moksha", or cycle of life. Then what do you get? You get the satisfaction of no longer existing. These religions celebrate what we Westerners are terrified of: nothingness. Wow. The Christian religion doesn't serve up much thought-provoking material, but Buddhism and Taoism (and even Confucianism) are bundled with enough abstraction and philosophy to keep your mind running. Wow.

I have been inspired. This was supposed to be a short post just to make the point that I am preparing to make, but it's been a strange day. I have to get ready for work! I'll finalize this later. More could happen today--this is a special day. This is a key part of my new beginning. More later.

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Subject:	I Want Something to Believe In
Time:	11:26 am.
Mood:	groggy.

I'm tired of being so logical. All I've been is logical lately. I want a reason to think that there's more to this world than what I see and what I understand...I want mysticism and wonder back. Nothing is fantastical anymore; it's all "real". I want a reason to doubt my logic, because even though I prefer being rational I don't want to live in a completely rational world. I've been thinking a lot about fate lately, and I've come to the conclusion that I really want to believe that I've been brought her for a reason. I want to think that by coming here I am bringing myself closer to my destiny. Rationally, though, I can't believe in destiny, just as I can't believe in God and all that B.S. I want to kick this logic to the curb, if at least for a little while. I want to think that something profoundly good aside from my incessant introspection and furthered education has come out of all of this. I want to find normality...but normality ain't easy to find. "Normal" is hard to define, but I mean it in that I want the things other people take for granted, like self-respect and respect from others. I don't want to be like these people, I just want to feel the confidence that they feel and be able to accomplish the things that they accomplish.

When it all boils down to it, I want this "She" thing to work out. I know what's going to happen, but I also know what I want to happen. All of what I wrote before is wishful thinking...when I get to know "She", either she's not going to be anything like my ridiculous ideal of her or she's not going to feel anything for me. Hopefully I'll talk to her and become convinced that she's not what I saw after all. Then I could just be angry at myself for being a dreamer and move on. That's the best case scenario, I'm sad to say. If she still captivates me after I get to know her and she doesn't feel a thing for me, then it's Jennifer all over again. That was a bad time for me...I hope I don't have to go through such a juvenile set of emotions, though. I'm twenty now, for Christ's sake!

Either way, I'm sick with loneliness and self-doubt. When this all comes crashing down--and it will--I'm going to once again be questioning how much I let my overactive imagination steer me in the wrong direction. "She" is nothing more than a pretty face with my fantasies wrapped around. Once I get to know her I'm going to realize that all this has been in my head and that I need to WAKE THE FUCK UP. I know this, and yet I refuse to accept it. Hope would like me to believe that this is predestined, that this is who I've been waiting for. Reality says otherwise. "She" may as well be a figment of my imagination...and the only way to prove it is to talk with her and to set the wheels in motion. I just pray to God she's not as perfect as she seems. Please. In all seriousness, I don't want her to be nice. I want her to be going out with some bozo from a soccer team; I want her to be a sorority girl; I want her to be a smoker. If she's none of those things and she's as delicate as she seems then I'm in deep shit. I guess she COULD always be a good Christian girl...I need some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.

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Subject:	Here's Hoping that "Virgo" Actually Means Something
Time:	10:04 pm.
Mood:	busy.
Music:	Trapt - Headstrong.

According to my horoscope, today is the day that I should be romantically bold. Today is supposedly the day that I can flirt and possibly even make my move. I wish I would have had an opportunity yesterday! Yesterday I was feeling ripe for approaching her. Today, I feel more like my insecure old self. Today, I will either make or break my belief in horoscopes. I believe in the foundation of Astrology, but the horoscope thing has always struck me as B.S. I had a few that were accurate a couple weeks back, so I'm giving it all a shot. Today is it; hit or miss. We'll see.

I talked with a friend last night that said that in order to truly attract someone into wanting a relationship that I had to answer this question: "What do I have to offer?" If I can't answer that, then I won't have anything. If I believe that I have something to offer, then supposedly I will. It makes sense; it's all about the confidence. If I believe in myself, people can sense it. It's like an aura if you have it...and if you don't. I don't. But I need to--I just can't think of anything that I have to offer save for an understanding ear. I will give myself this: people have told me some fucked up shit, and only once have I ever judged them on it. And believe me, that one time was a flip. I won't even go into it here. Problem is, being a good listener puts me in the friend zone. That sucks cock.

To clarify: I know that I could get dates if I really wanted to. I'm not so foolish as to think that there's no one here that would have me. The hitch is that I don't want to "date" because I think some girl looks cute or because I can. I have never been a big fan of the meaningless school "hey, let's go together!" relationship. I want to offer someone my heart, and I want theirs in return. I'm still a man, though. At times, I want nothing more than a long, hard romp in the sack. However, if I were to partake in a fuckfest, I know that I would regret it later. If I meet someone special then I can make good on the time that I've spent alone; I can say that I just never found the right person. If I go out and get laid for no reason other than to get my dick wet (sorry kids, the world is a graphic place) then I'm only solidifying the fact that I'm pathetic.
"So, Charles, how did you lose your virginity?"
"Well, I lost it when I was twenty to some party girl." Not very enticing.

While I have urges and I do want some "goddamn poontang", I want it much less than I want a relationship. I've waited twenty years on poon and I can wait longer if needs be. But as for having someone that loves me and is hot for me...I don't want to wait anymore. I don't expect to meet the person I'm going to marry or anything, I just want to meet someone that wants me. I want to make up for the time that I was dirt beneath everyone else's feet (bad memories of middle school) and I was too weird for anyone to get (high school: not BAD memories per se, but not good either). I'm not going to be young forever...my greatest fear is to one day get married out of desperation. That brings me to another point...

Why do women get to make the rules when it comes to the game of love (lust)? It bothers me how most women want a "bad boy" that treats them like shit and breaks all the rules when they're young, and then turn to the "dependable guys" when they get older. It's not fair. They claim that it's because they get "older and wiser", but the truth is that they get their jollies out and then seize hold of the guys that have missed out on that. Fuck that shit; it's not right. I know guys use women all the time, but still...it's not right. I don't want to be lonely until I'm thirty and then suddenly become a "catch" because I have a stable career. I'll blow my goddamn brains out first! As you can see, I'm very passionate about this. It's a problem. On the other hand...

How can I blame women for wanting someone that can offer them something? Whether it be money, a nice car, good looks (the trophy), a good lay, or security, they go for people that can make them feel good. What right do I have to act like it's such a travesty that the bad guys get the girl? Not all of the "bad guys" are really shitheads. I'm just jealous. I recognize that I'm jealous, but it doesn't make me any less jealous. Fuck 'em--if for no other reason than to give me someone to blame other than myself.

Well I should never have started this post in the first place. I have a Philosophy exam I MUST study for and I Psych exam coming up Friday. With all the sleeping I kind of did Monday, I need to catch up. Then there's always work...only three hours today though. Here's hoping that the zodiac isn't full of shit!

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Subject:	Kind of Like the Good Old Days
Time:	9:52 am.
Mood:	contemplative.
Music:	Radiohead - Creep.

Work was hectic. It was so damned busy that I stayed an extra half-hour, so busy that the time didn't drag so awfully slow. It was so hectic, in fact, that I was reminded of another time when I worked in the restaurant business...it's like the good old days of Texas Steakhouse! Before Carl went nuts, before I became an asshole, before I had to work with druggies and unreliable rednecks...it was good. I kept busy, got into slightly better shape, and got paid. I saw "She", but all I got to say to her was "are you guys closed?" (she worked in the sub department tonight). They were closed, and I never got the chance to watch her delicate hands make a sub. I don't care though; even though she didn't seem ecstatic to see me, there's always tomorrow. If I feel the way I did today tomorrow and the day after and the day after, then when the opportunity comes around I'm going to seize hold of it like an early Christmas present. She might be something special and she might be another one of my delusions. Either way, I've got to see this through. Either way this turns out I'll be able to write about it. I'm not that worried. It will benefit me, regardless. If that benefit is making me so sick with disappointment and self-loathing that I write a groovy suicide note it will still be worthwhile. Misery is my muse! I wouldn't mind having a real honest-to-God excuse to write a happy love poem, though. Change can be exciting. Somehow, though--and this ain't the pessimism talking--I think she's married or involved or something. I have a hunch. Since I'm expecting it, it won't hurt as much. How's that for optimism?

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Subject:	The Beginning has Only Just Begun
Time:	3:27 am.
Mood:	hopeful.
Music:	Lisa Loeb - Stay (acoustic).

I knew that by coming here I was inviting change. I wanted change; was prepared to welcome it in open arms. Change has arrived, and I am embracing it. Today more than any other day thus far I realize that I am not the same man that left his room in Martinsville for the college life. It's what Jakob Dylan sings in the Wallflowers' song "One Headlight": "I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same". I'm still Charles Smith...I still think like him, for the most part. There is something new here as well, and I don't just mean my environment. I have changed as well.

Today I went into class with my portable CD player and listened to Metallica's "...And Justice For All", undoubtedly my favorite album (in the full meaning of the word) ever. I got stares, yes...but it didn't faze me. I could actually feel the fact that people were sort of intimidated by this. Doing such a thing (my headphones allowed the volume of my music to be heard, no doubt about it) is an assertive act. Not at all like me. I attribute some of it to my wearing long sleeves. Fun fact: I can barely operate with short sleeves. I feel vulnerable with them, vulnerable and weak. Today I wore one of my flannel longsleeve shirts over my t-shirt and I felt like a hundred bucks.

I read over my story "The Man in White" and am going to submit it after all. I like to take a few days and read my products when they're no longer fresh in my mind, to get a semi-secondary opinion. I was impressed with it, and therefore I will submit it. I'm also looking forward to submitting two of my digital art pieces, as well as my poem "Loneliness", which reportedly garnered acclaim from my aunt and uncle in Texas. Maybe I need to stop saying that I need to stop taking writing so seriously and actually do it. If I pressure myself into thinking that I'm not good enough, then I won't be in top form. I do my best work when it's from the heart...and I need to say "fuck you!" to anyone who doesn't like it. If it's me, then I like it. Period. Maybe I'll never make a living writing, but at least I'll be happy with it.

I'm feeling so good today that I might just try to strike up a conversation with "She", considering I get a chance. I know that if I get disappointed that I run the risk of having ruined an otherwise groovy day, but this is the shit good days are for: to make you push the limits. I do believe in the Taoist principles of wu-wei (inactivity), but I have to do my part if I want results. If there is such a thing as fate, and I'm debating that a lot lately...I may even write something on it in the coming months...then we do definitely have some control over how things work out. It can't ALL be planned. Maybe we are given opportunities, and whether or not we take them is our decision...

Enough. I got a birthday card from my great-grandmother today, and I just want to profess that I love the woman. She has done her best to make me happy since I was born. Props to Granny! I love you! I am on page fifty of my poetry book and am debating whether or not to start a new ebay account so that I can buy some books and maybe a t-shirt. I don't need that shit, so...oh, I don't know. I want the Taoist text...I'm so interested in it. Well, ebay time, followed closely by work time.

And in case you didn't know, "Angel" kicks off its fifth season October first. Spike will be joining the cast...I'm very excited. AND YOU SHOULD BE, TOO! Later.

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Subject:	Life Is Weird, Part 3: Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic...And It's Killing Me!
Time:	6:35 am.
Mood:	melancholy.
Music:	Melissa Etheridge - Come to My Window.

Remember when I said Michelle wasn't second choice? That was a lie. See, in my mind, I can never have what I really want. I have this delusion that sometimes if I settle for second best then I may actually get something for my effort. I wanted Michelle because I was (and am) terrified that "She Who I Refuse To Name" would reject me if I ever mustered the will to approach her. This is really bothering me...I don't believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in my tendency to get carried away by my imagination. Still, since the very first time I saw "She", I've felt what the apostles must have felt when Jeebus was around. Not that I believe in much of that or anything, but I lacked a more colorful analogy. I've been bitten by the lovebug before, but that was when I was in the seventh grade. That crush lasted until my junior year of high school and only began AFTER I talked to her (Jennifer). This is different...am I just attracted to "She"'s looks, or is there actually something there?

She was in when I first came to work, and she said "hi". Being that I was already bummed, I responded in a barely audible "hi" reply. I looked to the floor, too. I don't even want to think of how she perceived that. I mean, yeah, I was nervous, but the main motivator in my looking down was that I was terrified that I would look into those eyes of hers. Just thinking of them makes my chest clench. God, I wish I could make sense out of this.

The most painful thing of all is that I KNOW this is all me. In a perfect world, she would be feeling these things, too. In this world, this is me feeling sorry for myself and damning my emotions. If I were to ever be rejected by her, I think I would wither up and die inside. I've never really talked to her, and she has that power over me...I don't understand this at all. "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic"...I only wish she'd give me a reason to hate her already...her smile is radiant, so I think smoking is out the window...she couldn't possibly be a whore...possibly stuck up, but...NOOOO, she's not stuck up. I feel guilt even thinking that. I WANT to mar her image. I never thought I'd feel this way, and now I hope I never do again. I'd opt for food poisoning over this. I really don't know what I'm going to do...

Now I'm headed to the dining hall to eat. I know she left earlier, but that part of me that dares to hope otherwise suggests that I could run into her. As much as I want to avoid those eyes, I can't keep away. I hate being me.

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Subject:	Life Is Weird
Time:	9:33 pm.
Mood:	enthralled.
Music:	Evanescence - Lies.

It is a constant; change never ends, never truly begins. It's what life is made of; it is the tie that binds and the clay that shapes.

I've had attention from the most unlikely of sources as of late. It's making me question my own self-image, as well as my future plans. I always figured that I would end up jobless, penniless, alone, and on the street, kicking back on a bottle of Mad Dog and dreaming my life away. After being here for two+ weeks I feel like a new man...or the beginnings of one. I am understanding things about myself and my life (if I had a dollar for every time I've written that phrase) I never would have comprehended back home. Blah Blah Blah, enough about that. We've heard it all before...

I worked last night in the pizza shop and damn near burned my fingers off carrying pizzas back and forth. I could have used towels the whole time, but I'm fucking hardcore. I also had a Mick-Foley worthy fall on the floor that prompted my co-workers to plead with me to sign an "accident report". My response was "Hey, I used to be part of a wrestling federation. I've had worse." Well, it's true. If you want to see clips from my old TWF days, I have a few up on my "pics" page. The link to the site is at the top, in case you're interested.

Anyway...there's this nice girl named Michelle (out of my league) that I see every day before Psych. I'm excited to meet up with her again and see if I get any "signs". If I do, I may consider asking her to the movies this weekend. I supposedly have this weekend off...it will be the first time I've asked anyone out since a little fiasco I call "Breanne". I'm not nervous yet, but then again I don't know if she's interested or not. Again, she is out of my league. But if I'm ever going to be a man I'm going to have to learn to ignore that, whether it be delusion or fact. It doesn't matter what it is; I've got to be less insecure when it comes to women. So I'm a weird guy! That doesn't mean I have to dwell on it. I need to live for the moment. I also need to put on some cologne and fix my hair...

And as for that other girl I'm so smitten with: I've never really talked to her. It disgusts me to have an attraction so intense for someone that I've never had a conversation with. She SEEMS like a nice girl and she has the deepest eyes I've ever seen. What do I know past that? That she is better at her job than I am. Aside from that, I'm clueless. In other words, I'm trying to not think about her. It's best not to let my imagination take part in matters of the heart. She's beautiful--but when I get to know her, I'll probably let it go. Now in the event that she's as angelic inside as she is on the outside....then someone please put me down.

I don't want it to seem like Michelle is second choice; she's not. Right now, in fact, she's first choice. I've actually talked to her, and I actually have good reason to find her attractive and nice. She has real appeal, and I think she may have been flirting with me last week. It may have been simple courtesy, but it may have been something more. I'm hoping that it was the latter. I'm going to soak up in Brut (I'm such a poser!) and see what magic I can work. Wish me luck!

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Subject:	SATon-my-ass-allURDAY
Time:	2:39 am.
Mood:	mellow.
Music:	Jewel - Stand.

I look forward to work today. I really don't want to get stuck on the comp all day...I don't know if I'll be feeling the same way on Sunday, though. I work 3:30-CLOSE then as well. I don't think it will be that bad; the time may go by slowly, but it's nothing compared to standing in the same spot all day at Wal-Mart. Once you've done something you really hate then everything else seems a lot less threatening.

Today I got up, had breakfast, did homework, listened to some new CDs, and did some more homework. I have to get ready for work soon, but thought I would take the time to update. I'm generous in that respect. That, or pathetic. You choose.

Metallica's "St Anger" album starts off as the first track suggests: Frantic. By track two, though, I am reminded that mainstream metal is only a shadow of what it was. I got sick of hearing "St. Anger" and popped in "...And Justice For All", what I consider to be the ideal album. Not my favorite CD--my favorite album. A great album isn't a collection of great songs; rather, there is a theme. A method to the madness, if you prefer that elaboration. "...And Justice For All" is about justice (i.e., that there ain't none), the legal system, social injustices, war, and about sticking it to authority figures. Many Metallicats will say that they don't particularly like the sound of the album (I love it), but most will agree that the songwriting is Hetfield's best. Wait--the topic isn't "...And Justice For All". It's "St. Anger". I'll give it a second try, but based on my initial listening it has nothing going for it save for being a rehabilitation-themed album. I like THAT aspect of it at least--a man trying to get his life together.

I need to stop writing so much...Jewel's 0304 is definitely different than her previous folk albums. Though some of the lyrics are weak compared to that of her previous albums, it's still much better than the average pop effort. The album is pop, after all--having lyrics too meaningful would steal from the charm. Still, the writing is awesome. The first track is the greatest on the album, but "Intuition" and...whatever track 06 is, lol...are also very strong additions. Gotta love that first track--"Stand". Great song. The beats don't suffer, either. Jewel didn't "sell out"; she's trying something new. Good CD.

Some new resources are now at my disposal, and I am mulling over the prospect of redesigning the site again. This would serve no other purpose than to further educate me with web design, so no promises. The only point in redesigning a site no one looks at is to better myself...that's a good enough reason for me. So there it is: the possibility exists that "the chalz effect" will go under the knife again. And now I have to get to work.

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Subject:	Sweet Jesus! You're Filthy!
Time:	6:12 pm.

I apologize for my previous entry. I get upset sometimes. I have some funny things to say about what transpired once I went in to work. It's kind of strange how things turn around...

I came in bummed. I had just finished my previous entry and I felt like shit. Dried shit, if that elaborates on the image any. I started working and I took the opportunity to reflect on my previous decision. In part it was driven by emotion, but in its roots it was what I really meant. I'm not going to be able to live the kind of life most people will take for granted...past that, I can't say much. I'm no psychic. Another thing I noted was that I am a whiny little fuck. I apologize for subjecting you to my incessant pissiness. I need to learn to keep it on the inside, just like any self-respecting man does. Unfortunately, I have to self-respect, so that will be kind of hard LoL...

Here's the thing though...the thing that finally brought me out of my mood was a little ditty I like to call "anger". It went down like this: I was working in the hole taking peoples' trays as they finished eating when the whole fucking cafeteria was flooded by hungry teenagers. I'm talkin' packed here. It's a restaurant, so that shit happens. What made the proverbial shit hit the fan was the fact that we were severely understaffed. Generally I have someone come back to me and take my trash can/tray racks/glass rollers when they fill up and bring me new ones. Once that shit was fanning, nobody was available. Therefore, Chalz had to keep the dirty tray slot open for students to drop off their trays AND I had to go back and drop off my load AND I had to get new rollers/trashcans/tray racks. Good times. I got backed up, which is not good in a cafeteria of eighty plus students, and had no one to help me during peak time. I dropped and broke four or maybe five plates, had a tray slam on the other side of the hole (into the actual cafeteria) and shatter God-knows-what into hundreds of glass and...whatever plates are made of, porcelain or ceramic--I forget..., and to top it all off I got creamed by a falling plate of pasta. I am currently typing in my work uniform with dried pasta covering my shirt. I don't think it's coming out! I'm going to wash it, but if it don't come out, no prob.

AAANNNNNYYWAAYYYYY, I got really frustrated. I was cursing. I was full of fire and brimstone and all that fine stuff, but I was also feeling better. In between fits of rage I would smile, glad to be in better(?) spirits. I feel better now...now that I'm sweaty and filthy from head to toe. I even stayed a little later to clean up the hole! I'm going to have to wash my work clothes again. That's not so bad, though. I have whites I need to wash; this black apron shoudln't bother them. If it does, I'll just have to deal. I'm just glad I only have reading for Psych as homework tonight. I actually have quite a bit of homework, but the blunt of it isn't due until Monday and Tuesday. I don't want to do it yet because I may forget some of it before I go to class. I'll do it this weekend. I only work for two hours tomorrow, but Saturday I work from 3:30 to closing. From what I've been told, closing it at 1:30AM. Good hours! That's ten hours, minus any breaks they give. Great Scott!! I'll be miserable then, but I'll be happy once I get that paycheck!

I'm going to go to Suntrust after work tomorrow and figure out how to fill out my Direct Deposit form. It's Greek to me. While I'm there I'll figure out how to use that pesky internet banking hullabaloo. I sure do wish I would get my debit card, already! I've been waiting forever! My mom tried to send it once, but the post office sent it back saying there was "no such address". She did it right! I also have birthday money on the way, which I was going to use to buy slip resistant shoes and to add to my checking account. I may order a good book on Astrology, though. I'm interested in it, but good books are hard to come by. That, and I want to shop online. *New experiences!* I don't know yet...that's not a necessity...but I need some leisure. I get tired of the comp sometimes. Shame on me!

I saw Libby today. I don't think she thinks very much of me. That's OK--I'm going to try and not think of her very much. It would all be wishfull thinking anyway. All that can bring me it T-R-O-U-B-L-E. She's still fucking fine, though, whether she thinks I'm a 'tard or not. I couldn't blame her if she did. I'm a goddamn menace at work...talk about saying the wrong things...

I've gone on far too long on today. I have things to do now. Pasta la Vista!

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Time:	3:37 pm.
Mood:	crappy.
Music:	Jewel - Deep Water (acoustic).

I can't say why I feel the way I do right now. It's not like before, when I knew but couldn't talk about it, but...that's part of it, but not the root.

I was fine until I went down to the dining hall and got some junk food. One of my co-workers made an innocently sarcastic comment on how malnutritious my meal was. Now, I don't care about my health. I do get into spells where I want to look better, but for the most part I don't give a damn. But when I told her my reason--that I was going to die anyway, better sooner than later (I don't find any value in growing old), she seemed to be insulted. Maybe I gauged her wrong, but I swear she seemed disgusted by that. And after that conversation, I got to thinking some more...

I am never going to marry. I'm probably not going to date. This isn't me whining about how I can't find a match; this is me accepting that it's not in the cards for me. My friends and family alike, whether they want to admit it or not, know that something is seriously wrong with me. I know it. Everyone I've been around knows it. It goes past eccentricity, but it doesn't quite pass insanity. I'm not like other people. I can't be. Why should I worry over meeting a people when all that it gives me is that feeling of being out of my depth? The fact of the matter is, I need to wise up. I'm never going to fit right in this world. I want to be angry about it, but that's illogical. The world isn't against me; it's just that for whatever reason, I was born into the role of the outcast. Not the outcast of society, but the outcast of life in general.

For example...earlier today in University 100 we read a letter about alcoholism by a student here who was paralyzed due to alcohol abuse. Not only that, but he had previously failed for being a boozer. Sure, he turned his act around after the car accident, but IT WAS HIS CHOICE. I made the comment that I found it humorous (not a good choice of words, but the truth) and I became the bad guy. Then I felt bad. Not because I had found someone's problems funny, but because everyone was apalled by the remark. I'm the bad guy for finding some boozer's story of alcohol, paralysis, and redemption funny. Well the funny part isn't that he's crippled, it's that the fucking story was in the goddamn book. Fuck that shit. It was funny. HA HA. People don't laugh at death and the like...because they're taught that they shouldn't. Death is a natural part of life, and it's funny. So is some guy getting in a car liquored up and ending up in a goddamn wheelchair for the rest of his life. It's funny not because he's paralyzed but because that's the way things work. What man sews he also shall reap. There is a balance in things--you do stupid things, stuoid things will do you in. But anyway...

This may seem grim, but to me it makes sense: I need to do whatever I want and stop trying to impress people. They're going to laugh at me and think me strange either way, so I may as well eat like a pig, sleep, do what I see fit, and call it a life. I don't interact well. I don't have any means to make a good impression. At the most I've played the part of the listening ear. I hate saying something so holier-than-thou, but it seems that while human nature dictates that our relationships are based on getting things we want out of people (i.e. that in the end all action is selfish) all I want out of people is their respect. Not to look up to me, but to see me as an equal. I'm a joke...why have the dollar when you can have the gold? I have no potential to further anyone, so therefore everyone should just not associate with me. All I can do is make others feel smarter because I say the wrong things and I am usually wrong about things. All my friends get a self-confidence boost when they talk to me. That's why they like me so much! Do you realize that I don't argue with my friends about anything? That's because I'm afraid to. I'm not like you people; I'm fucked up.

Everyone is fucked up. I used to say that a lot. It's still true--but the thing is, most people are fucked up in the same way. I have my persecution complex (everyone is out to hurt me), I have issues with feeling that I never truly pleased my parents (I have to please people; can't stand the thought of someone not liking me) and I have a tendency to look forward to being dead. I'm not suicidal, I just get tired of this. Most people either have serious problems (molested, raped, etc.) or the average shit (a little attention starved, anger issues, etc). Me, I have this complicated string of nastiness inside me that even I can't fully identify. Am I actually fucked up, or am I just a whiny bitch? I don't know. I'm the ideal scapegoat for people who want to take their damage out on someone else. I won't fight back--bring on the damage! It's what I'm made for. I make myself the scapegoat, and it's all I know how to do. I've been doing it since I can remember, for family and for friends.

From now on, I need to stop giving a shit what I look like or how dumb I am. It's me, and I can't change it. I need to live through each day and to keep in mind that the only dream I have in life is a DREAM. There is no one like me in the goddamn fucking world and I need to deal with that. I can type it here all I want, but it's hard to sink in. We are biologically and psychologically designed to want to procreate (fall in love, baby), but we are wired to do so with people that appeal to us. I appeal to no one save for people that are scraping the bottom of the barrel and are just as desperate as I am. I can't "date" someone who wants me just for the fact that they can't get any better. There has only been one person that has ever liked me for me, and luckily she didn't get trapped in this. She's got a good heart, but I don't know what she was thinking.

Last thing: I'm better off being this way anyway. I know that damaged people only create other damaged people. I never want to burden a lover or a child with this shit in my head, and there's no getting around that if you have relationships of that kind. My dream is to have a family--but realistically, that would be selfish in that I would only fuck up other people. See? We're all selfish after all.

Dammit, I have to go to work. I need to cool down anyway. This has been a fucked up day.

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Subject:	THE CHALZ'S SUPER-TERRIFIC BIRTHDAY EXTRAVAGANZA, PT II: LAUNDRY BLOWOUT!!
Time:	1:15 am.
Mood:	tired.
Music:	Metallica - Sabra Cadabra (Black Sabbath cover).

I'm up at 1:00 washing clothes for work. It's typically me--I decided to wash because my work clothes looked like shit. Since I was already washing those, and since the school has coin-op washers and dryers, I decided to go ahead and throw some clothes in with the bunch. I headed down to the basement where the washers and dryers are located, put everything in the washer, began reading a book, and suddenly realized my folly: I had left the work shit, the very shit I was down there for in the first place, in the room on the dresser. I ran back upstairs, washed the work apron and pants in the sink, and threw them in with their brethren in the dryer. Now I'm sitting here listening to Metallica and typing a late-nite entry in you, dear blurty. Don't worry--a couple of nights without a good night's sleep won't phase me. I don't think so, anyway. I guess we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?

I have my University 100 paper typed and ready to go now. It's a turd of a paper, but it's a turd of an assignment. No disrespect to the instructors; they're just doing their jobs. The class isn't a bad class, it's just that a self-evaluation is kind of...weird, for lack of a better word. Well, I'm going to surf for a while and waste away the remainder of my birthday.

...Okay, so technically my "birthday" ended at 12:00am. I don't count that; to me, a day ends either 1) when I wake up in the morning or 2) at 6:00. So if I go to sleep and wake up at 4:00am. it's the next day. But if I don't go to sleep at all, it's not the next day until six. Strange rules for a strange man. 'Night!

(Metallica, "Sabra Cadabra", originally by Black Sabbath)
Feel so good/I feel so fine
Lovin' little lady always on my mind/
She gives me lovin' every night and day/
Never gonna leave her, never gonna go away/
Someone to love me/
You know she made me feel alright
Someone to need me/
Love me every single night/

Feel so happy since I met that girl/
When we're makin' love it's something out of this world/
Feels so good to know she's all mine/
Gonna love that woman 'till the end of time/
Someone to live for/
Love me 'till the end of time

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Subject:	THE CHALZ'S SUPER-TERRIFIC BIRTHDAY EXTRAVAGANZA: THE LONGEST AND LAMEST JOURNAL ENTRY EVER!!
Time:	7:14 pm.
Mood:	accomplished.
Music:	Ray Charles - I Can't Stop Loving You.

Today has been a real treat. I only slept for about two hours last night after a long and retrospective conversation with my roomie, and I awakened thirty minutes later than I'm accustomed to. I wasn't late for class or anything, but a bout with the craps sent me to the john a few times and threatened my punctuality. I made it in plenty of time, though, because half the class got lost trying to find the computer lab (we met there as opposed to the classroom). I need a research topic by Friday, by the way. I can't use magazines this time! Research journals. Bad jammie? Who knows.

After English, I rushed back to Trinkle (my residence hall) and crapped some more. Sorry that I'm so graphic, but hey, this is my life. Don't make that face--LIKE YOU DON'T DO IT. Regardless of whether you shit or not, I have a day to summarize. After wiping and flushing :) I hung around the room for a while and went to Psych. Nothing special; it's a lecture class. No stories there. Then I came back, got dressed and went in to work.

I like this job so far. With only two hours of sleep under my belt, I think I've operated very coherently today. I feel better than I did yesterday with seven hours backing me up. I worked with mostly female co-workers today, and I enjoyed that. It's not that I'm being typically male (even though two of these co-workers are easy on the eyes, and nice to boot), it's just that other males intimidate me. Big time. I'm talkin' shakin-in-my-boots-neurotic intimidated. What's my damage, anyway? Here's part of my problem with approaching women: I have no inkling of belief that I could compete with other WORTHWHILE guys for "love". Being nice only takes you so far.

What?! Why did you let me go into self-evaluation mode?! This is my birthday rant! You should have stopped me from digressing, goddammit!!

After work I came home and changed back into my civilian clothes and went to Philosophy 113, which...is too complicated to explain here. I took my first college quiz and I thought a lot. 'Nuff said.

After that hullabaloo, I encountered Becky again on my way back to my room (where the story ends for now) and was told that she would call sometime after 8:00. Like I care--I have a new object of affections.

Okay, I am far past infatuation. That's middle school shit. Oh wait--what's that--I'm a damaged little fucker (love that phrase! Courtesy of the film "Crime And Punishment In Suburbia"). I'm not past that after all. One of the girls--sorry, WOMEN--that trained me is an angel named Libby (DISCLAIMER: IF ANYONE FROM WORK IS TO READ THIS, BEAR IN MIND THAT THIS IS NOT AN OBSESSION. I FIND LIB ATTRACTIVE AND NICE BUT KNOW VERY LITTLE ABOUT HER. SINCE I'M SUCH A PUSS 'N BOOTS, WHAT WOULD BE A "LIBBY'S HOT" FOR MOST GUYS IS A "LIBBY IS RADIANT. SHE HAS THE DEEPEST EYES I'VE EVER SEEN. IT'S LIKE LOOKING INTO THE CENTER OF CREATION AND SEEING SOMETHING DIVINE THEREIN" FOR ME. THIS IS BECAUSE I AM A LOSER GEEK WITH TOO MUCH FREE TIME ON HIS HANDS AND NOT ENOUGH EXPERIENCE DEALING WITH WOMEN. THANK YOU.) who...nevermind. Based on that disclaimer, I don't need to say another word LoL. Well...one more. Not word, but comment. Remember that "most beautiful girl" I saw a few days back? I said that I could write volumes on her beauty. Well, realistically, I may have gotten one poem out of it. It was all simple appeal--nothing really special. I over-reacted. Well I could write at least five poems about Lib's eyes off the top of my head. It doesn't hurt that she's nice and laborious. And from my area, strangely enough. I'm going to try and learn more about her before I try anything, but...Goddamn. She's adorable. So fucking pretty. Those eyes--GOOD GOD every time I looked into them I lost myself. She could see that I was seeing those brown prizes down to the retinas, I know it.

SHUT UP Chalz! You psycho! Who rants like that the first time they see a woman? You fuckin' creep. Enjoy your birthday.

For the rest of my night? Homework, but not much. A self-evaluation for University 100. EASY. A little Philosophy, but only if I want to. I don't have that Fridays. PROCRASTINATE. Talk to Becky on phone. Who knows? FRIENDLY JIBBA-JABBA. If she's interested, though, I'll bite. I think this is strictly friendly, so I'm not hanging on it. It's just a thing. Hey, I wonder if this is my longest post to date? It would be cool if it were, considering that it's my birthday. Tomorrow!

***NOTE: If I do for whatever reason post again tonight it will be because something very good or very bad has happened. Just saying.***

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Subject:	Don't Hit Me! I Changed My Mind!
Time:	12:59 am.
Mood:	chipper.
Music:	none; I'm sleepy, goddammit!!.

I'm feeling a lot better now. I felt like shit before I went in to work, for a variety of reasons. But after work (which was sort of fun) I talked to some people and let my silly side show a little. Today I wrote a very strange and very personal short story that I may submit to Exit 109 with my poem, one that may not be taken so well because of its absurdity. I find it great, though, based on the fact that it reflects many things I have been feeling lately. And it does it in this twisted sort of way! I also let another pretty face steal my heart. This girl I work with but didn't actually work with today looked at me and made my heart liquify. It's all in the eyes, man! I see countless pretty girls in my line of work (which today involved serving food as opposed to throwing it away in a corner room), but all these girls are more "sexy" than they are cute. I enjoy sexy girls, yes, but I prefer cute ones. To me, cute goes a lot farther than having big tits and a nice ass. It's all in the eyes and hair for me. And then the skin.

Well I have to sleep. I get up at 6:30 in the morning and prepare to go to English. Damn, I still need to decide on a topic for my research paper! Well, G'night.

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