"A good example is the best sermon." - Thomas Fuller


September 23rd, 1995

Working night shift isn't what it used to be. I don't remember it being this slow. Too much time to think.

I'd rather be in bed.

School begins this week (actually next week--but it's close enough, isn't it?). Going to UofO. Going to do something with my life. Going to have a point.

If I only knew what it was.

Think I'm broken. Been trying to restore what Minerva and I once had. But can we? Can I? Surely not like this. Always on the verge of being depressed. Always lonely. Feel like everyone else is working, but I am not.

Of course I'm on break!

I wonder when things will get better--slash that--when I will 'feel' better. Will I ever have a healthy relationship, or are they all doomed to fizzle?

What is it that I am missing?

September 22nd, 1995

Sitting outside the room, waiting to go in. I wasn't the first to get here. Many more will join me.

The floor is cold marble. Except that it appears cardboard to the eye and has the scratch marks of a hundred carts.

There's a new Apple MultiMedia box on the floor. Why? Who knows. But I feel like I need to share. Go figure.

I always wonder who is more nervous about sitting, surrounded, watched. The ones staring out into space, the ones talking, or those who stick their nose in a paper as if they didn't it would run uncontrollably.


Now inside. The room is huge. Imagine taking a class here in a virtual city gazing at an overhead that 2001 could be viewed on.

Hate to forget my glasses.








September 20th, 1995

Here I am, UofO. I'm incredibly nervous. you'd only know it because I'm deathly quiet, have my face in a book, and keep dropping things.

It had to be the worst time for school to begin. I'm lost. Cannot find who I am. I feel lonely. Jesus.

So I come down to the EMU where bicycle registration is supposed to be held in the courtyard. But no! Just a bunch of frat boys and sorority crap. Couldn't find where to get my student I.D. Asked a guy at the store.

When I got there I was greeted by a mile long line. So I read John Varley while my legs tried figuring out what to do with themselves.

Arriving at the desk I was met by an older woman that's expression said, "Who the Hell are you and why are you here?"

So I told her and got a card which I had to sign. Totally fucked it up so I grabbed another and did a slightly better job (not by much).

Afterwards I walked all around the EMU but still couldn't find where to register my bike. Began getting very miffed.

I hunched down by my bike and looked over the schedule. My paranoia at a high. Maybe I had read it wrong. But no.

Something tugged me. I looked up. There was Elana (sp. is wrong; she doesn't know how to spell her own name) walking by obviously pretending I was not there. I think Morgaine's uncle was right. She is a JAP (Jewish something Princess).

Gave up on the registration. Now I'm waiting to find out I am a computer git.