Tuesday's Highs:

It's cool! I wore long sleeves. A could of weeks ago, it was in the 100s and now I'm wearing sleeves. I love cool weather.

Tuesday's Low:

I feel aggravated...
at just about everything.

Listening To:

Watching "The Andy Griffith Show" and listening to my neighbor's bass booming through the wall.

Last Thing I Ate:

Chicken McNuggets.

Thinking About:

(1) Aggravation.
(2) Dinner.
(3) Blowing up my neighbor's stereo.

the twenty-sixth day of september, 2000... a tuesday.

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Quote Du Jour:
"You were made perfectly to be loved -- and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long." - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

In the Office of Student Publications, all staff positions are filled by students except two... the faculty advisor and the person that's supposed to be the office secretary. I say supposed to, because if there is one thing you shouldn't call the office secretary, it's "secretary." Granted, she does more than secretary work. She builds ads, handles billing and takes care of circulation... but she also finds ways to wreak havoc... and I think that's because her job doesn't keep her busy enough.

At the beginning of the semester, we had to fill out a butt-load of university and state payroll & tax papers. She handed them to me at the first of the week and told me she needed them by Friday. Tuesday or Wednesday, she came in and bitched at me because I had not turned them in. What the hell is up with that? It's like she always needs something to bitch about... and has to find something to blow out of porportion. Her job is so simple, that she has to make up something for it to be difficult.

Today, she found something else. The paper and yearbook editors are responsible for filling out time sheets for all employees. Our "secretary" gave Alex (the yearbook editor) her time sheets last week. I didn't get mine until yesterday. This morning, our "secretary" called and woke me up to ask me where mine were. She claims that she told me yesterday that they had to be filled out by this morning. Bullshit.

It's one thing to be difficult... but it's something entirely different to be difficult and to lie. I mean... I'm not stupid. I know she didn't tell me she needed them today... so I don't want to hear it from her. And why the hell did she give Alex the forms before me? I feel like someone is trying to screw me... And it's not the kind of screwing I'm looking for.

Thursday night, Jonathan and I sat and talked for a couple of hours after Alex and Macy left. We covered a variety of topics, including driving ability and avoiding accidents. I made the comment that I believed that God had given me the ability to drive well in a crisis. I said that I thought that when faced with a hairy situation, I could think clearly and quickly to get through it.

Note to self: Do not brag about special talents you think God has given you. If you do, there will be a test.

I wasn't thirty minutes into my trip home when things turned hairy Friday. I was driving along about 70 in the left lane of a four-lane, uncontrolled access divided highway. Now, that uncontrolled access part is important. On most interstate-type highways, the only way to get on the highway is with an onramp and the only way to get off is with an exit. This isn't the case on the road I was on Friday afternoon. On this highway, you an get on and get off at any time. Streets and driveways intersect with the road directly. There are also paved sections in the median every so many miles so that vehicles can make U-turns from the northbound lanes into the southbound lanes, or vice versa.

About 3:30 Friday, I looked up and saw a vehicle about to turn onto the paved part of the median. However, instead of slowing down and turning off the highway into the paved part of the median, the driver practically came to a stop in the middle of the inside lane... the "fast" lane... MY lane.

I was approaching the vehicle way too quickly for comfort. I glanced into the right lane to see if I could take that route... but traffic was fairly constant and there wasn't enough time to find someone that would let me pull in front of them. I looked up again at the stopped vehicle in front of me. I was braking, but I wasn't stopping quick enough. I kept getting closer and closer. I was going to smear the vehicle in the rear-end. It was going to be ugly. At least, that's what I was thinking until I decided to head into the median.

Through the grass I went with my foot no longer on the break, but on the gas. Just as I was about to pass the vehicle that caused all of this drama, the driver pulled into the asphalt part of the median to make his U-turn. This means that he was pulling right in front of me. I swerved again, avoiding a collision again. I ended up sort of cock-eyed in the grassy median on the other side of the asphalt turn around. The driver of the vehicle I avoided made his U-turn and went about his business. Whew. That was close. That could have turned ugly. Real ugly.

As soon as my truck came to a rest, I jumped out for some reason... Adrenaline, I guess. My heart was beating just a bit fast. I thanked the Lord for not having me killed and went about my way. As my pulse returned to normal, I called Jonathan. I told him how weird I thought it was that less than 24 hours after bragging about my abilities, I was tested. Thank God that I passed the test.

The newspaper has really been frustrating me lately (see two entries above if you feel like you need proof). This afternoon, I felt really frustrated. Jonathan does stuff that he doesn't have to. And don't get me wrong... I have no problem with that. I like people with initiative. What's bugging me is that when he does something... he sorta acts like he's just saved the ship by doing it... or that he's done something that I've neglected to do.

In my head I have a list of things that I'm gonna do and in the order that I'm going to do them. Some things are more important than others. If I plan to do something later because I don't think it's important... than I don't want him doing it and acting like he's bearing the burden of taking care of the stuff I neglect. It's not that I neglect things... It's just that I think some things are more important than others.

Jonathan is also an insomniac. The boy doesn't sleep. In the beginning (last semester), it was sort of a joke. We all laughed about how he didn't need as much sleep as everyone else. His famous line was, "I'll get all the rest I need when I'm dead." It also helped matters that -- because of the crazy hours we kept at the paper -- others were going long periods without sleep, too. (My personal record was 40 hours without sleep.) However, our hours aren't as crazy now and more folks are getting rest. I'm not staying up 24 hours at a time much anymore. He's the only one. And it seems like he's bitching about it. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm misreading him.

Today, I asked him if he would call some faculty people he knows well to set up a photo for tomorrow. He made some comment like, "I'm gonna be dead tomorrow morning." It seems that he woke up about 8 a.m. Monday morning and hasn't been to bed since (it's now almost 7 p.m. on Tuesday). Then, in a very weird tone of voice, he said, "Did you get any sleep last night? Well, I didn't." Is this my fault!?! Hell no. I've told him about a bazillion times to go see a doctor. When I told him that today, he made the same, "I'll get all the rest I need when I'm dead comment." He said he didn't need the sleep. Well, if he doesn't need it... why does he bitch when he doesn't get it?

I think my deal is this... if not sleeping is a problem, then go see a doctor about it and fix the problem. If it is not a problem, then shut the hell up. Maybe that's not the attitude a friend should have, but what else can I do?

This afternoon, he told someone that he was an insomniac. I said that it was by choice. Jonathan was a little miffed by that comment, I think. He was like, "you think I choose to be an insomniac?" But if you have a problem and don't try to fix it... Doesn't it seem like you are choosing to keep the problem?


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