3/23/98 -- I've been stuck in this damned chair all day.  I got here (the 3rd Floor CLICC lab) at, uh, 11:00 or so.  It's now 7:35, they're closing in 25 minutes, and I gotta put in an entry fo' the day.  Let's see how well I work under deadlines.  Actually, I know how well I work under dead lines -- not very.  My stupid history project is due on Wednesday, and what did I do today from 6:00 to 7:00?  Play stupid Sportszone trivia.  Got my butt worked, too.         I forgot to mention that I had lunch on Saturday with Maya and Jenny at the new Todai in Brentwood.  Fo' all you non-Angelenos (and you ignorant ones, too), Todai is an all-you-can eat sushi buffet place.   The one in Brentwood has the added feature of being a "shabu shabu" house.  I had forgotten what the real definition of shabu shabu was.  I knew it was a slang term for heroin, but I didn't think that's what they were offering at this Todai.  (Maguro, yellowtail, china white, white horse...).  Upon walking in, I learned it's a place where you have a boiling water pot on your table, and you put raw meat and noodles in there to boil.  Pretty phat. Of course, the first piece of meat that I picked up with my chopsticks to drop in the water drew a stunned gasp from Maya, who I am thinking of naming My Local Health Board.  She pointed out the dangers of salmonella poising and that I shouldn't touch raw meat with eating utensils.  I continued to do, figuring what the hell, it's just my health.  My Local Health Board (she's a public health grad student) has been learnin' me good about        Maya also pointed out an interesting fact about myself; I treat everything like a Trivia Pursuit match.  When I see an opportunity to leap in and point out a fact or bit of knowledge, I reward myself with a pat on the back (not literally, I'm not that big a goober), and a smug sense of pride.   Somehow, pointing out random trivia blurbs is the only way I have of expressing self-esteem and feeling good about myself.  Well, that and kicking ass on a PlayStation against Das, which never happens.  But yeah, pointing out facts and feeling smart is the only way that I develop self-confidence, and it's a fragile one at that.  If I'm proven wrong, I'm confounded like Lex Luthor and left to mutter excuses and doubt myself.  I'm surprised I don't yell out "Curses!" whenever I get something wrong.  The trick for me then would be to find a really dumb girl and point out things to her so that she thinks I'm smart.  Unfortunately, I get the feeling this is exactly what happened between my mom and my dad, so it's not the best model to work from.  Besides, I need an intelligent woman.  As much as I hate to admit it, I don't like em' skinny and stupid.  My woman's gotta have brains. Not those kinds of brains, you sickos.  (Ignore that last point if you seem confused).  I think I treat a woman badly if I felt I was smarter than her.  I just look at my dad for proof of that.  Gotta find me a Rhodes Scholar KBS.  I should like, make up signs and post em' around campus and around K-Town: "4.0?  IQ of 140 or above?  34 20 30?  Send a photo to Haole's Scholarship Fund."       School is sapping my zest for life.  My writing has suffered, I know dat much.  School would be so much easier if I was a basketball player.  I would get free tutoring, free note taking, have a gang of hangers-ons to write papers for me, and get tons of hot wenches who'd wanna get wit' a 6'10 Haole Dunker.  I'd be 6'10 with 4'11 luscious honeys on my jock 24/7!!!   And my chaji would be bigger, too!  It'd be... Oops, CLICC closing in five minutes.  Gotta get out of here.  Lates.  PS -- Pics is updated