So I'm pretty busy on Tuesday morning, doing my usual morning routine of inputting, pulling cases, and cleaning up the library (yes, this job does suck as much it sounds like it does).  I'd actually been here since 7:30 or so, mostly because I blew off what I needed to do Monday afternoon to surf the web instead. 

Like I mentioned on Tuesday, some rep from Dun & Bradstreet came at 11:00 to give additional training the library staff.  Naturally, I was the only member of the library staff (including Akiyo, who came out from Century City) not to be invited, which is the norm for things around here.  They said they'd be an hour -- they were two hours.  During those two hours, I was the only person working in the library.  I couldn't go anywhere since I had to run the show (the "show", BTW, is more boring than anything you'll ever find on PBS).  The Deej actually came back at 11:45 to tell me she was bailing to go to lunch, so I didn't see her for the rest of the afternoon (she's such a great librarian; she even forgot she scheduled the D & B rep).  Anyhow, I couldn't take a break for a smoke or leave to get something to eat.  So I worked.  Trying to handle 3 or 4 people's responsibilities in the middle of the afternoon for two hours isn't the easiest thing to do around here.  The fact that I was feeling hungover from my Paxil withdrawal meant ensured it  wasn't going to be a a good time -- well, except for the schmucks getting D & B training. 

During the aggregate five minutes of free time that I did manage to have, I did manage to check my e-mail and visit two journals to see if they'd been updated.  I found a notation in Stung's update on Tuesday that said he'd been linked by some dood whose page automatically checks to see when a page was updated.  Stung also dropped that he'd found this out through his referral logs.  Jen Wade had mentioned that she had gotten readers who were referred to from my site.  So what does this have to do with anything?  Well, it's going to illustrate what a petty, bitter, fucked-up bastard I really really am. 

One, I've just now found out about referral logs and really have no fucking clue as to how to view/obtain them.  So I fell like an ignorant dumbshit.  That was compounded by the stupid Tripod pop-Up Window which keeps appearing and I'm too fucking retarded to get rid of it.  Two, the dood who has the automatic update page for Stung and some other journals is Jay Tsukamoto.  I could tell right away from the URL.  I immediately felt like a complete and total loser.    I've been reading Jay's journal in their various incarnations since the winter of 95-96.  He was the dood who got me into reading journals in the first place.  And in my immaturity, I felt completely worthless b/c Stung got linked from Jay but I didn't. 

I understand it -- it's like watching Michael Jordan dunk for 15 years, and then stupid me says, "I wanna be like Mike!  I'll dunk, too!".  Naturally I can't even touch the net.  Meanwhile, MJ notices Kobe Bryant tomhawaking jams like a mad fool, and says to hisself, "Damn, that nigga can jam!"  Why should anyone watch me?  I suck.  MJ & Kobe, err, Jay and Stung, are the real deal and way better at this than I am or ever will be.  It's like feeling rejected by the master and your idol.  Fuck, why should I even be trying? It's just some other shit that I've discovered I'm not very good at. 

You're probably wondering, "Haole, why do you bother with this shit if you know it's no good?"  Well, that's what I'm wondering.  I can't read the minds of people I've never met, so how the fuck do I know what you're wondering?  Yer probably thinking about sex and 31 Flavors and more sex.  But I don't know at this point why I keep doing it.  It's a habit, I guess, like smoking.  One day I'll realize it's useless and give it up. 

I also now that I've totally come across as pretty lame jealous, loser.  "Oh no, poor me, I'm not getting the attention I feel I deserve, so I'm gonna bitch like Pat Buchanan!"  And I am.  I hate this journal, but I love it.  I've been feeling like it's something to care about.  What the fuck was I smoking?  I've put the crack pipe down and looked at the page for what it is -- this is an ugly piece of shit.  Look, it's butt ugly.  It's bland and simple as a stale bologna sandwich on white, with no mustard.  What the fuck is a referral log? <-- That's how retarded this page and myself are, I don't even know how to set up a referral log.

I do all this journalling shit at work, wasting the time that should be used doing other, less pathetic, endeavors.  I guess it's a metaphor for this job as well -- it's a waste, and I should be doing lots of other things.  But you know what?  I can't. This is what I'm meant to do.  Maybe I should have died at birth.  The context of this page is miserable -- Haole whining about not getting some.  Haole whining about how badly everybody treats him.  Haole trying to be funny.  Fuck, I should just put "LOSER" in big letters and spare myself the effort.  It's like shopping for clothes -- I might try to buy some phat threads, but I wind up wearing a black and white shirt that screams "LOSER".

This isn't a cry for support or anything.  I just hate this journal and I hate me and I don't want to think about it anymore.  Why the fuck do I keep doing it?  And why the fuck do I care what anybody else thinks?  Ain't I doing this for my own benefit and enrichment, and fuck what anybody else thinks?  I guess if I had to ask myself that question, then I already know the answer.  Fuck.  I guess I'm just putting this up here to show myself (and anyone who is dumb enough to have read this far) what a whiney selfish asshole I really am.  It's not a particulary happy realization.

Anyhow, back to my story: It's now 1:00 on Tuesday and the real library staff comes back from training (except for the Deej, whose still munching on some tuna somewhere).  Akiyo splits w/a word, and then Duc says in a voice that could ignite steel, "Well, I'm outta here".  1:00 is his usual lunch time, so he wuz ready to split for that.  Weinerdude also takes his lunch around 1:00, so that means that with both of them out, it would have been at least 2:00 before I had time for even a cigarette, not mention fud.  Of course, at 2:00, Duc would have said with his usual phony sympathy, "Well, David, you should have gone earlier?" 

I wasn't going to stick around for that.  As soon as he said "I'm outta here," I reached the breaking point.  I picked up the monitor from my computer and slammed it over his head, screen first, so that he was wearing it like a hat.  OK, shit, I didn't.  Damn.  But, I was feeling like shit, both emotionally and physically (the Paxil withdrawal was now feeling like the flu).  So I picked up my bag, announced "I'm not feeling well and I haven't all day," and I split. 

Not exactly a Hollywood ending, huh?  Well, fuck it, I don't like most Hollywood flicks, anyway.  Aren't independent films hip now? 

At the end of our med check session, he asked if I had any questions, so I brought up taking ecstasy.  I lied and said I had just taken it the one time a few weeks ago, and I was curious as to why I wasn't feeling it as intensely as other do and was it because of my medication.  He searched his Zen Buddhist brain for some enlightenment, and then proceeded t tell me how much fun he had doing LSD and 'shrooms in college and med school.  He giggled when he told me about the last time he dropped LSD and he remembered burning ants with a cigarette lighter, and how it felt like the funniest thing.  And hey, what's more fun than that?  He gave his professional opinion, about how as a psychiatrist he can't recommended any hard drugs, but he then admitted that people are going to do what they're going to do.  Basically he said that if I'm planning to take anything harder then bud, then I should miss my medication for a day or so to lower my serotonin levels so I don't go psychotic.

I feel a lot better about doing drugs now.