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Saturday, November 30, 2002
Do No Right
Years ago, a mere two years ago, I could do no wrong in my mother's eyes. On several occasions she even likened me to the Christian Savior Jesus Christ.
Now it seems with every word and phrase I speak, with every action I take, I can do nothing to please her. Not that she complains at what I say and do, but the look of pride has faded out of her eyes. There is no excitement in her waiting to hear what I say next.
Maybe I've just said it all. Or maybe I've changed somehow, and what I say just isn't exciting. Or maybe I'm imagining the whole thing.
| Mr. McBastard | 2:19 AM | | |
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Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Ah, to fall asleep watching a 90's B-movie on the Sci-Fi channel on the livingroom couch at 3:00am in the morning. It's like summer all over again.
| Mr. McBastard | 7:02 PM | | |
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Tuesday, November 26, 2002
I just had a dream in which MOMMY came to visit me, only I didn't live in Kirksville; I lived in the slums of some big city (with Sammy as a roommate). I hope that this dream isn't representative of my impending future as a bum.
In the dream, MOMMY was coming to tell me how to get a job. And just as she was about to tell me some secret that would assuredly land a job (which involved Melissa Pfieffer for some odd reason), real-life Sammy woke me up.
Now I'll never know the secret to getting a job.
| Mr. McBastard | 12:40 PM | | |
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Monday, November 25, 2002
Well, I was gone for the weekend. But now I'm back! Guess what happened to me. No, really, guess. . . .
I got initiated! I'm now an active member of the Delta Chi Fraternity. Yeah, got my letters and everything. I guess now I'm just that much cooler than you.
| Mr. McBastard | 7:22 PM | | |
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Friday, November 22, 2002
For future reference, girls will give you the third degree if you politely ask them for one of their tampons. It's like the things are weenling puppies, and they're trying to make sure that every one of them goes to a good home with a responsible owner.
| Mr. McBastard | 10:50 AM | | |
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Tuesday, November 19, 2002
from Monday morning's Latin class:
Let's get married
You and I
We can run away
And live in Hawaii
You can bear my children
I'll get a job
And every night
When I come home
We can dance
Under a coconut palm tree
Until the sun goes down
And the only light
Is the tiki torches
We can waltz
Until we get old and blind
And can only see
Eachother's faces
Until one night
A coconut falls
Conks us both on the head
And we die in eachother's arms
I want to be the first one to die
So I don't have to see your eyes glaze over
And roll back into your head
| Mr. McBastard | 4:57 PM | | |
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Monday, November 18, 2002
You're the only person that I wanted to see at 3:20 in the morning, and all I could manage to talk about was every fucking insignificant thing that crossed my mind. Was I shivering because it was so damn cold out, or because I was too nervous to say the things that I had stayed up late into the night thinking for the past three weeks when I should have been sleeping? You're the only dream that I've ever lost sleep over.
My hat pulled down, I didn't even look into your eyes; but I would have payed my last five dollars to see you smile at me again. I would have to pay in U.S. currency, because I've already given you my heart. But it's not like you would know that because I haven't told you. I haven't told you anything, not one damn important thing.
I'm probably just another insignificant boy to you, so why are you so important to me? But don't worry; it's not like you should care. I've given you no reason to. I do this all the time. Falling in love with an unsuspecting girl is becoming all-too routine.
So, here's to another three fucking weeks of fruitless hoping and useless wishing. Useless because I never do anything about my wishes. It seems like all I ever do anymore is wish. Like a damn poet or something. Not so much a hopeless romantic, but more of a spineless one.
| Mr. McBastard | 3:52 AM | | |
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Thursday, November 14, 2002
A post concerning comings back and bitings in the ass:
About a month ago I was assigned yet another retarded Health & Wellness assignment. I usually just do them half-assed and get them over with, but this one I decided to have a little fun with. It was a stupid worksheet that was trying to get me to identify my bad habits and make a plan to change them. Since I have absolutely no intention of changing myself over a two credit-hour college course, I wrote down a whole bunch of stupid responses to all the worksheet's questions (and by stupid, I mean that I proposed changing my less than healthy bathing habits and my unbelievably persistant masturbation schedule, not to mention some pretty derogatory comments towards phys. ed. teachers in general). I showed this to my roommates and we all got a good laugh out of it.
Then Pfaff asked me if I was worried about my H & W professor reading the worksheet. I told him that I had nothing to worry about. I was in a class of nearly 100 other students and there is no way that the professor would read every single students' stupid assignments. Additionally, what would she (my professor) do besides give me a bad grade on that assignment; she has no idea who I am. There is no connection between the mysterious "Zach Garwood" on the page and my face. I was in the clear.
Fast Forward to Tuesday morning. After missing class the previous Thursday, I approached the professor to receive the worksheet that I had missed picking up. As she handed it to me, one distinct word came out of her mouth:
Zach
This really creeps me out. How does she know who I am; how does she know my name and face? And why does she know? Is it because of the bullshit assignment I turned in, or is it for something else noteworthy (doubtful) that I've done? Or is she just plain stalking me? Whatever it is, it's really creepy, and I imagine that she'll probably check over each of my assignments personally from now on. Damn you, Melody Jennings! Health & Wellness is supposed to be a blow-off class. Now I've got to actually do the assignments and do them right.
| Mr. McBastard | 11:52 PM | | |
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Wednesday, November 13, 2002
I registered on Monday. My schedule for next semester:
Basic Statistics
Elementary Latin II
Medieval Literature
Writing About Literature
General Psychology
Pros:
- I have Tetlak again for Latin
- Sal Costa is teaching my Gen Psych class, and I've heard nothing but good things about him
- I'm only taking 15 hours, so the work shouldn't be too much
Cons:
- I'm only taking 15 hours, so at this pace I'll graduate in 2021
- Stats is at 9:00 in the morning twice a week
- Writing About Lit. is a "Writing Enhanced" course which means papers, papers, papers
| Mr. McBastard | 2:49 AM | | |
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Sunday, November 10, 2002
Rotten Dot Com: The downfall of western civilization.
It's like a car accident on the side of the road; you just can't help but look at the horrible and disgusting.
| Mr. McBastard | 7:54 PM | | |
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Thursday, November 07, 2002
Your ego has never been smashed into a million pieces until you've been rejected from your third minimum-wage job in a row. Am I just so unmarketable, so unusable that not even McDonald's will hire me? Pfaff suggested that I was just too overqualified for the job. That only makes me feel a little better. I don't even know if I should try to apply for any more jobs seeing as there is only a month left of school. I am such a loser.
| Mr. McBastard | 5:29 PM | | |
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Wednesday, November 06, 2002
It has to work; it worked on Saved by the Bell.
--Ryan Pfaff
After watching some television, namely a new series on The WB called Everwood, I realized how trite, hackneyed, and just plain dumb some TV shows are today. It's not that the acting is bad, so much as the script and the plot in general. I don't watch a whole lot of television now-a-days. . .
and I don't entirely miss it.
| Mr. McBastard | 2:57 AM | | |
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Monday, November 04, 2002
The Last Will and Testament of Zach Garwood
To my step-father, Terry Truttmann, I leave my respect for a man who has shown me, through word and deed, how to be a man, and who has been my only real Dad.
To my mother, Lisa Truttmann, I leave my amiration for the most influential person in my life. I also leave all my hugs that I never gave, all my "I'm sorry"'s and "thank you"'s I never spoke, and my biggest "I love you".
To my father, David Garwood, I leave my regret for missed oportunities and lost relationships.
To my step-mother, Deborah Garwood, I leave my resentment for someone who led me to believe I was substandard, that who I am was anything less than who I should be.
To my brother, Joseph Garwood, I leave all my happiest memories from my youth. To him I leave my adoration for my role-model; my confidant; and most importantly, my first, last, and best friend.
To my sister, Lauren Garwood, I leave my happiness in seeing a silly girl grow into a beautiful young woman, and I leave all my love for her that she never realized was already hers.
| Mr. McBastard | 11:35 AM | | |
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Saturday, November 02, 2002
Ripped from the pages of my journal (Friday, September 6, 2002):
Burnt Lip
you're not here
no one in particular
but my lip still burns where you should have kissed me
burnt lip
blackened fingertip
ash on my white tee shirt
moon and stars
the red tip of this cigar
and the dimming light behind my eyes
lying on cold concrete in the driveway
blowing swisher sweet smoke at the stars
this is the third cigar i've smoked in a row
given up as a burnt offering
to the god of lonely hearts
dark and cold
this lonely place is getting as old
and stale as the taste in my mouth
wishing you were here
wishing i was anywhere but
wishing wishes counted for something
| Mr. McBastard | 7:36 PM | | |
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Friday, November 01, 2002
Written over the summer (August 10, 2002):
Lunatic
(Full Moons and Demons)
Apologies
I'll be fine soon
My healing comes
With each new moon
A waxing depression
Will wain to joy
Full moon
Silver satellite of lonliness
Alight the night sky
Pushing you away
Waiting to die
Away from me
You are falling
I'll catch you
On the flip side
I'll catch you on the flip side of the moon
Full moon
Full moons and demons
| Mr. McBastard | 6:40 PM | | |
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