July 21, 2003 - 8:05 p.m.
Oops, I just realized something. In an attempt to fix a problem that was really bothering absolutely nobody, I'm going to finish something I started last time. I quote:
There was a DDR Guy stomping around on the 5th Mix machine, and he'd clearly been at it for a while, based on the impressive patterns of sweat that were somehow blacker than his black shirt. He had an interesting style of play where he cupped his hands behind him as if he was preparing to juggle, and his left hand would float up towards his shoulder blades corresponding to the difficulty of what he was doing. I thought that looked silly but it turned out later I had no right to judge. (FORESHADOWING!!! DUN DUN DUNNN)
Even though I typed out the eventful music, that foreshadowing would have been much more effective had I actually, you know, followed up on it. The reason I had no right to judge is that, as I was playing, Amanda used her digital camera. I thought she was taking still photos of me, but-- and apparently all cameras do this now-- she was, in fact, capturing me on VIDEO. And rather than focus on my feet, she shot me from the waist up. I looked strange, sure, but about as cool as one can really looking playing DDR... except for ONE THING:
My mouth was hanging open.
And not just hanging open. It was opening and closing slowly, like a Pirate of the Carribean (the non-cellulouid kind), and much like DDR Guy's buoyant arm, depended on step difficulty. I was horrified. To add insult to buffoonery, Amanda said I always did that. WHY did she not stop me? Now I'm worried that it's a habit I got early on, and after two years of occasional playing, it's a cemented habit. Worse, I know that if I make an effort to reign in my wacky jaw, I'll end up inventing a new way to look stupid. Like when you squeeze one part of a half-inflated balloon and another part puffs out, my face will be a statuesque portrait of manly concentration and my, um, hair will be flapping. And I don't even have any hair.
Now I remember why I predicted that having another diary would be a mistake. It wasn't just a sacrifice on the altar of privacy. It was to stop myself from going on and on about What Happens To My Jaw When I Play Dance Dance Revolution while forgetting completely to detail What Actually Happens To My Actual Life.
I'm behind a couple stories too, aren't I?
Hrm. Well, last time I had a diary, I invented a policy towards filling in narrative gaps that worked like this: I wouldn't. If I ran into a plothole later, I'd rack my brains to do a quick recap, but otherwise just let it slip. It was that moment's own damn fault for not happening before a diary-writing moment, anyway. Or something. Of course, this makes for crappy record-keeping, but keeps me sane. I'M TIRED OF MY BIRTHDAY.
So long story made criminally short: my family is small and idiosyncratic, and this is the first time in history I have asked specifically for only money as a gift and had it actually work, and this is also the first time in history that it was actually a reasonable, realistic thing to ask of them. (Perhaps that is why it worked.) THE END of my birthday unless I get really bored and need a story to tell.
But that is NOT BLOODY LIKELY because there are stories I've yet to tell and stories yet to come. At his request, I'm taking Matt with me to Brea this time. This should make for some teriffic stories because we are both two young, adventuresome lads. Wait, did I type "adventuresome?" I meant "awkward."
I just realized the stories I've yet to tell have to do with throwing rocks at a boomerang and playing many more hours of WarioWare, so perhaps they were not worth telling. Ignoring the fact that it was a party involving basically everybody I ever knew in high school and haven't seen in years, you're really not missing anything.
Anyway, I really need to change the oil in my car and get it washed. I also need to do my laundry, get a couple things dry cleaned and print out maps. Note to me: if I haven't done this by next week, I am totally going to send myself to bed without any supper.
Okay, I need to invest myself fully in planning next week. Not sure if Matt really wants to go on a fun field trip to the Brea Public Library, so be patient if I am slow to update.
Actually, be patient no matter what, in every situation. The world really needs more patient people.
RAR I HATE DIALUP AARRRRRGHHHHHHHHH
