Zachary


and I don’t really know how this started
I guess it’d just been too long since I had this kind of fun
quickly I am seeing that the charade spun is unweaving
all the webbing of emotion’s piling up upon the floor
and I’m worried for your impression cause I’m really not insane
though my in-depth invitation is excessively proclaimed


but I’m the best at what I do
which is tying myself up to you
and beating myself down again and again
yeah I’m the best at what I do
betraying what I have with you
just tell me when, just tell me when


Waiting by the gallows, still flirting when I can
I don’t suppose you tie my rope which takes me to the end
we can play around with whispers, telling secret lies
hey lets just create an inside joke, that’s could probably get me by
and I’m worried it’s been done before, but I keep moving on
perhaps your divine intervention can change words to any song


but I’m the best at what I do
which is tying myself up to you
and beating myself down again and again
yeah I’m the best at what I do
betraying what I have with you
just tell me when, just tell me when


you don’t see the way I glisten when you walk into the room
you think I’m just some great actor winning Emmy’s on the tube
you don’t ever think I listen when we talk, when we debate
but I know I am trying to be something you’d want on your plate


but I’m the best at what I do
which is tying myself up to you
and beating myself down again and again
yeah I’m the best at what I do
betraying what I have with you
just tell me when, just tell me when

So, I am going to do a topical entry tonight i guess….


My Career:  Basically it has yet to exist.  I mean, I recently had two promising interviews and while I did well at both of them I was given neither job.  Both times someone more experience got the job.  I just don’t understand this experience necessary concept for entry level positions.  How can I get experience if no one will hire me?  It sucks.


My Family:  Not something I usually talk about in Xanga, but thought I’d throw them a line.  Tim and Cheri (my parents) are doing just fine.  They frequent Big Daddies and are currently preparing for their annual Cancun vacation.  They leave on Sunday.  If anyone wants to visit me next week, feel free to.  I have the whole house to myself and it could be boring.  My sisters are hanging in there, Shelbs is at BSU and Amber is on her own, with a good boyfriend, so props the them both.


LOST: I just love this show so much.  I bought season one on DVD and have watched it twice and I am starting the third time, but with a friend for this lap.  It’s so interesting and intriguing.  Could it be better then Desperate Housewives?  I think it may be.  If something good doesn’t happen soon this season on Desperate then LOST will surely take over the mantle as best tv show for me.


Work: Uno’s Chicago Grill at Southport has been such a weird expereince for me.  I had my 6-month review yesterday.  6 months?  I didn’t believe I had been there that long.  Anyhow, my manager told me I was an awesome employee and that I make one of the highest percentages when it comes to tip average.  Apparently I have issues with sharing big parties with other servers though, I am overly social on the floor and I tend to show disrespect for some of my managers.  Probably because they are assholes a lot of the time.


New Friends: I’ve always been resistant to change, so it’s taken me forever to find people I like and want to chill with here in Indy.  I’ve finally began doing stuff with people from work, like going out, having little get togethers at my place, etc. etc.  Andrew is the buff hot guy who likes sex, Amber is the crazy ghetto chick, Amanda is the pot head, Evan is Amanda’s boyfriend who can keep up with me while drinking, Audrey is the beauty school student whose a “good girl”.  We all have names that start with A.  Weird isn’t it?


Frumpy Day: It’s been a while, but I had one yesterday.  I woke up around noon with Amanda in bed next to me.  Andrew was downstairs sleeping and soon joined our frumpines.  Anyhow, we all huddled together in a mass of blankets and ignored each others morning breath.  Andrew left shortly for the colts game, but Amanda and I were true to the Frumpy gods.  We got some Arby’s (mmmmm, the French dip rocks) and then proceeded to watch 5 episodes of LOST together.  Pajamas on, hair looking frantic, it was just so relaxing and much needed.


Love Life: I’m such a failure with guys.  Recently this new host starting working at Uno’s.  His name is Zach.  He’s hillarious in a naieve way and very cute.  Of course he’s “straight”.  He goes to bible college to be a youth minister and he doesn’t drink, smoke or even swear.  He says he used to do all that stuff, but then just changed.  I am in love with his personality, his originatlity and his black rimmed glasses.  I flirt with him at work, and while at first I didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but everyone started noticing he flirts back with me.  I’m sure it means nothing to him, but I am so into him.  And it’s like, I haven’t liked someone in such a long time that I don’t even care if it will never happen because the feeling I get when I am around him is just such a good one that I don’t want to get over the meaningless crush.  Is that a bad thing?


Well, I guess that’s all for now.  I miss my clan, Linds, Beth, Patach, and Aubs.  I am glad we all still talk at least.  Lets never stop that.  Peace out Xanga-teers.

It sits in a compartment of my TV stand collecting dust.  It’s lined up next to numerous other books and Trade Paper Backs.  I think back, about how it used to be the centerpiece of me.  How it somehow held me all together.  It contained secrets.  It contained tears.  Friendships.  Hatred.  Insanity.  Comedy.  And it was all from my point of view.  It was my brain on paper.  It was My Public Journal.  I called it this because it became something of a spectacle once people found out about it.  So I kept an insanely descriptive journal where I catalogued my friends and the moments and nights we shared, big deal.  So I ranted on about things I hated about people and things i heard about people.  That’s what got them hooked.  I can remember being asked if I had added any updates.  I can remember feeling as if it was becoming too non-accurate for fear of the audience reading.  I don’t know why it was so important, but it was.  It was my writing. 


After work today I came home and watched Desperate Housewives which I had taped and then I was bored.  I looked around my room for a source of entertainment, and there it was.  The old journal.  Sitting collecting dust, being abused and forgotten.  I picked it up and laughed, opening it up to a random page.  The arguments with Stacey and my crush on Sam were talked about.  Later it talked about a night where I was DD and these three bitchy chicks just ruined everything.  I don’t know, but it was nostalgic to read, and I read it thinking, I wrote this.  I did.  These are my words.  My sentences.  My creation.


At Ball State I was trying to become a TV news anchor my freshman year.  Later I decided to become a camera man, but none of that worked out really.  I didn’t have passion.  The entire time though, I had been writing.  Writing this crazy journal, and it felt so good to be doing it.  I took non-fiction classes so I could keep writing, but for school.  I met Jill Christman, a real inspiration.  I found something that filled in one of my gaps.  One of my wholes.  I could write.  And I loved it.  So today I was reading this journal and I was disgusted with myself.  Why did I stop?  Why am I not writing everyday?  How did I loose my passion?  I guess I just have to find again. 


I began looking for my book.  Not my journal, my book about FagHags.  I haven’t worked on it in months.  I even mad esome notes about the next couple of chapters.  I think I can finish it.  and publish it.  I need to.  I mean, I am a writer, and for yers when people asked what i wanted to do that’s what I told them.  I hate how life has a way of pushing you into stuff and pulling you out of it.  I should have tried to hang on longer.  To focus more on writing, but I didn’t.  I was probably too busy getting fucked up, it’s my vice, and i know it.  Everyone knows it.  I’m afraid of being me.  And that’s why I like the writing.  I don’t have to be me.  I can write about me, I can be someone else, analyzing and making sense of, well, me.  Making sense of my life.  I am going to finish this damn book.