Hi, it's me again, with another one of those "catching up" diary updates. Remember those stupid essays about spring break that some overzealous teacher assigned to you in elementary school to help throw a monkey wrench into what would be an otherwise care-free vacation? Well I'm writing one of those essays now even though elementary is far gone because A) I'm a freak like that and B) I have nothing else better to do.

So where shall I begin? How about last week, the week of finals. Yeah, that week was pretty hairy. How hairy? Well I'm glad you asked, it was so hairy it would make Bigfoot, you know the big bad hairy daddy of all the Sasquatches, wretch at all the hairiness. That's how fucking hairy it was. I had a final on Monday that I spent zero time studying for because I was trying to get things together for my final project due for my server-side programming class Wednesday night. I think I did rather well on that exam however because I pretty much breezed through it.

The final project was a different story. I created 90% of the website in ASP.NET all last minute which is pretty fucked because it was supposed to be a group effort among 4 group members. Nobody wanted to meet the weekend before, so we all met Monday after my final which we barely had time to do anything. All day Tuesday and Wednesday before the presentation 2 of the group members didn't even show, while I was scrambling to get my pages and more completed. I stayed up late and woke up early and even with all that effort, I wasn't able to accomplish one of the major requirements which was the inclusion of a shopping cart.

It's really frustrating because I could have came up with a functional shopping cart if I spent the weekend working with the code, but I didn't really feel like doing that because I would have wound up doing all of the work, which I did anyway, but the everyone would have basically gotten an A from all the work I put in which would have been unfair. I was coding all the way up to the time of the presentation, with that sick feeling of dread burning in the pit of my stomach that all the hard A caliber work I put in all quarter was going to be undermined that evening.

If anything, the site I created for the final wound up being one of the better looking sites presented that evening. Still, it was pretty damn ghetto that I had to get up on behalf of the group and present a partially-functional site for the project. I sent an email to the professor right after class trying to explain the technical difficulties encountered during the project, which were numerous in hopes of leniency towards the final grade.

That evening when I arrived in my apartment I felt totally drained and had a major brain-ache on top of all that. I started adding this to the list of all of the things that have went wrong with my life and for a few moments I actually considered flinging myself from my 51st floor balcony. I actually imagined myself doing it over and over and over again, cringing each time at the thought of my body hitting the ground at terminal velocity. Eventually I snapped out of it figuring that if I couldn't stomach the idea of hitting the ground after high story jump then I wasn't quite ready for death itself, so I hit the sheets and rested my mind.

I felt better the next morning. I suppose that old saying was correct in this instance, suicide is indeed a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I figured I could live with a B or even a C, as long as I passed and I have another course under my belt that counts towards graduation, I'd be cool as a cucumber, or some other chilled oblong shaped fruit. As it turns out, our group actually got an 88/100 which is almost inconcievable, I mean it was a good looking site and all, but it didn't even come close to meeting the requirements. I guess I shoudln't complain, I mean I got A in that course and an A- in the other course for my final grades. I should have had faith in the individual effort I put in throughout the quarter and my effort in the group projects themselves which went above and beyond the call of duty.

Still, before I got my grades, I was kind of in a rut. I didn't really want to do anything except maybe play Sims on my PC. Actually, I spent quite a bit of time hacking objects for that game. I may post my work on that if I ever get the time, but yeah nothing really productive took place during Spring Break.Well OK, maybe one or two things. I got my loan processed for school, hopefully that goes through so I can attend classes full-time. I'm already enrolled full-time, it's just a matter of whether or not I can afford the tuition. I can tell you one thing, I'm fucking starving to finish my degree and I'm going to use every means at my disposal to achieve that end. If the loan goes bust, I'll have to drop to part-time status and drag it out for at least an extra quarter. That would absolutely suck, but I have to be prepared for every contingency so if I'm able to score the loan and full-time status, I'll start a light workout routine. If I don't then I'm going to commit to totally working out hardcore, I'm talking serious bodybuilding effort here doing everything short of taking steroids to build my body. I have to do something productive with my time or I'm going to feel like a total loser.

The fucking unemployment office has been throwing red tape at me. I indicated that I am attending school so I had to go back to the godforsaken office to provide my class schedule, they also wanted a log of my job search efforts so I have yet to see a single unemployment check. I feel like bitch-slapping that entire bureaucracy for giving me the runaround those fucking fuckers. I should just totally go there dressed in my pimp outfit and I said "Bitch! where's my damn money! Don't make me show you the back of my hand!!!" Hopefully it won't have to come to that extreme and those bitches just send me my damn check. I don't want to go over there and waste my valuable time laying down the bitch slap. As much as would enjoy that thought, I'm going to be busy with school and the like. They should not anger Derrick like that. I think the anthem "Party Up" by DMX says it best:

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind up in HERE, up in here...
Y'all gon' make me go all out up in here, up in here...
Y'all gon' make me act a FOOL up in HERE, up in here...
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool up in here, up in here...

Oh, I finally caved and saw a doctor about my cough. An ear, nose and throat specialist actually. frozen-vodka, who has been prodding me to go ever since I started this cough, should be happy about this. After going over a Q&A of my symptoms and an examination of my throat, the good doctor has determined that the root cause of my sore throat is acid reflux. Although I've had some recurring "heartburn" like attacks, I would have never guessed that it was the cause of my cough.

My first guess as to the cause was my weekend binge smoking. There was a time when I went through a pack every weekend. It's good to know that should my throat heal up I can return to that indulgence, but for now since smoke seems to be an aggravating factor to my cough, I'll just stay away from the smokes for now. Actually it kind of makes sense because around July/August was when I started going out every weekend and me and a few friends used to hit the club early to take advantage of the open bar. I remember pounding at least 8 glasses of the bottom shelf kerosene-like vodka tonics within the span of an hour and a half and I remember it giving me the nastiest of heartburns. I of course pre-emptively started taking TUMS to avoid the heartburn on my weekends out, but I think the damage to my throat has already been done. My ignoring of the resulting cough and continuing of the binge smoking weekend upon weekend upon weekend was probably not of any help.

Anyhow, as for the treatment, I got a prescription for Prilosec, a new pill that provides "24 hour" relief against acid reflux. I also had a prescription for Gaviscon, a chewable antacid tablet as a backup to the Prilosec, since the "24 hour" thing varies. I'm supposed to carry the Gaviscon around and chew a tablet w/ some water should I feel any sign of heartburn. I'm supposed to get a chest X-Ray "just in case" and I got a list of stuff I'm supposed to do and not do anymore:

Non-pharmacological Methods of Managing Gastro-Esophageal Reflux

1. No Food or Drink 3 hours before retiring.




2. Elevate head of bed 6 to 8 inches




3. Avoid fatty meals, alcohol, chocolate, spicy foods, coffee, tea, carbonated beverages, ice cream, peppermint and spearmint.




4. Avoid bending, straining, constipation and tight clothes around the abdomen.




5. Recommend weight loss (if indicated).

I could live with most of the things on the list, but #3 in particular is bumming me out. Most of the things I love to consume is on that list. Actually this whole thing is bumming me out in general. This having to take pills to manage my digestive process and having to watch what I eat is making me feel older than usual. It's like my body is starting to show me signs that I'm not a young man anymore and it pains me to think like that since I consider my life boring and lackluster. The possibility that I may never have the chance to experience the "good life" while I still can physically is taunting me.

The thought that the "best years" may already behind me and that those years really weren't really all that special to begin with, gives me that "not so good" feeling. I have to start facing the fact that I'm getting fucking old. I'm not a teenager or a twenty-something anymore. Adulthood and all it's waning glory are slapping me right in the face. The whacked part is that I think I'm starting to develop a mild form of hypochondria or some psychosomatic reaction to all of this. For some reason I feel like I'm always on the verge of a potential acid reflux induced heartburn and my worrying about it is maybe a possible trigger for it all. I won't be getting my pills until tomorrow so I've been popping TUMS just in case. Still, it's just all just so fucked, as if I need another fucking thing to worry about, now I need to worry about NOT worrying. I guess I shouldn't fucking dwell on it so much, so yeah I can just try to do that.

As for my last weekend of freedom, I attended a friend's b-day at Transit w/ my cousin and some friends. It was a pretty cool outing. It was warm enough outside that you didn't need a jacket. The first signs of spring are showing. As for libations, I stuck with the bottles Miller Lite beers during the open bar, avoiding that kerosene swill they pass off as vodka. The only side effect of beer consumption is that it makes me piss like a racehorse. One of my friends from way back who was also attending the b-day gave me a Cohiba cigar. This was of the legal variety from the Dominican Republic instead of the embargoed type from Cuba. The tobacco is grown from the same seed in a similar climate, it's almost indistinguishable from it's Cuban cousin and since you aren't supposed to inhale cigar smoke, it doesn't really trigger the cough as much as a cigarette would. Transit wasn't really the cigar-type crowd though. That's more Harry's Velvet Room, or Pasha or Redhead Piano Bar or one of the many lounge-type bars around Chicago. Still it was good to puff on a cigar I couldn't really afford on my own at the moment. A small taste of the good life I suppose.

If there is one thing that is for certain is that women will forever confuse me. The guy that gave me the cigar came in with his wife. I find it mildly ironic that she is the only female that gave me any real eye contact. I swear if she weren't married, to a friend no less, I would have been totally going for her. Then again there has been a mild form of chemistry between us even before they got married so much so that I think we would have made a great couple if situations turned out diferently.

The only explanation I can provide for the psychological phenomenon is that women, especially those who get married young have already achieved a major lifetime goal. Having to actually live in the reality of that achievement just can't help but wonder "what if?" and for some weird reason I have become that "what if?" guy, on more that one occasion with different women. Maybe single women do that too, but women who are "taken" seem to show more overt signs of this. Or maybe I'm just delusional and I'm imagining it all. Whatever...�

So anyway yeah, quite the boring spring break. For the first time in a while I am facing life with a certain degree of uncertainty. I don't know when my next paycheck is coming in, I don't know whether full-time at school is even feasible. I'm not sure I can find any kind of job, even a low-paying internship in the career I am studying for. The only constants seem to be that single women still ignore me and that I continue to be inept at attracting any sort of female attention that could potentially lead to a relationship. It's not helping that my self-esteem is at an all-time low being jobless and now dependent on my parent at the age of 32, and I can't even honestly claim that I am a bona fide full-time student as I may need to drop classes if my loan goes through. Maybe my new pickup line should be, "Hi, I'm Derrick and I'm a fucking loser..." At least I'll score points in honesty. The strange part is the my sex drive is still very much alive. I want sex. I'm starving and the big dog's gotta eat. I suppose I can use that as a strong motivational factor. I don't know, I guess I got the "cute" thing going for me, but looks only take you so far. My success with females lately is empirical evidence to that point. But again I'm jumping too far ahead of myself. Females however wonderful to behold for me are just a potential distraction at this point in my life. Besides, women don't go for guys that are losers. It goes against natural selection or some other bullshit like that.

I need to get my fucking life back into order and deal with the fact that I can't control everything. I can work my hardest and do my best and really that is all I can ever expect of myself. Pardon the mixed metaphors, but if fate continues to hand me the proverbial short end of the stick I'm not going to beat myself over the head with it. Tomorrow begins yet another chapter in my life, taking the less traveled road. I have no idea how things will wind up and at this point I really I don't care anymore especially if it's going to turn into a complete suckfest like it usually does. Hopefully the "road less travelled" will make all the difference and not in the "my life is so heinously and irreversably fucked up" kinda way...