Weekly Whack: My Journal, and Myself
My Journal, and Myself
November 9, 1997

Hey gang here's a couple entries from my journal I'm currently keeping for my writing class. True it isn't a real Whack, but I'm horribly busy these past couple months to sit down and write real Whacks, so you'll just have to take it. I like to think that if I did write a real Whack, it wouldn't be much different than what has been coming out in my journal entries.

My Journal

Well here I am, writing in my journal. It feels kind of weird. It's like not something I'm accustomed to doing. The last time I kept a journal was in my English class during my freshman year in high school. And although it feels pretty much like yesterday, it was five years ago. And I wouldn't really call it a real journal. We were given ten minutes every other day in class to write on usually a topic that the teacher gave us. This journal is different. This journal is like I have to write four times a week in it, and write whatever the hell I feel like. That's too much freedom for me to handle. I need order, I need discipline. For example, I'm writing this entry about a week later than the date indicates. A week ago is when I should have started this journal, but I didn't, so I'm going to play catch up. I really shouldn't be telling you that because the professor is going to be reading this at the end of the semester. Sure she said that she wouldn't actually read it, but I don't really trust her. Why else would she want to check it, to see if my penmanship was up to par? I think I'll test her: HEY PROFESSOR PERRIN, IF YOU ARE READING THIS THEN YOU ARE A LIAR. Well we'll see how that works out. But although I suspect that this journal is actually being read, I still won't let that stop me from revealing my most deep and darkest secrets. For example: (Insert deep, dark secret here). Actually that was just a test. Since I will most likely post most of this journal on my Web page, I wanted to see if either of my roommates (Russ or Marc), who do frequently read my Web page, would try and steal my journal to see if I actually wrote a deep, dark secret in the space that says: (Insert deep, dark secret here). Knowing them, they probably would. But anyhoo, I do plan on being as open as I can in my journal. It should be interesting seeing what comes out. I guess you could kind of relate it to Anne Frank's diary, except I'm not a teenage Jewish girl hiding from the Nazi's. What I am, is a common guy with some uncommon abilities, just breaking into my twenties, not sure where I'm headed in life, and trying desperately to break out of the chains of middle-class complacency. Now if that doesn't make good material for a journal, I don't know what will.

A Little About Myself

I thought maybe it would be good to tell you a little about myself for this journal entry. I mean I already know who you are, you're my journal. But you're probably wondering who the hell I am. Well for starters, my name is Douglas Palermo, I'm twenty years old, and I'm a sophomore at Drew University. That's me as I appear on every application or miscellaneous form I fill out. However, since you are my journal, I think I can go into a little more detail about myself. If you want a picture of me, I'm five foot four and a half inches tall, and I only feel insecure about height, or therefore lack of, about no more than two days out of the week. I have short brown hair, and eyes that are half the time green, and the other half bloodshot. On the exterior I dress fairly conservatively. No bright colors, black sneakers, neatly pressed Dockers, and a comfortably-fitting shirt worn loosely. Oh, one thing that I hold over every other member of my generation is that I never wore a pair of jeans in my life. I've lived in Hopatcong, New Jersey my entire life, and I am a product of thirteen years (K-12) of Hopatcong public education. I graduated Hopatcong High School in 1996, and by some luck of the draw I happened to be valedictorian of my class. What I enjoyed and excelled the most at was gym class, intramural flag-football, and varsity tennis. Sure I was a good student and all, but my academics never really gave me much satisfaction in high school. However there was one thing that I always enjoyed doing throughout school, and that was writing. Writing just always came natural to me. It's easy to understand why if you think about it. You see, I'm a horribly shy, reserved, and introverted person. However I like to think that I also have a sharp mind, keen wit, and imagination that runs twice the speed of light. So there is always a lot going on in my brain, but not much coming out of my mouth. So I had to have some fort of relief, and that relief came in the form of writing. I love writing, but I don't write because I love it, I write because I feel I have to. If I didn't, I would be lost. Unless I get every brilliant idea, funny thought, or inspiring revelation out there on paper, my life is basically meaningless. But talking about funny thoughts, one form of writing that I enjoyed the most, and seemed to be the best at, was writing humor. I don't know, it always came natural to me, I guess I'm just a funny guy. But you got to understand something. Imagine a kid who rarely talked much reading something he wrote in front of class, and bringing his classmates to hysterical laughter. Let me tell you, it's the best fucking feeling in the world. I was instantly addicted from the first time. Now I always strive to make people laugh. At times, in my sometimes lonely, isolated world, I feel it is the only way I can connect to people. I plan to make a career out of it someday. I don't know what I'm going to end of doing, but it's going to be funny. Maybe I'll just be a stand-up comedian or something. That would be tough though. But the day I can take my words off my paper and get them out of my mouth, is the day when the world is mine.