19-year-old Robert Hawkins killed six people in a department store before shooting himself. Hawkins fit the prototype of the mass murderer; a history of depression, high school dropout, and a week before his rampage, he had been fired from his job. And of course, those who knew him never saw it coming. Although his friend's mother, who he was living with, found a suicide note the day of the shooting, she never thought Hawkins' suicide would reach the level it did. Hawkins left a note saying, along with expressing regret for the trouble he caused, "Now I'm famous." A depressed nobody trying to make a name for himself with an elaborate suicide; the textbook mass murder. Fifty years ago, Nebraska was the site of another teenager on a killing spree, Charles Starkweather. Starkweather was not on a suicidal mission, but still wanted to make a name for himself and find an outlet for his rage against society.
I have a job interview tomorrow, after showing up late to my interview today. Serves me right for thinking I could get to an address in Falls Church, an area I know nothing about. But tomorrow, I know exacly where I'm going, and will do my best to make the best possible impression. I've been jobless for far too long, and I'm starting to get paranoid about never having an income again. On a positive note, Anthony, the guy I met at Bound right before Thanksgiving, is coming back from his business trip tomorrow. He's been gone for almost three weeks, and I miss him. With the one good thing in my life now temporarily gone, no wonder I slipped into one of my depressions and tried to drink it away last Friday. But maybe it's good that he left for a while. It gave me a chance to miss him, to long for him. It sounds strange, but for most of my life, a guy had to be at least temporarily unavailable for me to be interested. If Anthony gets called out of town often enough, this might actually work, a concept that frightens me a bit because it's so unusual in my life.