Maren, you’ve now got the world’s greatest voicemail (I hope). I… I’ve decided I miss interp. Next person I see will probably kill me because I’m gonna start interping shit. Uh… dear CFsR members… as your #1 fan… I implore you to let me do some spoken word. It’s where my true mock-talent lies.
My mom’s in town and that’s interesting. It seems that we can now actually just talk about stuff without there being some chip on someone’s shoulder, but there are other issues. She may know my sexuality, but I don’t think I could ever talk about it or introduce her to a boyfriend. I don’t think it’s to that point, but oh well, it’s not like I have a boyfriend anyway. I’ve decided that that’s just going to have to be okay for now, and that I need to stop using the internet. In SD it was okay, because there were like five gay people so they needed the net to reach each other. In Minnesota… only the desperate have to resort to such methods. A hiatus from all of that will do me well, I believe.
Early today I had a disturbing revelation en route to the toilet (I often find inspiration three steps before the porcelain bowl). I thought about my # of friends in terms of Maren’s #, and I realized I might lose everything and I’d grow embittered and look upon high school as the best years of my life. That was severely depressing, but a half an hour later Bud from 2-D design asked me to go to Michael’s. This somehow made things better. I’m actually going to take my own advice and be more optimistic. The past two or three weeks have just been a down period, but that’s really just perception.
This is where I claim my shyness is all in my head (I need to get medicated… heh).
I don’t live life as if it’s meaningless, so I might as well hope, but in a constructive matter. My whole idea of “hope” before was an entitlement concept that just made thigns worse. There was a neat girlface in laundry room today who I should have talked to, oh well, next time. I need to go on the offense again in the Dining Center sometime.
Topher seeks to find his social butterfly wings, before he’s stabbed through with a needle and labeled “outkast doom”. Outkast broke up. Sad, considering he was finally accepted… hehe.
That’s now, but last weekend was cool too. This Maren person came. You might know her… good girl. Heeh. We were both feeling kinda braindead, but you know, whatever works. I got an essay for Interpersonal Communication out of it.
New from Mattel, Gothy McMaren.
“I’m doing this as hard as I can.”
Food for thought: “How do you spell relief?” *rips off a nipple*
I’m listening to a lot of deflowered by joel (great band) and Guster and thinking of Stuph. Err.. Steph. Lately I’ve also been realizing how cool it is to talk to a Tessa (try it today!). As a side note that no one will care about… one of the songs that was super popular during August (on ksdj at least) was all like “i’m gonna write you a letter! i’m gonna write you a book! wanna see your reaction, wanna see how it looks…” It seriously played like every hour. It was a “guilty pleasure” of mine (aka something I sang to annoy Maren). I recently discovered it is by GUSTER. It sure as hell doesn’t sound like their other stuff. Then again, maybe this is new Guster… or pop guster. Maybe it’s to Sex and Candy as Guster is to Marcy Playground… Er, what?
Isn’t it neat how I can just keep typing crap and it shows up on the internet? I thought so. (Or did you get lost in Amsterdam?)
Heh… my website is widely available to anyone I e-mail on campus, and soon my entire 2-D design class. Methinks I need to remove links to my deadjournal. I probably won’t… fun!
This is the spot where I inform you that Derick! is super cool. I also enjoy staying up late and annoying Rainer on AIM. Garsh Maren is pretty… I’m so serious about that getting married at age 37 thing. It’ll make a lot of people happy, Maren! (who cares if it’s not us?)
Too bad Maren’s gonna marry another Chris… He so stoled my name! Uhh… have you been saved by Jesus Christ? Cause… most people waiting in line for the haunted William Irvin ship tonight have not. Drats! Mental note: small children screaming and crying=fun. scary actors in haunted boat that remind me of friends=creepy. (I think you’re great Alex, but please do not sniff me in a dark room….) Ack. Like everyone on that ship was either a lurking Alex or Kim or something. It was damn creepy. I’m gonna have nightmares of giant boats filled with dead Kim A.s and Alex W.s. Yes, I have in fact gone crazy and I am still rambling!
Before I let you get on with life, I’d just like to say that I’m considering some small tattoo on back or a piercing of some sort. I really hate pain, but I dunno… I wanna be an individual like everyone else. I mean… I want to make a statement? Err.. I want to prove something… to myself. Okay, the truth is, it’s like my vegitarianism, I have no fucking idea why I want to do it. I just do. Maybe in three years I’ll create meaning.
(thoughts: small “blank” type angel that I draw, on upper back middle place. it’d be all curled up and shot or something. i imagine feathers floating. as far as piercing… i kinda like the eyebrow stud or maybe at the top of an ear… I doubt I’d ever actually go through with it, but deadjournal is where I toss thoughts around… like salad!)
In interpersonal communication we learned about disclaimers… such as hedging or sin licenses or whatever… they should be in the feedword stage. This is now the closing, and I’d like to say, sorry. I feel kinda hyper and way too open to be typing here. To sum up: I’m a crazy pants.