New Semeter, Third Trimester
Indulge me for being a Sigmund Fruit as I tell you about my dream last night.
I kept the fugitive girl in my bed. She still had the sleep in her eyes when I found her. She was oblivious to the media attention she had been receiving; I rushed home to find her after seeing her mother screaming about what an awful daughter she had during a news montage. No wonder she ran away. And although I can't remember what came of the situation, if anything did, I was mystified by her unwillingness to do anything but go back to sleep. This missing girl from the news suprised me when she gave me a reaffirmation of her love. Although maybe she had just said it so that I'd let her hide out in my place longer.
* * *
School season is upon us all, and I couldn't be more sarcastic. After what was the most wearisome summer of my personal life, I had at first thought returning to school would be a positive step in the right direction. The sad truth is that college is exactly the same as I left it; "anti-home", the place where positive thinking young people come together to either spread hippie "we can all be friends" bullshit or the soul-numbing broscepades of the Frat fucks and their Hollister sandaled, Livestrong bracelet wearing followers.
So what's an outcast to do? Depends. The most attractive option would be to become an elitist hipster - derelict in his own right, but with enough wit to coax the Frats into some free booze in exchange for some reccomendations on some great music to date-rape to. The downside is that I'd have to feign a reaction on the opposite end of repulsion when listening to The Unicorns or, to a lesser extent, Death Cab for Cutie. Count me out.
My next option would be to transform into what I call a "GoKoRn" - the dorm rat who is not only stuck in every residence building on campus, but also in the late 90s. Sure, I'd have to dig up all seven of the nu-metal albums I bought when I was a quasigoth in high school and spend most of the money I had saved for textbooks on a formidable anime collection, but at least people will leave me alone! Only problem is, I've have a hard time convincing the others of my creed that nothing on Adult Swim is really that funny.
I've been putting heavy consideration on moving to Tampa on a permenent basis, although this would require a new job and a a new place (which Mr. Wankel and I are starting to turn wheels on). As exciting as the word "escape" may sound, this decision is beginning to remind me of a major moral debate this country is having: freedom to vs. freedom from.
Would I rather have the freedom to stay up or sleep during any hours or the freedom from electric bills?
Would we as a country prefer the freedom to put whatever we want into our bodies or the freedom from potentially harmful substances being sold to our kids? While politically I'll always side with the freedom to, financially and mentally, sometimes I think I may only be ready for freedom from.
And hey - it's not that I'm lazy. I've been keeping myself busy for days just so I wont sleep (or think) - because under those covers is when I realize that what I really seem to want in life is to do - and to be - nothing.
And this might be post "ice cream social" pre "mandatory hall meeting" talking. This may just be the me who cringes evertime a teacher or professor asks us to find a partner. Or the me who would rather remain single then ever have to go through the embarassment of getting to know somebody again - maybe it's him talking, but if there's anything I look foward to this semester it's finding myself somewhere up in the library getting to know better the only people who should matter to me right now - authors.
Alex
I kept the fugitive girl in my bed. She still had the sleep in her eyes when I found her. She was oblivious to the media attention she had been receiving; I rushed home to find her after seeing her mother screaming about what an awful daughter she had during a news montage. No wonder she ran away. And although I can't remember what came of the situation, if anything did, I was mystified by her unwillingness to do anything but go back to sleep. This missing girl from the news suprised me when she gave me a reaffirmation of her love. Although maybe she had just said it so that I'd let her hide out in my place longer.
* * *
School season is upon us all, and I couldn't be more sarcastic. After what was the most wearisome summer of my personal life, I had at first thought returning to school would be a positive step in the right direction. The sad truth is that college is exactly the same as I left it; "anti-home", the place where positive thinking young people come together to either spread hippie "we can all be friends" bullshit or the soul-numbing broscepades of the Frat fucks and their Hollister sandaled, Livestrong bracelet wearing followers.
So what's an outcast to do? Depends. The most attractive option would be to become an elitist hipster - derelict in his own right, but with enough wit to coax the Frats into some free booze in exchange for some reccomendations on some great music to date-rape to. The downside is that I'd have to feign a reaction on the opposite end of repulsion when listening to The Unicorns or, to a lesser extent, Death Cab for Cutie. Count me out.
My next option would be to transform into what I call a "GoKoRn" - the dorm rat who is not only stuck in every residence building on campus, but also in the late 90s. Sure, I'd have to dig up all seven of the nu-metal albums I bought when I was a quasigoth in high school and spend most of the money I had saved for textbooks on a formidable anime collection, but at least people will leave me alone! Only problem is, I've have a hard time convincing the others of my creed that nothing on Adult Swim is really that funny.
I've been putting heavy consideration on moving to Tampa on a permenent basis, although this would require a new job and a a new place (which Mr. Wankel and I are starting to turn wheels on). As exciting as the word "escape" may sound, this decision is beginning to remind me of a major moral debate this country is having: freedom to vs. freedom from.
Would I rather have the freedom to stay up or sleep during any hours or the freedom from electric bills?
Would we as a country prefer the freedom to put whatever we want into our bodies or the freedom from potentially harmful substances being sold to our kids? While politically I'll always side with the freedom to, financially and mentally, sometimes I think I may only be ready for freedom from.
And hey - it's not that I'm lazy. I've been keeping myself busy for days just so I wont sleep (or think) - because under those covers is when I realize that what I really seem to want in life is to do - and to be - nothing.
And this might be post "ice cream social" pre "mandatory hall meeting" talking. This may just be the me who cringes evertime a teacher or professor asks us to find a partner. Or the me who would rather remain single then ever have to go through the embarassment of getting to know somebody again - maybe it's him talking, but if there's anything I look foward to this semester it's finding myself somewhere up in the library getting to know better the only people who should matter to me right now - authors.
Alex