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Last night I went to the UT campus for this screening of student films. (Most of them I didn't care for. If not all.)
But apparently before I'd sat down in the auditorium, I stepped in dog shit. I didnt realize it until I crossed my right leg over my left and saw the mess that was on my heel.

Oh, God—it was so horrible, like ______ ______ children.
(Words have been deleted.)

I'd also to managed to rub some off on my pant leg.

That was pretty sad.

So, for the rest of the evening I was really paranoid that somebody would think I stunk like dog shit.

ALSO Lillian G. and I roasted hot dog weenies over her stove so that we could make hotdogs. And I had some chips, too.  But I wasn't able to brush my teeth because my toothbrush was at Ben Jen's house.

So… bad breath and dog shit stink.
I was uncomfortable.

 

Ben Jen's leaving tomorrow. (Ben Jen.) He's driving to New York because he got into some fashion school there.

Maybe I'll see him in New York when I go to visit.
(I SHOULD BE visiting NYC soon… if all goes according to plan… and if I get the Christmas cash I'm relying on.)

 

This morning we (Meredith S. and I) overslept by a couple hours. (My cellphone, which was acting as our alarm clock, died in the middle of the night.) Meredith had to get back to Houston because she had to go to her uncle's 60th birthday party. It was in some town (I'm still unsure where we were exactly…) outside of Houston.

But since we overslept by a couple hours, Meredith had to take ME to this family function she had to go to. (If she didn't take me, it would've taken her over an hour to drop me off and then go to where she needed to go.)

I was completely out of it the entire time. I think I was still intoxicated from the night before or something.
I wasn't my normal chatty self; instead whenever somebody would ask me a question, I'd respond with a "Yes, sir" or "No, ma'am" or something else that left no room for further conversation. AWKWARD.

And it's so strange walking into a room full of people you don't know, people who are together to celebrate the birthday of another person I don't know.

Eh, whatever.
It wasn't that bad.
Meredith's father is pretty nice.
And I think he understood my situation and how I felt out of place.

 

I think I inadvertently made Meredith's aunt mad at me.
I'm not sure.
Apparently she's crazy.

 

 

Oh gosh. I just put on "Resevoir Dogs" because I'd never seen it before. And I tuned in during that scene where Michael Madsen is dousing that guy in gasoline. And that song is playing.

Well, I've never seen this movie. But that's the only scene I know from it.

So, it's like… you know.

It's kinda like that time I was in Portland and I walked to a Trader Joe's to find something to eat for breakfast. And then I ran into Corin Tucker of Sleater-Kinney.

Well, this "Resevoir Dogs" thing isn't COMPLETELY like that Portland thing.

Just a little bit.

 

OH!

Familiarity in an unfamiliar situation.

Or something like that.

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HIP KIDS KNOW JUST WHERE TO GO

I'm the one that tells them so.

(That's from a Bratmobile song.)

Remember that camera I told you to look for, so that you can give it to me?
Well, I ended up buying one from Ebay. I did the whole BUY IT NOW thang.
But I'm such a bonehead, let me tell you… I'd forgotten that I bid on another auction for the same camera.

SO… I ended up winning that other auction.

And so now I'm going to have two of the same camera.

(Way to go, Craig. Way to keep an eye on money.)

I might be able to unload it. We'll see.

What was last night's dream?
Well, last night's dream was this morning's dream:

I remember being on a school bus with lots of really loud people. I was knitting and keeping to myself. And I felt really nervous being around these people. They didn't make me feel safe for some reason. Not sure why.

So, we're driving in some ghetto in Houston. I don't recognize it.
I'm only on this bus because I'm trying to get to a rundown school located at the corner of 102nd St and Lemonade St. (This intersection does not exist.)

We arrive at a building at the intersection.
I do not see the rundown school I'm supposed to be headed to.
All I see are lots taken over by plants—everything is really green and the sky is gray—and closed down businesses. Lots of trash. It's just rained earlier.

We go into some sort of multipurpose building.
And everyone continues to stay loud inside.

I'm feeling uneasy because I'm supposed to be some place else. This isn't where I'm supposed to be.

I walk up and down the building, looking at the windows.

I take off my shoes, set them aside near the door, and then go to a room near the middle of the building. The blinds are shut, so it's sorta dark in there. And it's pretty crowded for such a small room: some of the loud people are all talking and surrounding this middle-aged woman, who seems upset or stressed and who is working on a thesis of some sort. (The shelves in the room have a lot of dictionaries and a lot of grammar/punctuation texts and books about proper bibliographical documentation and such.)

I go in there and sit on the floor, looking at all the books.

Less than five minutes later, everyone has pretty much left the room, except for the thesis lady and myself. She doesn't talk to me. (She hasn't spoken to anyone but herself.) Just remains fixed on her work, often looking up to the ceiling whenever she is trying to figure something out in her head. Or is asking herself a question.

Eventually she gets up to leave.

I get bored of the dark room. And I walk to the front of the building, to the door. Past some little kids playing with some toy (I think).

My shoes are gone.

Who cares.

I walk outside, look down the street for the school I'm supposed to be headed to.

And I think I see it to my right, at a nearby intersection.

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extra CREDIT!

Late night text message:
"Um is it awkward we're in the same class?"

My early morning response:
"Only if we let it be—let's just be friends then mk?"

I feel like I haven't spoken to you, dear blog, in awhile.

IN OTHER NEWS
I found this drum machine for only $1.50 on Saturday morning:

DRUM MACHINE!

DRUM MACHINE!

And I made these the other day:

BUT YOU DONT LIKE THAT PLACE

BUT YOU DONT LIKE THAT PLACE

BUT YOU DONT LIKE THAT PLACE

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celebrating our halfweekaversary.

My friend Anna got into clown college.

Seriously.

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self-portrait thurdsday!

I took this last night, but I forgot to put it on my blog. ENJOY!
Long live SPT!

fat lil girl

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P.S. FUCK SCHOOL

Every semester around midterms and finals everyone's always running around sighing, acting stressed out because of all the studying they have to do, all the work that needs to be done… However, I don't ever recall a time that I've run around acting like that. I sorta feel like I'm sitting crosslegged in the middle of Grand Central watching everyone do their thang. And excluding this semester, I've done very well.

So, what's the deal with everyone else?

I had planned to write more on this, but I'm already tired talking about it.

I'm so tired of school. It's so soulsucking.

Much like a job in retail.

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REQUEST MUTATION and/or mutilation

So far during these past couple of weeks of school I've felt horribly out of place and uncentered. I'm unsure about a lot of things. I don't know how I'm going to do a lot of things. I don't want to do a lot of things.

I really would like to go back to my apartment, but I'd want the comfort of it still feeling like home. I want my mom there when I get home after school (or after hitting up a bar) because being around my family keeps me in check, I think. (My mom is mostly able to do this because I know that she can help me when I need her to; I know that she is more willing to help me.)

It's almost as if everyone's running all around me, doing something, and all the while I'm sitting crosslegged on the floor trying to focus on nothing. Or so it seems. Whatever.

I wish I could quit school. I'm not going to drop out, of course–I'm just tired of it. This seemingly neurotic compulsion to do that which I'm not supposed to do is just too overwhelming right now, and I just can't find a comfortable spot for school.

But I think I'm just typing this, and it's all untrue. Don't listen to me.

On another self-absorbed note, I'm afraid of Eric getting a girlfriend, especially that freshman girl that came with him to drop me off at my mother's. (She's the kind of girl that you see at a really cool band's show, and then you realize how not-so-cool the band is anymore.) I just know how people are with their new boyfriends and girlfriends: they want to spend a lot of time with their love in order to get to know them better, in order to get closer to that moment when they finally fuck. Why don't people just get to the fucking point and just do it? Sheesh. Also, I know how I am–and I probably would begin avoiding Eric because I would hate his girlfriend.

Ugh, pishposh.

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