pity the fool

Huge gold chains. Thick strips of hair shaved off to resemble the icon. Jeans tucked into tall hiking boots. Jean vest and sports jersey. Gruff facial hair with an attitude to match. I just saw a kid on campus dressed in full Mr. T regalia. Needless to say, I pity the fool.

incoherent

This will be a regurgitation of ideas. Tonight, I went to a concert. I've been avoiding these. For good reason. But tonight was okay. Enjoyable. I saw "Monsters are Waiting..." and the Brobecks. They were both good, but meh. I don't care to talk about it. Well, I actually really liked the monster people, but it'll take another listen to them to see if I really do enjoy them. Whatev. I'm sitting on the couch next to Susanna. She's watching me while I'm typing all of this. It's rather odd. Sometimes she'll look like she's not reading this, but in actuality, she really is. Funny girl. So we were discussing curfews that were set on us in high school. Her curfew was 10.30 pm, even on summer nights. Eek. Understandable though, seeing as most of the parties and functions that were happening in Aberdeen, South Dakota dealt with alcohol. That's no good. "Not the ones I went to." "My parents said that they just needed their sleep." My parents had much more loose regulations. I was supposed to be home at a "reasonable hour". Sometimes this turned out to be four a.m. But only rarely. Hmmm. Kind of. Well, sometimes. They put a lot of trust in me. I mean, for all they knew, I could have been messing around with my boyfriend, getting drunk, and trying all sorts of drugs. But I never did that. And I think I attribute that a lot to the trust that my parents put in me. Susanna went on a date with Dan again. The only reason we found out is because of Katie. She wishes that he were older. Because he seems a little immature. That's kind of the case with guys lately. We've converted Susanna to sushi. Ah, the beloved school of sushi. Yum. These days, I order crispy rolls without crab cake, but I replace it with cream cheese. Mmm. The cucumber and avocado work well with it. And they're crispy, which means they're warm. Or hot. That means they're exxtra tasty. Yeah, with a double x. So VanWilson is in my bookbinding class. Honestly. Well, maybe not so honestly, but hear me out. I was sitting in my seat, minding my own business, and through the door, an oddly familiar face walks in. This face was attached to the shaggy blond hair, the rockstar body, and the wardrobe slightly reminiscent of the early 90's grunge era, characteristic of VanWilson. Ah. Turns out, he's fairly nice, not creepy, but is a slacker in attending the class. So now it's monday morning. I came into the anthro department and Jason was in here with this scarf that has a hood attached. We marvelled at it and I gave it a name: scood. Then he called it a 'harf'. And then I called it a 'harfenscood'. Jason said that it sounds german. I'm not german. The end.

[Fini à: 11:12 am {...douze heures après le début.}]

gypsy

I'm almost always in a state of 'anywhere but here' syndrome. I’d love to be in a distant land with foreign faces, streets, and cultures. I want to explore and learn among others and practice languages I think I know, but really have no grasp of. I want to pack a small bag containing only the bare minimum supplies required for touring the state, country, and world. I’d like to hug and kiss my family and friends goodbye and board a train, a plane, or a boat in order to set off on a journey. I’d love to join a diverse crew of folks who want to do the same. I want to help serve people, make lives better, and see lives change. I’d wish for a post office to be close enough so that I’d be able to drop a few postcards and letters into the mail for the loved ones I’d miss.

‘Tis the season to be wistful.

first winter sighting

It just started snowing.

rockstars

I had a strange dream the other day. I was performing in the rock concert circuit with the likes of Chris Martin and Youth Group. We sang a little duet and as I was mingling with the audience afterwards, the main topic of conversation was this huge concert happening the next night in Vegas. This was going to be a massive festival, including superstar, big-name VanWilson, but I wasn't planning on going to it. I was moving throughout the crowd, chatting with friends, when I noticed this guy that was eyeing me from across the room. He was rather tall, with slightly shaggy, unkempt blond hair. His outfit included fitted jeans: worn and torn, a loose, white button-down shirt, and cowboy boots. Not exactly my type. I noticed him, but I kept moving farther and farther away. Then, the next thing I knew, the charming man was standing right next to me, looking at me rather temptingly. I was puzzled. He reached out his hand and said "I'd love to see your lips at the concert tomorrow." Eek. I pulled away, and he started laughing hysterically, head thrown back, foot stomping-- the whole bit. Just as I was about to push away into the crowd, mystified out of my mind, he laid his hand on my shoulder and explained "No, no, no! Not like that!" Then he went on to excuse himself and properly introduce his name to me: VanWilson. Apparently, this celebrity was quite a practical jokester, and wasn't asking me to do shady things with him but was, in actuality, asking me to perform with him in Vegas the next night.

Thank heavens.