"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


Hoffbauer Syndrome

Art History Exam: Aced
Production Prototype: Finished (I use the term loosely)
Today in my worthless sociology class, I learned behaviors classified as deviant vary from culture to culture. It took an hour and a half to get to that mind-blowing fact. This class should be called Readilyapparentology. Or Painfullyobviousology. This is not science, this is common sense.
It has been too long since one of my academic classes was challenging, engaging, or even borderline interesting (you don't count, remedial algebra, as you are none of the above and spitefully frustrating). I think my professors might be even more bored than I am. Soon, we'll all just sleep through classes, instructors and all.
I suppose it's just as well, my art classes can be overstimulating at times. There is a balance in there somewhere.
I continue to fail at gaining employment above minimum wage, and the summer looks doubly bleak with plant closings and school out. This rural community has no room for me in their workforce, and I have little desire to compete with Betty Jo for a job at the Food Lion. My mother suggests moving back to the city, an idea that both entices the hell out of me, and sounds like an amazingly dumb idea at the same time. I spend 9 months out of the year living at the lake, and I move away as soon as it is warm enough to swim? Visiting is an option, and the hard fact is that I have a better chance of getting any job there than I do here. I believe over the next 6 weeks there will be a great deal of waffling on this subject. Guess I should take a hard look at the ol' resume.
Anna e-mailed today from Argentina, a bright spot as always. Oh, to sit on my balcony, smoke cuban cigars, and drink $1 wine. In the beef capital of the world. Tantamount to a wet dream. Randy is reading poems in Spanish, Ryan is enrolled in French classes. My friends are some of the most amazing people I would ever hope to meet. If I never have another bit of luck in my life, it will be because I used it all in stumbling upon a group of people I will always admire and attempt to stay worthy of.

Reading: The Fran Lebowitz Reader (for the umpteenth time)
Listening to:KEXP.Org