It's funny because you don't really want to write right now. You're fine just listing to Only Son and stumbling aimlessly across the internet. But yet here you are. Each sentence forced out, rewritten, edited. Painfully. Slowly. Your fingers are pretending like they're sore, tired, like they don't want to type. Like they just want to do nothing. Shut up fingers, you say, shut up and work through it. Pretend like you're playing Guitar Hero.
"Brand New Broken Heart"
Or maybe it's your brain. Your body. You're tired. Your brain doesn't want to work this hard. Making words. Forming sentences. Kind of. Short snippets of thoughts. This is your brain on school. This is your brain on two hits of pot. This is your brain after one of the most unique weeks of your college education, ever. Ever, ever, ever. This is why you're writing -- OH YEAH! -- because this is the last first week of your first last year of college. The first week of your last year, my friend in the future. This week was a transition. Next week the ball starts rolling. For the last time. Seriously. Like -- forever. So don't fuck it up, you.
"Quiet Surrender"
Matt Raute. What the fuck, right? A guy you weren't especially friends with -- more of a friend of a friend thing -- during highschool -- and he calls you up last year and tells you he's transferring to SSU. He shows up a few months after that and wants to hang out, wants to know where's good to live, wants to know what I'm up to. No dialogue passing between us for months. You're remembering this now because you probably wouldn't have ever thought about Matt Raute again if you didn't walk by him this morning, before class. He was there with Terran (spelling?), a girl from highschool who was also a friend of a friend of a friend. Layers over layers. Terran is definitely not how you spell her name, but it sounds like that -- you think. She didn't say anything to you today. For a second there you thought Matt was going to actually complain about or refer to the fact we never talked since he'd transferred -- and you did feel guilty, which is why you suggested meeting at The Pub for a beer (make that two) before our five o' clock classes.
Thanks to Sean Gohara, you talked to a girl on the bus for a good fifteen minutes.
"Sleepyface"
Emma Smales. What the fuck, right? For whatever reason, friendships suddenly disappear. Laziness is your excuse, most of the time. After moving to Santa Rosa in 2007 you immediately alienated yourself from your SSU friends and your (now) ex-girlfriend. While you can't break up with your friends like you broke up with Amy, you can still fall into an odd gray area where life took you both in different routes. You're not the same person after six months. Seven. You're not the same person you were one month ago. Emma was not the same person. Familiar, someone you care about, yes. You care about all of your friends. But she's older. She's got different friends. But so do you, so what did you expect? Your life is totally different now. At least through humor and reminiscing and the distractions of others seated with us in The Pub (including Matt Raute), there was not a bit of awkwardness. There's a "thing" on Saturday that you really should go to. But, um, yeah -- that paragraph was about the time you ran into Emma after not seeing her for so long that you didn't expect to ever see her again.
"Long Live The Future"
You're also giving your new friend Rachel a lot of attention. You don't know what that's about, yet, and even now -- today -- August 28, 2008 -- you don't know if you're attracted to her or want a new friend or just enjoy talking to her... And Kevin from ETLIST and L & C is the one who really made you think about what you're doing, about how it's "the first week of school" and "you're already going after the ladies." Kevin is the more mature and older version of Garrett Sucatre, from highschool. That better still make sense to you in the future, Future Me, because that's the only way to describe him and only you will get the reference. But anyway, you were talking about Rachel -- glasses with short dark-red/black hair and a relateable disinterest in school Rachel -- and maybe you wrote about that because you'll find this stuff interesting in the future. Past crushes. If this is a crush. You don't know. You're just trying to be more social and you prefer to socialize with women. Kevin's cool, though. It's nice to have someone also taking L & C and ETLIST back-to-back with you. But fuck off if it isn't impossible to know how old a person it this year! Jessica from the bus could very well be 25 or 26, although she looks like a sophomore. No offense, Jessica. But the more you talk with her on the bus, the more you realize that she's gone through some shit -- just like everyone else you've been meeting (which is maybe why Rachel is appealing because she seems to have the same casual white middle-class upbringing that left you with very little traumatic memories) -- and been going to SSU for six years already.
Now you're listening to The Whitest Boy Alive again.
"Burning"
You're taking a class on aliens. And the history of the Hawaiin Islands (you learned five new words today and the names of the five volcanoes that make up the Big Island).
Light and Color could be a legit physics class, but probably not.
Shakespeare's holding you back from a totally bullshit semester. Not to say you won't learn some interesting tidbits and factoids, like stuff you could use during Trivial Pursuit. Your alien class might substitute for a real creative writing class, turns out, which is sort of awesome in a whole bunch of ways. Guess you'll get someone to read your stuff after all. Feedback helps, even on short little assignments. Hone those skills, boy, because you ain't got anything else going for you except knowing how to make a cappuccino.
"Done With You"
That was fun. I'm glad I wrote tonight. A fucking hour or two just went by and I only took five hits from the bong. I didn't even get up.
Well, you broke out of the second person for a moment but you don't want to fix it.
Then you erased this compliment you gave Chuck Palahniuk. It was dumb, don't worry.
So now you're done. Maybe. You're gonna take another hit and then think if there was anything else worth talking about. No. That's it. Maybe. Yeah... well I guess what's on my mind, your mind at this point in time, is if any of the people you've met this week will become out-of-school friends. You know it's true that if you don't meet people during the first two weeks, you'll have a hard time making it happen. This year, you really do feel like you've been pushing your usual social limits. Just quit being so self concious, someday, if not soon, because it's fucking annoying to go to the bathroom every hour to make sure my hair's not all flat and ugly -- just get a haircut already. Just keep brushing your teeth and using deodorant.
You'll be fine. Just go that that "thing" on Saturday if you don't want to lose all of your friends forever.
Out.
"Brand New Broken Heart"
Or maybe it's your brain. Your body. You're tired. Your brain doesn't want to work this hard. Making words. Forming sentences. Kind of. Short snippets of thoughts. This is your brain on school. This is your brain on two hits of pot. This is your brain after one of the most unique weeks of your college education, ever. Ever, ever, ever. This is why you're writing -- OH YEAH! -- because this is the last first week of your first last year of college. The first week of your last year, my friend in the future. This week was a transition. Next week the ball starts rolling. For the last time. Seriously. Like -- forever. So don't fuck it up, you.
"Quiet Surrender"
Matt Raute. What the fuck, right? A guy you weren't especially friends with -- more of a friend of a friend thing -- during highschool -- and he calls you up last year and tells you he's transferring to SSU. He shows up a few months after that and wants to hang out, wants to know where's good to live, wants to know what I'm up to. No dialogue passing between us for months. You're remembering this now because you probably wouldn't have ever thought about Matt Raute again if you didn't walk by him this morning, before class. He was there with Terran (spelling?), a girl from highschool who was also a friend of a friend of a friend. Layers over layers. Terran is definitely not how you spell her name, but it sounds like that -- you think. She didn't say anything to you today. For a second there you thought Matt was going to actually complain about or refer to the fact we never talked since he'd transferred -- and you did feel guilty, which is why you suggested meeting at The Pub for a beer (make that two) before our five o' clock classes.
Thanks to Sean Gohara, you talked to a girl on the bus for a good fifteen minutes.
"Sleepyface"
Emma Smales. What the fuck, right? For whatever reason, friendships suddenly disappear. Laziness is your excuse, most of the time. After moving to Santa Rosa in 2007 you immediately alienated yourself from your SSU friends and your (now) ex-girlfriend. While you can't break up with your friends like you broke up with Amy, you can still fall into an odd gray area where life took you both in different routes. You're not the same person after six months. Seven. You're not the same person you were one month ago. Emma was not the same person. Familiar, someone you care about, yes. You care about all of your friends. But she's older. She's got different friends. But so do you, so what did you expect? Your life is totally different now. At least through humor and reminiscing and the distractions of others seated with us in The Pub (including Matt Raute), there was not a bit of awkwardness. There's a "thing" on Saturday that you really should go to. But, um, yeah -- that paragraph was about the time you ran into Emma after not seeing her for so long that you didn't expect to ever see her again.
"Long Live The Future"
You're also giving your new friend Rachel a lot of attention. You don't know what that's about, yet, and even now -- today -- August 28, 2008 -- you don't know if you're attracted to her or want a new friend or just enjoy talking to her... And Kevin from ETLIST and L & C is the one who really made you think about what you're doing, about how it's "the first week of school" and "you're already going after the ladies." Kevin is the more mature and older version of Garrett Sucatre, from highschool. That better still make sense to you in the future, Future Me, because that's the only way to describe him and only you will get the reference. But anyway, you were talking about Rachel -- glasses with short dark-red/black hair and a relateable disinterest in school Rachel -- and maybe you wrote about that because you'll find this stuff interesting in the future. Past crushes. If this is a crush. You don't know. You're just trying to be more social and you prefer to socialize with women. Kevin's cool, though. It's nice to have someone also taking L & C and ETLIST back-to-back with you. But fuck off if it isn't impossible to know how old a person it this year! Jessica from the bus could very well be 25 or 26, although she looks like a sophomore. No offense, Jessica. But the more you talk with her on the bus, the more you realize that she's gone through some shit -- just like everyone else you've been meeting (which is maybe why Rachel is appealing because she seems to have the same casual white middle-class upbringing that left you with very little traumatic memories) -- and been going to SSU for six years already.
Now you're listening to The Whitest Boy Alive again.
"Burning"
You're taking a class on aliens. And the history of the Hawaiin Islands (you learned five new words today and the names of the five volcanoes that make up the Big Island).
Light and Color could be a legit physics class, but probably not.
Shakespeare's holding you back from a totally bullshit semester. Not to say you won't learn some interesting tidbits and factoids, like stuff you could use during Trivial Pursuit. Your alien class might substitute for a real creative writing class, turns out, which is sort of awesome in a whole bunch of ways. Guess you'll get someone to read your stuff after all. Feedback helps, even on short little assignments. Hone those skills, boy, because you ain't got anything else going for you except knowing how to make a cappuccino.
"Done With You"
That was fun. I'm glad I wrote tonight. A fucking hour or two just went by and I only took five hits from the bong. I didn't even get up.
Well, you broke out of the second person for a moment but you don't want to fix it.
Then you erased this compliment you gave Chuck Palahniuk. It was dumb, don't worry.
So now you're done. Maybe. You're gonna take another hit and then think if there was anything else worth talking about. No. That's it. Maybe. Yeah... well I guess what's on my mind, your mind at this point in time, is if any of the people you've met this week will become out-of-school friends. You know it's true that if you don't meet people during the first two weeks, you'll have a hard time making it happen. This year, you really do feel like you've been pushing your usual social limits. Just quit being so self concious, someday, if not soon, because it's fucking annoying to go to the bathroom every hour to make sure my hair's not all flat and ugly -- just get a haircut already. Just keep brushing your teeth and using deodorant.
You'll be fine. Just go that that "thing" on Saturday if you don't want to lose all of your friends forever.
Out.
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