Oh yeah

Vague Pessimism- My favorite

And so it seems the seams I’ve sewn and sights I’ve sought to seek are sold.

farmville

I havent posted in a while but I need to gripe about something. facebook is cool and all. I love how I can keep in touch with friends and see things from their college experiences. But seriously, every time I see a post about farmville I lose respect for another person and for facebook as a whole. is facebook not a social networking site?why are they trying to take over? every time I look theres another video via youtube or another game or program being used by one of my connections. It’s gotten to the point that when people cant interact with friends through facebook they utilize the numerous timesinks it provides. Now although I dont personally play any online games I dont knock people that do. But come on, you’re tending to a virtual farm and virtual crops just in order to remain on facebook for extended periods of time hoping that one of your friends might care enough to write on your wall or comment on something so that you might once again feel as if someone cares about you. It’s sad. and to those who say it’s addicting grow the fuck up. Drugs are addicting. Be a man and do some drugs. Farmville just makes you a pussy.

Ariel

Her eyes bright and glistening and her smile wide, lips ever ajar, she rambled about Kerouac and her feelings of his fame and I paid no attention as I was hypnotized by her glare. Those shiny black gems deeply penetrating as she sought to see whether I was worth her time. Or was that a projection of my own fear of inadequacy? Small, quirky, and beautiful, a character Natalie Portman might play, barely 5’5, but next to her I was an ant and she a mountain, towering down, impossible to scale. But still I sat and listened and tried not to smile so big and tried to seem smart and composed as I felt my heartbeat gradually build speed. My eyes remained fixed on her while she hummed a sweet tune and poured her coffee and I was stuck, unable to think. Through her smile shone the light of her spirit and I stood smitten, basking in it. I would have stayed forever but she insisted she had work to do and that I should get going. She was right, in the bubble of atmosphere she created there was no time only her and that blinding light. And when it was time to leave, she said goodnight, but I couldn’t find the words to respond through the blur of emotion I had felt. I said only goodbye in hopes that when I say goodnight to her it would be followed by good morning when we awoke together. And her name was Ariel. I never saw her again

The Bathroom

With the door open, the pungent odor seeps into the common room, inciting apprehension of approach. The bathroom shared by seven teenage boys provides a kind of oxymoron; It is both their place for hygiene and a source of filth. From the smell of a boy’s locker room after a football game, to the tattered scraps of toilet paper strewn about on the floor, it’s obvious that the room is being negelected by its seven fathers. And it continues to be neglected despite its horrid appearance and the lurking stench. A murky pond of water glistens at the base of the shower, consisting of hair and a film of an unknown origin, and whether the grout was initially black or white is hard to say, considering the layered grime resting between the tiles.  Even the bathroom stall, isolated in it’s own corner of the room, does not go untainted. The flush of the toilet provides no relief from the stink of dried urine that rises from beneath the seat. And if able to ignore those hazardous fumes, one is able to see the childish graffiti on the back of the door, where the depiction of a large penis and the name “Sam” enclosed within a heart. All that being said the boys visit the room each and every day.

friends

As I find myself searching around the maze that is the experience of college life, there seems to be this sort of cliché but accurate fear amongst some of the students. Now I’ll agree it sounds corny when you’re warned of the “top ten college fears”, but I have to agree with one of them, maybe number four on the list. “will I make friends?” It sounds so silly at first. “Of course I’ll make friends I’m a likeable guy”, but I’m starting to realize that it may not just be me. Chemistry between two people, whether a romantic female interest or a potential buddy, is a complicated science. And for me it always comes down to that one flaw, the one reason why a potential friend becomes crossed off the list in my mind with big black sharpie ink. It isn’t one thing across the board but individual downfalls within a person that cause my apprehension to befriend them any more than a person you’d say “what’s up?” to in passing. Whether it be excessive eagerness to hangout or a certain speech pattern that just rubs me the wrong way, without a doubt finding a friend is a tough endeavor.

Thinking

He took somber satisfaction in thinking that perhaps all along she had been nothing more than what he had read into her; that this was her high point, that no one else would ever make her think. Yet that he made her think was what she objected to in him; and suddenly he was tired of thinking.

There’s nothing more to this I just came across an old text I had sent and I liked the way it sounded