the thing about only having to go to school 3 days a week is: it is awesome. it gives me time to accomplish the things i want to accomplish. like buying bike clothes, swimming laps, figuring out the next funny/sexy/sad line up, thinking about my upcoming lecture on “description” (note to my students: get ready to have your mind fucking BLOWN on monday), cooking food, tightening the bottom bracket on ghost rider 2 (still without a seat post so get on that england)(england being the only place in the universe with the size seat post i need), eating ice cream, listening to beirut a LOT, typing things out in french. you know. the important things.
does anyone remember that movie, the history of white people in america? feel free to buy it for me as an easter gift.
lately i’ve been really failing at telling stories. instead i’ve been making lists and vaguely complaining about things.
here’s a story: i had a dream the other night the camp director at cleawox wouldn’t hire me for the summer. she said they didn’t really need me but then told this other counselor, a nice girl named orbit, that she could definitely come back. i was heartbroken. i almost called the camp director the next to see if i could come back to camp next summer. but that is impossible. it is impossible because i am a) no longer a certified lifeguard b) addicted to boys c) unable to work at camp without two people from florida named sunny d and beetle who won’t be there d) required to have money to be part of america and e) without patience for coworkers below the age of 23.
turns out that wasn’t really a story. and it ended with a list.
i’m going to tiburon tomorrow morning. but i’m going fast so i can come back in time for homework. i swear!
i’m going to go to sleep now so i can wake up and wear my sweet new sweat band head band. goodnight.
p.s. i’m really feeling a loss after finishing all the firefly things. sad sad sad. get it on netflix and then get the movie.