The vital signs for my online journaling career seem pretty weak when none of the following events of the last month have prompted me to write an entry:
1) The end of my first year at a university.
2) I got a dwarf hampster named Scoot (something that frequently prompts the questioning of my testicular ownership).
3) The fact that I got accepted into CSULB’s Film Production Program (150 applied, 42 got in).
4) I got a computer tech job where I work six hours a week but get paid for forty.
5) My 21st birthday.
I will now address all these things in order. Of importance, that is.
Scoot is just now hitting the four month mark. Every day he confirms my theory that poking a sleepy gray ball of fat is more productive than watching Fox News . Also, watching him run for his life in his squeaky wheel is hilarious. Where you goin’, buddy? Nowhere! Being accepted to the film production program effectively kills the chief producer of all the white hairs on the back of my head for the past three months, which was stressing out about whether or not I would get into the film production program (if I hadn’t, my only thing I could progress with in school would be my writing, and, well, you all know how bad that is). My 21st was just a 21st, dinner with many friends and a drink — my first legal one was a Mai Tai purchased by one Mike Rossetti, for you curious. My first year away from home proved to be remarkably free of self-change but still very educational, especially the parts involving a girlfriend*. My job is boring, but it’s better than Starbucks. It’s just money.
I wish I had more to write. Not in the sense of more to write about. I just wish there was more beauty in my head, or that I was better at processing the beauty that is external (and there is lots of it) into a alternatively digestible form that would make people feel perplexed, wondrous, curious, and then obligated to pay me money.
Peace out once again. If something important happens to me, I probably won’t write about it. But if something important happens in me… we’ll see.
*Not those parts.
July 19th, 2005 at 19-07-2005 @ 3:15 PM
July 19th, 2005 at 19-07-2005 @ 5:06 PM
mooo
September 22nd, 2005 at 22-09-2005 @ 11:31 AM
your journal makes me sad. because it’s DEAD.