Conspiracy of One: Preparing the Exhibition

My hair’s no longer blue; instead, it’s gold. It makes me want to get up and perform the John Morrison pose…again.

I opted not to apply to Berkeley after a series of odd complications that were unfavorable. Not sure if I’ll apply next year. However, the problems enumerated by myself seems to prove that I’m overdetermined; I could really stand to relax a little more, and put on a smile. A real smile…but since I’m staying true to typical chickenshit heel nature, I opt for the cop out, which basically means “if you want me to smile, go find Christine Bucao.”

It appears as if I no longer possess any of my salsa moves, and even swing is getting redundant. If the only thing that brings me relief no longer offers relief, then I’ve truly gone off the deep end.

Too determined. Must calm down. Must not give myself a stroke, although I’ve probably had one already for no apparent reason. My blood pressure must be shot at the moment. My state of edge has been continually persistent to the point of madness. Jared asked me to go over some poetry for him, and I gave my interpretation. He shot it down, and I, in turn, took his knees out from underneath him. Probably not the best course of action, yet I find it funny he calls me a hypocrite, then wants my input on class scheduling. I do not fight battles unless I’m sure I have a definite homecourt advantage, among other things. He started to backtrack and apologize, which I doubt was sincere, so I continued to assail him. Realistically, I could care less about pressed coal; on the other hand, I will not die.

Seeking opportunity to make play on targets next week. Funny thing, I really do run with an older crowd. One appears to be using me just for my moves, one seems to be genuinely interested, and the last finds my antics “cute.” Who knew that saying “adieu” would qualify as endearing? Archaic (see: romantic) language does have merits.

Lastly, contacted a girl I went to middle school with, who has really evolved into a pretty girl. Of course, I’ve always had awkward taste in women, but this one, I definitely made a wise gamble. I’ll take any victory, no matter the brevity.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Beethoven “Moonlight Sonata”

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