hello again

Because my father's a pastor there are a wealth of people in the world who think they know me, but I wouldn't know from a hole in the wall.

Over the past few years the question of my life plan has crept into the forced conversations that they often intrude upon me, and I'm in turn obliged to satiate their volley of feigned social intrigue.

So they ask where I'm studying.

I tell them I at UNBSJ, to which they give little more then an understanding nod, because UNBSJ really isn't very prestigious (I say this not as a slight on the faculty, many of which I respect and admire, but that any high school graduate can get in, and result in any student intellectuals wading through a mire of people who ought to go to community college, but instead will fail their way through university and dilute the value of academia; and will reuslt in the whole lot of us not getting good jobs and the people smart enought to go into trades making off like bandit; but I digress)

Then they ask what program I'm in; to which I reply "Arts", and elaborating by listing a few courses if they pretend to be especially interested.

And then they follow up with the worst question of all: "And where do you think that will take you?"

I fade off at this point into a haze of uncertainty, claiming that I'm not sure yet, but mentioning Law as a possibility or maybe Teaching.

In reality I don't have much interest in either of those occupations after thinking them through.

I'll elaborate on my genuine aspirations later though, because the point of all this for now is that when people ask me what I intend to do after university I'm just going to tell them that I'm considering becoming Batman.

hello again

This morning my brother shaved off his beard and left only a really hideous mustache. And that's today. I know nothing more interesting is going to happen today.

Don't stay home for university.

hello again

Whever I looked at people I try to peg them.

As who I think they try to be, as who I think they don't want to be seen as.

I know enough to know that people are more complicated then that. Everyone lives a lifetime.
Everyone wants, everyone goes without, everyone tries to be something more. When I walk through a crowded room, or better yet through a surging corridor, it often occurs to me the marvel that every one of them has a soul. Every one of them is looking for an assurance that they're not really alone. Every one of them must think around those lines.

And yet how many of them are really happy.

I can't be the only one marvelled by that. I lose sight of it all the time myself. I try to finish people's sentences under my breath before they themselves can gather the words. I pretend that I'm better then them. That I know more and feel more.

But doesn't everyone feel exalted by their own, readily accessible, perspective? Or is it just me that stares at a classroom of younger students and looks for some anolog of myself. I look for someone staring past everything.

I've never found one.

At the end of the day I've only made myself clever enough to recognize the bitter irony of my life, bored enogh to dismiss good people, and myself wish all the girls that catch my eye were as lonely as me.

hello again

Yesterday my gag reflex started kicking in and I started coughing up my thoat lining, so now I have a sore throat. It happens everytime just before I get a sore throat.