ahhh a new semester. one week and already i'm having to turn the cranks in my head. last year it just felt like it was only til about a month or two that we actually did anything in class. but already i'm having to exercise my grey matter.
if you so happen to be in the VCU area. you should drop by. a got a killer loft. not that you can sleep in it. but you can see it in all it's glory. i painted it a lime greenish color. the paint was actually called lettuce alone. but i think it's a tad bit too bright to be lettuce.
my roomate lindsay lawson "acquired" a video projector.
i threw a white sheet over the ping-pong table which we use as a screen and then i hooked up the sound to my boombox so we have a mini-digital theatre.
also. there's a cat her by the name of oliver mckitty. he's rad. and he doesn't poop on the floor or anything.
so. yeah. i'll end this journal with part of a speech i wrote for david to use in his class that will not be used.

"Poo Poo. Doggy doggy hump hump. Assanine. Now having said those words in that order and manner. I think I can go on without feeling more stupid than I already do. Talking in front of a group of people, to what end? To learn how to be comfortable. It feels kind of pseudo-self-motivational, but this is something I do need to improve on. And yet, how ironic is it that we had to come up with an object to represent ourselves. After women’s lib, we tried to stop the objectification of women and here we are objectifying ourselves. I am like this beautiful flower (pull out of flower) No wait that’s not it. I am like this box of chocolates (pull out a box of chocolates) I am like this robot. (pull out a picture of someone robotic). I couldn’t get it right last night when I wrote this. OK. Here we are, a portable cassette player.
No one uses these things anymore. I don’t even use it. It sits on my dresser along with my radioshack robbie the robot coin bank. For some weird human reason, I’ve kept it. I’ve grown a sentimental attachment to it.
Periods of boredom or anxiety in my life can usually be connected with me throwing on my headphones and just drifting away to my favorite tunes or whatever I could find to listen to. I could just go to my backyard, sit on the old swing and really, I wasn’t there. I was in liverpool listening to the beatles practice. I was singing along to some Motown IN Motown. I saw the leader of the pack crash his motorcycle.
Small and inconspicous, my walkman was at my side. Small and inconspicuous, I was alone in the crowd. Unseen and heard only by me, give or take a few close friends. The rectangular shape of my inappropriately called “walkman”, it’s not a SONY brand, it’s shape mimics my own. My knuckles form 90 degree angles with the side of my hands. My arms don’t swing when I walk, they just remain straight. I guess you could say I’m a square. I lack the poindexter glasses and pants that go over my belly button, but if you’re talking to me about Linux or using cascading style sheets for web design, then you’re probably wearing poindexter glasses and pants that go over your belly button.
But really, physically. I’m just a box. The image you see of a brown-haired boy with arms and legs is just an illusion I’ve created so I can function normally in society. I’m really a kind of plastic green hexahedron that weighs roughly 90 lbs and I propel myself by catching currents in the aether winds."