In a desperate attempt to keep this blog updating daily for more than a week we’ll discuss the general inanity that was Friday June 20 2007. A few things on the docket yet to do, namely e-mailing my future Seattle U Honors mentees (hello if you dudes are reading this!) and starting the next game and/or film and/or book on my giant list of things to do over the summer. Oh yeah, and Dr. Faustus. The honors gods deem that we read that over the summer. I’ve always wanted to anyway so it’ll be a good read.
An aside: My laptop just made the scariest tri-beep motherboard noise I’ve heard in a long time. Awesome!
So today not much happened. About two hours was spent mowing the lawn. Like any job it starts off exhilarating and rewarding and either by the end of the first run or at the very latest by the end of the second time doing said job it becomes a tedious soul-sucking monotony. But hey, it’s a living. The propelling mechanism on the mower is blown so I got a good workout from hauling the thing around. I told my friends over the summer I would either learn to play an instrument and write some songs or build up my roadie muscles. Looks like things are moving towards the second option.
Also went to the mall. Going to the mall without friends is like an invitation to openly hate the world. Without some sense of fellowship with friends the place is just a sad void of humanity’s lowest traits (and low low prices!) Really, it’s none too pretty of a sight. The Kitsap mall in particular is a strange junction, an intersection of the temporal planes, where relatively trendy (though none-too-attractive) youngsters prance alongside horribly outdated, horribly white, blue-collar 40-somethings. There is a curse, and enchantment, of great jadedness that was placed on every stone, every sign, every grease-stained table of the Kitsap County Mall and it makes regular well-meaning relatively optimistic (if a tad sarcastic and a tad less narcissistic) people think less of humanity every time one enters it.
But hey, where else are you going to get the crap you pretend you need to survive.
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