RIGHT NOW I'M:
---here...not there....here

Waking up in a groggy stupor I wondered why I had gone to bed at 3:30am when nothing, and I do mean nothing, of any importance took place. Well, that is not completely true. So I guess it's partially true? You see, Aaron's birthday was today...well...IS today, so I was able to wish him a happy day of birth after 12:00...though he was actually born at 3:33am. I sure wish I had been born at such a memorable time...but no, I was born at 6:30 something...oh well...I will have to live vicariously through Aaron's luck of having such a good number for his time of birth. I then proceeded to eat pizza that had been sitting out for over 24 hours without being refrigerated. All it needed was a little microwaving and it was fine...and I'm still alive so it must not have hurt me too much. I soon was reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas...Hunter S. Thompson's autobiography of his drug induced trip to Las Vegas to find the American Dream. At some point after asking Aaron if he was tired (and having him respond with, "No...it feels like it's mid afternoon") I forced myself to get in bed and turn off the lights to try and sleep. Soon I was delving into my world of psychotic dreams of otherworldly stuff. Only to wake up and know that I would have to clean my room. For the past three days I have had quite the enormous pile of miscellanious items piled on my bed. I figure that if I am to sleep I will have to put these items in their respective places. Problem...all the "respective" places have been taken up by other items that needed respective places to be put. So this stuff would move to the chair next to my bed while I slumbered, only to be moved back to my bed in the morning so I could use the computer. After three days of this I tired of having to move things and having to dig through video tapes, trash, books, henna tattoo paste, salt shakers, and various bracelets and necklaces before finally being able to find my keys or wallet. My room is now miraculously clean...and I feel a need to wrap myself in blankets or something similar to take away all the extra space that I have been afforded. I am an a-claustrophobic. I love tight spaces. Dark, warm, quiet places where something is touching me from every side. I think I could sleep well in a coffin. Soon I was showering to wash away the grime from the day before and then it was off to eat food. Our caffeteria has done it again. The same chocolate cake that has adorned the dessert section was once more altered slightly and placed ever so temptingly at eye level for hungry college kids. I noticed the extra sprinkles to overcompensate for the slowly hardening outide layer of cake, and took a piece. The rest of my day consisted of reading more of Thompson's schitzophrenic paranoid gonzo journalism, scanning pictures for my website, more eating (the cake was still there), and lots of procrastinating. What am I procrastinating from? Nothing really...I'm not doing too much at the moment.

I was in Borders...the bookstore...and was buying Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and some guy from behind me sees the book...our dialoge was as follows:

guy: "That is one fucked up book!"
me: "Um...yeah."
guy: "Yeah...it's...really fucked up!"
me: "Yeah...I like Thompson's writing style."
guy: "The movie was pretty fucked up, but the book is even more fucked up."
me: "Uh...ok."
guy: "You should read Chaos."
me: "Yeah? Who's it by?"
guy: "No."
me: *furrows eyebrows* "Uh..who's it by?"
guy: "I don't remember...but it's called Chaos...C-H-A-O-S."
me: "Ok...sure."

I was soon leaving that guy's sight as quickly as I could. Trying not to make eye contact. He seemed a little too interested in telling me how crazy the book I was buying was. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly? Or maybe he is a psychotic serial killer who is stalking his next victim so he can invite them to his house so they can borrow this book Chaos (which doesn't really exist) and then he will put them in a big glass tank that slowly fills with water as he video tapes it and then put them in a vat of bleach so their skin turns white and then he would suspend himself over the victim from the metal loops surgically implanted in his back as he would watch the tape of his victim's death. Or maybe I've seen one too many movies.

*******GO TO MY ARTWORK SECTION!!! NEW STUFF!!! YAY!!!**********

Time to go and do something. I think Aaron was going to watch the director's commentary on Almost Famous. Sounds like a plan! WOO! We're not just going to sit at our respective desks and do nothing at all. We'll just sit in front of the TV and do nothing at all instead. I need to watch how much excitment I allow in my life or I might just overload or something. So I'm gonna go now and do that stuff that needs doing. And maybe I'll even do that stuff that doesn't need doing. Who knows! Bye for now.