backpack dreams

There a lot of things I kind of want to "blog" about (all equally unimportant), but I guess I'll talk about the senior prank, since it sort of happened today.

On second thought, nevermind, I don't really want to take the time to type up what I want to say. I'm not trying to be melodramatic or anything, I just guess between typing that first sentence and trying to figure out what I wanted to type I just lost the drive.

I will say this though: FOR SHAME.

I've been wanting to read Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf for a while now, not desperately, but mildly, and seeing a otherwise new back cover torn and on the ground beside my feet was a slap to the face.

P.S. I am praying that someone shredded up Fahrenheit 451, oh God yes.
P.P.S. I think many missed the whole point of many of the books that they so confidently shredded.
P.P.S. I guess I did write something after all.
P.P.P.S. A part of me doesn't want to post this out of pure embarrassment but I will anyway since I spent the last few minutes clacking.
P.P.P.P.S. I'm going to the Getty tomorrow! But I also have a buttload of other things on my plate so I will probably not even enjoy it.

sO i tHINK i wILL tYPE lIKE tHIS fOREVER.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, Ma.

My printer has a personality, and it's very smarmy.

P.S. Yesterday I saw a plastic bag floating in the wind and it reminded me of "American Beauty." And when staring at that bag, I totally understood. I mean, before yesterday, I'd always approached that scene in a detached, nearly posh "Oh yeah I totally get that, so artsy" (read in nasal, beret wearing voice) kind of mindset. Or at least that's what it seems like in contrast to what I felt yesterday.
I couldn't gape for more then a good 5 seconds without feeling a teeny bit (read: shitloads) of pretentious douchebagerry, but the understanding that was between myself and that fictional dude from that fictional moving pictures assimilation felt so genuine.
I can't believe I'm writing so sappy, is that the word? Oh well, I don't know if many understand what I'm trying to say a good 69% of the time anyway so too bad.
But really, it was definitely one of the highlights of this entire damned school year.
I can't describe it without sounding insane, I probably am insane.
I mean, it's just a plastic bag, right?
I guess watching the actual movie, waiting a few years, and unknowingly encountering a floating plastic bag amongst the hurricane that is school will convey my feeling pretty damn clearly, other than that, I'm sorry.
God!
It was almost primal.
Heh I used the word "primal."
(And in italics too! God, I am a douchebag. Whatever it was worth it.)

I'm getting paranoid.
Think Truman-Show-kind-of-paranoid.

At this point in my life I'd still be in the first half hour or so of the movie, I'm not sure, I haven't watched it in a while. But at this part, I'm noticing things but I'm not sure whether to doubt my surroundings or whether to doubt myself...
Hm...
Herm...
Erm...
Rm...?