September 4, 2001
Battle of the Bush's
I think there is some sort of cosmic sadness. Have you ever noticed that your moods, and often even the connotation of things that happen to you, coincide with those of your friends? It's strange. Maybe, like, the alignment of the planets or the gravitational pull of the moon can compell certain actions, certain moods. I don't know but it is richly bizarre. Everybody is messed up lately.
I went to Anthropology 201 and Graphics Communication this morning. My Anth teacher is Russian and very funny, and my Graphics teacher is funny in a sort of Mr. Rogers kind of way. Not that Mr. Rogers was funny just that he has a good, clean, conservative-type humor. You know what I'm talking about. Kind of like when George W. tells a joke.
If he can manage to master the English language for the minute it takes him one.
George Senior was inept enough. Who allowed him to procreate?
Not that I remember much of good old Georgie Bush's reign. I was only nine, or something.
But I remember my dad really hated him.
Especially when he was unemployed.
So I cried on the phone to Ryan today. He didn't know it, I kind of hung up before the waterworks really kicked into high gear. Everybody just keeps telling me to hang in there, I'll get used to it. Get used to what? Missing everything? Can it be plausible that maybe I really did come too far from home? Fellow Taylor-ites Chris and Jody went to Miami, about an hour from home, and they weren't homesick at all and don't understand how I can be. I'm just overreacting.
Okay, kids, Jill is 200 miles from home. She can't just call up Mommy and Daddy if she needs something and beg for mercy. I'm fucking stranded here.
I'm allowed to be upset about this.
astera at 12:05 p.m.