May 24, 2002
Pink Freudian
Tatooine is the Cleves of Star Wars. It's the skanky, grungy planet that you should avoid at all costs lest you be molested by Jabba the Hutt. Any one of sense that is born there (think Anakin and Luke), longs desperately to leave. All the hillbillies emerge from the wood work when it's pod racing time.
Anybody ever heard of Gravelrama? I wish I hadn't.
Chris and I drove up to Miami today and had fun talking about all the psychotic people we went to school with. I also got to talk with a financial aid counselor, and she is going to look into some things for me. I am feeling much better, and I told her I would probably be able to make about a 300 dollar a month payment. Hopefully she can get me enough aid so I can get my tuition down that much.
I was just excited because today I wore one of my pretty thrift store scarves.
I stole my brother's replica of the Millenium Falcon, and I don't intend on giving it back. Miniature Luke and Leia and Han and Chewie and C-3PO want to stay with me. Forever.
I should make a list of things to do today and then not do them. As in...
-clean my room. The laundry has become almost a living entity.
-write on the epic novel. Certain people actually like it.
-watch The Phantom Menace. Then the madness will be complete.
-make copies of tax returns, fill out the rest of the forms for financial aid. Maybe this should move to the head of the list?
-brave the light of day. Pasty-white is not in this season.
I'll wager that I do one and a half of those things. Chances are I will watch something else on television, pick up some of the laundry, and mess around on the internet for obscene amounts of time.
Farewell. I wish I were interesting instead of comatose.
astera at 12:20 p.m.