HOME | DD

Description
This morning I woke up. Strange isn't it? The last few images of blood and death disappeared from my dreamy state and dizzily I reached down to my persistantly beeping cell phone. I wanted to smash it through the wall, but my lack of energy wouldn't allow for that sort of behavior. I sat there stagnant in my bed and shortly contemplated skipping class, but decided against it. I suppose the thought of being unconscious was more appealing but as always, I fought the feeling and went to class. And, as introductory paragraphs usually go with me, this has served no purpose. It's just how my day started.

Ten minutes after my 9 o'clock class had begun, I drug myself in and plopped down in my usual seat. Lazily, I sat there, half listening, half lost in self-analyzation. Oh, to be adroit. Every day I come in after everyone else, partly because I'm not a morning person, partly because I lack the motivation to be a morning person. I'm sure they all look at me as That Late Girl In The Corner. Well, you know what? Fuck them. Well, I'd like to think that, but really, it does matter.

As the end of class drug forward, I finally looked up and realized that everyone was leaving. This meant that Psychology was next. I hate that class. The professor is so inexplicably boring. Today was a little different because she decided to surprise us with a video. It was a pretty boring video, but the way the narrator used his diction so perfectly was mindless entertainment enough for me. After watching endless simple animations of firing neurons, the video ended and a short blast of country music shocked me conscious. For some inane reason, the default channel for viewing videos is Country Music Television. It's just one of those things you just accept as truth and never ask about.

There was a short burst of time during which I went into work and went to my design class and painted a silhouette of a chair (how artistic). Painting that lousy fucking chair was all I needed to get me to pondering again. What in the name God am I doing here? Is this really serving any purpose at all, or am I just meant to be sitting here, painting this peice of crap while the rest of the world is slowly spinning on its axis without me? I dwelled on it for a while, but decided that it wasn't worth the effort of thinking about because in the end, there is no truth. Only the present. And the present meant that I had painted outside the line. How quaint. When 7:30 came around, I came to the conclusion that going 24 hours without food makes you really hungry and stepped outside, ready to walk to the cafe down the street. The nice, persistant spray on my face reminded me that I forgotten my umbrella, but it didn't really matter because it wasn't real rain anyways. It was just resembled someone shaking a wet towel over your head constantly.

In the short walk down there, I realized what a disgusting number of people always give you those periphrial smiles. It's as if they're too busy to actually look at you, but they grin in your general direction, as if they're trying to imply that your presence is actually half-meaningful to them. As I was walking down the corridor to get to the cafe, I happened to pass this one guy that I find somewhat attractive. I've only seen him around campus, so I just passed by somewhat halfheartedly. It's not like I'd ever talk to him anyways. I'd probably just sit there feeling stupid and stare at him than anything else. But he looked over at me in a somewhat knowing manner in that split moment and gave me one of those half-grins that people use when they don't really know what to say. I did the same and quietly sat there in my misanthropic solitude and picked at a grilled chicken salad.

I'm back in my room now (obviously) and have just survived the aforementioned story. It seems pretty boring and menial, but looking back on it, I can't help but think what a great fucking day it was.

Description
This morning I woke up. Strange isn't it? The last few images of blood and death disappeared from my dreamy state and dizzily I reached down to my persistantly beeping cell phone. I wanted to smash it through the wall, but my lack of energy wouldn't allow for that sort of behavior. I sat there stagnant in my bed and shortly contemplated skipping class, but decided against it. I suppose the thought of being unconscious was more appealing but as always, I fought the feeling and went to class. And, as introductory paragraphs usually go with me, this has served no purpose. It's just how my day started.

Ten minutes after my 9 o'clock class had begun, I drug myself in and plopped down in my usual seat. Lazily, I sat there, half listening, half lost in self-analyzation. Oh, to be adroit. Every day I come in after everyone else, partly because I'm not a morning person, partly because I lack the motivation to be a morning person. I'm sure they all look at me as That Late Girl In The Corner. Well, you know what? Fuck them. Well, I'd like to think that, but really, it does matter.

As the end of class drug forward, I finally looked up and realized that everyone was leaving. This meant that Psychology was next. I hate that class. The professor is so inexplicably boring. Today was a little different because she decided to surprise us with a video. It was a pretty boring video, but the way the narrator used his diction so perfectly was mindless entertainment enough for me. After watching endless simple animations of firing neurons, the video ended and a short blast of country music shocked me conscious. For some inane reason, the default channel for viewing videos is Country Music Television. It's just one of those things you just accept as truth and never ask about.

There was a short burst of time during which I went into work and went to my design class and painted a silhouette of a chair (how artistic). Painting that lousy fucking chair was all I needed to get me to pondering again. What in the name God am I doing here? Is this really serving any purpose at all, or am I just meant to be sitting here, painting this peice of crap while the rest of the world is slowly spinning on its axis without me? I dwelled on it for a while, but decided that it wasn't worth the effort of thinking about because in the end, there is no truth. Only the present. And the present meant that I had painted outside the line. How quaint. When 7:30 came around, I came to the conclusion that going 24 hours without food makes you really hungry and stepped outside, ready to walk to the cafe down the street. The nice, persistant spray on my face reminded me that I forgotten my umbrella, but it didn't really matter because it wasn't real rain anyways. It was just resembled someone shaking a wet towel over your head constantly.

In the short walk down there, I realized what a disgusting number of people always give you those periphrial smiles. It's as if they're too busy to actually look at you, but they grin in your general direction, as if they're trying to imply that your presence is actually half-meaningful to them. As I was walking down the corridor to get to the cafe, I happened to pass this one guy that I find somewhat attractive. I've only seen him around campus, so I just passed by somewhat halfheartedly. It's not like I'd ever talk to him anyways. I'd probably just sit there feeling stupid and stare at him than anything else. But he looked over at me in a somewhat knowing manner in that split moment and gave me one of those half-grins that people use when they don't really know what to say. I did the same and quietly sat there in my misanthropic solitude and picked at a grilled chicken salad.

I'm back in my room now (obviously) and have just survived the aforementioned story. It seems pretty boring and menial, but looking back on it, I can't help but think what a great fucking day it was.