don’t know where, don’t know when.

Sometimes you can spend all day wandering through stores and have trouble spending a dollar on a bottle of water, other days, not unlike today, well… I guess carnage is the best word for it. It’s kind of funny how people can get so excitable about collecting things. I mean aside from crows, I can’t think of any other species that has a penchant for just going and picking up things and bringing them back to their habitat for no particular reason other than that they are attracted to the shinyness of it. Strange and fickle creatures, these people. Always so willing to cage themselves.

But outside of routine consumer whoring, things have been up and down for me lately, sometimes less up and more down, which could partly explain why I haven’t been around as much recently. But in the last week or so things have started to level out for me a bit and I’m feeling a bit more at peace with things, which is a great load off in most respects.

The school year is just about to start up, and the big news is that it looks like I won’t be part of it… at least for a while. Things at the end of last semester didn’t go as well as I had hoped, and the university has found my performance in certain written assignments lacking, and so there are still some more hoops I need to crawl through before they let me toy with the minds of the nations youth for money.

But it’s not all bad, my summer job at the restaurant is going pretty well (aside from being the official flak-magnet due to my position as the prime communicative link between the head office and the venue) and I get along great with the people there and some days I even have fun. Things are never the same there, all the change makes it a nice place to be, always something or somebody new, plus they think I’m just fabulous because I can bend excel spreadsheets to my will with the power of my mind. So as long as I want to stay, they’re stoked to have me. Not stoked enough to give me my own driver and a blackjack-and-hookers office, but at least quite content.

I’ve had no less than three wedding invitations in the last couple of weeks, which is something that would make me a little edgy were it not for my unfathomable lust for desert buffets. The conspirators on my side of each marriage are 18, 23 and 30. The idea seems to bother me less as the folks involved age. Personally I find it an obtuse concept. I don’t know myself well enough to know what I want out of my time, let alone know well enough to legally bond myself to another person who has as little idea as I do. To paraphrase Al Pacino, I have nothing against the whole eternal love and happily ever after business, I just don’t know how the cops got involved. But that’s a proverbial can of worms. I have no idea why people say ‘opening a can of worms’. I mean, don’t you have to fill the used can with live worms yourself to go fishing with? Can you actually buy pre-packaged worm cans? Who comes up with these things…

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