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Just finished compiling my responses for French.
My cinnamon bun is being held captive in Andrew’s room. He
needs to return so that I can pay the ransom for it and reintroduce it to its
natural habit- my belly.
Also, from Dan the movies Alien and Aliens is temporarily in
my custody. Chet’s loss is my gain. Woot.
Sent my parents a postcard. Hopefully, they will find it
mildly amusing.
I want to write.
I reread my story from last years sans merci. It really wasn’t
all that bad. Maybe I am an okay writer.
Missing Jung.
Book buy back is soon. I have a few wares to peddle.
I wonder what kind of schemes I’m going to have to pull this
year. Every year I have to cover their optical receptors with a
cotton/polyester blend of some kind. Usually, I am victorious. One must only be
persistent.
Pilates in a cold basement over the break? Oui.
In general I fear that the people of this culture do not
properly appreciate or value life. This dismays me. We create and promote
weapons that render other beings lifeless in the span of a split second. There
should always be a fighting chance.
Also, I enjoy how we all are products of those around us.
For instance, we assimilate slang terms from those we associate with on a
regular basis. Immersion, if you will.
If you think you could defeat a polygraph test you’re
incorrect. I met one yesterday. It will steal your heart and devour your first
born child before you notice a change in the amount of sweat you’re secreting
from your fingertips.
Another thing that is humorous: the level of information
people absorb from movies and apply to life because they think it may be
applicable. For instance, beating a polygraph test. Humans are so gullible. It
is a dangerous line between reality and fantasy. I think a lot of people in
this society aren’t living in reality. They are living in deluded material
possession induced fantasy states. All living things can create other life. And
yet people in this culture consistently put a creator “outside”? And yes, grammatically,
question marks can be placed outside of quotation marks. Exclamation marks can
sit on the front porch as well. How powerful a notion that is? All the cells in
my body are reproducing like crazy (except of course (most of) my neurons,
which are incidentally enough the most important cells), making new cells
(which in most cases are identical) that make new cells that consume energy and
make more new cells! It’s all the same thing, just on smaller or larger levels.
That’s just really fucking cool.
Full metal is going to be on in ten minutes. I probably won’t
get to watch it. Sadness. At least my cells will keep reproducing. I can always
count on that as long as my bum ticker doesn’t procrastinate too much.
Maybe my consciousness is a parasite to my body.
Or my body is a parasite to the emissions of my brain.
I take in fuel (food, oxygen, water, vitamins, etc) to
continue the processes triggered by a sequence of cellular events spawned from
my parents’ original energy.
It is no wonder that some people think we possess souls. It
is quite easy to separate the body from the conscious. Really though, all those
thoughts and feelings you have are just a byproduct of neurons firing off
action potentials and creating synapses in your brain. Bummer. Maybe our
intellect is the fecal matter of our neurons.
I think I like that thought.
The very notion of a soul is a physical impossibility.
Given, I’ve just barely scratched the surface of this body
of knowledge, but I do feel that having completed a degree in psychology does
give me one up on most people. Though, I must admit that many of my fellow
psychology majors are idiots (their neurons are asleep on the job). Damn, I am
a judgmental bitch. That’s an INTJ for you. It’s what the J is all about. Really
though, on the rare occasion that I engage in conversation with another psych
major, I am bewildered by the amount of misinformation they have regarding the
processes of the mind and life in general. I mean, damn you take bio 101, 102
and all the shit you’ve learned in psych classes and it’s right there. I know I
can’t do math, but really you add it all up and there is the answer, looking
you in the face. What, did they graduate from the blind school too, or what?
A soul. What is this “soul” anyway?
Maybe I don’t give humanity enough credit.
Why am I so bitter toward humans in general? How can one be
against the progress and continuation of one’s own species? I’m the psych
major, I guess I should answer that, but I have no clue. I’m not that kind of
psych major. Is it so wrong to believe though, that no one thing has anymore or
less of a right to be here than anything else? And if this is the case, what
gives us the right to decide what other beings continue life and which do not?
Beyond our own bodies (because to some extent we do control the internal
workings of our bodies on a cellular level) how is it that we feel we can
extend the gamut of our control?
What makes human DNA superior to that of aplysia
californica?
I am hungry. Andrew needs to return so that I can consume
the cinnamon bun.
Damn, I really wanted one of those gingerbread cookies from
the dining hall tonight. They looked so good.
Fan-fuckin’-tastic.
Today, I did a count. This semester I have written
approximately thirty papers. All of varying lengths. The longest being twenty
pages and the shortest being two. Thirty papers. Is that average? How many have
all of you had to write? Thirty seems a bit much to me somehow. It’s no wonder I’ve
been driven half insane by this institution of higher learning. Yesterday I wrote
a three pager and the day before that I had to write another three pager and
the week before that was the twenty pager, and the week before that… it just
goes on and on.
I am ready to move on.
And that isn’t even to consider the amount of money I will
save on ink and printer paper.
If I’m going to be writing hundreds of pages of text I want
it to be something meaningful.
Today, I slept through art class instead of personality. Like
to play it up, you know. I didn’t even try to hide it. I just put my head down
on the desk and wrote random words when I would wake up for a few seconds. I
took the following notes:
Color is import. Influences of other cultures. Japanese prints
wood blocks gaugain
Van gogh- their own view kont
Use of color, subject ima
And the best part is some word that starts with a large F
and then continues on for about an inch and a half. No idea what that was
supposed to be.
I’d probably take better notes if I were drunk.
Matter of fact, I think I’ll try that next semester. I’d say
tomorrow, but I have the first half of my French exam so I better leave the
clear and boones away.
Okay I’m going to do the psycho gf thing and call Andrew cause
I’m really starving now.
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