Wednesday, March 30, 2005

It's Pronounced "Lau-REN"

Well, it's spring, and you know what that means... Jocks with confused looks on their faces, stumbling down the sidewalk in basketball sneakers, mesh shorts, and sleveless t-shirts (it really isn't a T-shirt, then, is it?) with their cellphone in their ear and a Nike backpack hanging like a box across their shoulders, their other hand not quite falling to their side as the massive, growth-stunting, workout sessions have caused an unnatural muscle grown, which prevents them from putting their arms down.

Beside him you will invariably see the fratboy, wearing his American Eagle Doc-Marten-look-alike shoes, distressed in his best vintage Aeropostale bootcut, lowrise, jeans, and wearing a neon green Hollister polo with the "top" "popped," and offsetting white Hollister polo is underneath, it to has its "top" "popped." A cell phone is wedged precariously between one hand and ear, while the other ear sports a bright white iPod earbud, its sister dangling from the cord where it crosses his chest to the teardrop-shaped bookbag that everyone has, yet is widely impractical. He wears that necklace all italian men seem to own, the silver one that looks like a tennis bracelet, the links somewhat reminiscent of a chain, yet flattened and polished so you can see his sweat-stricken, hairgel-covered forhead. A LIVESTRONG wristband sits on his wrist, not because he knows someone with cancer, perhaps he doesn't even know what the LAF is, and the same blank quizzical stare his neckless friend sports finds a comfortable home on his five-o'clock-shadowed face while he simultaneously shifts from the urban beats of the iPod to the walking steroid, to the "cell" to "holla" at his "dawgs." A car drives by, one with a muffler that could deafen anyone within miles, pimped out with so much ice the owner didn't have enough to finish painting the primer-colored spoiler--designed to keep the tiny toyota on the ground, yet at the same time look "fly." "What up playa'!" he yells to the occupants of the offense-on-wheels, "dude i got so wasted last night" is of course their reply. They converse of bitches, they converse of 'hoes. Suddenly the heart-tremoring thuds from the driver's over-sized woofers are momentarily overcome by the horns of the people behind him, and it is time for him to yell "peace, I'm out bro'."

So pull out your nextel, and two-way your favorite bitch. Where you at dog? The whole city behind us?

You just have to love spring...

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Crappidy Crap Crap Crap

as you walk under once-drenched-pines,
the tiny brown seeds are scattered across grass
constellations.
becareful, they haven't been named.

becareful, to watch your step
as yesterday's torrent
still subsides in mossy green
pools.

becareful, not to disturb
the future stars
of a world drying away.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Stir-crazy

this is a manifesto.
i lied. i don't really know what that means.

i must admit, i do not believe that a resume is what will ultimately win me a career instead of a job. i see fallacy written all over it, and fear the day i put together my own, it will have nothing on it.

i wish i could be openly funny about everything, and just have people understand that humor is more important than any other single idea in human history.

i want to write for the daily show one day.
you all know that jon stewart is our generation's johnny carson.
if you don't, you're kidding yourself, and making carson into something he isn't:
a god.
yes, he was hilarious, but still.

i hate those people, when you try and reason with them their side of the argument just doesn't hold up.

i hate those people who think they have the slightest clue about ANYTHING, when really none of us do.

i hate people. in general. men in black may be a stupid movie, but it taught me one thing.
a person is smart, people are dumb, slow, and insane.
yeah i kind of made up the second part of that, but fuck you.

since when do people like the woman who writes the shopaholic series have financial security, when they write CRAP.

since when do you care?

i'm tiring of this game.
i don't know what the FUCK i'm going to do about scheduling next semester
and yes, loretta, there is more that you can do.
you just don't WANT TO.
and no, loretta, coming to you the moment i get my grade from my SUMMER COURSE, in AUGUST, is not an acceptable answer to "what should i do, i'm not in the department, but the only courses i have to take are in the department, and they only have one section"

basically, unless they let me in under some special whatever, i'm fucked.

i hate my art of the film book, it was written by monkeys who had somehow attained degrees from universities.
the one guy's dead.

i think it's time to update your material when you say that babe was a "film for children of all ages"

it's a textbook, not a god damn advertisement.

i don't know what i want, but a feeling of depression sort of wafted over me.
graduation is so close, and i have no clue as to where i'm going to go afterwards.
i say this a lot, but it's on my mind three times as much as i let on.

i wouldn't mind making movies.
i wouldn't mind screen writing, or directing. but i don't know the first thing about directing.
screen writing it is then.
woo.

i also wouldn't mind working for the parks department or the forestry service.
i've said this often as well, but it really is true.

i don't know what i want out of life, other than to be happy.
but apparently, to be happy, you have to have a 401k, a credit line, a lease on a car, and bills to pay.

i just want to live, really that's all. i want to see the world, and live.

maybe it's because it's cold today, instead of insanely warm like the past two days.
maybe it's because i have an exam, a quiz, a rought draft, a topic, a presentation, a research proposal, an article, a paper, and text questions due this week.

maybe it's because i have to go to the launguage lab and do my spanish lab book for the exam on monday.
'cause i sure as hell did NOT do it for the first test.
maybe all i want is to be appreciated, to be noticed, by the world.

maybe that's why i dress like i do, and wear cologne. i like it when people compliment me, i really do. i just don't know how to show it.
sorry.

i'm going to california april 8.
between now and then i have everything i had mentioned about four paragraphs up, plus rent, the cable bill, my sony bill, ebay is charging me, and whoopty-do.

the concept of money is fucked up.

i'd love to live in british colombia. or seattle.
i love the rain.
if it rained every day, i think i'd be O.K. with that.

i really wish we were going to san fransisco instead of los angeles.
i liked the boston trip last year, because it was boston, there weren't any "amusement parks" that they could make us go to.
i don't really like roller coasters.
i liked the city.
and i've always wanted to see san fransisco.

oh well.
there's always...... rod-e-o drive.
someone needs to tell them it's just rodeo.

i have all this shit hitting me at once.
i have to go talk to my advisor, but she won't know what the hell to do, since she's in the chemistry department.
i have to find someone in the comm/journ department to talk to.

i want to go to nyc this summer, again.
the three hour train ride was suprisingly fun.
i want to go to washington d.c. and see all the marble and concrete.
i want to see the district sleeping alone.

i want to this
i want to that.

all i'm doing is providing an annoying pattern to look at.

i want to go to different countries over fall, winter, and spring breaks next year.
i owe it to myself, at least spring break. i haven't done anything for that one these past three years.

i want.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

'I'm Saint Ignatious!'

--listen to me bitch.

so YET ANOTHER THING that bothers me -- and you'll find all of these have to do with people using arbitrary and archaic systems, and applying them to work.

today's topic: AP Style. as a journalist (or rather, journalism student), i have become quite acquainted with AP style over the past semester and a half. there's something to be said for tradition, and mass opinion.

but there's something entirely different to be said about objectivism. in the AP styleguide, right after the entry for Numerals (i use this one a lot, you see), there is an entry entitled

Nuremburg.

this entry states that a journalist using AP style should stick to spelling the city (which is in Germany, by the way) Nuremburg, to "keep with widespread practice."

wanna know the city's actual name? Nuernburg. i think, i don't know, if i had the AP styleguide with me, i could tell you. i'll probably update this later and put in for sure how it's spelled.

to keep with widespread practice, call the city by a different name.
brilliant!

this isn't my only issue with AP style, only to most blatantly subjective one.

(some of the others include U.S. as an accepted acronym for the United States of America, as Brazil also happens to be the United States of Brazil. Acronyms are a major flaw of the AP style, in my opinion, and really need to be re-vamped.

(how do you vamp something in the first place?))

this is the same problem with mumbai, sri lanka, beijing, and a bunch of other cities in china.
for you see, when the british deemed the world their sandbox, they just sort of named things phonetically. mumbai was bombay, sri lanka, well, that was ceylon, beijing was peking, and i know there are others, i just can't think of any right now. go look at a map of china, half the cities have parenthesis with the "britainese" name under the actual name.

i really just think that if you attempt to be objective, be freaking objective. don't go half-way with it.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Get Out My Tip Calculator...

so here's something else that's arbitrary, archaic, and just plain dumb.

every book printed today has something called an ISBN. don't ask me what it stands for, that's what wikipedia's for. some books don't have an ISBN, they have some other acronym that means the same thing.

anyway... so all books printed have a number specific to the author, title, publishing company, publishing place, publishing year, even edition (1st, 2nd printing, paperback, trade, etc.)

therefore, why on god's great green ball of dirt do i have to dig out my trusty MLA style handbook at the end of every paper i write, and leaf through it to find the appropriate format for documenting a cited source???

i should just have to put the author's name, the title of the book, and then a 10 digit number. you really don't need either the author's name or title, but parenthetical citation would make for quite a headache if all it consisted of was numbers...

i really don't understand this, why don't MLA and APA take advantage of the book publishers' own system of cataloguing? it jusy doesn't MAKE SENSE.

you know, it'll just be called the brendan style of citation.

another great idea more companies should capitalize on: speedpass. it makes people buy more, too. trust me, i've seen it happen. when you aren't digging out that wallet, money is literally something intangeable, it isn't real.
it's also incredibly convenient. just don't lose your keys...
i suppose the same thing goes for that discover card that fits on keyrings, though.

you know what, altogether do away with form of identification. do you know how cheap biometric sensors are? especially the kind that just reads fingerprints. for heaven's sake, if you have a PDA you can read fingerprints. speeding ticket? state trooper comes to your door with a palm pilot, and asks for your finger. no paper, no plastic, no worries. left your giant club card in the car? biometric fingerprint scanner has your fingerprints on file, automatically deducts savings when you pay... WITH YOUR FINGERPRINT. no more credit card numbers, no more security questions, no more "verification numbers," biometric fingerprint readers even come on one model of sony's USB memory drives.

three years ago, men's wearhouse outfitted all their stores with biometric fingerprint readers at the registers, so all the employees would have to do was touch the pad to clock in/out and sign in/out of the register. lexus, last year, introduced a car with biometric sensors on door handles and trunk, allowing quite literally keyless entry (unlike "keyless" entry, which requires the remote).

come on people, how long will you sit and wait before realising that fingerprint and barcode readers are the way to go??? how long?????

this is why PDAs are so cool...

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Broad-sword

you know, it's movies like the siege that make you wonder how in the world america could let all the recent POW-mistreatment occur.

i really can't say anything other than watch the movie.

"...an american citizen"

Barbeque Sauce

DON'T PANIC.

alan rickman IS the voice of marvin the paranoid android. sam rockwell IS the perfect zaphod beeblebrox. the movie IS releasing a week EARLIER than anticipated.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Roget-asaurus

you know, as i sit here and look out my window, it isn't hard to imagine i'm at the top of the world.
no, NOT looking down on creation. cher, i will kill you.

you can see a four-wheeler out on the ice, where the lake was there is an immense field of white
it's twilight, and the smoke from our woodstove's chimney is stretching itself lazily across the horizon created by the window frame.
and out in the distance you can just make out the soft irridescence of the orange sulphur dioxide lights that plague the beaches around lake wallenpaupack, cut back because no one lives here in the winter.

it wasn't a cold day, per say.
there have been cold days, at shippensburg.
those days where you exhale and your breath pours from your mouth, sauntering slowly around your head before ascending and expanding, until the dense acute opaque orb has diminished to nothing but obtuse thoughts and soggy memories, of frostbite and swelled fingers
from the cold.

but today wasn't like that
not that stepped outside for more than five minutes, but still.
it did snow, somewhat.
no where near what they promised, however.
perhaps overnight.

i wonder if it will ever be snowy in shippensburg.
probably not this year. maybe not even next year, with the patterns of the weather thusfar.
i cant still hope though.
it's odd, it should be getting minutely warmer now, yet all it does is snow.
it's spring break, and it was advented with two days of cancelled evening classes and a two-hour delay.

mmm, pizza.

as it grows darker those faint orange lights strengthen, and lengthen
and suddenly there are orange streaks to replace the receding light, combatitive to the darkening twilight alone.
the high contrast of white frozen lake, dark blue surrounding hills, and light purpl-ish cloud cover makes for an interesting backlay

and the trees have drawn themselves over it, creating black scorch-lines, branching off as if a web
and obscuring the view, but adding to it all the same.

winter

Thursday, March 10, 2005

P.s. F.O.

so the newest rumour flying around is that the wallenpaupack area school district is changing it's colours and mascot.
this is straight from my little brother's mouth.
lee tells us that they will be changing colours from purple and white to black and yellow, and mascots from the buckhorn to the raven.

i don't know if i believe him, or believe whoever told him about it.
but i am very disappointed in wasd.

who else could say that they were the buckhorns?
who else had purple and white as their school colours?
black has to be one of the over-used school colours in existence, and i can't imagine yellow is any better.

why are they doing this?
perhaps it is along the lines of warner brothers' recent decision to defile their looney tunes with piles and piles of excrement.

either way, i can't fully express my disappointment in the school board, or whoever's decision this was, i'll probably be a dork and start a petition (if this turns out to be true).

ravens. psh. fuck you, wallenpaupack area

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

The Chipmunk Doctor

so hey do you want to hear the story of chipmunk drive?

apparently, some woman who lived here felt like putting a sign up at the end of the road, and she (for no good reason) wanted to name the road "chipmunk drive"

also, apparently, the people who named the road eventually were lazy, and didn't want to have to change the name.

damn you, woman.

i tell people i live on simon's point.
you're dead to me, chipmunk drive. DEAD.

i hate my address.
it's highway contract one. for those of you who don't know, it's like Rural Route #.
so when i order things online, they call me and say "we can't ship to PO boxes."
oh, i'm sorry, it isn't a PO box. i live in the sticks.
"so, UPS and FedEx go there?"
"what did i just say?"

i wish everything were more analytical. my address should be something like
77 simon's point s507
we're lot no. 77 on simon's point, on the south-side of 507 (the road you drive on that chipmunk drive connects onto is south-bound)

but no one listens to me.

in fact, if you mailed a letter to that address, it'll probably get here.
you know, there are only eight of us living in tafton, and we're all on a first-name basis.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Rebuttal:

it snowed today. a lot. it's still snowing.
i'm happy.

there really isn't much to do around the house i spent so many years in, i've sort of exhausted the building itself as a means of entertainment.
let me rephrase that, there isn't much i want to do around this house.

i could go play in the snow.
like a little kid.

it's so very cliche, but everyone really secretly wishes they could go back in time and be themselves, but know everything they know now. i could be a stoic, pompous little elementary-schooler, and know perfectly well what i was doing.
i could make millions.
like i said, cliche.
so cliche, there's a spielberg movie about it.
that's when you know it's cliche.

oh well.
so as i sit here in the hallway, i can see in my parents' room.
it's nice, the window shades are pulled down, but there's that glow of white creeping out behind them.
it's like i remember it.
i swear one day i'll write a memoir.

it's that sort of natural thing that we have tried so many times to recreate with fluorescence behind material, yet never looks quite the same.
and it's still snowing.

remember when you were little and you would stare at things until it seemed like they would come alive?
like walls and chairs. and then you would move your eyes and realise it wasn't moving, you were just staring at it for a while.
this was about the same time you would press on your eyelids and see stars and weird designs.
it was probably bad for your eyes, but fun to do when you were bored in class.
until the teacher called on you and the stars wouldn't go away for a bit, so you couldn't really see anything.

i dropped my mom off at the doctor's office this morning, she let me take the car (actually, it's because i needed to go to the post office to mail my broken digital camera all the way to texas).
and i dropped her off and watched her walk to the building, (she was going right from there to work, since it's like a block down the street).
she had her hood up and was walking through the snow, i don't know.
i owe my parents so much.
maybe it's all the childhood cartoons where clark kent sends practically all of his paycheck back to ma and pa in hicksville.
maybe it's society telling me i should be looking out for everyone.
but i do owe them a great deal.

more than i care to let on.

look, i'm sorry i upset you, i didn't mean to. i also didn't mean to insinuate anything false or bad about you, but even if i did i have the suspicion that no one would believe it. you don't give yourself enough credit, and people know who you are, and wouldn't believe anything bad i said about you.
but i am truly sorry, why would i ever want to cause you any pain when you've been so damn nice to me the past half a year (and before that, i suppose).
i don't deserve most of what we do together, but now i'm getting all mushy.

i applied for a job at borders today.
i'm applying for a job at tobyhanna sometime this week.
i just really don't want to go back to being a gas station clerk.
the pay was good, but it sucked.

i always get really great ideas for short stories, but i can never follow through on them.
i just hit a dead end.
i think it's because i have no idea where the story should GO.
i ave beginnings, but no endings, therefore i can't make middles.
go-fricking-figure.


let's forget, and play in the snow.
i can make an angel
look just like you, imprinted on a hillside
it'll even have a handprint on it,
and shoe scuffles starting just outside.
but right there there's an
accurate representation
of a foolish realisation
of you to me.
and when i fall i'll stay down
breathing out hard, melting
the snow beneath my face,
and leaving yet another temporary signature
for whoever may look out from a tree
top. we'll slide down the hills
and laugh and cry and fear.
and it'll be just as i remember it
to be, a white wintry mix
of child-dreams and hot cocoa.

i'll make a fort and hide from you,
and walk across the mile-wide lake.
on my own two feet,
to camp on the island in my best
frozen impression
of huckleberry finn.

so let's go play.

fin.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Don't Read This, It isn't Good in Any Way

so i think i've really started to get into photography.
it's always been a hidden passion of mine, but for the longest time the only camera i had was a minolta. or something. then i found my grandpa gene's olympus 35rc.
then it died.

when i got my digital camera, i started to get into it. but ever since i bought the n65 i've been really into it.

i just spent the last two days searching ebay for lenses and filters and camera bags.
too bad i'm poor.
no, i mean dirt poor.
hey, isn't that what college is about?

i found a USD469.00 lens that i ne(want)ed for USD99.00.
that's insane.
it's too bad i'm poor, you can't pass up a deal like that.
maybe i can talk my mom into buying it for me.
probably not.

ever notice when you're driving around lake wallenpaupack in the winter, ice sculptures pop up everywhere?
that would be thanks to mark crouthamel.
there's an ice throne at tanglwood, a couple of ice bear things beside it,
and something at the country store.

yes, that's right, there's a country store up here.
woo.

i slept in past ten a.m. today.
i haven't done that in at least a year.
O.K., maybe nine months.

i think that if i had the opportunity and photographic equipment in middle school, i probably would have pursued a career in it.
but right now, it's too late to change my mind.
i'm sort of stuck with journalism and english.
not that i don't like them, i do, trust me.

but photojournalism, or being like a magazine photographer,
shit that'd kick ass.
you wouldn't have to worry about ap style or passive and agressive voice
you'd just have to take pictures of shit.

c'est la vie.

but i really think i'd be good as a photographer.
i just need to learn how to set aperture and shutter speeds.

told you this wasn't good.
in anyway.

i find the more i go to church the less i like the people who always sit right behind me.
it's an old man and a woman.
they gossip
during the service.
i hate them.

i find one of the better insults to use is "you know, you're the reason abortion should be legal"
but i would probably burst into flames or something if i had said it.

which brings me to a HUGE issue.
so O.K. there's this girl in the service, and apart from wearing jeans and a hoodie to church in the first place, the hoodie had on it something prolife-y.
something like

"14 bazillion babies die EACH SECOND
abortion must stop
rock for life"

bullshit. i love it how the U.S. is taking an international pro-life stance, especially in the case of china.
yes, the chinese have a problem with identifying the foetus' gender and aborting it if it's a female.
but that's only because their society holds males in a higher stance than females, it's a tradition and part of their culture.
also, it's because there's just so damn many chinese having sex and making babies, that a "one child per family" rule is smiled upon, though not mandated.
big deal.

i also love it how now conservatives are trying to overturn roe v. wade.
almost half a century after that monumental stepping stone for women's rights, and they're already trying to overturn it.
now i'm not going to make any asanine metaphors and parallels like "what's next, only men can vote"
i'm just saying, there is one MASSIVE difference between the two "opposite" stances of pro-life and pro-choice.

and it's that six-letter word right there (^). C H O I C E .
no one understands that. it isn't pro-abortion. it's called pro-CHOICE.
as in, YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE FOR YOURSELF.
i strongly believe in ultimate freedom, i'm very liberal, and dammit, i think that if someone wants to abort their baby, then let them freaking abort it.
do you have a problem with it, pro-life people? i don't see any of you lining up at adoption clinics, or standing outside delivery-wards with adoption papers, ready to sign over any baby a mother doesn't want.

it annoys me IMMENSELY that we can be so blind.
i cannot express through the vast perfection that is the english language my distaste for intolerance. of any kind.
why is there even a marriage issue? it is NOT YOUR RIGHT to tell people who they can marry, nor is it your RIGHT to tell them what they should think, wear, eat, or say.
how is any of that different than the issues of today??

honestly, i want to know where this notion that everyone has to do what YOU THINK IS RIGHT came into play.
who gave you the right to tell anyone they can't marry who they please?
who gave you the right to tell someone walking down the street that they're going to hell for having an abortion?
god?
bull shit.
you aren't special, i'm sorry to disillusion you, but you aren't.
you aren't on a mission from god, and you certainly do not speak for anyone but yourself.
why can't we all just let everyone BE.

but i generally don't comment on things like this, partly because it gets me so angry to type it out, but partly because i don't have the right to tell anyone they're doing something wrong, they have to learn that for themselves. also, i am very condescending but don't mean to be. lauren petrillo has banned me from speaking with her on any political issues.

so please, don't read this. it isn't good. not in anyway, it is the first qualified "RANT," and will probably be the last.
i hate doing this, and i hate disagreeing.

so hope your eyes aren't too blurry, and hope you don't see this, because that means you re-read it.

i see my red door and i want it painted black

but in anycase, don't listen to me, i don't know what i'm talking about.
i just want us all to get along.

except ann coulter, i don't like her.

free tibet.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

And What's with Those Airline Peanuts?

so i was walking down to CVS in ship two days ago, to buy film.
(i had just received my nikon in the mail).
as i passed advanced auto parts, i spotted a jeep grand cherokee in the parking lot. it was parked with the hatch facing me, and on the rear windshield was a sticker reading
"hondas are like tampons
every pussy needs one"

bravo, you've come up with a clever analogy.
there's only one problem: you put it on your jeep grand cherokee.
it isn't like you're saying "my car is badass" because you're driving a jeep cherokee
and this is before they redesigned the jeep body, into what matt hughes drives now.

as i was walking back, i passed another car, this one in the parking lot of the first church of christ annex on the corner of prince and king.

the car had a front license plate that read
"IF YOU TOUCH MY
CAR
I'LL BREAK YOUR
FINGERS"

it was carriage-returned just like that.

the only problem was, it was a chevrolet corsica.
and it had a flat tire.
=

today, i was driving my mom's passat and ran over a pot hole in the wyoming valley mall.
a flat tire insued.
but it's O.K., i fixed it. luckily volkswagon, in all their brilliance and wisdom, includes full sized spares in all their cars. bravo. unluckily, they expect you to drive the vw around a barrio, and have included a theft-deterrent in the form of a specially-shaped lug nut that the tire-iron doesn't fit.

it took me five whole minutes to find the included "adapter"

also, one of our cats died.
s'ok, we have two more.

finally, if you want to see the definition of "icicle" visit me, on the house next to us they go from the edge of the roof to the ground.

wish i didn't break my digital camera, i could take a picture and show you.

oh well.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Chemical Smells

waking up every morning your freshman year at college in a new environment, surrounded by strange people,
waking up every morning, and trudging your way to franklin science center has an affect on a person.

you get to missing the chemical smells, the dilapidated yellow cabinets, the wood panelling. expensive texts and lab coats, goggles and ti-83+'s.
you move away, recenter your universe. no more copernicus, heliocentrism was so last millenium.
no more colorful, laminated periodic table. no more three ring binder or composition book to keep lab notes in.
you miss it.

i miss it.

it's like a collegiate security blanket. whenever i find myself dwelling too much on the less than three semesters i have left here, i come up to the third floor of franklin. and i walk around.

the gentle hum of the exhaust fans has been replaced with a roar. but that's probably because i don't spend every morning here anymore.
maybe it was just how i would always wake up here that ties me to it so much.

i had lab from 8 a.m. to 11:30 a.m., so i would get out of bed, put PJ's on, and stumble to the third floor. i would wake up here.

it's like when you're travelling and you wake up in a strange hotel room and you momentarily forget where you are or how you got there. but then you wake up, and once you sleep there again, it's almost comforting. familiarity in the face of so much difference.

it smells like green grass, sandals, oakleys, and i can hear cake playing in the background. that's what i remember from freshman year, that's what stands out so much. spring. a puma jacket.

waking up and being greeted by the treeline on the far corner of the fifth floor of the south wing of mclean hall. and franklin is irrevocably tied to those memories, like splicing a rope.

now, all i visit is dauphin. i have one class in heiges, but other than that it's dauphin.
such is life.

it'll always be my security blanket, though. franklin. those pale cream walls, pockmarked at intervals with heavy wooen doors, black number plates bisecting them, adorned with fading white numerals, sinking back into their black backgrounds. and twin never-ending stripes of glistening black rubber floor runner, chasing doggedly the continuous contours of the square crisp corridors.

the wax on the floor, faintly reflecting fluorescent overhead lighting, catches the shadowy ghost of a trespasser, in my private little world i have. he lankily saunters across the tiling, towards a bright red EXIT sign at the apogee of my mind's eye.