My parents called today and we're going to be going shopping for food on Saturday. That is another important moment of Rockage for me, since my mother would crumble into pieces if she could see what I have left to eat here. Want an inventory? Here we go!
1. 12 Protein Bars
2. A half-sack of pasta.
3. one-third of a loaf of bread.
4. half a bag of cereal.
5. pepper
And you ask how I mantain my girlish figure.
heh, at first I typed "girlfriend". But all it takes to maintain my girlfriend is NOTHING AT ALL, SINCE SHE DOESN'T EXIST.
...
But bitterness is so passe. Actually, the interesting part was that after I had spooned with Taylor, Ye Olde Friend of 16 Years, I realized that I really do miss the intimacy involved with someone else. It's not sexual. It's companionship, and I think that resonates with all people, as natural as breathing and as insistent as a pulse. A lot of folks can wrap themselves up in some sort of shelter, like work, and quiet that part of their life, but it's a firm belief of mine that it never goes away. For me, it was brought back to life by both the previously mentioned spoonage and also by the women o' spring break, who seemed so content with a one-night-stand while I found myself profoundly bothered by that. It helped me realize that I'm mainly a relationship-prone fellow.
Hmm. I think that it's not esoteric to relationships - because I like ANY relationship. I just enjoy meeting people in general. On this campus, people aren't that big into making eye contact. Signs like that make it hard to connect sometimes. That's why friendly people are rad.
There's going to be a discussion soon in light of a recent novel being published that discusses love as a genetic thing. I think you've all read things like "love is a chemical reaction", and I can't express how much I lean away from that sort of thing. To break love down into sections upon sections until all you have are hydrogen and hope seems so primitive and cold. Don't ruin it for me, OK, Mr. Science? I don't want to know the genetic makeup of those crazy butterflies that happen at a first kiss (or second or fifteenth. Whatever). Also, this entry is way too hopeless-romantic-boy-ish. I'm going to "man" this up now.
ARRR! WAR! TANKS! FOOTBALL! BEER! SPRING BREAAAAKKKK!
"Well, I don't believe in love.
Until I'm in love
is it pop psychology or just
chemicals in us?" -The Real Tuesday Weld, "L'morte de amour".
Italians are the most emotionally reckless and wonderful people I've met, though. I miss Italy for a lot of reasons like that. I wrote the most I ever have when I was there, anyway. Looking over this entry, perhaps that's why the world of jobs and other more serious things rubs up against me in such an abrasive sandpaper way. Not to say that I can't get a job, but wouldn't you rather make out for a while? Yeah, that was an invitation.
Off to word and image,
Jared also, Mr. Kriq, congrats on your employment, you sexy, sexy man.