THE FUTURE MAKES ME NERVOUS

i have this class where all we learn about is the sociological impacts of the economic fiasco and it is TERRIFYING. honestly, real world, back up a bit, i need some breathing room.

i've also only got 100 dollars to my name right now. this is the first time this has happened and it is awful. i suppose i am lucky to at least have 100 dollars. but, dayum, it ain't enough to live on.

DID I MENTION I HAVE FINALS?

it is finals and i am wondering if i can trade 30 hours of hard labor
for writing a paper. i like the hard labor better. i've been gardening,
see? and i've been using tools, see? and it's hard work, see? my
muscles have been pulverized.


i've got about five papers to write before next wednesday and i am not pleased. there's really only one i look forward to writing. i foresee all nighters. all nighters are one of my least favorite things!

MY REIGN BEGINS

i am now president of the creative writing club. i'm not sure how i feel about this whole situation. i feel like the last president was a lot better. i don't know how to gauge people's interaction in the club and it seems like it's falling apart, but that could also be because of how it's the end of the year and such.

lovers of the dark side of the world, men and women, prostitution, problems without quick solutions, drinkers holding out an empty cup are all magnetized to me for some reason i cannot see.

today i got god'd out in the student center. "can we ask you a few questions" "sure" "here are a bunch of photographs, select the ones that best answer the question and then explain them." "awright."

oh, you are with the god group on campus. oh good. go ahead, take two hours of my time. fuck you.

and then i never got my phone back. see, i lost my phone in the dining hall and it got picked up by some worker who, instead of taking it to his supervisor, took it HOME. to MARYLAND. where he proceeded to CALL ALL MY FEMALE FRIENDS TO HIT ON THEM. gabby got a call from it and she asked "where's katie?" and he said, "oh, katie stepped out for a minute." WHAT THE FUCK. she ran upstairs to give me the phone and i talked to him and he proceeded to hit on ME. and then made an appointment to meet me and give my phone back. i told him, "fine. meet me at the student information desk." and he didn't show.

so fuck him, i'm going to his supervisor. i'm going to public safety. i'm going to GET THAT PHONE BACK.

dear world, why do you send me the creeps? why do you make my best friends into heroin addicted porn stars? why did you kill her? FUCK YOU, I'M STUDYING FOR MIDTERMS.

!@#$%^&(#@

so there was definitely a time when i could not distinguish any difference between lenny kravitz and slash. and that time was definitely five minutes ago. but intense googleimagesearch studies have ameliorated this! hooray?

i've made up my bio for the literary magazine: "kathryn wants to be the jane goodall of hipsters, the bono of rust belt cities, and the superman of childhood dreams"

i thought it was clever as all hell.

in other news, christina is going to take me to see her mother's medium. i wonder if it will be as frighteningly accurate as all those trips to the palm readers who said, "your friend, she is dead. but she is better now, her life was all pain. i see you surrounded by sick children in your future. open up to love, you need some." which, in rethinking what they said, i am now realizing that the palm reader may have told me to GO GET LAID. oh, palm reader lady, your advice contradicts the advice given to my by the chinatown homeless man! "you a beautiful girl, now i got some advice for ya: if there's a guy interested in you, you make sure he stays around for a long time, got it? SHALOM, BABY."

but palm reader lady: I AM GOING TO THE GAY CLUB TONIGHT. MAYBE I WILL FIND A NICE GAY BOY WHO IS QUESTIONING HIS SEXUALITY. or maybe i'll just dance dance dance.

so i've lost a friend. so it goes.

i met m. ward. well. less "met" and more "made eye contact, asked him to sign my album, etc etc." the show was great. i even overcame my soul-wrecking desire to turn around and deck the people who shout things instead of listening to the songs. he opened with "fuel for fire" and i got all messy and emotional.

the real treat was meeting members of the band. nathan junior and mike coykendall were nice beyond belief. trevor the venue sound tech was also great. i think i've found my favorite venue. i think i'll go to see the mountain goats when they play there.

my poems got into the school's literary magazine. they were also voted-in almost unanimously, i was pretty impressed. i wonder what would happen if i submitted them to a real publication? i do not know. i also do not know too much about real poetry to know when i write something that is good. i have difficulty in taking the role of the "generalized other" when it comes to my own poetry.

i am distracting myself.

i've done it again. i've fucked things up. everything was going great until i opened my mouth, now i get to enjoy the repercussions.

but what is the point of calling her a friend if she doesn't trust me? how can we go back? and what about him? the only advice he's ever given me was "i'm sorry" and a smirk that he wipes away just as i see it.

for the third time in my life, i wish i could unsay something.

of all people, i should know the pain of words. so why did i go and do it?

i just hope that this conflict breeds resolution, even if we need to have a screaming match in the middle of the dining hall about it.