Insomnia

I'm afflicted with the good kind of human condition - it's not that I'm not TIRED, so much as I'm so busy enjoying my time that sleep doesn't fit in my schedule. Next week school should kick my time management-skills in the crotch, but until then I'm gonna spin some Hum and embrace these states of transcendence, exhaustion, euphoria and slight-inebriation.

Life is fuckin' perfect right now in just about every way. I mean, I'm still addicted to cigarettes and am feeling the health effects AND I'm broke as hell. But the essentials are in place, and I'm happier than ever. I wish I could be more specific, but since school isn't in session, I forget almost every reason I'm happy. Yes, a liquor reference, nice catch!

Yeah, so since I don't have anything of any real pertinence to discuss, I'm going to rant. Cause I aim to please. AHEM:

Justin Bieber is like, what, 16? I watched an interview with him. I feel like if I was on a daytime TV show when I was 16, EVEN IF I WAS RICH AND FAMOUS, all I would have to talk about is: sweat, baseball, Pokemon, and how icky girls are. This fuckin' guy is talking, looking, acting, and wearing the clothes of a successful 50 year-old celebrity. I'm the kind of person who can't comdemn anyone without realizing why they are the way they are, so rather than vindicate him, I'm going to extend my sympathy towards him. I'm sorry you never got to roll in mud. I'm sorry you didn't get to fall head over heels for every popular girl just to have them turn you down. I'm sorry you're going to get divorced 6 times before you sink into an alcoholic depression. I'm sorry you never got to have a childhood.

I don't mean to sound pretentious, but I'm really fucking smart. I have a, although somewhat disproportionately large, very handsome and good head supported upon my shoulders (with a distinct, chiseled mandible, might I add). Nonetheless, my brilliance took until around 18-19 to truly accept what life is and my role. There is no conceivable way that Justin Bieber realizes that life is anything but hormonal 14-year-old girls throwing themselves at him and counting his money-stacks. It's a shame. Society should advocate for happiness before money and fame.

Uh, what else. I'm done ranting, but I do have a cool story! So anyone familiar with West Lafayette probably knows that a smattering of middle-aged and unemployed men wander the streets of campus, occasionally asking politely (more politely than the Chicago destitute) for a quarter. So I was TOTALLY on Salisbury about to turn onto State en route home when a homely and unshaven black man waved me down about 10 feet away. I was about to have an opportunity to turn so I gave him a reserved wave (the kind that exercises a double meaning: "Hi, your wave was awkward" and "No, I don't have a quarter"). I missed my opportunity to turn because he slammed into the front side-panel of my car. Then, to my complete surprise, he came up to my window and said "You're listening to Bad Old Days by Tom Paxton, this is my all-time favorite song. God Bless." I was completely taken aback. He doesn't know it, but he brightened my day more than I did his.

God Bless. Well, atheistic equivalent.