It is getting colder. The sky today is grey like winter.
Of all my classes, I am enjoying Religious Studies most. This is due partly to there being no homework as of yet, aside from reading, and also that the content interests me. I spoke about Castenada to the prof after class one day, and she laughed and said that he was a phony who wrote every word from the Carleton Library to make money. I smiled and said I hadn't been as sure. She said that was quite fine, but then she said something strange: Be careful with those books. That I will.
She reminds me of myself in as much as I have done institutional time. Some things she says bring back memories of insanity--not in the content, but in her anecdotes and asides. I have caught myself thinking of how fun it would be to hang out with Matthew once again, and laugh over a beer about how we once drank each other's urine diluted in coffee or water. Pure insanity and synchronicity--not like we toasted over it to our better health. In any case, I have lost that contact, and my chances of return--even visit--dwindle in each sunrise. Good riddance.
Everything else is smoothe, or undergoing a smoothening process. Megan is vacillating still, and I am still sleeping on a chain of five pillows, three of which are from the couch downstairs (the other two having been bought for seven dollars a pair at Dominion)--I have a couch pillow and a pillow proper under my head, an orange blanket from the living room over that on which I lie, and an unzipped sleeping bag as a comforter. I usually wake up stiff with my shoulder on the rug and the zipper marked somewhere uncomfortably. My bed is dated to arrive on the thirtieth. I have a desk, but it is dirty and in the living room with my bedside table, both of which were not promised to me but were left by the previous tenant. I have no chair as of yet, but my mind is set on a kneeler. I need some fabric for a window cover, and I want to plastic all the windows to save on power in the winter.
I fear my roomate is not as responsible with the litter box as he needs to be. I peered in once to find it full of turds. The litter gravel was three inches deep and the bottom inch was wet and smelled of ammonia. I had to hold my breath as I scooped and churned. No wonder there was shit on the bottom stoop, though he and his girlfriend ripped up the urine soaked particle board this weekend. I may try to freshen the litter today. The cat has taken a liking to me, but I still try to push it off so it won't be possesive when Josie comes to town.
It is nearly time to trek home and start typing for class--not for me. Freshies abound. I am hungry.
I am going to make my yummy pasta tonight. I steam/fry sweet potato in with my onions, then mix them into a sauce with oven roasted vegetaballs. Cook the pasta and plate, then cover with sauce, simulated bacon bits, blue cheese, and voila!
soooo hungry. I wasted my time this morning. I only got a tea and three packs of instant oatmeal in me before my one o'clock class. Balls.
I'll eat some granola with grapes and yogurt at home, or a salad.
Look at how much I can write when I am ignoring my work.
moops!
LOVE - Tristan
before || after
