Waiting for God, oh...

Ten dollar hoodie from Rue21. Black Friday was good to me.

So I'm writing this on my study break. Exam Period is a week away and I'm sort of shaky in a couple of places.

After having done no work in class in Modern Drama this whole Semester (not my fault but Norma Kroll's), we're still going to have a final exam. I only read half of the texts and now I'm expected to remember a quote from each of them? Needle. Haystack. Fudge.

So the entire class tried to convince her how tough it would be to write responses to six plays even though it was her fault we never went over them in class. I love her but I sometimes wish she knew what was going on half any of the time. So after about half an hour of trying to reason with her, she talks to us about her chemotherapy and all the sicknessness she's had and still does have and ends with "and you guys are complaining about 6 small quotes from 6 small texts?".

You can't argue with the chemo card. I just don't get how it's relevant.

Waiting for Godot's not turning out so bad. After experiencing Samuel Beckett's most absurd short plays live a couple of weeks back (produced by someone from PC's production class), I didn't think I'd be able to wrap my head around it. I think it's safe to say that I'll be able to understand this a little more than three people in trash cans speaking fast (which was amazing by the way).

The Way of a Pilgrim, however, is a piece of crap covered in scum. It's about an anonymous poor Russian (he had to be Russian) who walks around praying 30,000 times a day. I appreciate it's theological value and I get the fact that it's trying to portray or define devotion and the like, but it's repetitive, obsessive, tedious and retarded. I can't believe that out of all the texts we were given for this semester's Development of Western Civilization, this is the one I'm reading. Not Nathan the Wise, not Gulliver's Travels, not even TPaine's Common Sense. I'm reading this. And I'm bored. Which is probably the reason why I'm blogging right now. Because I'm dreading continuing it. It's worse than if Paris Hilton wrote a book on Lebanese (read that correctly) Philosophy. Damn this book to hell.

Black Friday was amazing. Never in my life had I waited for clothing stores to open. I was kinda surprised that my dad decided to take the whole family to Wrentham Villages (it's like an outlet village thing with MAD stores) at midnight to shop. Now, though, I'm poor. I'll take pictures of my fancy clothes when I'm super-bored in the Winter.

This thanksgiving break was pretty snazz. My buddy Jennifer, from Maine, came down as she wasn't exactly heading to California just for 4 days. Turkey was plentiful, shopping was had, and I finally was able to watch The Siterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. How perfect is that?

Also, this is the worst movie I've seen this year. It wasn't terrible, it just didn't end...good. Basically, The Visitor is about an old Professor who was bored and started playing African drums in his underwear with a Middle-Eastern guy who gets deported. The movie ends shortly after. Don't watch it. Ever.




I'll write a proper blog soon once I finish with my finals.

Procrastination procrastination procrastination procrastination.

The bane of my freakin' existence.

-Jayo

Below: Sigur Ros singing Gobbledigook...with Bjork. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. Hilarious/awesome.

Jayofiction: An interactive story. Part One

I feel like if I continued to write about my day, I would end up being extremely repetitive. I'm sitting in my school's newly refurbished library (and I'd have to say that it's looking pretty nifty) and, since I still can't be bothered reading, I think I'll write. Well, kind of. I want to try something new (and by new, I mean, an old idea that I'm stealing and reviving). Please, I beg of you, participate. I hope this goes well.

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My evening begins in the most likely and ordinary spot possible: at my desk, by the window, overlooking the city. I stare at the streetlights and it stares back obligingly. The city is calm. There are no cars. Everyone who has a home is putting it to use, thus presenting the opportunity for the homeless to collect materials to build their dream homes.

My thoughts meander deeply through twisted thoughts; of deaths and gang violence, of what other people happen to be watching at this time of night and, as usual, of what exactly air particles are doing at the time that could cause my window to freeze…and then melt…and then cry...and then swallow my body. My thoughts continue to twist reality, growing increasingly absurd while my head tilts slowly downward and my eyelids grow heavy.

It is only when my head falls suddenly, onto the hardwood table, to an enormous, floppy thud, that I decide to drag myself to bed.

The room is hazy, almost misty, and I feel the cold scratching at my exposed arms and legs as I move about it. The walk to my bed seems endless and, my feet feel irrational moisture on the supposedly dry carpet.

My bed, however, is unfriendly and disarranged. Several books seek to deny me comfort. The blankets, cold and rough, are unreasonably placed and surprisingly heavy. The pillows seemed to have frozen themselves solid at the news of my coming. My bed is clearly punishing my less frequent visits.

Refusing to give in to the terrorist demands of my own bed, I casually push everything aside and settle for a thinly constructed, ill-fitting blanket that I feel is one wash cycle short of disintegrating. I numb myself to the discomfort of the bed. Comfort becomes irrelevant as I decide to let my body do what it desperately needs to do. My eyelids lock into place and fatigue prevents any bodily movements aside from the steady, tide-like motions of my breathing.

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Now comes the fun part!!!


What happens next?

a) My phone rings and the person on the other side is a long lost someone concerning something of extreme importance. For those interested, the phone concerned is a Nokia 5300 and the volume was set to 3. The ring-tone was Rick Astley's rendition of Silent Night (techno remix).

b) Magic happens in the place where the magic happens. Naturally. We’re all adults here. Trust me though; this is clearly NOT what you think it is.

c) A natural disaster leading to an exciting turn of unbelievable events that is sure to get your heart racing faster than that time you asked that girl/guy out to the prom only to find that you, a student, were not allowed to date senior faculty. Boohoo.

d) Death –with a philosophical twist.

e) I fall asleep and wake up in the morning to the smell of blueberry pancakes and low-sodium turkey bacon.

f) Mystery Dream Sequence. WOoOoOooOO.


This whole thing WILL NOT WORK unless people vote for desired continuation of the story (in the comment section of this post). If this fails, I WILL STOP BLOGGING FOREVER. Not really. But I will lose self-esteem and it will take ages until I’m able to buy new ones. Feel free to vote anonymously so that I you don't feel like it'd be awkward or anything.