I feel rebellious. I’m having tea…with maple syrup, instead of my usual honey. My eyes are nearly glazed over from the foggy cloud lingering behind my eye balls. My fingers run across the laptop keyboard on autopilot. I should be in bed. I am sick…and I have class in the morning.
If I feel well enough, I’ll be sure to wear my vampire lipstick: blood red or vampy brown. I’ll probably put on my Frankenstein shoes (aka T.U.K. Creepers), and strut down the street with my eyes darting back and forth. I’ll be wrapped up in my warmest layers to ensure that the cold does not sting my delicate fingers and bones. My backpack will be lugged over my shoulders, carrying worlds of knowledge and credit cards. My car and house keys will jingle jangle at the sides of my hips, holding on to dear life by their key chain rings.
I’ll make it to class irritable from cold and sickness, but ready to learn. I’ll sit quietly and listen, taking in lectures on anthropological theory, while trying to ignore the guy sitting next to me who has a bad habit of rocking and forth in his plastic seat. Then, I’ll meet up with a classmate, have lunch, go to another class; and it’ll all be done.
I’ll go home, and prepare for torturous weekend homework. But it’s for the good of me and the good of society. After all, I’ll be contributing something to society in the future: my consumerism, taxable income, and array of knowledge I hope to obtain over my academic career. Yes. I am here for you. I will teach love, peace, and understanding.
It’s cold. I have a three hour class coming up at 1:30 pm and all I’ve had is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You know, I recently wrote a short story for children and the main character ate nothing but pb&j’s for her school lunch. PB&J’s suck, but what’s worse is not being able to afford a nice, hot meal. Oh well, I guess I deserved a sappy sandwich for this sappy, boring post.
But I’m trying to get my hands and mind moving together again. After all, I haven’t posted on here in nearly 3 years! Anyone who is a writer knows how difficult it can be to get back into the groove of things. I promise, things will get better, for me and for you. I’m sitting here at UC Merced, in a dark corner, typing this very rapidly and charging my phone. That’s why I’m in a dark corner. There’s a plug here.
Anyway, I guess I will let you go. My Doc Martens are tight on my feet, and I need to find a mirror to reapply this red, cheap lipstick. Now, to spend three hours studying Native American artifacts and composing a compelling ten page essay on what I think a pile of rocks can mean (the technical term is debitage).
It might please you to know that I’m the only one in my class with a child, a nose ring, big round spectacles, and sometimes I revert to speaking in ebonics. I’m odd, but I like it that way. I hope you do too. I hope we can be friends someday. I don’t mind if you read this and laugh at me. I’m here for your entertainment, but in the process, I hope that at some point during this journey I can help make this world a better place.
Stockton’s Day of the Dead
This is another article. It’s quite short, but sometimes less is more.
Here is my last article printed in my college newspaper. Enjoy! It’s educational.