College: what?

"Josh If you come back home from New York sporting a soul patch and carrying a messenger bag, I'll knock you out."
-Alex Harding, a fond farewell.





I go to school wearing a tie on most days.

I'm in college.

I'm just as confused as you.

But sometimes life just catches you off guard. I'm living in New York City, couped up in a mid-town Manhattan apartment and going to school in the Empire State Building, courtesy of The King's College. It's a good life but slightly terrifying at the same time. The realization has been setting in that my attempt to keep up my writing habits through the upkeep of this blog has actually given me a false sense of confidence going into this academic year. Professors, for instance, don't readily warm up to the unrestrained use of incomplete sentences (especially ones placed in textual limbo ex."I'm in college"-see above), run-on sentences, overly pretentious wording (bull sh*t), or overal general drivel, the whole likes of which I'm more than naturally inclined to do, especially within the undescriminatory boundaries of the blogosphere.

...Now I have to proof read.





However, my apprehensions are currently being distracted by a new-found sense of New Yorker pride, most recently exhibited last night in time square as I got to cast the degrading "your a tourist" stare at the hoard of walkers by.

Also, It should be noted that if at some point I were to show up back home sporting a soul patch, it would not be at the exclusion of other facial hair and therefore an intended look of style. Rather, it would be because that is the only facial hair I can actually grow and therefore less toolish.

Time to bust out the tear-jerking Third Eye Blind choruses...

I do apologize for neglecting the blog for the last week or so... for all you avid and disgruntled viewers out there. During the time that transpired, my sister got married (congrats' to Sean and Anna Dixon) and the rest of summer managed to sneak by me in a way that could only be topped if August's time continuum had been possessed by Chris Angel himself. Now I find myself in the midst of my last night in State College, having just finished all my goodbyes, feeling incredibly nostalgic, sad, excited, old, and anxious, with only a spastic light-fixated moth as a source of companionship.

I'm already starting to miss my friends, I'm not entirely excited about having to make new ones, and State College is slowly slipping into being something of the past. Where did the time go? I feel like I'm watching a movie of my life right now, instead of actually living it out. I guess that's what people sometimes call a surreal experience, and the sensation is something hard to grasp. I'm simply praying that I don't completely crash and burn and that God'll have mercy. hasn't failed yet.

On a lighter note:

We at the Shrink's Hour are happy to inform all our readers that production will continue into the college school year, indefinitely. Lord willing, our next broadcast will be from New York City. Until then.

...

Do not go gentle into that good night!

Regardless of the post time listed (i don't think it's accurate), I'm writing this with about thirty minutes until I get off work at the parking garage for the last time. Yes, It's time for good-bye. Summer is coming to an end and now so is my employment. The very job that spawned this blog is now being put to rest and so I couldn't overlook the acknowledgment that was due. I also intend to honor this time with a sense of brevity and tact. No futilely attempted witticisms, no nostalgic anecdotes, no bombastic run-on sentences, no contrived eulogy in an effort to personify the parking garage booth. Nope, just an honorable farewell to an integral and much loved part of this summer. We laughed, we cried, we sang, we sighed, and now I have to enter the real world and probably succumb to a job that requires movement of the body outside a one foot radius.  In the mean time, hit me with your best shot College, I know you're all talk.

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you.

Last night I had a dream that I walked into what I think might have been the Gap, and instantly fell victim to a predatory sales stalker.  Salespeople at stores such as these are trained to greet you and offer assistance upon your entrance.  I understand the rational behind this, and for the average person it probably has positive results, but in my case, it sends me into a self-conscious breakdown.  After immediately saying no thanks and that “I’m just here to browse”, I instantly feel like I’m being watched for the duration of my time inside the store.  I can’t help but feel that every step I take is being anticipated and every item I look at is being judged.  The anxiety builds up to a point that I become too scared to show too much interest in any given item, lest I become the newest potential sale in the store and immediately find myself swarmed by the nearest worker.  This very scenario unfolded in my dream, leading to what became a very Jason Bourne-like, cat-and-mouse sequence in which I found myself running through the store trying to evade the salesmen tracking me down.   This neurotic paranoia usually deters me from doing any shopping other than what my mom brings home or what can be found online.  A social handicap?   Just maybe.

 Further self analysis might reveal that I have comfort abandonment issues.  I have a bubble that I like to maintain and when it gets popped either because it’s been invaded or I try to step out, I usually become mentally unraveled.   Sometimes you’re either in your element or your not.  John Goodman understood that.

 Take our next scene for example.  A simple trip to Wal-Mart.  On one such occasion I needed to restock on some white t-shirts.  Get in, buy the pack of shirts, get out. That simple. False.  I instantly find my self a rookie amongst seasoned veterans, and I know the regulars can smell the fresh meat. This time I’m not just talking about the sales people.  Wal-Mart is the Mecca-like daily destination of just about every mom in the United States.  Who am I to encroach?  There I come, walking through the door, breaking a cold sweat, palms clammy, and a slight nervous twitch.  There are moms carrying three kids in two arms with a fourth riding under the cart, all under the age of 5, who are burning ground past me through the aisles, while I’m walking through the shopping labyrinth like a stunned lab rat, asking the greeter if they sell in house directional maps.  Very quickly I found myself once again out of my element and out the front door.  I become inexplicably anxious when I’m amongst so many people who know what they’re doing.  I think that’s how the universe wants it though.  Those who shop, should shop, and those who are socially inept and suffer crowd induced anxiety, should remain in private and closed quarters unless accompanied by a chaperone.

 

 

 

People I respect... heroes of mine would be, Bob Hope. Umm, Abraham Lincoln definitely. Bono... and probably God would be the fourth one.

The greatest effort to date on combating the war on hunger:

The Taco Bell 99 cent value menu. 

period.

not Oprah, not the Peace Corps, not the adoption efforts of Angelina Jolie, not Brad Pitt by proxy, not the republicans, no the democrats, not topic related Facebook groups, not imported videos with U2 playing in the background, not student activists at school, not that feed children rice game online.

nope.  It all comes down to a few choice pseudo-mexican-american burritos perfectly designed to satisfyingly stimulate the hunger receptors in the brain and then immediately paralyze the digestive system into never wanting to eat again.

"is that a double beefy cheese burrito or the hand of God?"

untitled

State College is small. Small towns mean frequent encounters with vague acquaintances- acquaintances that stir up old memories of high school.....

two cars pull in parking next to each other in the parking lot before school. both drivers end up getting out at the same time. Neither know each other that well but proceed to make quaint small talk. 

me: uh hey what's going on

girl: oh hi...hey what's that? are you making a project for shop class?

me: um, what do you mean?

girl: oh you know, right behind you silly.

me: do you mean my car? 

girl: oh I'm so sorry I thought you were modifying a go-cart or something like that

me: uh....no. It's just a small car. If we all drove around in SUV's yours wouldn't be as special. consider it a favor.

girl: yeah my daddy bought me this for my sweet sixteen. Lindsey Lohan was so driving this model in  a recent People Magazine issue.  I think she was doing lines of coke off the steering wheel before she got pulled over. wow so counter-cultural of her.

me: yeah, Hollywood looks on in complete disgust.

girl: The steering wheel is actually contoured quite nicely to do so if you look at mine. I don't think I would have thought of that, people just don't give her enough credit these days. Plus, heroin chic is so hot right now.

me: ...yeah.... so is that tea you're drinking or-

girl: -no, well this is coffee, I got it from Webster's Bookstore and Cafe, I like refuse to buy from Starbucks anymore.

me: how trendy and cool of you.

girl: yeah they're all "corporate" and stuff like that... I refuse to support them.

me: a quizzical look

girl: oh you know, they like oppress people and farmers, and probably benefit from Bush tax cuts.

me: ...is that a term you heard on CNN?

girl: I think my Dad talked about them one time. Anyways, it sounded like he supported it or them or whatever, so I usually just agree with the opposite point of view.  My parents are like so republican it's not even funny.

me: mmhmmm... "anyways" isn't a word by the way.

girl: huh?

me: well it's just "anyway", no "s" on the end is all. just pointing it out. never mind.

girl: it doesn't matter either way really if you think about it. Society just wants us to use the proper form. We shouldn't let that effect the way we live. maybe using "anyways" is my own form of protest.

me: a regular Rosa Parks, you are.

girl:  I've been listening to The Beatles a lot lately so yeah, pretty independent thinker these days.  Anyways, I just don't support big companies and stuff, they're all corrupt.  We need to bring the power back to the people.

me: your shirt from Abercrombie, stretched out to look like a hippie sweater echos your cries of indignation.

girl: hehe, I have to go to my environmental club meeting before school starts.

me: so does your SUV run off vegetable oil?

girl: no... but the only alternative would be for me to bike to school, and if I bike to school then i get really tired, and when I get tired, I start to sweat, and when I sweat, I break out, and if I break out then I'm no use anyone am I?

me: a sacrificial means to a noble end.

girl: exactly, I really do have to go. Ah where's my phone, omg I need it, where is it!

me: expecting a call?

girl: no, I need have it up to my ear like I'm talking so I don't look like a total loser when I walk across the parking lot by my self.

me: the hardships your life employs- I consider my self blessed.

girl: whatever, I'll just have my daddy buy me a new one tomorrow. Well good luck with your proj...oh I mean have fun driving your car around. um, maybe I'll see you around.

me: (contemplatively pensive)...

                        

 .... I hate my life.