It'll be a hot, hot summer in Hell.

Quick update--
The Dark Horse gig didn't work out for Adam. It's for the better, I'm positive, but we can't move into the Camp Crystal Lake apartments. There will be other neat apartments sans cheesy horror references, I'm sure. I finished the El Bravo drink from OTH. It came in a bowl with the longest straw I've ever seen. I sort of thought maybe it was for sharing, but I'm hardcore. It mostly tasted like juice, and was overall disappointing. My resume is working on a job transcribing police interrigations and entering police reports. Dad will probably get his truck repossessed. Mom is selling the house. I'm mostly really tired of my family right now. Hell, I'm tired all of the time anyway, maybe I accidentally sedate myself with one of the fifty pills it feels like I take everyday. Life feels like juggling. I watched Hard Core Logo. I fell asleep, though. I wanted to get an Amy Winehouse CD, but then I just felt ridiculous about it and didn't. A lady at work asked me if I wished I could go back to school, and I never thought about it. I guess if I could get back into Reed College with enough scholarships to have it cost $1000 a semester again, I would. Sometimes I feel like I've blown opportunities, but then I think of all the fun I would have missed. I could have dissected ancient Roman texts, or I could have lived with a crazy Canadian punk rocker and a cat. I could have studied sociological theory and been fluent in Spanish right now, but failing Spanish 110 twice is a character-building activity. There are things more important than traditional benchmarks of personal success, like experiences. You know, "Life is like the surf, give yourself like the sea"? But everytime I get too wrapped up in that glorious thought of thesis writing and studying and neglecting personal hygeine so I can study more, I remember those kids in their designer clothes and their dorm fridges stocked with Smirnoff Ice and I remember all things end for a reason. And damn, what a reason it was. I think I cited social class differences on my withdrawal form. It just seems funny now.