Sleep Junky

Born Slippy
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2001-11-11 06:01:50 (UTC)

oct 26/01

Woke up late today- had class at eleven this morning but
didn't feel like going. I stayed home and read instead.
We're not really learning anything new in class anyway. All
we do is have guest speakers come in and educate us about
Disneyland and theme-park casinos and Happy Piggyland and
shit. Once in a while the lectures are okay though. One of
the first guys who talked to us designed amusement parks in
Asia and seemed really into what he was doing. However, for
the most part the speakers seem a little shady (not to
mention square-ish as hell). I guess I should get used to
enduring the rhetoric of mullet-headed suits, seeing as I'm
probably going to end up as their slave or something one
day. I should take the more noble approach and become a
starving artist instead.
Here I am talking about being brainwashed while
reading "Atlas Shrugged". I figured Ayn Rand could give me
some inspiration even though I'm not totally down with her
Objectivism bullshit. (I'm sure she wouldn't exactly be down
with the things I do either.)
I've actually read "Atlas Shrugged" a couple times
(well, I read the more interesting parts and skimmed
through all the philosophical crap). It's weird- Im not
exactly her greatest fan but for some reason I feel
compelled to read and reread her stuff. Ive probably
read "The Fountainhead" and "Anthem" a gazillion times. For
all I poke fun at her puritanical, right-wing heroes and
self-righteous rambling there's something I admire about
her writing. It makes me feel guilty about being so non-
productive and inspires me to do great and monumental
things. Like wake up early and go to class on time.
After reading I went to school and did some work. What I
did accomplish today was pretty half-assed because my mind
was on other things. Its a little cool when I'm like that
though- I just go on autopilot while daydreaming or
whatever. Then, when I come back to reality I'm surprised
to see what I've done. It only works if the work I'm doing
is mindless and tedious enough to do without thinking.
I should probably call Ian after I finish writing. I
haven't talked to him in a while. Well, actually a day or
two. It scares me how much I miss him, even though we see
each other once a week. I like to imagine I don't need
anyone for anything.


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