Mood: Gloomy .: Melancholy :.
Listening to: .: Ricardo Arjona – Ella Y El :.
Reading: .: The Count of Monte Christo :.
Watching: .: Fahrenheit 9/11 :.
Sometimes I wish I weren’t so bloody romantic.
I’ve officially moved into Harrisburg. Camp is over, and I’m now completely on my own, living on the scrapings of cash and plugging as much money as possible into student loans.
And I like Harrisburg. I keep finding beautiful things about this city. It has incredible charm, and a very friendly and loving atmosphere to it. A third of it lies in ruins similar to Michael Moore’s home town, a third consists of pleasant townhouses with carefully tended lawns and striking architecture, and the last third is the bustling down town where the two previous are mixed with glass and steel.
It is a beautiful place.
And I keep having to remind myself that I want to see the world. I doubt I will stay at Nativity more than a year, I want to travel. I want to get rid of these blimmin school loans, though. They’re driving me up a wall. I want freedom. Comparatively, I don’t have much. Far less than the average student. But I still have them. And I don’t like them.
And so I’ve been finding all the beautiful nooks and crannies of this city. The independent movie theatre. Classy places to dine. Scenic walking routes filled with fireflies and bridges with lights. Beaches on the water perfect for escaping to.
And here I am, all alone. A bloody hopeless romantic. And now that I’m freshly graduated, I have almost no female contact at all. I must apologize to all you guys out there, but sorry, I don’t get along with guys that well. I just don’t. The typical guy and me don’t have a whole lot in common; and most of the time I either end up wanting to beat them up for being a chauvinist pig, or being bored to tears talking about insignificant stuff. And I sound like something’s wrong with me now when I say I miss girls. I miss their company.
*Sigh*
I’m sure the time will come. It shakes my independence, I guess I just need to get into the scheme of keeping myself occupied.
Pagoda had it’s first practice in a while tonight. It went sloppy, but we did well. I kinda wish it would die, though. Saxton sent everyone an e-mail about hints that he might leave the band. I’m not wishing he would, but I could see how less people would be better for the band. Jeff, I don’t know. Jeff writes music well. But it is hard to work with him for some reason. I’m not sure why.
I don’t know. Sometimes I get discouraged. Lox, Jeff & Mike have such weird playing ideals. Whenever a chord progression is too regular, they seem to throw it out. No one appreciates standard tried-and-true music compositions, the kind of stuff I love. I am convinced that certain progressions and time signatures are pleasing to the ear; and experimenting within those limits is the key to writing good music.
Ah. I’m just frustrated.
I need to fix the headlight on the Wiiskichaan so I can ride around at night.
I wish Tamika would call.