getting there.

this is tupac.

so I woke up today to find mo' money dead. :(

so not even twelve hours after receiving my new snake in the mail, I found the other halfway in the bathroom door. I now have two snakes. andy, a friend of mine, didn't know that I had received the other snake. he said, "wow, I thought that rock in the tank was a snake for a minute."

it was the snake.

I got housing at BU at the Hyatt Regency in Cambridge, and my snake is somewhere in my room and has been for the past week.

I got a snake
his name is hugo
(boss, not chavez)
(pics sometime or another)

so
I went to go feed him
I had a box and my pliers to hold the mouse
and
I look inside
no mouse
I dig around
no mouse
I lift up hugo's coconut
no mouse
 but a fat snake

I drive to and from work too much and I go many places I shouldn't and I don't give out my phone number (unless I like you) and yeah, it's back

the funniest thing
I have this sequin halter top
that's bright fucking gold
and it covers my boobs but it has a low low back
so my entire chest is just sequins up to my neck, with a gold tie around my neck
and
I'm marching in 100-degree weather
through the boston common
with a giant bouquet of roses in one hand
my bag on my arm, sweaty
and a cigarette in the other
puffing angrily
walking half a mile to the art school
to give the flowers to my old professor

I've been accepted to Boston University into the College of Fine Arts.

my life has been pretty normal. i'm extraordinary and extraordinarily single, and i i don't really know what to do with myself when i'm not working or with people, but i guess that's pretty normal also.

yesterday, i met kevin in boston at around 7:30 and he and his friends had the intention of shopping; unfortunately, boston's stores close around nine and we ended up just eating veggie pizza in the boston garden, meeting ray and his friend and just being teenagers. i don't like being a teenager, but it was refreshing for maybe three or four minutes.

it was a nice day, I think, although it lasted 'til 5 AM.

kevvie is the best. <3

me and my ladies from 209 went to a farewell-for-now dinner together.

me and my dad shared a nice day of moving out the remains of what used to be my dormitory.

me and my professors talked about art and sophisticated life views.

me and my body completed our freshman year of college.

so there's this professor who's won a million awards for his art of whom I am particularly terrified having not had him at all either semester here. well, ilona (my painting professor) calls me over about my self portrait that I had recently completed, and she said he likes it very much. he also noted that everyone admires it, and that it's certainly not freshman-level work. I expressed my excitement because I never thought he liked me or my work at all, and he said that he'd recommend I go into fine arts seeing that and some other things, but he'd feel guilty due to the money aspect of it. we talked for a bit about how I'm naturally talented and how I've learned a lot and then I went on to paint something else. he's not so scary after all!

today, ray helped me bring back some stuff from my dorm. after, we went to the passover seder at my bubbie's house. after that, we followed linda the cop's mother home. after that, we tried to find our way home. and after that, but before burger king, we got pulled over for looking like we'd been drinking, but we got out of it. and after that, we came back to my house. happy pesach.

my life right now isn't remarkable enough to write about, despite the fact that I have two internships, a third job, and some badass artwork.

when I had nothing else to do in the library or something, I'd sit down and write my name plus my then-current crush's last name and decorate it with swirls and roses and make it especially fancy. I'd also contemplate various hyphenated names. despite all of this, I am keeping my last name when I get married. still, to this day, if I even moderately interested in someone, I find myself thinking what my name'd sound like if I took his name when we get married.

a) almost raped

b) need a boyfriend

c) ballin'

d) more later

I've recently been having dreams involving various sexual encounters. Naturally, since the idea was so prevalent I had to look up just what my subconscious was telling me. To my dismay, there were no secret meanings or revelations that are just out of my grasp; no, having dreams about fucking people only means that you are feeling deprived of actual, real life (non-dream) fucking. I didn't need to spend fifteen minutes researching to come to that realization.

in the improper bostonian as well as lola magazine will be two full-page ads that I designed

she says the word "frustrated" as "fuss-trated" and she uses it almost daily but it still gets me every god damn time

you'd think a talented young woman that can walk to art school in high heels after working her internship would be able to find a valentine
and you'd be wrong

when frightened while in my bathrobe, i bawk like a chicken to ward off the perceived predators

a list of things I did:

• that
  
• touched marilyn manson
  

I have a class full of twenty- to sixty-somethings: Experimental Painting. An older French woman sits next to me while we paint the model. Before she leaves, she stops to tell me in her French accent, ”Darling, I am amazed at how this face came about all of a sudden!”

How I am able to tell that many things are perfect: I am standing in front of the CVS Pharmacy counter requesting for my prescription of anti-depressants to be transferred to my new location closer to my school in which I am getting a degree in art, wearing dark eyeshadow and thick mascara, complimenting my all-black outfit, while my newly purchased books (Stephen King's Cell, and The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe) sit heavily in a plastic Borders bag.

this time last year i remember either burning a list of bad things from the year previous -- no, wait, that was back in about eighth grade before i even had a lighter -- or writing a list of my resolutions. everything that i say i'm going to do i should be doing anyway, with no fancy pseudo-holiday to commemorate actually behaving like a normal human should. that said, note to self: make this one count.

thoughts:

• being jewish during it is no fun

• a lot of television shows mock people believing in santa, and children also watch these shows and I do think it should be made illegal because I want to see twenty-four-year-olds still believing in santa, and no, not for the magic of it all, but because it is so ridiculous that is would be pretty funny

• people should stop instant messaging me christmas wishes because I am too snooty and/or evangelical about my judaism to just say "you too" so I take a while explaining that even though I am jewish, I will still wish you a merry christmas but do not forget that I am jewish and I am making you feel guilty for not wishing me a happy chanukah

• there is nothing to do

• we don't even have a fireplace so I can't even fake it (well we have one but it's in a room that is out of commission)

• that is all

  
  

viragosa: I was gonna call you and tell you that I hooked up with a security guard but then I realized it was just a dream

ERIKA: actually, the type of underwear you wear does affect your day, but inversely

I was sitting in the cafeteria when I saw a red truck with a band composed of older men sitting on top, with trumpets and a piano and whatnot, and I remembered the noise: this woke me up this morning! It was absolutely surreal, the entire thing. I'm in my dorm now, and the band just passed for the fourth time today. Boston is lovely.

I almost wish that someone would walk down this hall and ask me why I'm sitting in the common room with a shaving razor by my side in its travel case and a book in my hands at 5 in the morning just so that I could tell him the truth: I'm being a good roommate.