Warning: I have no topic in mind for my diary entry today, which means it’ll probably be rather random. My apologies in advance.
I think I’m just about the only person who actually updates every day, or almost. Which isn’t meant as implied criticism of anyone else, but just statement of fact. It really helps me to write stuff down — I have the WORST memory (ask Corey), and if I write it down, it cements it further in my head. And I like to think that some folks out there actually like reading the tripe that comes spewing from my head. Hehe. Just let me know when I start to get boring. :o)
God, I hate this song. That new Goo Goo Dolls song about “Broadway is dark tonight…” Bah. It’s WAY overplayed, and I hate the line “See the young man sitting in the old man’s bar, waiting for his turn to die.” Why are young people waiting to die?! That’s so depressing. I much prefer “Teenage Dirtbag” by Wheatus. It amuses me highly. The other song that’s rather grown on me, and I know Stina will bust a gut laughing when she finds THIS out, is “Little Black Backpack.” God! When it first came out, that little goon of a roomie o’ mine (I love her, really I do!) would deliberately get it stuck in my head. Hehe. She’s funny. “Don’t wanna tangle with you / I’d rather tangle with him / I think I’m gonna bash his head in / This shouldn’t concern you except that / Don’t expect to get your bloody black backpack back.” It would run around in my head for hours, only I wouldn’t know the words. Horrible torture, really it was.
DC DRIVERS! AAAAHHH!! Now my dad has joined the ranks of angry drivers. The problem of driving home from work is the corner of Pickett Road and Little River Turnpike — most people want to turn left from Pickett onto Little River. There are two left turn lanes, but they get filled up really quickly, and people start blocking the intersection before that. That left turn light is also very short and infrequent, so the traffic really builds up on Pickett. Today Dad had to come get me from work, and on the way home, he did what all aggressive drivers do at that intersection — he got into the right lane that actually moves with the expectation of merging back over into the turn lanes, instead of patiently waiting his turn. Fortunately for him, he changed his mind. Otherwise I would have gotten really annoyed at him for doing what all impatient drivers do. I HATE that. It ranks up there with driving on the shoulder to bypass traffic.
Speaking of driving on the shoulder, someone came driving up the shoulder on I-95 about three miles from my house to reach a cop because the occupants of the car had been shot. Gang-related, apparently. The victims are alive and recovering, but it’s a scary thing to have happen so close to my home.
One thing that has been popping up in my mind lately — the smell, the feel, the aura of my freshman dorm room. I lived in Dupont that year, which is the largest freshman dorm on campus, and some would say, the nicest. My roommate and I didn’t get along too well, so we basically stayed out of each other’s way. But I get a feeling every so often that takes me back to that time… It was the smell of Christmas with my bayberry candles burning, the nip of the breeze coming in the open window (which got me really sick around November of that year), the dimness of the room since it was usually only lit by white Christmas lights from Big Lots, my radio tuned to the station that plays all Christmas music, drinking Maxwell House cappucino that my sister had sent me in a care package, and stressing out about my first set of finals. No other space that I’ve lived in has such a completeness in my memory as my freshman dorm room. Quite strange, really.