inadvisably, i communed with a porcupine last night and have yet to recover. this was a function of an argument with my brother about college, instigated when my mother brought out my report card. i'm stressing myself overmuch, by his logic, because clearly my classes couldn't be that hard if i'm doing well in them; and more importantly, that's not what college is about. have fun, he chided
which gets to a more serious point in terms of the porcupine of my depression, which was waiting for me as i slowly ascended back to my room. it stared -- that's all the creatures that surround me do -- and staring back, i thought: am i having fun? when was the last time i had fun? running from these kinds of porcupines in the past i've ended up in smoky embraces (animals fear fire) or submerged (animals drown). i return refreshed. so i'm tempted to dash to new york, except that i have dull plans: get new contacts, buy a bathing suit (the porcupine i foresee will be waiting for me in the dressing room,) get my hair cut, sulk about not going to falconridge because dammit i really should have gone because dammit my life has become too staid, too routine. i'm 20. i've been a 20-nothing for a week and i haven't been drunk yet. i don't even think i've broken the law. this year, instead of sex toys, i got books for my birthday, like i used to when i was a kid -- not that there's anything wrong with that -- but once again (the porcupine is staring at me) i feel that rising urge to rebel.