the paradigm is cupcakes
my film theory seminar, in its various permutations, meets a record four times this week. the first incident, this evening, went rather better than i was scared it might -- kind of like today, which began with my receiving my third rejection (nyfucku). the sun, and ben, and friendly people kept me buoyant, and i apartment-shopped on craigslist for extra kicks.
i'm hoping it's not a sign that, after a near-glorious weekend, it's back to modulated depressiveness for me. after this near-glorious weekend, i've forgotten the roots of my modulated depressiveness; reflecting on it, it seems silly and pointless to me. why fret when you can get shoes, a book, and a t-shirt for under $6? and then, the next day, elsewhere, 2 more pairs of shoes and a kickass pair of "they're not just hot, they're hot topic!" punkish pants for free?
moreover, why fret when you can dress to scandalize at the annual "fuck gender, and me too please!" party? or re-watch one of the few movies that honestly deserves to be called a gem, spellbound? or be entertained by the one and only dan savage?
(this entry may set a new record for the number of times i use the f-word. i hope my parents and their friends and relatives are not upset. however, i am a college student and i won't be one for too much longer so i beg everyone to bear with me, please.)
The Briton Hadden Mausoleum Rotisserie
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