tds

The cat's doing well. Sleeping on what is apparently her place, which is on an old desk chair that I still have despite the fact I no longer have a desk. Her other place is under my bed, which makes me slightly nervous, but she's happy. I left the TV on for her when I left, and came home to Audrey watching "Gunsmoke." I find that funny, for some reason. And hey, truthfully, it's sort of nice to have something to come home to.

Music class was fine, although I think it might have the dumbest guy alive in it. Like, his answers to in class questions (especially the easy and the rhetorical) are usually wrong, and punctuated with things so out of left field that I really hope he's some mastermind. Things like how, say, "White Christmas" was arranged in such a way to not induce flashbacks in veterans. I mean...it just is curious. The guy is also living proof that, after a certain time, certain people should be arrested for having a soul patch; it goes from facial hair to a stubbly-looking pudding stain at some point.

Acting is getting fascinating. Guy still doesn't care for me, which is fine. The personalities of the people in the class are actually coming out now, and I gotta say, there's some legitimately nice people in that class. They make me actually feel like a complete dick, because I'm nowhere near as nice as some of them. The one I like the best? That fucking pretentious actor guy. So yes, I was wrong, I completely and happily admit it. I like being wrong about things like that.

Valentine's Day is Thursday, which means that, unless something remarkable happens in the next couple days, I'm not even going to try to go out. Last thing I need is a bunch of happy couples clogging the streets (or Streets, even) talking more and more about how in love they are and making out in public and essentially driving people like me to feelings of rage and depression. This isn't meant for ALL attached people, of course; there's just that certain group of people in my age group that believe love is defined by getting drunk and hooking up and basically burning out (this is rarely admitted), only to hate one another when they can't "work it out." Much like ugly men in large glasses and bad haircuts smoking pipes in public places, this is becoming almost a social epidemic. After much thought on the subject, I can't think of anything I would want more, personally, than legitimate love. That'd be wonderful. I mean, love is all you need, ain't it?

What a borderline entertaining little rant that was. It will look worse after I chop it to hell before I post this. Har.

Writing a fair bit, lately. Finally came up with a way to actually use all those notebooks for something, for better or worse. I must've wanted to record all that shit for a reason, I guess. Is helping with the other story, which is about Redlands, because I've been harassed for YEARS to write this; I was even offered $500 to get to work on it by a friend of mine. Should see if he's still interested, now that I think about it. Makes me feel all legit, writing unpublished things for a friend in Tornonto. Things like that, though make me half think I could make a go of this whole thing.

I think I'm about done.

Later.