1.

I'm pretty sure I don't hate college, just the one I'm attending. The campus sidewalks are full of pot holes that turn to mud dust ponds after the rain. I feel fortunate to be able to pursue higher education but I don't feel like I am interacting with intellectuals nor am I gaining any intellectual insight into whatever I'm supposed to be learning.

I'm listening to A Flock of Seagulls right now. My favorite band from the eighties is Orchestral Manuevres (sp?) in the Dark partly because they are called Orchestral Manuevres in the Dark and because their songs make me feel the wondrous opportunities that I imagine the world must have felt during the Industrial Revolution before they figured out or cared to notice the pollution and suffering children. In my consumers and consumption class, I got to reference OMD's "Tesla Girls" - I got a good mark and I was happy.

The past weekend had been spent studying. I have become more motivated study over the past few weeks. There is a slightly younger than middle age boy that I admire and perhaps, even desire. When he is not in class, he is preparing for class. Boy claims to not sleep because it takes up too much time that could be spent pursuing scholarly knowledge. He is dashingly handsome with dark locks that can only be tamed if it does not grow beyond average male hair length. He doesn't have to wear tight jeans to prove he has style and he wears a cardigan over his tuxedo sometimes. He attends an Ivy League and has a passion for learning. He works harder than anyone I know - not that I personally know him. Let's say his name is Dean. Well, Dean has inspired me to take education seriously and invest more time and effort in the process of learning.

Anyway, so I was studying and I had decided to put my 80s playlist on. I had been listening to a lot of OMD, including their post-80s stuff. The synths on their tracks were enamoring but it was starting to bore me, but only temporarily. I put on a mix of Erasure, the Cars, Tears for Fears, Joy Division, Simple Minds, A Flock of Seagulls, etcetera. Fucking slick. Synth lines dancing softly but joyously in the background while I calculated z scores and tried my very hardest to distinguish between standard error of the mean, margin of error and the error between the observed y and predicted y.

I don't know what the fuck this is supposed to be or what this means. Is this my diary? A blog? Will I still be writing this next week? A story? I don't know what I'm trying to achieve but I wish you could feel the way I felt when that wave of longing swept me into complete awe, almost moving me to tears because it was so beautiful, so honest, and so gone, perhaps for the better, from my own generation and culture of Disney teen icons and reality show dramatics. I had to close my textbook and listen with my undivided attention.