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This is when I should be creative, isn't it? When I'm doing very little of anything, just watching the rest of Interview with the Vampire, that's the time to just lie back and somehow just project this incredible magical creativity that college students like me are supposed to get. So why do I, instead, just feel utterly drained and devoid of passion for that sort of thing? Isn't college supposed to be where one can be their most creative, passionate self? Why do I feel like the "numb trolleybus" of Sylvia Plath's description? I don't know, and all I seem to be able to do about it is write this melancholy vignette prose of whatever all this is...

"Oh my god I'm getting sexiled no way."

What quaint and strikingly brilliant things the natives here seem to say. My, my, my, people here just have a way with words, don't they? How are the poets gaining the inspiration for these incredible works they're doing? We must have poets...what is a major university without its glorious poets, immortalizing its starry sky-kissed columns? Or do we just have the same inspiration-deprived jackasses of yore, the same thespian types who overran the high school with their maudlin, poorly expressed sentiments?

Am I too harsh? Oh, do tell me about how awfully harsh I am, when my roommate cannot wait for me to leave so she can have sex, the girls who live on either side of me are... [trails off and decides to go to sleep]

11:00 pm, October 16, 2002 :: erstwhile

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