I woke up in a closet.

I’ve watched two consecutive television programs that discussed the end of the world.  The first was on the History channel.  It said that the end of the world would most likely come from Global Warming.  The other show I don’t remember so much, but it was a British guy and his last name was Oliver.  Now Talk Soup is on, the host is abrasive.

I finished writing two stories for studio today.  I only like one of them.  When I’m in a fiction studio I start to get used to writing stories, and I become self-aware that I really suck at writing stories, and I start to doubt myself and I want to leave school.  The same thing happens in a poetry studio, but it’s not as bad when I start to doubt myself.

I’m thinking about starting a campaign to give the writing majors an actual office area with desks, couches, a fireplace, and lots of silence.  I realized this was a really selfish thought on my part, but I decided that it was unfair that the ESL students get to have an entire floor in a building with a library and rows of computers.  And Architecture majors get to have their own building with their own studios.  I don’t think that anyone really cares about what the writing majors get to have because we’re a lot more flexible and versatile.  We don’t really have supply needs other than paper and laptops.  Or Pens and papers.  whatever.  We don’t have to carry around huge pieces of foam-board or sketch pads or models.  So we don’t need as much space.

Oh yeah, I want to go to the Andes mountains for the end of the world.  I’ll do a lot of illicit drugs that will probably lead me to die of an overdose, but in the meantime I’ll be living in old Incan ruins.