Last night, I went to a Middle Eastern food restaurant called El Basha with some guys. We had "bro night", and smoked a hookah. I really enjoyed the strawberry kiwi flavor, which tasted exactly like Snapple in gaseous form. 

A giant sleeping baby loomed above us while we ate, because our outdoor table was right below a billboard featuring an infant. Lanny commented that Michela would have loved this.  

Happening right now: I'm reading Naked by David Sedaris, and it's wicked funny. The chapter about all the "tics" he had as a child is so great. An excerpt: "I took to violently shaking my head, startled by the feel of my brain slamming against the confines of my skull. It felt so good and took so little time."

Today: 

I went to Comet Pond in the morning with my cousin. We entered the water in two ways: 1) Jumping off a high diving board into an area of questionable depth 2) Using a rope swing of questionable strength.

Later, I went to Lanny's graduation party, where I played volleyball and didn't get too competitive. I would credit this to maturing, but it was probably because I was on the winning team.  

Then, we drove to Jen's graduation party at the Sandwich Co., where I saw Kate Sheridan (Hi Kate! You said you read my blog, so this is a shoutout. Via blog). 

Afterwards, we drove to the Dawson Rec playground. We all took turns trying to run in a straight line after spinning on this spinning-thing. We also rode those weird kiddy-car-on-a-giant-spring things. And I failed at climbing up the tube-slide-thing. What the hell do you call things on a playground, toys? Rides? Fun-makers?

We left the playground, and after wasting an hour driving to Barnes & Noble (we arrived at 8:56, they close at 9), we decided the best way to spend our time was to lay on blankets in Lanny's yard. I enjoyed this, except when a) body parts were exposed to the cold air because my blanket was so goddamned inadequate and b)I wasn't allowed to move, because I was acting as a pillow. 

In retrospect, this was a fun, albeit unproductive, day. Wait, it wasn't unproductive! I was with friends.

Happening right now: I still feel nauseous from the spinning-thing.

Imagine if you drew a picture of a song.

Or painted what a song would look like. Can you imagine that?

I have a Facebook, a blog, and now a Twitter. Overkill. I don't think anyone cares about my thoughts that much.

I have a headache on the right side of my frontal lobe. Ah, AP Psychology. I wish I'd started blogging while I was still in that class. I like to apply psych terminology to my life, but now I can't remember most of what I crammed into my brain for the exam. What I encoded into my short term memory, I should say.

If thinking about thinking is metacognition, what is blogging about blogging?

Song of the day is "I Try" by Macy Gray. It's the song of every day, forever and ever. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsTk2xp0nvY

Happening right now: This headache has fluctuated between barely detectable to throbbing for a few days now.  

Listen:

Today, I bummed around my house until 330, and then went to a tennis team dinner. Tennis has been a huge part of my high school life, it hasn't set in that there isn't a "next year". Although, I get to play lots of tennis this summer with my coach and Brian (a mild-mannered junior friend), because I'm working as a tennis instructor.

After the dinner, I killed an hour, and went with Liz and people to see Phoebe play flute at Mechanics Hall. She's really good, and makes a funny face when she plays. Afterwards, a guy with a serious neck problem wouldn't stop talking to Phoebe and Liz. I felt bad for him, he clearly was in perpetual discomfort. Or atleast it seemed that way. 

 

Then, I got 7/11 (that's Seven Eleven) slushies with Liz, and was disgusted by the "Double Big Gulps" they sell. It looked like it could hold 900 oz. 

Happening right now: Here is my plan. I want to lose track of time before I go to bed. I've turned the clocks in my room face down, and put a Post-It on the clock in the upper right of my computer screen. I'm going to completely cover my windows with blankets with windows, so the room has no light. I won't know when the sun is up. I WILL BE COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF THE TIME. This way, I'll sleep until I FEEL like getting up, and not feel pressured by the clock. My circadian rhythm will be perfectly on schedule. 

"Bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate." 

Today, I saw this phrase. It sums up how I feel after just about every discussion, debate, or argument I've ever had.

Happening right now: Phoebe and I came up with one HELL of an idea. We're going to create a documentary of this summer. Basically, we'll bring my video camera to social events, and record what happens. We'll conduct interviews with people, and there will be little subplots that focus on different people's relationships and such. We'll add in music and subtitles, and perhaps voice-over commentary. It'll begin this Saturday on graduation, and it'll end when we all are saying goodbye (God, I do not want to think about that). And at the end, we'll all take a copy of the DVD to college.  

I just arrived home from Vermont. On the drive home, I had no iPod, so I had a lot of time to think. And focus on not crashing my yellow 1987 Volvo station wagon, which was a tremendous task, because the car shakes and rumbles and grumbles on the highway (her name is Elenor). So, I thought about all the stuff I want to blog about, but now I can't recall most of it.

Anyways, Vermont was excellent. I love when I'm reminded just how great friends are. Last night was one of those reminders. We played cards and DP'ed and talked the night away. And our judgement really wasn't too bad. It was great. 

In other news, Ms. Hedberg emailed me back about the film festival, and told me that my film deserved to place, and that she was going to show it to future filmmaking classes. So that made me feel good. 

Happening right now: I have to leave for Bonardi's Tuxedo Rental to pick up that dress shirt from them, even though it's not actually the one I rented. So I'm going to return the wrong shirt to Mr. Tux, and I don't care. They can suck it. I'm going to Bonardi's for my tux next time. The guy there was really friendly.