pt VII: Primatively advanced

Today feels like one really long, vivid, endless dream that drags on and depresses and feels totally unreal.

I don't know what to say. It began without another garrulous Mitrovica lecture that made me pine for the days of Guthrie. There's nothing Mitrovica can teach, I maintain, that Guthrie couldn't or wouldn't have already covered if he'd had time, especially about long-story journalism. not that Guthrie is a saint. He can came down hard on me and many others several times and by the end it was rather difficult to handle, but he was about as good an english teacher I ever had. Now, since english is kinda my business these days, I have a lot to compare to.

Not that it was all that bad or tough. As far as 3-hour Long-Story Journalism lectures go, it was among the more tolerable. And John Clark's DigiPublishing class wasn't so horrible, although it meant another few hours of listening to what I already know (tables.)

But I've had to deal with some unreal junk these days. Hard stuff to deal with. I find myself kinda wishing I could act like Dr. Cox from Scrubs, which would be bad but I've been watching the DVD's this week so whatever.

There's a distinction between perception and reality. Who you see and who you are and who I am and what I seem like are two completely different things... or four. I lost count.

Divorce is hardest on the kids. I mean, not for me, since my parents never technically divorced andI was just kinda left with my mom on the assumption tht if I really really wanted to I could go with dad (something she occasionally would bring up to Eric, when they went through their rough patch.) But I mean in a larger sense, when two forces are in conflict, those in the middle are ultimately affected most. Or at least, are most awkwardly positioned. I think those of you who know the score can see what I'm talking about. I don't particularly like being on sides with anyone, because I'm like Switzerland. Neutral to the core. And also hateful toward the world in general, but I do my best to hide that with flippant remarks and dashing eyebrow gestures.

I've been in flashback mode all day. With all the talk of tables and HTML, I thought about Grade 7, which is when I started doing this stuff. And I thought man, what I wouldn't give to trade my scholastic woes of now for whatever crap I thought I was dealing with at the time. Of course I don't know where that would put my current junk (which will seem insignificant once I'm out there and in fact already does some of the time) but the point is I was such a needlessly emotional kid. Sad, really.

But that reminds me of the video games we've been playing lately. Brando's helped me reawaken my love of ROMs, even though I find them devillishly hard to deal with, it can't kill my childhood love of games like Monster Party, Fantasy Zone and Nemo: Dream Master. I had this childhood fixation on games with escapist imagery. The monsters in MP, the strange characters in FZ and of course the scenery in Nemo. Of course, back in those days, video games were all about escapist imagery. Nowadays it's all Halo and Call of Duty and other shooters and RPGS and et cetera. It takes so little imagination to design a game these days, it seems. No ambition.

That's what I need. An escape.

Keep on rockin'
-Williams