Millennials.

Yay for final projects! Remember that version I posted earlier? Yeah, so well this is it. It’s done. Finito!

This month is Digital Audio Design and ::audible gasp:: Physics. Keep an ear out for hot beats. My hot beats.

Heyyyyyy.

Whew!

How am I feeling, you say? Good! Great, really. I’m relaxed. I’m communicative. I’ve honestly been laughing all day. I decided to ride this wave of well-being straight into this entry.

I talked to Prince this week. I don’t know how I ever manage to forget the love that I have for that man. It has been five years since we first met and going on two years since we have last seen each other, but every time we speak I’m transported right back to the thick of our friendship. Not dating him has always been my greatest regret. In my typical contrary manner, the fact that he was perfect for me was a major turnoff. We settled into the most comfortable of friendships. He was always there for me and I for him. He is coming to visit soon. This time I will make things right.

Speaking of making things right, I’ve become reattached to another one of my exes. Capone and I had a terribly messy split but we were beginning to come back together as the friends we really should have always been. It is kind of hard to abandon your first love. We were in contact on a fairly regular basis last month but he seems to have disappeared off of the face of the planet. He’s the kind of guy you worry about, I never trust that he is truly safe and secure. I can hear you. “Why do I need to know this?” My mother often accuses me of this same type of “now you see her, now you don’t” type of behavior. Capone’s absence is really making me evaluate how I treat the ones that I love.

I think I’m going to call home.

Another again.

Be warned it could be the hormones rearing their ugly little mind altering heads again, but I am feeling…out of place. Out of sorts. Conflicted. Confused and Bewildered. And a little sad.

I’ve taken to drinking by myself. It always starts out with the best of intentions. “I’ll just have a beer.” So I have it but realize that I don’t have any food. So instead of putting it away (I can’t drink and not eat) I drink it. Then I’m drunkish and keenly aware of my alone-ness. So I open another and sink into one of those inner contemplative states that leaves one cognizant enough to form thoughts and complete sentences, but unable to hold on to the cheerful demeanor that colors my sobriety. I stay away from making actual phone calls but do treat myself to three way texting. So far, I have told Mich, heretofore to be called LoPro, that I am unsure of the security of our friendship, told Krispy I didn’t feel like being bothered, tried to bait Al into buying me a pizza, attempted to re-seduce Holiday while sending out a feeler to Patches.

What’s that bit about idle hands and Satan?

First, LoPro. We’re friends and I adore him, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t feel like we’re necessarily real life friends. He has a lot of his buddies from back home down here and that’s awesome. Like all male person’s of a certain age, he is in constant pursuit of substantial female companionship. I can’t begrudge him that either. But somehow, all of this leaves me on the outside, connected to him I feel largely by proximity. When we are together in school, we do have quite a good time. We have a natural chemistry and we clicked immediately. But somehow I can’t get it out of my head how this would not be a friendship sustained in the real world. There’s about a four year age difference and life differences….I don’t think he actually knows anything about me. He may be one of my closest friends at Full Sail but he doesn’t know me at all. And it’s my fault.

Aeon. My other bff. He’s graduating in a matter of days and then he’s moving back to the NYC. The two of us haven’t seen much of each other lately, either. Scheduling and whatnot have kept us apart as well as my rampant fear of intimacy. See, Aeon likes me. I’ve deflected his affection enough that it has boiled down to a simple case of lust but I have become fearful that if I hang out with him at all then I will immediately lose my panties.

I interrupt myself to post this important update- My sister, Ari just shot me an email and this is the beauty I found in my inbox:

Passing time with you in mind

It’s another quiet night

Feel the ground against my back

Count the stars against the black

Think about another day

Wishing I was far away

Wherever I dreamed I was

You were there with me

(Chorus)

Sister, I hear you laugh

My heart fills full up

Keep me please

Sister, when you cry

I feel your tears

Running down my face

Sister, sister, keep me

I hope you always know it’s true

I would never make it through

You could make the sun go dark

Just by walking away

Playing like we used to play

Like it would never go away

I feel you beating in my chest

I’d be dead without

(Chorus)

Sister, I hear you laugh

My heart fills full up

Keep me please

Sister, when you cry

I feel your tears

Running down my face

Sister, sister, you keep me

I hope you always know it’s true

I would never make it through

You could make the heavens fall

Just by walking away

(Chorus)

Sister, I hear you laugh

My heart fills full up

Keep me please

Sister, when you cry

I feel your tears

Running down my face

Sister, sister, you keep me

sister- dave matthews

to my two sisters who keep my head on straight. i couldn’t have asked for more.

love you

Perfect timing. My isolation has suddenly become very remote.

It was the PMS.

The last couple of entries was the PMS talking. Damn menstruation. Not that you really wanted to know. Because honestly, right now, I feel fabulous.

Another month down, 17 more to go! It really was quite a good month. I’ve made enormous strides in terms of my skill set with Illustrator and Photoshop. I can honestly say that the mere mention of their names no longer leaves me quaking with fear. (Score!)

Design portfolio. Months 1-4

Ok. That’s it for now.

Cravings.

ooooookkkkk. so like totally.

i only want what i can’t and shouldn’t have. not all the time but right now, it is all that i can think about.

yeah.

I’m swirling in a little swirly whirl of discontent. I’ve reached that point that I always seem to reach in my academic pursuits: I’m restless, dissatisfied, itching for a way out. It has nothing to do with the learning aspect, for once. That’s a good thing. But, as per usual, I am feeling like a fish out of water. My classmates are all good people….it’s not them. It’s, well, just me. I miss my real life, though if pressed, I could not exactly tell you which aspects of my life I would consider to be the “real” ones. I just want freedom in my structure. I want to be able to relax. I want to be able to work. I want to have money to spend. I want to see shows. I want to have love. I want to go to restaurants and share plates. I want to meet someone intriguing in a lounge and have conversations about things people do. I want to wear heels and have somewhere to go. I want to have a lover that I can love. I want to live how I want when I want to live it.

It’s going to be another wacky month at Full Sail. And my discontent, like everything, will pass.

There’s Battlestar Gallatica propaganda programming on the t.v. and by golly, it’s working. I’m twitching for season 1.

These posts…I’m spiraled.

Holy—- wow.

DMX just found out who Barack Obama is

This month, XXL magazine features an interview with rapper DMX that is sure to go down as one of the craziest non-starters ever put to print. One can almost hear DMX’s cracked-out growl popping off mono-syllabic responses to questions he never really heard in the first place as he fiddles with the controls of his latest RC plane. By the end of the thing, writer Clover Hope just gives up…hilariously. Highlights include:

-DMX doesn’t remember with whom or where he signed his record contract.

-DMX still listens to Nas and Scarface – exclusively.

-DMX has never liked a new rapper. Ever.

-DMX has never heard of Barack Obama until the interviewer told him.

-DMX doesn’t believe Obama’s mom named him Barack.

-DMX doesn’t want to be sleepy happy.

Here’s the Barack excerpt. I urge everyone on the planet to follow the link above [or just read this] to the full craziness.

Are you following the presidential race?
Not at all.

You’re not? You know there’s a Black guy running, Barack Obama and then there’s Hillary Clinton.
His name is Barack?!

Barack Obama, yeah.
Barack?!

Barack.
What the fuck is a Barack?! Barack Obama. Where he from, Africa?

Yeah, his dad is from Kenya.
Barack Obama?

Yeah.
What the fuck?! That ain’t no fuckin’ name, yo. That ain’t that nigga’s name. You can’t be serious. Barack Obama. Get the fuck outta here.

You’re telling me you haven’t heard about him before.
I ain’t really paying much attention.

I mean, it’s pretty big if a Black…
Wow, Barack! The nigga’s name is Barack. Barack? Nigga named Barack Obama. What the fuck, man?! Is he serious? That ain’t his fuckin’ name. Ima tell this nigga when I see him, “Stop that bullshit. Stop that bullshit” [laughs] “That ain’t your fuckin’ name.” Your momma ain’t name you no damn Barack.

So you’re not following the race. You can’t vote right?
Nope.

Sometimes it’s a very good thing felons can’t vote.

funnnnnn.

never have i had so much fun as i did making these guys. loooook at me!

ok, that’s it.

work in progress.

Insomnia or something like it.

Why is it that I can’t sleep?

this is bordering on absurd. I’ve done the evening wind down and everything, I’m in my proverbial pajamas and I’m sitting on the couch with the lights dimmed, just waiting to be attacked by that sleepy feeling. No such luck. I’ve perused facebook for hours, myspace for minutes and now have run into music videos on BET. (music on a music station. shocker.) speaking of music, you know you gotta love this video…see how many of the classic records you can identify:

E. Badu is my girl. I painted a portrait of her in photoshop.

I think it’s kinda hot.

There I go again…wandering my way right off of the topic. Not that I actually ever established what the topic ever was. I think it’s boys. Boys are a popular topic in my world. And most of the time they do a good job of proving their boyishness and denying their man sides. Does that make any sense? Possibly not. But you can figure it out.

I’ve put a bit of thought into what I want in a man during the past couple of days. I would love to have someone in my life who is intelligent and sexy and creative and gainfully employed and educated and likes male grooming and enjoys good food and is athletic and wears fitted clothing and finds me irresistible and has good breeding and is upwardly mobile and is not conceited and is funny and is serious and politically active and can’t wait to be sexually active with meeeee. Hold on, was that an over-share? I’ve recently taken a liking to ridiculously tall men. I’m a little woman who refuses to be limited by her stature but there is something to be said about a man who can make me feel tiny.

Sorry for the ADD, but this rapper fellow is single handedly destroying the reputations of black Americans as well as corrupting impressionable children:

but fortunately, there are rappers out there using their creativity and intelligence to elevate their music into consumer friendly performance art. Missy Elliott is, as always, doing her thing:

Maybe sleep, now?

About a boy.

“Kerri, I don’t think you know what you feel,” said my mother the other day.
We were talking about me, of course. Me and my many loves.

Holiday moved in this past week and nearly as quickly moved out again. Nothing like that level of closeness to make clear all of the things that you can not tolerate about the other person.

I’ve been dwelling on this entry for hours now, wondering how much I can say, how much I can safely say without everything blowing up in my face. So now, I will just say this: I like [insert name here]. I don’t know why, not really, but I like him more than I’d like to show.