When you ran outside with your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied

Currently listening to:
Casimir Pulaski Day
Sufjan Stevens

I thought about this post half of the day but between there and now I've been involved with some people which broke the steady mood I had been thinking in to that moment. Rather than just throw down the good fragments, I'm going to try and make this as flowy and conducive as I can. I kind of wonder what point there is in conversation these days, with all the catch-up recorded somewhere online. It's all third person these days.

I was watching people today out the big bay window of an alcove in this building I would have class in. Windows are nice because it's like looking at a movie screen or some moving photograph. I like to imagine the lives of the people I see: where they go home at night and what their evening routines are, who they are going to meet and how they interact with them and if they would be interested in me, what their hopes and dreams are, and so on. There are so many little stories out there.

Today has been a sad sort of day, a desire to meet new people sort of day, or picnic with old friends. People just keep looking at me; maybe it's my hair. I think there's a correlation between hunger and despair; when hunger is present, despair begins to increase, but there's some peak point where despair continues to increase but hunger suddenly decreases. It's a dangerous correlation. I remember a time in high school when I had it and my parents worried about me. Today wasn't as bad as back then.

In statistics I got a quiz back and got 100% and my eyes started to tear up. I thought to myself, why do my teachers keep giving me these numbers, which probably sounds silly since it will really help my grade out. It's just not what I really want or need. I wish my teachers would put their hand on my shoulder and lead me outside and tell me there's more to life than all this, even though this is all I've known so far. They would take me to their homes which would be tastefully old-fashioned with translucent drapes over the lamps casting patterns on the walls, and they would have a big radio that would be the main fixture of the living room. We would go to their patio outback where the grass hasn't been mowed in a few weeks and the potted tomato plants would be perky with the recent rain. The paint would be chipping and the bricks would be cracked, but we'd drink tea and discuss why things are the way they are and why we feel the way we do.
It was during this that I realized I no longer enjoy school. Maybe it's just a temporary feeling produced from a year of classes I have to take but that I have no interest in. I figured out my schedule for next semester and took it a step farther by listing every class I need to graduate. If there are no conflictions with time and I get into every class I need and if one class is suddenly offered in the fall instead of spring, I'll graduate in three semesters and be out of here. But that's a lot of ifs.

I've been dreaming of the American Dream lately. I've got so much school work that keeps rolling in and it's all harder than I'm used to now that I'm in the upper level classes and it makes me worry a lot more about the uncertainty of summer. I'm working hard to get the summer nailed down, but there are too many other people trying to do the same thing. How thin can the American Dream stretch? I get caught in the cycle of needing experience to get a good internship and needing a good internship to get experience. If I can't get an internship I hope I at least find a farm/ranch I can work and live within.