I’m ready for change of some kind. In 2.5 more months my contract will be up and I’ll have the opportunity to move if I choose to. I love the people I’ve met here at Melrose, but I’m ready for change. I want to live with Barbara, I think. And I want to have my own house rules rather than those set by someone who has lived here 3 years longer than me. I feel babysat sometimes and that’s weird. I’m excited for change. I love it. I hope to find somewhere very close to campus. No further away than I am now. Patrick lives even closer than me, kind of, so I’m going to call his landlady who runs all the places on 13th apparently. I want to see if there’s a small apartment like Patch’s opening in January. He pays 300 and lives with Shawn, so if Barbara and I found another roommate we could all just pay 200. Cool. I’m annoyingly excited.

I’m very happy with who I am. I enjoy thinking and being. I think in sentences. I didn’t realize this until Professor Jackie Farnsworth mentioned that most people think in pictures or something and she thinks in letters and words and sentences. I think in practically full sentences. Yet I think quickly. My mind jumps from one thing to another incredibly fast.

I’m listening to The Devil Whale’s cd, Like Paraders. It’s great. I have a crush on Brinton Jones: his v-necks, long necklaces, pretty hair, wonderful voice. Good, good music.

The other day a large mirror, like... 3.5’ x 4.5’ was leaning against a dead end sign by a house just down the street. I sat by it for a while. Funny, looking at myself in a mirror while reading DEAD END. Then yesterday I sat by it again and noticed it said Take Me in the dust, so I decided I wanted it. Today after I went running (3rd day in a row. Congratulations Jessie), I put on some gloves and brought it home. Now I need to find somewhere to put it. I’m happy about it though. Very happy.

I play the devil’s advocate often. I think conflict is crucial for learning. We learn the most from people we disagree with. But by being this way I find myself in situations where I’m being taught by a majority. Today, for example. I raised some conflicting points and was taught/lectured/told, 4 against 1, how I was wrong. But I wasn’t wrong. I could have told them everything they were “teaching” me. I know that side, I just want them to hear the other side. And sometimes it gets too intense and I feel bad for bringing up conflict, but other times, like tonight, I learn and enjoy myself. And always, I learn more about the people I’m with. And I love it.

I ran past a couple little boys today and one started running with me but stopped when his mom yelled after him.

Oh! I met an interesting person at the public library tonight. His name is John. He’s 20 or 21. He dropped out of school and spends all his time at the library. He’s an artist. He makes music (today he recorded “14.6 minutes of gold” called Oh! I’m Sober -- October), writes always (has 60 pages of a book written on his computer), and makes art via ink and watercolor. He got married in Vegas on “let me check.. yep. April 12th.” And is in the process of divorce. He does drugs, not bad kind, but not this month, it’s sober October. He has enjoyed this month though, he likes waking up clearheaded and feels productive, so he will probably stay sober for more than October. He recently got laid off at work, some kind of warehouse on 33rd, because he didn’t work. He wore a t-shirt that I recognized, an orange bandana around his neck, black pants, and black bootshoes. His ears are “ruined,” so he’s going to ruin them more. They are gauged to about the size of ...eh.. somewhere between a nickel and a quarter. He says he’ll just be an old grandpa with SUPER huge ears. He believes in love. “Love is the greatest thing you’ll ever experience.” I asked if he’s loved anything not human. He said he’s in love with his life, the way he lives. He loves to read. He is very spiritual. He can get into others’ spirituality if they allow him to and has seen others’ spirit guides. I told him he should read Autobiography of a Skeptic. I said, so you want to be a writer? He said, “I don’t want to be a writer, I am a writer.” I was walking down the stairs and he waved to me from the tables along the curved wall and motioned for me to come over. He looked like Trent Nelson but his ears were gauged so I knew it wasn’t. I sat and talked with him for about an hour, maybe 50 minutes, and hardly told him anything about myself. I also met his friend Nicholas and Nicholas's “friend who is a girl” named Chelsea. John said he’s at the library everyday, from 9 to 9, and that he doesn’t eat. So next time I’m at the library I’m to look for him on the 3rd floor. He has small brown eyes and a perfect smile. I hope his book gets published.

I brought a can of soup, a can of pears, a yogurt, and two capri suns to Patrick’s today and listened to music from Bob Dylan to Will Sartain’s Dad’s album, Home.

John the Writer told me that he and Nicholas are best friends but take breaks from each other when they feel they are hindering each other's growth. Maybe Barbara and I should take a break. I think we are hindering each other. :(