At the Orientation Fair I signed up to audition for OrphanSporks, one of the two co-ed a cappella groups at Rutgers. As I walked away with Rennie I said, "I am such a chicken shit when it comes to auditioning, but I have to do this. I will do this."



I don't know if I can do this. It's simple. I just go in there next week, sing a song a cappella, sing some scales and harmonize with other members.



But ... what song do I sing? I mean, I have to find the one perfect song for my range, one that's not too low for me, so when I get nervous and my voice gets shaky I can try to salvage it. And I haven't done scales in forever. And harmonizing! So nerve-wracking. I mean, this is all stuff I can do, but can I actually do it when it counts.



Auditions freak me out.

Labor Day will be full of work for me.



I'm about to go to the Orientation Fair, to represent Targum, before heading to my final edit board meeting at 2 p.m. to announce that I'm not coming back. I need to get a haircut (the weird, sun-dyed hair has got to go), buy at least some of my books, print out my schedule so I have a clue as to where I'm going tomorrow. Then, most likely, I'll have to put the paper online tonight, since I said I'd help out for the first week. I really don't want to do any of this, but I will, and I will smile, and I will have as good a time as possible.



Dream: I was at our old house on Knolton Road in Allendale, it was a big family gathering. But for some reason I was feeling like the asshole, my family ignoring me and giving my attitude. I glanced at my mom, said I'm leaving in a bitchy voice, and ignored Laura as she tried to hug me. I got into John's car, for whatever reason, that retarded Saab station wagon (if you're going to get a Saab, for the love of God, do not by a wagon) and drove off. As I got to the top of the hill to turn onto East Crescent, three police cars came toward the street, and turned, coming into my side of the road. I backed up, with no concern for the car behind me, because I was deathly afraid the cops were after me.



I also dreamed about high school friends, a big portion of the dream was about Matt Kraus. Maybe I should email him.

And finally, I was sitting in my car at the gas station and I look into the little booth and realized the attendant was playing Nintendo 64. How bizarre.

Related to the last post, I have been writing down bothersome thoughts or dreams or whatever on a post-it and sticking it in a little box so I can make the thought real.



It's been nice.

It sucks. Good word. It ... sucks ... when I have something I want to vent or discuss or lament, and I can't because too many fucking people read this site. The lines between the web and real life have blurred to the point where I have to bite my cyber tongue as much as my real one. And it's kind of unfair. I refuse to write anymore allusive, obnoxiously vague entries I hope the right people might understand and the wrong people will ignore. Yeah...



(You did it. I'm glad I could help, in my insignificant way.)

The humidity is oppressive. As I was assembling the new computer chair I bought today (amazing how much a good chair can make the web experience much more enjoyable) sweat was dripping off of my face. It was really disgusting.



Also disgusting: it's the last weekend before classes begin. Ben is in San Francisco for good.



Less disgusting: I am drinking with Lauren and Jeremy. Hopefully I'll be totally bombed by midnight.

Lauren moved in this morning. That means Snickers, our beloved wonderdog is back. He had his testicles ripped from him a few days ago, so the poor thing has one of those insane cones around his neck. And since he's stupid (well, stupid or persistent) he keeps trying to lick himself and continuously knocks his cone into walls. Very much like the dog in that John Cusack 80s movie, I think it was "One Crazy Summer."



Also, the two amazing couches her parents gave us would not fit through the stairway. Wonderful. Back to Allendale they go.