some thoughts from a park bench

I'm just worried. I guess about my future. Not that it’s anything particularly revolutionary, but recently rewatching The Graduate has tainted my psyche for the past two weeks. Simon and Garfunkel are now the writers of my own personal mental soundtrack. I get dressed in the morning and since the fall cold has kicked in, I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone, going home. In class when someone gets cold called and didn't do the reading, ​​"Fools" said I, "You do not know.” Every morning, like clockwork I wake up in a cold sweat. I email my therapist (she likes to keep up to date on my unconscious mind): Dear Joyce, last night I had the strangest dream I’ve ever had before. It's a very comforting feeling to have these two men become boarders of my brain, and their harmonies and lyrics become one with my thoughts and simultaneously distract. Also, if you’re ever looking for a good screenplay, reading The Graduate is just as awesome as watching it. 

Keeley came to visit and with her brought the familiarity I have missed and the reminder that relationships are easy and good and right. As my new friendships progress, I think it's so precious to chronicle the moments where we laugh like kindergarten friends and let our guards down like old friends. One identifies herself as a “fiend for an altered state of mind” and we relate, then we conceptualize a reality show where groups of guy friends have an excursion to a second-tier museum and we just get to watch. Is life just always better when you have the coked up brain that comes from a mutual crush and the breeze that means you can comfortably wear a turtleneck outdoors?