I am about to snap! I am so burnt out on undergrad it hurts. It's actually starting to feel like I am going to that job I hated for three years when I was a hotel bellboy. That was some seriously degrading shit.
On the good side, I am getting some new wheels sometime soon since my latest student loan was just approved. I have been looking at old (read: cheap) diesel Volkswagens on the interweb and I found a few promising jalopies, some of which actually run!
I also found out via a craigslist posting in LA (via the awesome jaxed sitemash - link on the right) that lots of people on the West coast are converting old-ass beetles into electric cars! There are even kits you can buy out there now! That's fuckin' awesome!
Here's an article on such. Sorry, you'll have to copy and paste the link:
http://www.treehugger.com/files/2007/09/teen_creates_el.php
Here's another one about a guy in Mexico who did it too. Shit if people in Mexico can figure this out what the hell's wrong with us! (No offense intended to Mexicans. I just mean we oughta do better shit with our money.)
http://www.evworld.com/article.cfm?storyid=1268
Sometimes I wish people in Ohio would get on the green bandwagon like those people in California do. Then I remember how much cheaper it is to live in Cincinnati. Ah, the Rustbelt. What's not to love. Anyways people in California enunciate too much. One time I went there with the UC Geography Club and some hippies took us to some bar in San Francisco where they had the strangest bluegrass band I ever saw. I think they were all software designers or something during the day. They all wore business casual attire and they spoke with a crisp tone. I will never forget the man saying into a mike, "And now we'd like to play a tune for you called 'Sally Goodin'." The way he said it, it sounded like he was uncomfotable with the title. They then played a set of technically virtuousic, but very mechanical, bluegrass standards. There wasn't a grizzled old man or a flannel shirt in sight. It was truly scary.
In other news from the home front I am fighting desperately to save my soul from being consumed by the painfully overwhelming normalcy, arrogance, and mainstream culture of the people I have to be around at college. Last week I heard someone telling a funny story about how they took their girlfriend out for their anniversary and the waiter poured the wine the wrong way! I don't know how that's possible since my favorite wine is a tie between Manishevitz and Thunderbird, but this douchebag in khakis thought it was really great. A small part of me died that day. I then told him a story about how I beat the passenger side door off of my '85 F150 with a sledgehammer and then sold it to a guy who worked at the slaughterhouse across the street from my old apartment who was from Hazard county for $20. That guy only bought the truck so he could use the VIN number in the dashboard for an old Ford that he someone gave him that had no title. I thought that was really clever. And he probably didn't finish high school.
Fortunately I have cultural and spiritual relief/reinforcements on the way. Famous gas station philosopher, amateur taxidermist, social butterfly, engraver, portraitist, binge drinker, and storyteller Southwest Virginian Nathan Turner will arrive in the Queen City on Saturday after me and my sister drive to Big Stone Gap to pick him up. We are all excited about this endeavor.
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