The hordes of high school seniors slouching towards sigma nu waiting to be drunk have descended upon Yale's campus yearning for liberation from their greenwich parents in their stately manses and shiny beemers. It all makes me so cognizant of just how much i hate this place and want to get the fuck out of here. I have learned what i came here to learn, barring future enrollment in other educational institutions, and most of it happened either outside the classroom, or in the classrooms of one of maybe four or five professors. The rest was a crash course in power, privilege, and empire and someone else's expense. I think i'm not going to go to graduation. If there's a bush protest other than the one a bunch of seniors are trying to put together, but which i'm not down with (people are saying Kerry stickers... fuck that,) then i may go to that, but i've seen what that ceremony looks like and i want no part of it.
I keep having recurring dreams. I'm not going to discuss them here, though, because apparently Mike Morand is still reading Josh's blog, and Phoebe's blog, and so unless he finds my ramblings about Beatles/Metallica hybridization inconsequential (what do fascist sellout scumbags listen to?) (and given the events of last semester's aldermanic race) i will, as usual, be pretty careful about what i post here.
¶ 11:19 PM