anonymouse

The warm weather has returned... with a vengeance!!! But I don't care, because I'm seeing Fishbone tonight! Yay! Hey, shut up. Fuck you. I like fishbone. Stop making fun of me.

Anyhow. A couple of days ago, I had a little while before class started. So I went over to the canal by the panhellenic parking lot which is adjacent to the LC parking lot where I put my car every morning. There were... DUCKLINGS! And a momma duck, like the kind I used to feed at Snapper Creek. I remembered how those black and white ducks with the loose, red skin around their beaks could catch bits of bread in their beaks, and I would clap and say, "Good job!" when I was little. Awww. And now that I'm no longer a child and most definitely no longer a teenager and undoubtably an adult, I feed the duckies, and I hop from foot to foot in a little dance while sing-songing, "ba-beeee duck-ieeees, how I love to feed you!" The little ducklings are a true signifier of springtime, and I don't like the warm weather, but I love the baby duck ducks.

Yeah. So I returned to that canal where I fed the baby ducks, because they didn't eat all of my stale (now moldy) bread, and I returned to find a mommy duck with what my family called "teenager" ducks, two of them. They're like ducklings, only a bit bigger but not full-size. They still have yellow and brown fuzzy fur, not quite feathers. I wonder if they're the same duckies, and if their brothers and sisters swam off because they're old now. I don't know if ducks grow that fast. It was hard to tell in Snapper Creek, since there were so many troops of little ducklings lined up behind their mommies and daddies. I do remember that I would see the teenage ducks off on their own, but a couple would cling to their mommies for a while. That's cute.

Okay. There's a HUGE fucking pelican in Lake Toxicola by Stanford Circle. For real. It could probably eat my head and still have room for three more in its mouth. I'm kind of simultaneously scared and fascinated by it. There were also ibises and egrets on the rocks by the lake. And mallards, of course. I fed them, and whenever I see ducks swimming or waddling super-fast to get to their bread lunches, I say, "Oh, I have more customers!" Because I'm retarded.

Yesterday, I had to go back home to pick up my piece of paper with all the courses I wanted to take (uh, it's totally changed -- THANK YOU FOR PUTTING A PSYCHOLOGY BUILDING ABOUT TEN MILLION MILES AWAY FROM THE REST OF CAMPUS, ASSHOLES), and I wound up snuggling on my parents' bed with my kitties because I had an hour. I napped and studied and napped. Originally, just Sammy was on the bed. Then Zowie jumped up, and she walked around and on and by me, and she snuggled by my arm. Then, after 10 minutes or so, she snuggled into my side, and I had two little honey bunnies with me. I think Zo knew I was feeling bad. You know, from that shitty criminology course.

Ah, on my way back to school, there was a cute pedestrian crossing the intersection at 136th and US1, and he had a rugby shirt on and spiky hair and was listening to an iPod. He walked by my car (that intersection has, like, a ten-minute red light), and then he tapped my window and said, "I love your shirt." I was wearing a concert shirt from The Jam. I'm making a note that the cute boys love The Jam. And by extension, me. Heh.

I hate jam bands, but I love The Jam, and The Jam is not a jam band -- I wanted to clarify that, in case there was any confusion. Unfortunately, there are many cute boys who are into jam bands and/or have a jam band. Stop listening to the String Cheese Incident and fuck me!

Whenever I'm at a public terminal, like in the computer labs at school or the library, I click paste. Oftentimes, people cut or copy really inane, amusing things, and I like reading them. Incidentally, I always copy my journal entries before I submit them in case something goes wonky and I lose my journal entry. It's happened before. Unfortunately, the previous person at this computer only copied a link to a page at Miami-Dade Community College's website. Dang.

Hey! I'm going to see Fishbone tonight! Yay yay yay!

Postscript: Goddamn, I can hear those Iron Arrow assholes banging their stupid drum. Maybe a little of my discontent is sourt grapes, but... Cultural appropriation isn't cool. Okay. There are some forms of cultural appropriation that are unavoidable -- makeup, Chinese-American food, tattoos, piercings, dreads, et al. I know some people are extremely opposed to dreads, but... They should also be extremely opposed to all the other things I just listed, because dreads are on par with makeup and tattoos when it comes to cultural appropriation. Iron Arrow, however, is a another kettle of fish -- whatever that means. Iron Arrow is the highest academic honor you can get at the University of Miami. Members burn wood in a vaguely Native American-esque container, and bang out a vaguely Native American-esque rhythym on a vaguely Native American-esque drum while wearing jackets with a vaguely Native American-esque print on them and vaguely Native American-esque orange, white, and green tribal face paint. Most of the members I've seen are white, and you know what? It's not enough to fucking STEAL the Native Americans' land and siphon them off into shitty little reservations and making them sell fucking beads on the side of the road or abandon their culture and open up fucking casinos. Whatever. The white man has to also take their fucking culture.

In other news, I can't differentiate between people with schizophrenia -- it isn't PC to call people schizophrenics because it takes away the person's indivudality and classifies them as only a disease -- and people with hands-free cell phones. I know I'm not the first person to make this observation, but it's so true.