Today I lost my phone.
I was taking a class at the local community college (it's a 3-D computer animation class full of a few talented students, some barely getting by students, and then some other "student" people who I know are reading sonic the hedgehog fan fiction instead of doing classwork because I can see their monitor screen. In fact, while I am talking in parenthesis, lets talk some more about this class. First off, I'm taking this class because I was curious, not for the grade, which is why I can spend my time looking around a little bit and enjoying the weird company around me.
There's this kid in front of me who has taken 3 other semesters of this class--I know because I was there--and he has only modeled corbin bleu. This kid--who is nothing like the person you'd expect to be obsessed with corbin blue, has been staring at corbin bleu's face on his screen for over a year now.
This kid made the most terrifying short film of my life--pure horror. You walk into a room, and there's pixelated corbin bleu posters everywhere, and there's a sole jack in the box in the middle on a little table with corbin bleu on the outside, and it slowly opens and spins and then OUT POPS CORBIN BLEUS FACE in clown makeup it was so freakin creepy.
Anyway, he totally failed the past three semesters but is still taking the class for some reason, and now he's supposed to do a self portrait, which, considering that he isn't black or a singer or corbin bleu, would mean that corbin bleu should not be his reference material. But no, this creeper is modeling corbin bleu--again-and making corbin bleu look like the Guy on the Pringles can but in a fro and dead, dead eyes . I'm scared for my life sometimes.
And every day he freaks out for no reason, turns to me or whoever's around and goes
and I pretend to ignore him
"Yes?" I finally say
"Do you know how to...to...make this work?"
and I look at his corbin bleued screen and ask
"Make what work?"
"Could you make this work?"
"No." I lie "I don't know how to do that."
and he'll continue to do that until someone either a.) does it for him or b.) he gives up and decides to rock out to something on his earbuds as he stares into corbin bleu's eyes. Since it's about that time in the semester that everyone has stopped helping him, he's basically moved a pixel back and forth for three days. One vertex, he moves it to the right. Thinks about it. zooms into corbin bleu. zooms out. Then moves the vertex back, and repeats the process.
Which is better than this one dude from a different class who tried to pay me to do his art homework for him. First of all-it's art homework. My art would look nothing like his. And when I said 'no' he said,
"but then I'll fail this class and it will be all your fault"
"I already have an art degree. I don't need to do yours."
"That's really unfair to me."
and legit stormed away.)
Anyways, so the class I was taking was over and I forgot my phone. I said phoooo because it was raining and I had heavy things and was wearing a rediculous shirt.
And I need to talk about my shirt for a second because I have somthing to get off my chest: What the hell am I wearing? I've been wearing it all day, and I haven't been sure whether I should tuck it in, or wear it with a belt, or button it or unbutton it, or if it's just ironic or whatever. I don't even know if I look fat or skinny in it. It defy's all laws of physics and common sense and I don't know why I bought it or why I still want to wear it all the time.
But I did. It's called a High-Low hem shirt, so the back is a full on dress, and the front the hem cuts off at normal shirt length. It's for a much wider person, and it's see through and black. It also has the Dread Pirate Roberts sleeves. Anyways, now that you know why I bought it (because who could resist this) I just wanted to get that off my chest because...this is so weird. It's real guazy, too, and I swish around everywhere like I'm Severus Snape with about a foot longer than necessary train on my back for some reason and I feel like casting spells on people but I don't think they'd get it.
So anyways, I just got out of class and realized I was right next to a payphone.
I haven't used a payphone to call someone since College, back when I had a phone card (remember those?) and I called the parents once a month from the dorms to tell them I wasn't dead yet and they'd tell me they weren't dead yet and then they'd put more money on the card because they really enjoy those sort of conversations.
So anyways, I am right next to a payphone, and I decide, I have some change, lets use a payphone to call and get a ride. As my ride came I sat at a bench and looked around and waited. I waited like the good ol times like when I used to use payphones and phone cards.
I hadn't waited like that in a long time, without my phone to tweet, without anyone to talk to, without music to listen to. Instead I looked at the trees and tried really hard not to look at the people next to me as I shuffled. Then I decided to reach into my purse and pull out my journal, and my first thought was
"No, I only have a sketchbook. I used to journal all the time back when I would write. But I don't do that anymore"
And this thought KILLED me. I never write anymore! Thus why I have decided to start this sketchbook-blog up again. where I freewrite and don't care about who reads it or any of that nonsense. Because you know what? If I don't, how will I ever remember about the creeper with the corbin bleu problem, or the dude in the back row who always clarifies how to Ctrl-Z, or the unnatractive guy next to me who reads romance manga and sighs heavily every day as the main girl falls farther and farther in her doomed, vampiric love triangle? I wouldn't remember, I couldn't. And I should remember. I should remember these stupid things.
All of these stupid things I should remember as I wear this stupid shirt. I should always remember to remember the stupid things by remembering to remembering to write about them.