justnick's Diaryland Diary

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The Summation of my being is now a McFavorite... for a limited time only

BGM: "When will I be loved?" - The Everly Brothers

My "Eastern Religion and The Arts" teacher told us an interesting story today. He told us about a woman, who upon recieving a heart transplant, had intense cravings for beer and McNuggets. She went to meet the mother of the child who's heart she had, and discovered he had died in a motorcycle accident. He loved beer, and his he had died on the ride home from McDonalds, with 9 McNuggest in his breast pocket. I think he heard it on Oprah. Freaky shit. He went on to express the theory how our body is just an illusionary shell for the soul, and any one part contains the entirity of all the other parts. Now, at first I just thought it was hella cool, but then it got me to thinking. If I was to die tommorow, and some random woman got MY heart, would the entirity of my being be summed up by alcohol and junk food? Makes it seem kinda pointless, doesn't it? Makes damn good advertising for McDonalds part, however. I'd like to think that she would suddenly get an urge to perform lesbian sex and write some poetry and play the guitar, but knowing me she would just want to go get drunk and jump in a mosh pit. Almost makes you want to better yourself. But then the indie in me comes out and I decide that society's definition of "better" is fucked up anyway, and as long as I'm happy with myself, that's as good as I need to be. It sounds a lot more after school special than it really is. It's less, "be happy with yourself" and more "you're a degenerate, but life's short, so who gives a shit. Go get stoned." Oh well.

And I forgot to say, I tried furthuring my cause with the lovely Dominique from English class. The one with the smile, remember? Anyway, I sat myself where she was going to be sitting, but thanks to some smartass guy who came and grabbed her seat, I had to offer up my own so as she could sit with her friends. At least I looked like a gentleman. I tried chatting her up before the teacher came in, but her friend was feeling a lot more talkative than she was. Turns out she's in my program, just 2 semesters behind me. I'll keep working on it next class, I suppose.

Well, I've officially had all of my classes but one. So far, I've been pleasantly surprised. And like I think I mentioned somewhere else, I've made more friends and met more women in the last four days than the entire first three semesters.

If nothing else, this semester's school year has built me up a coffee dependancy. I used to hate the stuff. But then again, I used to hate girls, too. I'll call it maturing. Excelsior.

6:12 p.m. - 2003-01-23

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