Day 163

Listening to: The Radio Dept, "Strange Things Will Happen." A friend put me on to all these indie pop bands from Sweden. These guys are apparently related to dream pop, shoegaze, and twee pop. Fun descriptors, all of them -- even if I have no idea what they mean. Certain bands are labeled shoegaze because "musicians in these bands often maintained a motionless performing style in concert, standing on stage and staring at their effects pedals or the floor while playing their instruments; hence, the idea that they were gazing at their shoes." I find that, well, twee.

My home Internet was down all day and I'm trying to make up for lost time by ramming out emails, blogs, and general browsing. I read today that Percocet and OxyContin are basically like prescribable heroin. Having intermittent and unreliable access to the web made me feel like a desperate junkie. Refresh, refresh, refresh. Nothing. Refresh, refresh, refresh. Nothing. I dragged my pillows and bedding out into the hallway -- my favorite reading spot when the sun's out -- and whipped through "The Pinball Theory of the Apocalypse," a book designed by the author to be read on a flight from LAX to JFK.

Either the title, and the fun cover, was the best thing about the book or I totally missed something. It's supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, satirical, and dark. I think I'd like to be all of these things but when confronted with them (especially in the literary world) I lose my interest. The characters always come off a little too nonchalant and unaffected. I wonder if wanting to like this stuff means that I want to be nonchalant and unaffected, and if so, maybe I should just say uncle and admit that it's not very exciting to be any of the three.

Things are moving fast fast fast. Which is great because I'm in no mood for anything to slow down. Of course, when things move this fast I feel like life starts to spin slightly out of control but that's okay. If approaching light speed has the relativistic effect of slowing the aging process (hypothetically), than that's the speed I would like to move at. Of course, moving fast is also a subtle form of escapism but that's besides the point. I already have the rest of my February all planned out and winter's forcefully crawling to a close already. Things are moving a tad too fast maybe? Then again, last year at this time, I think I was feeling the exact same way. Someone really influential shortened February by a few days and now it never lasts long enough.

No matter. I will accomplish all the things I need to do before March hits. For one, there's a great snowboarding trip all prepped and ready to go. For two, I'll be in San Francisco in a week or two, ready to apartment hunt and settle in. I've decided this saving money is for the birds. What good is a bulky bank account if you're wasting away inside?

To that end, I'm trying to convince a particular someone to move in with me. I don't do well without roommates and it's probably best I'm not left alone to my own devices. If that doesn't work out, I may very well have to room with strangers, which sounds more exciting and romantic in theory than in probable practice. I haven't had stranger roommates since freshman year and I can't say I relished that experience. I have to say though, when looking for apartments, this mashup of Craigslist and Google Maps is amazing. I love technology, even if it sometimes leaves me flat on the ground, staring at something that I can't quite wrap my head around, and waiting for my real world to reconnect.

Refresh, refresh, refresh.