I'm the worst procrastinator in the world. I'm not even going to talk about how bad I've been procastinating lately.

I'm in my english two class currently, at the psu library, "researching" the topic of my presentation thats due next week. I have no topic, I don't foresee one jumping out at me any time soon, and my concern about my grades is at an all time high while my motivation to actually get my homework done (on time) is at an all time low. This, my friends, is bad.

I didn't pay my phone bill this month. It got lost somewhere. I think the phone company is mad because I have done this several times now, twice my phone has be disabled, and this time they went strait for my weakest spot, they shut off my dsl and it won't be back on for two weeks. So, I probably won't update this thing. Oh man, I bet your so sad.

When I am done with this entry I will walk down to waterfront park and just soak up the sun and smell the grass, one of my favorite forms of procrastination.

A good friend of mine is coming to visit me on sunday, and will be staying for a week, that is another reason I probably won't be updating this thing.

Anyways. My mind is wandering. Now go outside and look at the clouds.

I have been learning to stop questioning everything and just take things in stride, as of late. The greatest feeling in the world is when I stop tripping over lifes little obstacles and peculiarities, because only then can all of my energy be focused forward, to the sides, and toward life's scenery as it flies by in a blur.

I've realized that when my head is always down, when too much consciousness is devoted to avoiding distractions and obstacles, no attention can be given to the larger picture, which severely limits my possibilities. I'm not sure if this new epiphany is some sort of induced awaking by the news meds I'm on, or if I am in some sort of changing period or what, but whatever it is, I am going to hold on to it.

People are strange. Jim Morrison said it, so it must be true.

It's cool to be uncool these days, to be the anti-trend, the anti-corporation, the anti-sellout, to run against the grain. But, by distingiushing ourselves from the mainstream clique, we are creating our own, one that is possibly more pretentious then our so called adversities. It's an indie craze right now, the same thing that happened in the early nineties with the 'alternative' movement. The thing is, I'm so sick of it, of the fake attitudes and the walking textbook indiekids.

This is not to say that I haven't been sucked in to this mass of pseudo bohemians, because, for the longest time growing up in alaska, all I wanted to do was wear ratty clothing, mess up my hear (whoa, not too much), and tell all my friends how cool built to spill was.

Oh my god, you like the strokes? Oh my god, you like blink 182?(for the record, no) Who really gives a shit anyways. So a band makes it big, they are automatically sellouts and are not worth our time, or so that's the indiekid philosophy. Are we really that different from the mainstream group who believes that if a band is not big they are not worth our time? I don't know. maybe. whatever. dont listen to me.

Theres this person that I want to be. This person is smart, witty, and is not lazy.

Now, I wonder, how shall I go about transforming this shell of mine, this sometimes smart, sometimes braindead, hardly ever witty, body of mine.

I don't know. I wish I had a book that would tell me. Nevermind that, though. I don't want to talk about that.

Last night at around, oh, three a.m. or so, I stumbled out of bed to the fridge. Thirst, as you probably know, can be quite a strong pull.

As I dug through the cupboard looking for a cup that was actually clean (It's hit and miss these days, I'de say it's a 45% chance of getting a clean cup, on average, seeing as our dishwasher is a horrible disgrace) I settled on a very large plastic coca-cola cup. A promotional cup from carls jr, I believe.

I first went to the freezer for some ice. My room mate must have refilled the ice trays before going to bed because the non-frozen contents of them spilled all over me (although, some water was left in the tray, which I sucked out. It was fun).

I reached in to the bag of ice that has been in our freezer for five months, its contents now molded together like some glacier just waiting to break out of my freezer.

I cut my thumb. Blood went everywhere.

So I cut my thumb on some ice, not exactly the brightest thing to do. I wasn't too concerned, although blood was gushing everywhere. (my mouth seemed to passify most of the bleeding, or at least it kept the blood from going everwhere).

I managed to break an ice chunk free. I put it in my cup, filled it with water, took a couple drinks on the way back to my bed, and I spilled it everywhere.

I have felt good lately. Genuinly good. Content even. Today a couple of friends and I meandered around portland, stopping at borders, where we got strung out on coffee and looked at books we couldn't afford. We leaned over the bars at waterfront, staring down the stone wall toward the polluted willamette river below. It was hot today, but bearable and actually appreciated at points.

We went to washington park and just layed back on the grass and stared at the sky. It's nice to just waste a day away. It seems that when I have no plans, the best times happen.

Ok, so Im an alaska kid. This is my first summer out of Alaska. How come it has to be so freaking hot? Oh my god I think I am dying.

Today I think I'll go check out portland's rose gardens. That should be nice.