I look around the room, and see an ever-increasing state of disarray. Indeed, it seems that the move is less far off every day. Like most major life changes, the significance of not permanently residing in this city still eludes me, and probably will continue to do so until well after I move out.
I don't have a desk. I'm typing this on a laptop sitting on top of my other computer, in the corner of a room that bears fewer and fewer fingerprints of my living here. My bookshelf is gone, the books in boxes on the floor. I'm going to mail my computer home in short order. The amp goes to California with a friend for safe-keeping while I'm in France. That's it. The rest fits in my luggage, and goes on the plane.
It's not depressing, really, just kind of increasingly austere. It's as if, instead of making a clean cut with this city, I'm a tooth dangling around in the side of its mouth, kind of hurting and waiting for the courage and the right time to be pulled out completely. I've got to say, though, that the biggest bummer is having to pack up my stereo. What's a music grad with no amplification? At least I've still got my headphones.

What is it about a movie that makes you want to be like the people in the movie for the three or so hours following the movie? So I watched Benny and Joon, and now I've just the urge to, you know, mash potatoes with tennis rackets and iron my grilled cheese sandwiches, like Johnny Depp did in his utter coolness. But after I watch something like Enter the Dragon, all I want to do is kick and punch. So what is it? And why doesn't it stay longer. Like, if I could maintain my kung-fu sensibility for two days after watching The Matrix, I might be able to get some real ass-kickin' done. But three hours is just enough for a sore groin and then bedtime. And you can't just watch a new movie every three hours, because then you've got to spend all that money on renting movies, not to mention that there are only so many Kung-Fu movies out there. And your momentum is ruined by sitting down for an average of 1.5 hours. Maybe I should read a book about Kung-Fu, because that lasts longer. Hmm.

Postscript:
My irony doesn't follow as well on "paper" as it does when I'm talking out loud. Maybe if you could all just imagine me gesticulating wildly, so I don't have to insert images into my text. It ruins the flow.
peace out.
-D

I never thought the pressure to write in this thing would get to me. I guess this is why most people keep their diaries private: to avoid having to impress anybody but themselves. Are other people so much more profound that they can write in a diary all day? Or is it that all diaries are terminally boring? Hmm... This is more of a log, I guess, because it beats writing mass emails. If I were you, the friends and family of mine who ostensibly read this business, I'd prefer not to get unsolicited emails from Donald all the damned time.

Back to diaries, I guess you only hear about the diaries of people who consistently have a lot to say, or are so profoundly bored that they are slowly descending (ascending?) into insanity. Like Antarctic Explorers, or Anne Frank, who was a little of both.

I went and saw Harry Manx last night. For those of you who don't know him (which, unless you're Canadian, is a high probability), he's this blues fellow out of Toronto. He plays one seriously mean guitar. You know how some guitarists are really good at, say, playing solos, and others make the guitar sound like four instruments playing at once? He's in that latter group, like this slidey-blues/indian raga thing. Not to mention that on top of that he actually does play four instruments at once, if you count his voice. He's got the guitar, this floor pedal thing that supplies bass drum sounds when he taps on it, a harmonica, and singin'. He's big in Canada, take that as you will.

Graduation

So I graduated this friday. That was entertaining. The funny thing about
graduation from college, at least my graduation from college, is that
I expected it to be anticlimactic, but it wasn't. It was a big deal. I
suppose that it's a testament to the college that they managed to give a
little weight to the ceremony, but nonetheless, I was impressed.
Of course, navigating a weekend with my parents, Anna's parents, basically
everybody and their mom was a chore requiring little sleep and much in the
way of logistics, but that's what you get. It's funny that during finals
week I slept 8 hours a day, but during senior week, when ostensibly I should
have no work to do, I got 5-6 hours of sleep a night. Maybe it was my
sleep-induced haze that lent gravity to the ceremony.
All that for a piece of paper. It doesn't even say what my majors were. Just

Donald Latif Anderson
Bachelor of Arts

Boy, you'd think that after that kind of courtship I'd be married to the arts,
and not still playing the field. I dunno. I'll be posting pictures of the
ceremony shortly.
-Donald

I'm Done! I'm Done! I'm Done I'm Done I'm Done!

I turned it in! The last paper! It's in the office, for better or worse.
Seven pages of computer science mediocrity. Not significant in length, or
theme (Agent-Oriented Programming Paradigms). Significant because it's the
Last Paper I Ever Wrote For College!! Done done done! I'm
going to play guitar in the sun! Do a cartwheel!

If you want to hire me, please send me an email.

I know that I just linked to it a couple of days ago, but y'all should go back to the Ugly By Now web site, because we just put up the first real studio album. It's the Graded Advance EP. You'll figure it out. Just go!

life is lumpy
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life is unfair an unofficial 'malcolm in the middle' fan resource site
life is so strange
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life is for everything foundation is no longer active
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life is a sensible diet and exercise program by kris
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life is one of the "great places to work in the twin cities" st
life is winky september 09
life is a mess
life is an education
life is peachy hola