There are places I remember

My brother Vinny is a man of few words so when he speaks, you listen. I randomly remembered when he helped me move in to my dorm room. Prior to bringing in my luggage and heavy things that I did not want to carry, he waited on line with me at the tents to pick up my cards and such. When we got back in the van and the doors were closed, the first words out of his mouth were, "A lot of sluts go to Hofstra." I certainly knew that he was my sibling at that moment. I was so proud and so excited and I laughed so much because it's absolutely true--and he said it. A lot of the chicks here are sluts and they get sluttier as time goes on. Beyond their garb, I've heard stories about some girls who hooked up with people the first night we all moved in. What reminded me of this little moment was the 'sex talk' that my mom had with me in the van that wasn't a technical sex talk. After Vinny mentioned that the girls were sluts, my mom veered in the unnecessary direction of having sex. She mentioned that it's always the girl's choice to have sex and that no matter what the guy should always have protection--it's not the girl's responsibility--and the girl should never have sex without protection and you should always know the person. I just stared at her in disbelief--it's my choice?!I thought that men were the superior sex and if they snapped their fingers at me and wanted sex, I was just supposed to take my clothes off and let them have me. And what was this fangled "protection" she spoke of? Were guys supposed to carry pepper spray or a gun? Maybe a mallet? I was just blown out of the water at this information. It's a good thing that my mom was so direct and honest when talking to me about "a girl" having sex or else I would be in hot water.

I still have ink on my hands from making stained glass. By stained glass I mean Sharpie markers on glass. By glass I mean a used Pom juice jar. Karen has a few of them that had to be decorated and I didn't know what to do, so I just had a bunch of different colors. It wasn't perfect, but it was pretty decent. I may not be Andrew or Brittany or Jen, but slightly better than a "retard in molases." I dont think the markers will go away for a while.

No gym sex screaming today. Shucks.

I want to sleeeeep. It's 1am and I can't sleep because of people making noise. What else is new?

I dont know what I want anymore when it comes to people. People as in boys. Boys as in someone in particular. I don't know anymore. Should I say something? Shouldn't I? I want to wait but I dont want to. I'm afraid of rejection or something? I dont know. Do they want me? Fuck it.

You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

I shall *try* to sleep. Goodnight. Peace.