A Word About Time Travel.

Barack won a Nobel today. I don't really have a problem with it. I like the guy.

That's not the issue. The issue is by the time I woke up, had my coffee and checked facebook, the entire east coast already knew about it. It's noon there, but it's 9 am here.

This seems to me like some sort of weird time warp I can't quite understand. While the president's winng peace prizes back east, on the west coast we're all asleep.

While Michael Jackson's eating handfulls of pills in the middle of the afternoon, back east we were getting ready to eat dinner, some of us upset by the news, but also upset that The Simpsons were going to be interrupted with the media frenzy.

Things still happen at the same time. Barack didn't win the nobel 3 hours earlier, he just won it while we were all in bed. Way in bed.

On a related note, I hid lots of people from my newsfeed today. Someone wrote "In my world, Charels [sic] Manson would win the nobel before Obama. What is this country thinking?"

We'll just leave it at that. It's still too early here to flesh out all the dumbass details of this comment.

Fortune Cookie of Destiny

I have started to question my life goals. Publishing has a lot to do with sales and marketing and distribution and shit that I really, honestly could care nothing about.

This little venture has left me way in debt and I am very nervous about that.

My adviser has pissed me off more times than an adviser should piss you off. And it's week two.

My classes are full of sci-fi young adult lit dweebs who love (LOVE!) to hear themselves talk. Every class has one of them. You know the kind I'm talking about. The kind you picture stabbing in the eye with a gel pen? Well I've got two in each class. At least two.

But! BUT!

Today my fortune cookie had two fortunes in it! TWO FORTUNES! This is surely a sign. Things like this do not happen every day. (Two fortunes!)

But there's more. The fortunes read (in this order):

"You will have gold pieces by the bushel."

and!

"Nothing can keep you from reaching your goals. Do it!"

I'm not shitting you, I walked out of that place inspired. My fortune cookies were right. I will have gold pieces by the bushel! (I fucking better. Cost me enough to get here.) Notice that the two go hand in hand. If I follow my dreams (which consist of only editing, no marketing, no sales, no bullshit PR and promo stuff), I will have a bushel of gold pieces.

And so I have to take a couple management classes? What's the big deal, crybaby? It really is valuable information that I need to know.

And so my loony adviser gave me bum advice that ended up costing me 500+ dollars? It really is my fault, in the end. I should have taken more caution when adding credits. What's 500 bucks compared to a bushel of gold pieces?

Thank you, cookie of dreams and hope!

And, the university library only stays open till 11? What kind of shit is that?

You'll all be pleased to know that I haven't lost my rage. I still hate pretty much everyone.

The surly waitress who took forever to bring my check.

The skank talking much too loud about her noodles at the table across from me.

The guy who didn't wipe the wand of the milk steamer after making my latté.

The dirty freaks with their fur protest signs.

The Asian couple making out in the middle of the sidewalk.

And most of all, that queer in the front row of my Intro to Pub class who thinks he knows every single fucking thing there is to know.

Who Cares.

Last night I had a dream that was moving to Sydney, Australia. I had a robot dog (but I'm pretty sure it breathed) that I almost forgot in the trunk, then me and the flight attendants had to wrestle him into storage so that they could put him in the animal compartment under the plane.

I was running late and I kept forgetting everything.

A Word About Homeless People.

There are lots of them here. I've heard that Seattle has the highest homeless rate, and Portland second, but I imagine that California and Florida have us beat. I mean, who wants to sit on the street corner in the rain all day? Your cardboard house would melt.

Unemployment rates are at about 11.8% (for the metro area alone) and counting.

Sometimes it's hard to tell who is homeless, and who is hip. Lots of kids out here look like the anarchists back home look, which is funny if you think about it. How does the anarchist in Athens, Ohio know that the anarchists in Portland, Oregon are cutting chunks of their hair out with safety scissors, or letting one piece grow really long so that they can wrap it in string?

I've seen more on-the-street-drug deals go down out here than I have in my whole life elsewhere. Usually, of course, it's the street people doing business. You can be pretty sure that it's crack, meth, or some other nasty hobo drug I have no interest in.

You would think they would get creative with their signage. There's stiff competition in the Portland hobo market, and in order for you to get that stranger's pocket change you've got to be on top of your game. But mostly it's your standard. "Homeless, jobless, please help." Or, "Laid off by Whole Foods, spare some for a friend in need," etc, etc.

If I were homeless my sign would say, "I just need enough to get to Kinko's and print a couple copies of my résumé. Then I won't bother you anymore." I think it's a moneymaker.