|Current mood:|| quixotic|
|Current music:||Panic at the Disco! Yes, I should be ashamed of myself.|
People ask each other all the time: "What would you do if you were locked in a white room with nothing to do?" Sometimes I wonder who started all of it, only vaguely understanding the reason behind the question. I've even wondered if I should paint a white room, or find one. Should I spend my life searching for the thing that puts me into a severed phase of consciousness? In other words, do I want to be crazy?
But I digress. why could the walls not be beige and the tiled floor a distinctive cross between a lack of creativity and dirt? Does that give the subject in question too much to think about? I suppose this is what hpapens. Only, I have pen and pencil and I may record the subsequent musings that boredom places upon me. Hmmm. Now I sit in a blue and green lecture hall-reminiscent of school colors, but so faded it's hard to tell. The clock reads fifteen minutes before class, and while I'm now surrounded by people, I can't help but feel some boredom at a lack of entertainment. Academia is for the fully awake. Mindless entertainment-- that which I seek--would be very welcome right now.
Shed the societal trappings of politeness and overtures of initial friendship. Let your raw humanity out. Where are the barroom fights and depravity college is supposed to contain? It's white-walled craziness here. The spice is left untouched, untapped in its beautiful hidden glory. Only five minutes left. Someone sitting near me smells like peanut butter and sweat. what a lovely, lovely realm.