Fucks to give, I do not have any.
to Western like the scent of weed wafting down your dorm hallway and in through your windows.
Candy + Coffee + Black Keys + a lot of complaining = Women’s Studies essay. In theory.
Coffee, Alcohol, Hummus, Pho.
Growing up sucks. Don’t get me wrong, the privileges of being an adult are nice, and the responsibilities, such as I have experienced them, aren’t unreasonable by any means. But there is this persistent feeling of dissatisfaction with life that I just can’t shake. College is worthwhile enough, I suppose, but there are so many other things I could be doing. There’s an entire planet to see, and thousands of interests to pursue. I’m just in the wrong place, doing the right thing, at the wrong time, if that makes any sense at all. I guess I’m just not inspired by my surroundings, and I’ve come to find that inspiration is vital to my well-being, in all respects. I’ll end this ramble here, but still, how does a person fix this underwhelming routine of boredom?
I live in a college town full of coffee snobs, in Washington state no less, and yet it is damn near impossible to get a latte on campus that actually has milk foam on top. The foam is what makes it a latte, guys.
On a semi-related note, all my personal posts seem to be rants. Oops. I’ll attempt to fix that.
As a general rule, I avoid eating breakfast there, but I was too lazy to do anything on Sunday so I went. I was standing by the waffle iron waiting for mine to be done, and some guy with a plate already full of food walks up the the batter dispenser, looks at it for a while, then puts his plate under it and presses the lever. I’m not sure what he was expecting to happen, but he looked thoroughly confused. Maybe he thought it was syrup? Or that an instantly inflating waffle would come out?