Vaccumed the car. Pretended to be an adult but avoided literally all my duties. Went to the arboretum with Brian for an hour (and caught quite a few pokemon, though none rare) then came back. Took a nap. Ate dinner and FaceTimed with the family. We are a computer family, our souls constantly toppling over without a stand or being muted or intentionally hung up on. Each person in a different place and in a different piece of Apple technology. The future is now.

I have a nagging fear that I may not graduate this upcoming semester for some idiotic reason or another. Regardless of whether or not I graduate this semester, I will be moving to New York (or NEW JERSEY, whatever). I will finish my final project, my senior "film," and move on, waltzing straight through bureaucratic tape and into the youthful unknown.

Brian came over and we watched "Fantastic Mr. Fox." I hate myself for saying this, but that which I so despise in others — feigned quirkiness, uniqueness, strength of personality, intentionally choosing two different colored socks, all fake and fashioned for the viewer — I truly love when done well and sincerely. Wes Anderson is god. (Brian didn't like it as much.)

We also looked up what it means to be boring, because we are learning how to deal with boring people. Boring people are very boring regardless of circumstance — indeed, it's about the person and their humor and storytelling ability — and I strive to be not boring. This paragraph, though, is boring.

Later in the night, I found an 11-year-old on YouTube. She is very smart and very crass. I wish I had some record of who I was when I was 11. I wish I was free to be a human when I was 11. This is why I need to go to New York.