Long, rainy day. Very long. In art history, we watched a video of Isis destroying the contents of an Assyrian temple. First hammers, then a bomb. My teacher cried, I think. It was an exciting class and I like my teacher a lot — she is very smart, yet still personable.

Over lunch, I read. Vincent bothered me twice while I was reading and eating — multitasking — which was at once bizarre and expected. I just didn't think he'd be so transparent about his thirst: "What are you doing? Where are you going? What's your day like? Do you have class? What class? What are you reading? Where are you sitting? Ok, ok, see you, sure, ok goodbye."

Collab was fine. Tom made me the leader of the character design group for this week. I didn't like his "arbitrary" choice. But at the same time, I did.

After that, I worked some more in the studio. Drew a car. I'm fucked for my senior project. Every day it flip flops. Today, my heart is in the ground, sinking into the earth after puncturing the base of my torso, plummetting, burying into dirt like a vegetable.

WAIT, what the fuck. I am writing at 3 am in the dark and my roommate just whispered "yeah" in her PRESUMED sleep......this is worse than when Kazumi used to violently fart in the dark.

Anyway. Today, my heart is a potato. Tomorrow, who knows, it may soar above me, flying like a pigeon, or maybe an eagle, or a pterodactyl, migrating through the stratosphere and disappearing into the heavens, and then sky will rain gold. It's hard to predict.

After working for a bit, I led the animation study group meeting. It was chaos. Too many people. Three awkward freshmen. At least only three came instead of all eight who signed up. That would have been truly a living nightmare. Other peers came, peers I've become acquainted with over the past two years.

God, two years. I'm longer here than I was at UCLA. What has impacted me more? Will I miss it when I leave? Or will it be like the severing of a withered umbilical cord?

We're going to Minnanimate tomorrow. Should be a good time. I talked to a girl who knows about games, and she reassured me that programming my type of game would be, actually, really easy. Or at least relatively easy. Either way, I am reassured.

I went to dinner with Ameesha. I talk about my own problems too much. I talk about Carlos and Katie too much. Our group chat (including Leanne) has become nothing but a wasteland of Ben Chin Facebook screenshots. I wrote an entire polemic last night about the future of meme criticism, and there was not one peep uttered from any of my so-called "friends." Except Brian, who is my one true friend. The rest can go suck a fuck.

(Brian went to NYC today, all by himself. In a strange way, I am proud of him. He is good and strong, like an ox, or a piece of twine.)

But really, Carlos. Where is he now? Who is he now? What does he feel? What does he do? Is there any remaining spark? Or has it all gone to feeding the cat?

Then, I worked a while longer. I have quite a bit to do tomorrow, because I fucked around too much today and didn't get as much done as I'd planned.

Despite all this, life is ok right now. I am reading and watching and listening to things. I am constantly learning and improving. I have friends, and, more importantly, I have enemies. Alex emailed me back a very long email, which I am excited to dissect and reply to. Tomorrow will be a new day. My only fear, at this point, is that while I am enriching my brain with intellectual nutrients, I am systematically destroying my body with each marshmallow rice krispie bar I consume. When will I find peace in monism? Am I forever doomed to the perpetual tug-and-pull of mind-body dualism? I think I will only achieve the state of "oneness" when I am 60. Then I will make peace with my corporeal shell.