It's sunday. I had a dream I was back home and I didn't have a plane ticket to come back to New York. Dreams are gay sometimes. I don't understand them. Perhaps they aren't meant to be understood? And those damn psychologists we pay hundreds of dollars to see are merely trying to defy the universe. But I also dreamt I was frolicking over a bridge and looking down, only to find an injured unicorn lying down in agony by the mushy river banks. I fixed his horn and you know those unicorns, they are magical. So he invited me for a ride on his back and we meandered through a field of rainbows, drifting heavenly in the sky.
Not really though.
Anyway, the first week of class was amazing. Probably because I only had like 3 classes to go to. I guess NYU Professors are lazy -__- School is good. Work is good. Life is good. I've been in the best mood lately. The only thing that gets me down is walking to class/work and seeing the fucking renovation of Washington Square Park. Fuck you, bitches.
My room's a mess. There are empty red cups, beer cans, bottles, mint, sugar, lime juice, coke, bongs, and clothes that don't belong to me everywhere. Some of the cups are still filled with mint and sugar, Mojito-esque still. Time to clean.
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