the matrix

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Sometimes I’m really tired of coming home to my house smelling like the matrix. I can’t stand anywhere in the common area without smelling the chemical composition of hickory smoke flavored soy bacon. Fucking if you are going to eat fake meat do you have to eat the most pungent one? I have enough respect to not eat hickory smoke real bacon…please don’t torture me with soy bacon. Have you ever noticed how the enzymes used to make the “authentic smell” in soy meat (think: charcoal, hickory smoke) are way overpowering? They are actually nowhere near authentic to me.

teaching has been going well, though the adults around me seem to be driving me a little batty. I fear that I may be experiencing my first bout of PMS….or i may just be frustrated with the asinine requests that have been made of me while I’m in the middle of a lecture.

LMU is going okay. I get to class today and apparently there is a teaching position open at Palos Verdes Peninsula High School for next year. In my heart I want to stay at Franklin to watch my babies graduate (I’ve had them since they were freshman), but I know it would be an okay financial move. I’ll keep the networking info, and even go check it out, but I know in my heart I want to see my babie through. My professor told me that she really enjoys reading my writing. I appreciate that.

I’m currently downloading the DaVinci code onto my IPOD because I can’t go anywhere without being in earshot of this story. I simply want to wash my hair, but it can’t be done until I download it.

I had a Brian waking dream last night. Actually, more of a flash back that kind of left me a little upset. What’s that about? Transitions in life I guess. I love and miss his family, but not him. I miss my family. On Wednesday when I went to get my oil changed the only thing I wanted to do was talk to my mom. Granted when I did, I was kind of frustrated because my dad may be coming to my graduation after all, but I plan to try to remain positive about the whole thing.

The mechanics at my auto shop are really cute. Like six of the men i saw last night were really good looking. I went to bed with the idea of just marrying one, and having a little lower-middle class existence (school loans will take a huge chunk out of the life style we could be living with both our salaries), having babies, owning a little house, and being in love. I know its crazy. I just keep spotting really good looking men that make me love LA that much more. I was stopped at a red light telling my sponsor about how my prayerlife has increased just a little this year when this hot guy with deep dark brown clear, skin and a brown G-unit t-shirt, full juicy lips and a fucking back pack (re: college senior or something) walked in front of my car. We totally made eye contact, and held eye contact while he crossed the entire lenght of the street and almost fell over. my need to gawk at good looking guys through my sun glasses could possibly be impeding the development of my prayer life…but really, come on now..please. My autobody shop is filled with men of every brown color imaginable, and the young man who helped me yesterday had on a blue jumpsuit, a baseball cap, and the best facial hair (think Jon B). I couldn’t help but smile at him while he helped me. He had the best hands…strong, and covered in oil. A working man’s hands. things that are familiar to me: the smell of nicotine trapped in clothing and size and feel of a working man’s hands. Brian didn’t have either of those. His dad had both of those. My dad has both of those. For those reason’s alone, my future husband will be a nonsmoking wedding planner or CEO…Don’t get me wrong, I love brian’s dad and my dad, but neither were the best fathers. They did the best with what the could…but sometimes there are time when it doesn’t feel like it was enough.

With thoughts like these I know I live in the matrix.

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