sleeping with a gun under my pillow.

watsonville was less than eighty degrees today. perfect weather. a perfect day for banana fish. meagan wanted to get some clay from beverly fabrics in aptos so that she could show the girls at the migrant camp how to make bracelets on tuesday. i supported it. but man, do i hate fabric stores. i don't mind places like stitches in seattle where all they have is fabric and beads, but i do mind places like michael's, stores that just sell the worst shit you could possibly put in your house. faux flowers, a malleable block to keep your pet's imprints, stupid red hats, the list goes on. i think that's why i love the record stores. nothing but cds and records. maybe some cleaning materials, and okay, dvds and crap, but at least there's no bubble gum, batteries, and vitamin c water. tower would do that and look where it got them. just kidding. they had bigger problems than that. anyway, i guess i'm just tired of being able to whip out the debit card and solve all of my problems in one go. yesterday, par exemplo, i walked a few blocks to buy some sopes from popo's. and as i was walking back, i thought about what i'm losing by not going out to find my own food. we're a culture that's learning that we don't need to learn things. we are no longer the targets and save-marts of the world. each is a one man shop who knows only one thing. okay, i have no idea what the fuck i'm talking about now, so i'll just stop there.

this coming week is the last week of americorps. after friday, i'm free to be as selfish as i please, since i put up with the title of "volunteer" for two full years. that means i'm entitled to not help anyone. i only have to look out for numero uno.

i bought some jeans today. it was the exact same pair i already had on. i felt like i needed to buy something because i've been bored and anxious. i don't know what i'll do if i can't find a teaching position. i should write full time and apply for mfa programs, but i know i'll probably just end up working and living at home. it will be a pathetic sight, and i might need you, dear reader, to rescue me from it.

i feel like i haven't done anything productive in weeks. i try to read things, but i can't concentrate. i've read two katherine anne porter stories, and i liked them a lot, but picking up the book again becomes more and more difficult. maybe my students' hatred of literature and learning are rubbing off on me.

meagan: "i really don't get why they aren't motivated."
me: "well, at 13, 14 years old, all you really care about is getting laid, and maybe getting a burrito."
meagan: "i think that pretty much goes for everyone."

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