step aside.

I've decided that I'm going to start a garden. A lasagna garden to be more exact. I don't really have a clue what I'm doing, but I have read a little bit of Lasagna Garden, and I'm hoping that it will turn out alright. Most likely it will be just a big mess of garbage by my parents' window, but at least I'll have tried to succeed at something.

I sold books back to Time Tested Books yesterday in the 106 degree heat. The old man took only a handful, saying that some of the books were "underlined, highlighted, or just in bad shape." Or he just "didn't have any use for them." How do you not have use for mint paperbacks like To The Lighthouse or newer, literary extravaganzas like The Devil Wears Prada? No hard feelings, though. I made ten bucks out of it, and donated the rest to the library.

I got my cousin Rich excited about the library again. Once he realized they carried indie music (Xiu Xiu, Smoosh, Mates of State, Cursive, etc.), he went nuts and checked out a dozen discs or so. We went to his house to rip them on his computer right away, but he found his Windows Media Player wasn't working. It reminded me of times my computer would crap out on me in college, and I'd wake up with a sick feeling knowing I had to fix it somehow. I usually just ended up reformatting the entire drive. I should've been a computer engineer.

I've applied for a library technical assistant position through the state, and an on-call library assistant position through the library system. I really think I'd like to work there. I decided I didn't want to do subbing after I thought about waking up again before 8 a.m. to face a room full of unmotivated, near-comatose beings. Teaching just doesn't feel right.

Yesterday, Rich, Byron and I played Bust-A-Move on his Playstation 3. All I could think of was what Meagan said as we stood in line in the disgusting heat, waiting for cheap ice cream from Leatherby's: "This is a sign that people no longer know what to do with themselves."

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