Is it a bad sign that I continually forget that I *write* here?

After a spell of mind-altering madness, I'm recovering. And concerning recovery, especially from recurrent alcohol binge drinking, I enjoy a light cocktail of seltzer water, ibuprofen, and a sharp, barely traceable amount of caffeine. I let them simmer together so that I can pour the contents into a martini glass and daydream about my next spell: who I will be with, what lavish back patio I will be, and most importantly- will I feel this sick again? I dramatize the negatives, but I still keep coming back to the sauce. I wish for my friends' sake that I never stop, because all water and no bourbon makes Cookie a wince worthy bore.

Cheers to alcohol.

And it has only been ages and ages...

...since I totally left this blog blank. Good thing I told no one of its existence.

Does anyone ever welcome themselves to do anything? I think it's apropos for me to welcome myself back to the wonderful, exhilarating world of public journaling. Maybe I can be a little less derisive and a little more approachable if I do it more- a full on 'fake it until you make it' modus operandi.

On another note entirely, I'm noticing how much I am saturating myself with hip hop- however, being a scrawnypudge gringo with a background in pop music, it's as if I'm reaching in the dark to 'discover' it all for myself. Right now, my go-to would be Kid Cudi's album Man on the Moon: The End of Day. Clever times and hood rhymes, in my limited opinion. By the end of the day, I usually have been closing the door to my room to shut myself in the sound and putter around- which isn't saying much as my tiny lil 8x12 mustard room doesn't have a lot of space for me yet. -Oh yes, I moved recently.

That's a rather big deal that I downplay to everyone I run into. I will have lived with new housemates, with a newly-bought home, in a brand spankingly new environment for a whole month now; I'm still ambivalent to it. I feel programmed to justify and reassure everyone around me that I'm fine not living in the same home with the same people I had been for the past 5ish years. I don't want to front that it was all lovely and buttercups then, but it's such a sweeping change that I'm having to reexamine who and how I am when I'm not echoing off of them.

Let's consider today the beginning of a new chapter. Cliché, I'm aware, but good for my own sense of over-tidiness and value placed on clearly placed beginnings and endings. It's the first, big, motherofall days before the rest of my life.

This is a test. This is only a test.

Had this been a real emergency, would you have dropped your sanity at the door?

Okay, so a lil bit of context about this. Here I am: a 23 years new, grad student, kid-who-follows-friend's-blogs-but-has-had-a-slight-chip-on-his-shoulder-about-making-one-of-his-own, hypocrite. Time to step out of that space and venture out into the great foreign void we collectively understand as the internet. Crazy.

In all honesty, I was forced into this, a patient teacher I have for one of my classes gave us the assignment of creating a blog. It's good of her, I commend having to drag me kicking and screaming out of my comfortable disdain for publicized web journals. But it is about time, especially after seeing how Granola Girl, a good friend and coworker puts such dutiful effort into it, and the results are quite marvelous. I suggest checking hers out: www.endofordinary.blogspot.com.

On a separate note, within the assignment I was supposed to engage my potential followers list with a provocative copyright query, here goes:

If I were to share a video that I or a friend took of an experience (let's say for all our intents and purposes a hypothetical drag queen performance) and showed it to a classroom of students to address issues of diversity and identity politics, would I be infringing on intellectual property?
I'm feeling verklempt. Talk amongst yourselves.