I'm probably something like the nine thousand fourteenth person to use something related to that song as a blog post title. But I don't care. It seems to fit on just enough occasions for me to justifiably claim it as relevant to me. Except that I've never been on a midnight train (to Georgia, Anywhere, or elsewhere) — which makes me a bit sad, as it sounds like a fun adventure.
I am up in the most unfortunate of times. Tonight I am plagued with a combination of the ever-present insomnia, stress concerning my humanities exam tomorrow, frustration over my disappearing phone, sadness about the moderately decrepit state of humanity, pain from the five different injuries I have sustained to my feet in the last day and a half (three of those from opening doors; on the last one I actually tore my shoe, which I'm very unhappy about), and the general blahness of the flu bug that I am likely coming down with. I have a fever, chills, and my hands were very shaky for most of the morning and early afternoon despite that I ate a solid breakfast and a good late lunch.
Things I would like to accomplish in the exceedingly near future: an A on my exam. The successful acquisition of my Valley ID. Solid nights of sleep for at least he remainder of this week. To be able to attend "Masquerade For the Modern Man and Woman" this Friday at a location which I will not disclose for reasons that would be tedious to explain in pen and paper English right this moment. To cheer on my faithful immune system and thus avoid becoming really ill. To make the devil really angry and God extra-happy.
Oy, vivre la temporal ambition.
Ways I have discovered to meet cool people/random people/fellow eccentrics: 1) Wear cool hats. Especially fedoras. 2) Smile at someone who looks confused, and be prepared to give directions. 3) Read Timothy Zahn, Isaac Asimov, or R.A. Salvatore. Or any really thick book that is obviously not a textbook.
It turns out that the guy who rides my bus every day (the WMU student with a fauxhawk, aviator sunglasses, a feeble attempt at a goatee, a talent for conversing with garrulous old ladies, and a bright magenta Hello Kitty shoulder bag) is named Benji. Rachel D. knows him. She wants me to scare him on the bus, now that I know his name. It's my secret weapon. (Update, Oct. 15th – turns out Rachel mentioned me to him, so now it's not really a secret weapon anymore. I missed my chance, darn it. :)
I feel tired. It's quite a nice feeling. I hope that tiredness will equal sleep, momentarily, after I post and plug my computer back in. I actually originally had more to say, but choose not to say it tonight, as badly-needed sleep is taking precedence over my desire to presently extrapolate upon my thoughts in the farfetched fettle of the Web.
In other words — goodnight. (I feel a song coming on, but I won't sing it. You're welcome.)
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