Well, the one year anniversary of the Chronicles has come and gone, without even it’s creator’s knowledge. It hasn’t quite been the same since I killed him and assumed his identity. My junkie life is far behind, replaced by the rigors of stanford. His rigorous life is far behind, replaced by the rigors of death.

I had a very weird dream the other night. A lot of them actually, I think because I hadn’t slept much thanks to CS145 homework, and I needed an REM fix. I dreamt that a girl I knew was a car dealer. She had several lots, and one of her showrooms was in her dorm. She nudged me and told me that “it was real easy to get used cars, since she dealt in new cars too.” She was implying something illegal, but I really don’t know what. She also apparently dealt in furniture, because there was a bunch of furniture for sale in the dorm as well, new and used. One of the guys involved in the business told me it was ironic that their favorite piece of furniture was found in a dumpster. It didn’t seem all that ironic to me. It was a table, and on it, people were playing a game using strange beveled obsdian pieces… It was a game that I had never seen before, and had no clue how to play. What’re you thinkin’, brain!?

On the topic of randomly firing neurons, I was up until 5 the other day working on a problem set, when I began to slip in and out of sleep. Well, strange voices (the beginnings of dreams??) would very clearly present themselves to me. They seemed perfectly reasonable until I woke up fully each time, and so I decided to write them down for posterity. Here is what was scrawled in my notebook the next day…

Begin

You are such a dog!
Rad dog.
(to a catchy jingle): Harder in life as a rad, rad dah-ahg.

(thick german accent): Rack ‘em up!

The key to everything is T-Bone.
(in response, pointing at self): Oh yeah? Who’s got loose beads?

At the end of a study room, does it not reek of blood?

If it’s sexually explicit, it’s supposed to be mental, Christy! (I think Christy was a sitcom writer)

Entire box?! It was red, like a raspberry…

Aye. Zein fly. Zey go poo poo.

I saw you. Weenies signed up! I know.

Are you sure? Cause I got one fine kid that I’d really like to hear from that.

End

There you have it. My psyche laid bare. Not really.

Well, hopefully this will make a favorable impression on employers… I’ve found that I do my best in hard classes, and pretty much kill myself in easier classes. The fairly straightforward ones that just need consistent time spent - not doing well. The ones that require a lot of real work and thought and tricky problem solving - much better. I don’t think this would necessarily extend indefinitely. Like, I don’t think I’d really screw up at my job, flipping burgers, while proving Einstein wrong after work. At least, not every day.

CS145 answer of the week:

SELECT state_of_consciousness
FROM ENUM {waking, sleeping}
WHERE NOT databases = on.mymind AND therefore.iamhappy

(I’ll get 0 points for that one, but at least I’ll feel “Ha gotcha”)
(Update, actually, he wrote “+1 for humor”. HA! Ha HA! Ha HA ha!)