Cheesy things like friends and integrity. "Integrity?" some say. "That's another way of being closed minded." That may even be true in some senses. I can't forget, though, that nothing that occurs here on Earth is of any significance whatsoever in the Universe. There's not really such a thing as significance, we made that concept up. Thus, in order to bring some sort of meaning to existance, we apply rules to it. (Rules like "we don't want to die right away.") Maybe there are limits on how broadly I can apply this ("Yeah, well YOU'RE being closed minded because you have this irrational urge to not die all the time!") but it seems to me like one person's morals are as good for that person to follow as any others'. Christ, am I talking about the meaning of life again? Banal! But the point was that integrity is good, and it makes you seem more like a rational being, which you are not. (you are human)

Today's lessons included:

1. Senior executives named Debbie are very good at making you feel guilty about quitting your job.
2. It's fun to type todays date. 7-9-97 or 7997. whee! bip bip bippty.
3. Even if you think you have no ties somewhere, you might have accidentally made some.
4. There's a vending machine in the office!

This is interesting because sometimes I just barely can tell what it is Tiffany is talking to me about. Her first language is Mandarin Chinese, I think. She has a severe accent. I've had practice with this accent, too. Half of my extended family is Chinese. Still. "Wez Din Today?" (huh?) (Oh! 'Where's Dean Today!') It's never seemed like I was that interesting to talk to. Some people, I guess, just dislike being alone a lot. (That would include Ed, Steve, and var. others) Eh, maybe she just doesn't want her work load to increase. (Go cynicism!)

However, at one stop a ratty hippie with bits of debris in his hair walked into the bus and plopped down next to me, necessitating a leg move and a posture change. Ugh. Inconvenience. My mind raced as I considered strategies to regain my precious butt real estate. I finally chose a technique shared with me by Kris' housemate, Karen (a small, unthreatening girl). "Excuse me," I said in my most polite radio-announcer voice, "but I think you need to get the fuck away from me." The hippie's bleary, slitted eyes slowly creaked open, to a nearly sober width. "Whuuuuht..?" he droned, a sticky dreadlock falling over his red, pockmarked nose. "You heard me, " I continued, in a voice that Ed McMahon would have envied, "You simply must get the fuck away. You may be requesting a beating by your continued presence." "Jeeeehz. Whutta prick.." he said, as he stood nearly upright and moved to the back of the bus, trailing sticks and leaves. I barely heard him, my ears pounding with the exhiliration of my victory. That's when I felt the cold steel of the gun press against my ear.

Okay, those last two paragraphs were completely made up, except for the fact that Karen really explained this method to us one day. I'm a silly Andrew right now, and leaving my job isn't making me any more somber. I like having free time at 7 pm much more than having free time at 1 am. I could go outside and meet people, if I wanted (and knew how). Anyone remember plan 10? That one was the scheme to get to Oregon. Plan 11 results in Seattle. It nears completion, moo-ha-ha-ha.

Latrospect: One day during my vacation, I tried imagining an animal which was a cross between a frog and a cat. It would be cat sized and furry, with cat ears. It would be frog shaped, and hop, and have a long tongue (with which it could eat, say, little birds). Several names and sound effects were suggested for the thing. 'Mowbooborp' being a general favorite.