Interpretive Dance, School Interviews, and My Non-Existent Masterbation Habits

“Behold, the future of mankind foretold in the medium of dance.”

ahahaha

————————————————————————————-

Part of me feels compelled to begin this with a rhetorical question: am I the only one who frequently attempts to ‘scan in’ into their house using an oyster card? The aforementioned rhetorical question is of course completely answerable and thus isn’t really classified as a rhetorical question, but to call it a rhetorical question seems just that much more exciting than calling it just a regular old ‘question’.

Moving on, I’ve got another interview for school today. This one promises to be a significantly less gruelling process than the interview that ‘happened’ to me last week. I use the term ‘interview’ in the loosest of fashions- it was effectively five mind-numbing hours of nervous flittering about in what can only be described as ‘a mass gathering of teens (lacking alcohol and in frivolous attire), taking it in turns to be escorted into an isolated room by a teacher, only to be drilled to point of breakdown by said interrogator’. But somehow that phrase is not quite as catchy as the word ‘interview’. Unfortunately,  the ratio of time spent doing something to time doing nothing was about 1:5… this made the nerd inside me terribly sad.

I’m still not sure why but I didn’t really like getting interviewed. I thought I would cherish the opportunity to talk about myself for a shameful amount of time. I wasn’t even particularly nervous or anything. I think it might have something to do with my unremitting urge to say something completely crazy and my (often failed) attempts to suppress that urge. In retrospect, I think that took up a lot of my brain usage. I like myself though; I’m comfortable with myself—my amazingly awesome personality, my exceedingly handsome features, and my unique style of walking (that has more than once been compared to that of an overgrown penguin).

On a completely related note, I don’t touch myself, because that would be antichrist. In any case, for some reason unbeknown to me, I somehow don’t turn myself on enough to make that an enjoyable experience. I wrote a long in-depth analysis of why this could possibly be, but I decided to spare you this time. Alright then. Yeah… the bit where I talk about my masturbation habits (or lack thereof) has now officially ended, and we can refrain from mentioning this subject ever again.  

I think I’ll end this entry on that note. Stay tuned for more musings, ramblings and elongated life stories. Possibly another amusing video, though I can’t make any promises.