What the fuck, I WANT TICKETS NOW!
Thursday, 11/17/05 - 9:46 pm.

Wow, I was just sitting here to type an entry and an the house started shaking and crumbling. I say it's a 6 richter. Place your bets.

Anyway, I had a very lonesome day. I went to the children shelter in the morning with Michelle, we came back to campus at 11. From then until 3, I was by myself, and I thought I'd go nuts.

Joseph didn't come to the university today, because he's in a lot of Magic tournaments online (WTF). But I sort of made progress with my assignments. Plus, my 6:30 class, the only one I have on thursdays was cancelled, so I got to come home early.

Case in point: I've decided I'll be buying to the MOST EXPENSIVE seats for the Aerosmith concert in Houston. Assuming they ARE playing there, because Ticketmaster hasn't listed it. WHAT THE FUCK, I SAY! HURRY THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!

That's because it's been my fucking dream to see them live, and it wouldn't be fair to get the lamest seats. My nephew said he wanted to come, and while I'd LOVE for him to get into Aerosmith and have that experience with me, he doesn't know the songs, we might see people doing crazy stuff, he can't afford it (neither can I), AND I don't wanna be babysitting anybody. I know I could feel alone in the middle of the concert, but it's my goddamned dream, and I don't want any distractions either.

Today after lunch, I was feeling rather lonely, so I went to the bookstore in campus. They had a book called 365 birthdays explained or something (they forgot february 29th, what the fuck). I looked for march 26th, which is Steven Tyler's birthday. There it said he should pair up with the wise capricorn...OHMYGOD, I AM A CAPRICORN!!!! Uh, yeah. And then in the list of famous people whose birthday was the 26th, it said "Steve Tyler, singer". YAY, THAT'S A SIGN!!! (except it's Steve-n, duh).

I'm having regressions, too. I have the dreams I had when I was 14 or 16. I'd dream about me meeting Aerosmith, or at least Steven Tyler. Usually the story began with something pathetic, like me not getting tickets and crying all through the concert, and then Steven Tyler approaching to ask what was wrong. But then my mind plays tricks on me and I'm not carrying pen, pencil and camera, so there's no way I can't prove I met him. It's sad, in that Titanic's "Jack was a wonderful person but he died and I have no proof that he existed" sort of way. Oh, well.

Damn it, I say.

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