No cell phone, no mentorship...hella time to think, obsess, talk to my roommates...et cetera

Today I spent three hours in a lecture on internet access, activism, social networking, surveillance, security and other elements of the evolving internet subculture that for the most part I've remained alien to. Aside from an obligatory facebook page, emailing the people I live with and the occassional google search, I pretty much avoid the realm altogether. When things like xanga and myspace first became popular I was more creeped out than anything else. Not to mention that these innovations led way too many people I went to high school with to become unneccessarily involved in eachother's lives without even speaking. It's a surreality more than anything else. Where people can exist in imaginary spaces with made up identities and create friendships that would never materialize in any full-contact social space.

But whatever, lord knows that my inner-stalker has thrived on many a facebook search since then, and I no longer judge those who use this bizarre internet universe to complicate and dramatize their otherwise mundane existence. It's all good for me.
One thing I certainly never thought to do was create an online journal. I'm pretty much the most righteous and self-important person I know in real life and still I don't think anything i think or say or write about means anything to anyone but my mom (who is genetically obligated to appreciate and validate everything I do) and my roommates (who are pretty much just multi-cultural expressions of me). So in any case, I don't expect anyone to ever read this, and if they do, I certainly don't expect anyone to understand it. But the truth is, in the absence of unicamp politics and drama and control over the best thing that has ever happened to UCLA student organizations (aka Mentorship), I have way too much time on my hands, and I can tell that some people in my apartment are sick of me sitting on the couch watching 90210 slash in their bedroom when they're trying to go to sleep... so we'll see, who knows, maybe through my brilliant ramblings I'll end up on Oprah afterall, condemning Wally Wirick and sending many a los angeles youth to Disneyland on the house. Cross your fingers.