The last thing I remember is wearing baggy aristocratic pajamas with all my peers. I walked on stage to grab my diploma from Anthony J. Fischer—the Dean of the School of Communication Arts at SCAD—and BOOM. I awoke in front of a desk in San Fransisco, where I now sit typing this blog entry. The vibrant folder to my left says "Welcome to Venables Bell & Partners", whom I can only assume is my new employer.
Dean Fischer must've whacked me pretty hard with that diploma. Knocked me straight into this Fall. I bet he caught wind of my drunkenly climbing Arnold Hall and figured graduation was a good place to make an example out of me. No hard feelings though. I was subject to a pretty excellent dream while I was unconscious. (And in all fairness, Hannah and I did pick a lock to access to building's maintenance ladder.) Like all dreams, parts are hazy...
At first, I was with my family in Peru. We were riding dirt-bikes through mountainous roads and peering adventurously over their inappropriately large precipices. (This is funny because I've never driven anything with a clutch.) I'm pretty sure there were alpacas involved as well. I vaguely remember my older brother falling in love with one. What was it's name... Pablo? Paulito? Paunchito? Something like that.
Then there was a part that felt like a charmingly low-budget indie film—driving all day to see Hannah and starting our lives in an unremarkable North Carolina town. We held hands all the time and would pass entire days doodling and laughing in coffeeshops. The only weird thing about that part was the fact that our entire house was about the size of an ice cream truck. Also, all of our olive oil was replaced with avocado oil, which, I'm pretty sure doesn't exist.
There was even a short part of the dream that felt like an Angels & Airwaves album. There was a solar eclipse, dozens of hours of driving across the desert, and misdirected pondering on how someone can keep an artistic edge once their angst has dissolved. Come to think of it, it was exactly like an Angels & Airwaves album.
It feels like sleepily consenting amnesia; I'm still coming to. I miss my friends, and I can't escape the feeling of waiting for something. But more importantly, I'm in love and hungry for inspiration.
I'll stop neglecting my blog for months at a time.