Whenever I withdraw money from a bank machine on campus, I find myself actively picking up the previous transaction receipts from past bank-goers.
It's not that I keep them, I just happen to be curious. Think of it as sociological/economic research: are University students really as poor as everyone says they are?

To be quite honest, I derive great pleasure from my little compulsion. Because the answer is yes, University students ARE that poor. It lets me know, "HEY JASMINE! You're certainly not the only one wasting money on shitty campus food! Don't worry! You're not THAT broke!"

Look, no matter how I justify this, I can tell you're a little creeped out by my habit. But really, it doesn't matter.

I can't even afford to be concerned.

As a student, I spend an unfortunate amount of time on campus.
Due to this excessive (nearly obsessive) meandering, I also happen to frequent campus bathrooms far too often.

After perhaps my 670th bathroom visit this year (that's an approximation), I began to wonder:
Is the person who owns the hand dryer company a happy person?
Honestly. There is someone out there who decided it would be their LIFE to manufacture those tedious, disgusting, germ-spreading hand dryers. My god.

I wonder if the person is meek and mild, doing a humble job and simply providing a service he/she believes is absolutely PERTINENT to the well-being of our society.
Or, is the person a big-wig CEO who sits behind a desk in a huge leather chair, smoking cigars under his handlebar mustache? Does he have an office overlooking Central Park or the ocean? Is he fixated solely on the fortune provided by the lucrative hand-dryer business?

There is a person in this world who manufactures hand dryers for a living.
... dude, I wonder if he's got a blog.

I can't get the Full House theme out of my head.

I recently had a dream that I tossed my laptop on the ground and destroyed it. By accident.

In the dream, I had just come home from a busy day "on the job" (whatever that was). I ran into my room hurriedly -- I suppose I was late for an outing with some friends -- and threw my belongings on the ground.

I reached down and picked up my computer, which I had apparently tossed in the frenzy, and was devastated at the sight of such a mangled carcass.

Sometimes I refer to my laptop as "my baby". Maybe this is my subconscious telling me never to have children.

I'm not really sure why having a cold is so terrible.

I mean, after the runny nose and the itchy eyes and the coughing are all slapped into relative submission (via dristan, kleenex and gingerale), an awful, unidentifiable, unsettled feeling still lingers. You know. That feeling of pressure and digust inside your chest and your head that simply will not go away?

I'm thinking, maybe it's guilt. After all, we all know how to avoid catching a cold:
1. Wash hands regularly
2. Bundle up in cold weather
3. Murder people who've currently got colds
    3a. Wash hands again (this time, partially to get at the blood stains).

and so on and so forth.

Yet, every year, here we go again. We catch a cold, or even the flu, despite broken-record precautions. There's no excuse for it, and some subconscious guilt sets in.

You ask yourself, "How the hell did this happen again? I swear I did everything correctly. What did I miss? God, I feel like shit. Fuck. I can't believe I let this happen to me again. I am horrible. FUCK. AND RIGHT WHEN I HAVE ESSAYS DUE AND EVENTS TO ATTEND. I HAVE GODDAMN FINALS IN A WEEK. IDIOT. THIS IS THE WORST EVER, I HATE MYSELF, SHITSHITSHIT!!!!!!!!!!!! GUILTGUILTGUILTGUILT!!!!!"

But, you know.
It's a theory. It could just be me.