Last night i had a dream that my black cat (whom i do not take care of at the present) named Kittin fought a white tiger.
This is a strange dream because, Kittin was fighting the tiger to defend me and Maizy. Maizy is my little pomeranian, pictured here: I remember clutching her really close to me and watching Kittin climb out a window that i was facing and fighting the tiger. I was terrified for him, but the tiger didn’t really hurt him, despite how vicious he was; I even remember little peices of hair being matted up and torn as kittin escaped the tiger and led Maizy and I out of danger.
He ended up taking us to this house that was not too far away. We ended up sneaking in and as we were creeping around the house, the house owners found us. They ended up being very understanding. It was a little old lady and some other lady that lived with her (she didn’t have a big role). The little old lady suggested we keep on the move because the tiger would find us. She started packing up a bunch of really good weed into this mason jar. I remember that i was sitting in the old lady’s kitchen/dining room table and watching her pack all this delicious green dro while yacking about something. The only thing i remember about the other lady was that she instructed me to take a little out, just a little bowl’s worth so that we could all smoke a bowl before Maizy, Kittin, and I hit the trail.
It all sounds so adventurous and ridiculous. But still, it was the best damn dream i’ve had in a long while.

I wonder what this dream means. I miss my Kittin.

I just deleted my first post in this blog. It was inconcise and overly dramatic. In all, not what i want my image to be in the blog world. But whatever. Im slightly hungover, as it’s not only my spring break (my LAST spring break, actually) but yesterday was St. Patrick’s day.
I don’t get this holiday one damn bit. Are we celebrating the color green? Celebrating our need for excessive drinking and partying? Both?
But really, as it turns out, St. Patrick’s day is a memorialization of this Irish fellow, born a mere AD 385, who was actually named Maewyn. He was a Pagan until he was sold into slavery, which, apparently, being someone’s property changes your core beliefs. Maewyn turned Christian. He spent the rest of his natural life vying for the position of a Bishop, and converting those nasty Pagans into sparkling clean Christians. Maewyn, I’m sorry, Patrick (his newly dubbed Christian name) set up schools and churches and studied monastery and finally got to be an associate Bishop before he died March 17, ad 461. A day we would celebrate FOR EVER: St. Patrick’s day. The cute little clover, that we associate with this holiday, was Patrick’s tool in explaining the trinity.

The things we do for christianity. Anywho, my St. Patrick’s day was pretty fun. No green beer or anything, but a 12-pack of BudLite was good enough. Thanks for dying St. Patrick. I’m kidding, I meant thanks for giving us another reason to get wasted on a weekday.

All of this information on Saint Patrick and this holiday can be located at the History Channel’s article. I’m hungry for some Irish bacon and cabbage now! It also has a section on the Leprechaun,

The original Irish name for these figures of folklore is “lobaircin,” meaning “small-bodied fellow.”

The leprechaun as it turns out has absolutely nothing to do with Saint Patrick.

Okay, just some side information regarding one of my most coveted pasttimes, I thoroughly enjoy overhearing and documenting random conversations.

Exhibit A: (there will be many more)
Today, I was sitting in the library for a bit. Not long after finding my seat, and getting situated, I parked myself next to a couple studying chemistry and overheard this gem,

“Yesterday i got the double caramel white mocha frappaccino. Today I got the hot one. That was good.”

Take from this what you will. I thank you, robo chem student, for I don’t know how else my afternoon could have been enriched without your input.