Between Dreams and Reality

B Here,

My scanner is still a worthless piece of dog excrement, and I don't think that this problem is going to rectify itself any time soon, so I've taken to scanning my pictures in at school (although this attracts some unwanted attention, especially when I'm scanning something like this; fortunately, my collegues can never seem to work up the courage to REALLY ask me what I'm doing, so I should be posting some more o' these bad boyz soon). This picture, however, was not scanned in at school. The ones proceeding this will be, most likely.

This is what I do during Spanish class (and occasionally during English). Some days I feel like I have some kind of dissociative disorder, like my life's a movie and I'm in the audience. More specifically, a David Lynch movie, a world where dream and reality are one (who's to say they aren't?), and where one usually segues right into the other without a cut or a pause.

What does that have to do with this piece?

I don't know. I was just venting a bit of angst.

This piece means nothing. All rise for the flag salute.