Tuesday 27; April, 1999

{“What were Theodore Adorno and Max Horkheimer referring to by the term ‘culture industry’ ? Does their analysis enhance or obscure our understandings of media institutions?”

that’s my essay question. w00p w00p!
I am so apathetically stressed out right now. I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE this essay that I’m supposed to be doing. I don’t understand it. I can’t get it. I can’t even make sense out of the notes I’ve taken from handouts about it. I’m so fucked up the ass about this one. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, I’ve still got tommorrow night, but that’s all.

All I want to do is crawl into bed and just sleep sleep sleep until it’s all over . I mean, It’s not like I’m especially tired – I just completly lack motivation for everything in life right now. This site’s going nowhere, my degree is going nowhere, and while my life is very happy right now, I just am not doing as well as I should in all areas. For some reason I feel like I’m slipping away from Shirley, I haven’t talked to Karen since I got back to Auckland, I hardly see Dee ever. Seeing Penny again on Sunday was very cool, but it reminded me that there’s just such a huge rift in my life now from High School, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I’m putting off like a thousand pieces of housework, and I have no way of accounting for my days. Like, where the fuck does all my time go?

I guess today a fair wack of my time was spent struggling to make sense of this communist shit about the Culture Industry – and those of you out there with socialist tendencies, DON’T start in on me, okay? Because I don’t want to hear it. My thumb hurts from playing our tekken 2 demo. It makes me feel better throwing people to the ground and snapping their arms out of their sockets, then kicking them in the head. A little better, anyway.

If an avid readers can write me an essay on the above topic, before 4pm Thursday, with around 2500 words, preferably referenced, they can have my soul, my body – although god knows why they’d want that except for maybe scary scientfic experiments- and my mind. They just can’t have my heart.

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