So... a liiiittle less freaked out about the parking situation, though not much. I found a parking spot for my afternoon class. Though barely, there were two spots open in the enormous lot I tried this time. And I couldn't find my car when I got back, because it's hooked onto 18 other sizeable parking lots (none of which a lowly commuter is allowed in save the one I was actually in) making it insanely confusing to find the car even though I parked at the corner of my particular lot, and was like, "Okay, church there, ugly building there, I think I can find my way back," before I left.

The screening.... utter agony. I admit it: I am a plebian proletariat common person who doesn't get artsy art. In my personal opinion, the filmmaker's a moron, a 10 year old could put together the same unintelligable, unrelated images and then babble on in the commentary track about how a 25 minute film of a couple of flashing lights represents his parents' marriage or how he used to be suicidal. But I'm not the art police. If you're into that, hey, cool. It just really makes me mad when they try to tell us art can be anything, even random crap like this, in a class where they're trying to dictate to us exactly what art is. You can't have it both ways. There are rules or there aren't, and we shouldn't have to learn your stupid rules if you're going to show me stuff that adheres to no rules whatsoever.

Also, the gallbladder story is circulating with surprising speed. I gave a (condensed) rendition of it to my news director when I stopped in at TV-10 earlier, and that's about it. But she must've talked to the chief photog (who happens to be in the film critism class ranted about above) because before the screening he turns around to me and is like, "So..uh...I heard you got your spleen removed or something?" And I explained, much to the amusement of my surrounding classmates (I DO know how to milk a story). I actually know a lot of people in that class, so hopefully it'll be slightly less excruciating.

Bright spot: new Ben Folds EP arrived. Yay.

Run, whitey, run!

--My dad and I, cheering on Wariner in the 400m