Seven Stars, actually.

But it made me think of that song. Love you Sufjan.

Seven stars until I am a Starbucks Gold Member. All I want is that card with my name on it. I’ve actually grown to be pretty fond of this place. Like. I’m with all these people in Starbucks without knowing any of them. Somehow, they create the atmosphere that lets people feel like they can talk to anyone else in the same building, which I like.

Strangers are fun.

(And sometimes dangerous, but usually fun)

I had a dream last night. I was racing to the top of this building with several other people. I bolted up the stairs, this large Asian man took the elevator, and a British girl that I knew from school this past year was scaling the outside of the building.

But somehow, Jenny, the British girl, was also inside just sitting at a table by one of the staircases on her computer. I told her I really liked her hair, and asked if she gave haircuts. She said yes, but she couldn’t give me one. I continued racing up the stairs and then I was at the top of the stairs. From where I was, I could see through the window into the elevator the large Asian man. He waved his hand and another large Asian man appeared next to me and tried to tackle me. But I was able to just jump out of the way and get to where we were all trying to race. Which apparently was this feather laying on this pillar. I picked up the feather and knew I had won.

“THA END” (-Desmond)

(Oh and I did get my haircut today. It looks great.)