Haar is Not My Daddy.

Though I like Mr. Haar and his class, he is really getting increasingly weird.
Yesterday he said something along the following:
"If anyone asks you who your dad is, you tell them, MR. HAAR IS MY DADDY!"
Ooookay. Weird, weird, weird.

Well my days are falling under a dreadful pattern. I wish I could drive so so so so so badly. I want to just get up and take off and drive to the beach just so I can listen to Sufjan and Death Cab and Iron & Wine for hours on end without interruption. Or even just just around town, blasting music and singing along and stopping at random places I've never been and scope them out for future reference.
More than I wish I could do all those things myself though, I wish someone would take me to do them. I wish I could drive for a long time and let good conversation fill up the days and the nights and let soothing music full up the occasional silences, or even the other way around.

I think the conclusion is that out of all the things going on in my schedule right now, I'd love to minimize everything but the good conversations and the music. In fact, I'd love to maximize the conversations and the music, more more more more more.

TAKE ME FOR A DRIVE.