Words, just words for now.
The thingy with the other thing isnt connecting and making me hard to concentrate on the point.
Not to mention all the other distractions I had form my original point(s) tonight.
(anyhow, I apologize for any typographical errors due to the lack of technology this late late evening/early morning.)
So, for the second time in my life I worked a really late shift. The only one other time was at Ace Hardware in Wheaton when I worked an overnight shift to arrange/rearrange our overstock/warehouse. Tonight was a 9pm-3am shift at the D.P. Dough (it's a calzone place - btw all you champaignians/ubrana-ites should order from here, good stuff, especially when its delivered by me and i receive big tips) .
It was an extremely strange day, knowing that I had to work at 9PM. I mean, what the H am I supposed to do with the rest of my day? lol
Well, I was half productive and half unproductive, but it all worked out, I guess.
So, I was a bit panicky in the beginning. Hours before my shift started, I became restless and upset and nervous. But, when the time came, I pulled through. It was kinda slow at first, but it picked up. Tips were much better overall, than last time I worked. And I can only hope things will get better from here on out.
Driving around the CU area, campus and elsewhere, is very enlightening in some ways, and somewhat depressing in others, and still a bit comforting while being overbearing all at once. It is an experience and a half, to say the LEAST.
(omg, i swear i just heard someone call my name, brb)
Nope, nobody outside my door. And the note i slipped under my new "floormate," kyle's door, is still visible, so he obviously was not trying to wake me up, and has not read the note. (It's a letter confirming our anal escapade scheduled for tomorrow, er, or um - our "project" (sanding and restraining a sweet table he and Hannah found)).
Anyhow, back to my solitary adventures...
I was at first frightened, yes. But, when it time came to act, I feel I did well. Reading street signs and house numbers on buildings that are falling apart, while being distracted by the most scantily-dressed young females in the Midwest, and the obnoxious screams of retarded frat boys, is NOT an easy task. Especially when you have thrown yourself into a completely new environment like I have. It's fun though, and challenging; which I suppose it what makes it fun.
By the end of the night I was so tired, and so relaxed and somewhat empowered, that I couldn't wait to get home to my computer and blog about all the observations I had made.
I have never been on the CU campus so late (while sober, hehe). It's like visiting the ghosts of past, present and future.
A young man, stumbles down the street, cigarette in hand, struggling to stay awake.
A girl cries in her [assumed] boyfriend's arms, about god-knows-what.
A group of coeds laugh as they find their way back home, mocking the previously mentioned poor souls.
Another couple argues, from across the street. Eventually the guy crosses and asks the girl to "forgive" him. (She probably does.)
More groups pass by. Where have you been? I wonder. For the bars have been closed for over an hour.
I head to my room, five stories high, and a young man is trotting down the catwalk-of-a-balcony, looking confused, yet determined.
I figure he is lost, physically or otherwise...
I walk to my room, as if none of this has affected me, but it has. At the very least it has kept me away from my own thoughts, my own worries. I have observed the world and been thoroughly distracted, and it feels good. I feel calm.
I arrive in my room and try to settle in. I am worried about my worries, and the worries of those who are not so strange to me. I can not sleep. I can not even be comfortable. I must write. But before I do, I must retrieve some items from my car.
I go back down the elevator, five or so flights to the basement. I see a man: not quite 40, but not quite young, pacing, sobbing, upset, worried, anxious. I approach the man and inquire within. He says little, but I know enough to help the man. His name is Jeff and he is half Korean, though he doesn't look it. His parents own a laundromat and he is in a bind. I offer to drive Jeff downtown. He is grateful. I feel good.
I return home. I rest. I wind down. And the rest...
Well, the rest (as they say) is history.
COLLEGE - The easy way out.