The
alarm clock goes off at 9. And we instantly enter a
staring contest. I guess
I won, because I
wake up at 11. I take a
shower, and rush out the
door. As I'm heading into work I'm
angry, thoughts of
my ex rush into my head and the
sleep still hasn't worn off my mind. I
kick myself
hard, theres no reason to be
enraged today. Yet. As I step out of my
car to enter work my
boss meets me at the
door. He
spouts off thirty things I'm supposed to do. I mostly
ignore him.
E-mails are piled up and I
delete them with
finese.
The boss' wife wants me to
fix her computer, so I head into her work. The
printer cable isn't
plugged in the right way. Why people just
shoove them in any way they can
I have no idea. So I unhook it and plug it in the right way. It works now. For a second there I'm wondering wiether to tell her it was plugged in wrong or to make something up so she doesn't sound like an
ignoramus. I always did like making people sound stupid.
The boss' wife tries to
initiate conversation. I'm not in the mood. So I give her
short sparse answers that don't cure her
desire. She probably thinks I'm
shy now. If only she knew.
I head back into work, and
my time there is almost up. I finish up a few last things and head out. I head over to
Subway and notice that theres only six
bucks in my
pocket. Today is
payday. I haven't been paid. I head back to work.
My boss pays me in cash, and normally he pays me straight down the the
cent. Today he rounds down by four
dollors. This better not be an every week thing.
So I head into the second job. Jump on the computers there because the place is dead. I read
slashdot.
Dimitri's plight is bothering me, but there really isn't anything I can do about it. I remind myself to delete
Adobe and install
ghostscript. My little protest, I feel like such a
rebel.
Theres a girl there that asks for help. She's your basic
country girl, 300 lbs with
buck teeth, strong
Texas accent. She could probably
break me in two. For some reason I'm not intimidated but rather disgusted. I enjoy a
woman who acts like.. well.. a woman.
Me and my boss get into a long discussion about the
academic core,
cell phones, and next
semester. I inform him that I may not be working next semester. I think
I broke his heart. His
blue eyes seemed to loose their shine when I spoke this.
I head out into work over Brandon's house. His
psuedo family is having a
pool party, and me being the
lovable hippy I am of course invited. I get to see everyone in a
bikini. The day is looking up.
Lindsey is there, part of the family. Lindsey seems like that girl who doesn't quite fit in your crowd, because she usually
associates herself with
cooler people. Yet she's around this
ecletic group of
mismatches. She's cute, to say the least.
The water has this magnificant quality of being
pure bleach, which is great on the
sinuses. I'm out of shape and the pool wears me out. I must get off the computer at some point and enjoy the
great outdoors a little more. The pool party ends around 9 and me and Brandon decide to head over to Fats.
We play a few rounds of pool. I get my
ass whooped. I did manage to win one, although only because he
scratched. For someone who is considered by many to be a
mathematical genius I should probably shoot better pool. Well it's not all about
angles and
simple geometry.
We run into Jeremy, who seems a bit of an elitist although friendly enough to say hi. Jeremy has this strange addiction for
fooseball. We
cater to his
obsession by playing a few games. There's this girl there,
tall and
slender,
blonde and
boisterous. She's incredibly attractive by anyone's
standards. Her eyes are
dialated which make her
irises look like
fine blue rings begging for something more then just idle
chit chat. I don't indulge her desire, not out of lack of confidence just out of shear
lack of will. The
pool party really wore me out. On top of this I'm not feeling myself. A little more
goofy then normal. I'm not the impressive
lady killer tonight (nor most nights for that matter).
We head out of the bar scene and go for the after bar snack. Cheese
fries prepared by the waitress and
orange juice. I'm not a
coffee drinker, Brandon is. We sit and chit chat, about what I couldn't tell you now. Nothing tonight seemed very important, more of a simple stress relief. Brandon drives home, I've had a few. Not enough to remain
tipsy but enough to relax me for a little while. I'll still be up a few more hours tonight. Brandon
rambles on about
theatre on the way home, I'm listening I really am but I've lost
the mood at some point. He says I'm just typing that because he's standing behind me, he's not exactly right on that one. I heard his conversations about Bob and some
play which I've forgotten the name. Ok, so maybe I wasn't listening. I got the
gist. He's passionate when he talks about
theatre, and I'm wondering why he doesn't just
persue it. It's not like he's doing anything right now anyway. What is there to lose.
Brandon says I'm a
true artisan, because I've delved into a little bit of everything in life. A '
jack of all trades, master of none.' I think I'm just
incredibly bored.