The death of a moon cowboy

I am a somewhat-youth with ideas and thoughts and too many dreams that sometimes overflow as these little dribblings from my fingertips. I guess you can try to collect and capture them.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

At school narrative type

I went to bed at 4 a.m. last night. I had had a mostly productive day, finished my Fiction and Technical Writing class assignments. Wrote out some Spanish vocab. Read some. But then everyone was asleep, and it was 1:30 or so and I started hacking apart my new Michael Stadther book [Secrets of the Alchemist Dar] so I could scan each page in. I planned to stop at the hacking stage, but ended up scanning every page in as well. It took a couple hours. I wish I'd had the time to do a better scan of each page, so that the colors would come out more accurately. The funny thing was, Jarom woke up right before I started scanning, he "had to go pee-pee," his little catch-phrase. So he goes back to bed and says, "Dad? What was that sound?" I don't know what sound he heard, but he had me take him outside to show him all was well. Then he went back to bed and I started scanning. Scanning is loud, but somehow Bella and Amy slept through it all. Not Jarom. he stayed awake the whole time, finally at 4:00 he went to bed at the same time as me. For all I know, he stayed up even longer.

Then I woke up at 6:35 and was about 25 minutes late to Spanish, but At least I got full credit on the pruebita that I kind of guessed on. Thanks Adriana.

We didn't have Technical Writing today, so I went to the library. I was tired. I thought maybe I'd sleep on a book. Instead, I went to a computer. I know, I know, it's an exciting schooled life that I lead.

So I'm sitting there using a school computer, and in comes this girl who sits in the chair next to me--now remember the tables hold four machines, one in each direction, so it wasn't exactly *next* to me, more like to the side of me. And it just seemed that something was amiss when she sat, like she did it intentionally or something, like she was eyeing me. And believe me, I'm known for my sensing abilities.

I kind of kept track of her, but didn't look much her way--and she was pretty decent looking--but she didn't seem to be looking at me either. But she did seem to hack and cough and choke enough to clear everyone out of her path. She was obviously getting sick. I wasn't really doing anything at the computer anyway, and I had some reading I needed to do, so I packed it all up and headed off to a table where I could read.

I was wearing my glasses, because I got little sleep the night before, and I thought I could see her looking at me from afar. I was really squinting. Anyway, five minutes later she gets up, grabs her stuff, and walks on towards me. She sits down, right next to me. At a table meant to fit four, she sits right next to me! There were plenty of other tables. Now, I'm a shy kid, and I don't know what this girl's thinking, so I just sit there, keep reading. She kept on coughing, throwing little fits. Eventually she asks me in a squeaky voice, "Do you know if the copy center is open this early?"

I tell her that I don't, and get back to reading.

She mentions the cold, asks me where I'm from. California, I say, what about you? She says she's from Arizona, and that I won't be seeing much of her when the winter hits.

She was working on this project, this big craft for her art class. The only thing I remember is this huge green posterboard piece with the stenciled word INSTITUIONALIST on it. She has dance at 9 a.m; she has to have this done right away.

Then the bell rings. She starts to pack up and gathers her things for a long time. Maybe she's procrastinating. Then she starts to walk away.

"Good luck," I say.

"Thanks. Seeya!" she says.

I watch her walk away. She never turns around.

... ...

I go home, pack up some stuff and take off for work. I know that it's Monday, and on Monday, Wednesday and Friday--when I get there late--I have to park further away. Now the thing about that, is that I go through a different, closer entrance to get upstairs. When I am just about to my door, there is always this girl sitting there in an armchair, doing her homework. The first couple times I'd just nod hi, casually, friendly. Then she started talking to me, like a week ago.

"Where do you work?" she asks.

"In here. It's called Distriba. You wouldn't know it. I'm a programmer."

"Cool," she says.

I ask her if she's doing homework, what she's doing there. She says that she has to wait for a ride on these days. I tell her how much school and work I am handling. She acts shocked. She asks my major--it's English.

"Oh yeah? What's your favorite book?"

I tell her my favorite book is Ask The Dust, followed by On The Road. She hasn't heard of either of them. I have to go, I say. See you next time.

But I avoided her the next time. This is getting uncomfortable.

So then today, I say to myself, ah well, just go the usual way, say hi, be friendly. No need to *avoid* people.

She is up there with a boy. I say hi, she immediately says, "We work together," to make it clear to me that the boy is not a threat. I want to say, I'm married, it's cool, but I'm too polite. She says, oh yeah, this is Cameron, and this is--motioning to me, as if she knew my name--

"Matt," I say.

"Matt," she repeats.

"I don't think I know your name," I say.

"No you don't. It's Suzette."

"Hi," I say.

But I have to go, so I leave them. And that was that. I think I'll be going the other way from now on.

Audio: The Red Tree | Moneen
Text: Writing Fiction [7th edition] | Janet Burroway/Elizabeth Stuckey-French

My word of the day:
1 : at an opportune time : SEASONABLY
2 : by way of interjection or further comment : with regard to the present topic
[Why: I read it on some forum, some idiot trying to sound really smart.]

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