scum students returned to university today and the Coffee Shop is back to full bustling capacity. Though it still feels weird to talk about “the students” and exclude myself from their number, I for one am anticipating an evening of frosty pints and pleasure writing. Not essays. Let’s just say I know when I’ve got a pretty sweet thing.
So, I think I am officially approaching old age. I mean, I turn 23 next month, for Jane Austen’s sake! But more to the point, today at work I got more familiar greetings from people whom I don’t remotely recognize than I knew what to do with. School has been out of session for what? A month? And I’m forgetting people. This is pathetic.
Of course, I, L-the-Great, have much more important things to fill my brain with than the faces of these plebs. The whole scenario got truly out of hand, however, when I was expected to share my holiday stories with these complete strangers claiming to know me!
I mean, who were those creepy weirdos asking me for coffee and expecting me to make it for them?
(Wait, you mean that’s my JOB? Why didn’t you say something earlier?)
In any event, there was one face in my day that I haven’t been able to purge from my memory, however long it’s been since last I saw it. Isn’t that how we all feel about the face of an ex-lover’s new girlfriend?
But there I was, wind in my hair, a spring in my step, music in my ears, and strolling to work. And I felt fabulous.
In her perpetual slump, she careened into my path. Wincing when she saw me, for reasons I have never understood, she picked up pace and hurried on.
And you know that music in my ears? It’s howling “falling to pieces”. And I’m not. Seven months later, I am not.
If you want to listen to that song I downloaded after this epic walk to work, go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yZ1uI5yPbY
Since my soundcard doesn’t function correctly, I can’t tell if that’s a decent link or not. (And you’ve probably already heard it anyways. I’m always so behind.)