Everything Passes in Time

"Oh, gosh darnit. Auuugh. Errrrr--ahhhhh. Bloody... god!"

I think the person sitting behind me in the bookstore is having a baby. But I can't tell if it is a boy or a girl, so it might be kidney stones.

Or god knows what.

Fastest Fingers in the Bookstore

Thoughtfully, my sociology professor made the second extra credit assignment the exact same as the first. What a guy.
The first time I did it, I got 10/10 extra credit points, which is nice. Not to jinx my grade luck, I wrote 50% more than I did last time, and used a new topic.

I just hope I did it correctly for this instance, though, because I've already submitted it and we've yet to attend class this week...

Los Entiendo

It's a lot of fun to sit down next to someone speaking on the phone in a different language.
You just have to make sure to give them confused or put-off looks whenever they laugh genuinely.

You know, to keep them guessing.

People of the Bookstore Cafe

It's kind of fun to sit here and just people watch. As long as it looks like you're occupied with a book or a laptop, and provided you are not Creepy Old Guy, it's not hard to pull off unnoticed.


Kid sitting next to me:
Yes, I see that you are reading. Good for you. But it is not necessary to pretend to stop reading for a moment to observe the book cover, feigning great interest. You're not fooling anyone. Honestly, you'd look like less of an idiot if you had just turned to me and proclaimed loudly the title of the book you were reading, instead of just slyly turning the cover towards me and sneaking glances in my direction.

But I am impressed nonetheless; Harry Potter is right up there with Dostoevsky and Dickens.


Girl in the faux-bohemian green striped top:
You want one of the comfortable chairs, a desire to which I can relate. There are probably a dozen of them in the cafe, alongside two or three couches. People are coming and going all the time, so at any given moment there are probably 4 seats freshly occupied, 4 seats used for some time, and 4 about to vacate. Unfortunately for you, i'm still in the middle 4 (although learning towards the third 4). I'm sitting here, trying to write and relax, and having you come by and glare at me every 20 seconds isn't making it any easier. Do you have some special connection with this chair? Too bad. I'm annoyed now.

Oh. damn. The seat next to me opened up.
You win this time.


Guy who left not too long after I sat down:
Damn it, you gave little miss anxiety your chair. But, I suppose it is for the best. You were making me sort of uncomfortable just being here. You were flashing your book around for all to see, just like the little wizard next to me, but... Why? For the love of god and all that is holy, why? You're not even reading anything remotely pop culture. Your book, which reads from right to left (cough, cough), doesn't even have any English text on the front for someone else to recognize. Sorry, pal, but I don't think anyone around us reads Kanji quite like you do.
We all, however, recognize the international symbol for two females, covered in soap suds, making out.

Which, coincidentally, is two females, covered in soap suds, making out.

Classy.

Life Can be Funny Sometimes

This morning after philosophy, while I was hanging out in the bookstore with Kristyn, I received an email for a great deal on a multimedia server. While I no longer have a need for such an item, I did think of two people who could: Kevin, a freelance designer in Atlanta, and my friend Adam I. who had been attending design school in Manhattan when we last talked.
I messaged both of them about it, and had a quick conversation with Kevin, but that was it. When I turned off my laptop to hoof it over to sociology, I thought nothing more of it.

After sociology, as i'm headed back to my room to relax and get ready for the weekend, I see someone coming towards me who stands out for some reason. He looks oddly familiar, but at the same time, he doesn't.

Where could this be going? I know, i'm the master of suspense.

Turns out it was Adam! He was definitely a bit shaggier than before, and was wearing a pair of glasses I had never seen before.
(That was why I didn't recognize him — The Clark Kent effect.)
It seems he's back from Manhattan and now holds a design job in the experiential learning office at my university!

Imagine that.

Guess Who's Back, Back Again

Yes, he has returned. The crazy old man in the bookstore cafe.
He's slinking down in his chair, like before, directly across from me, like before, weirding me out, like before.
He isn't staring at me this time, because his eyes are closed. I think it is safe to assume that he is sleeping, but has this strange sleep disorder where he smiles, squints his already shut eyes, swivels his head, mouths a song, and taps his fingers along to the melody.


Okay, maybe he isn't asleep. He's lost in some strange reverie where he's... sweating to the oldies. Sweating profusely.

I kind of like the way his jowls flap when he sings. It's mesmerizing. Obey the jowls. We are one with the flapping.

Interlude

There's a creepy old man sitting across from me in the cafe at the bookstore. He's just watching me read my philosophy book, making 'huff'ing noises every few minutes, counting his (4) 1 dollar bills repeatedly, and waving his arms.




I think he's a professor.