“It’s like that sometimes / I mean, ridiculous”

Who knew I’d post again so soon? Eh? Not me. But I have to, see. Because —

My life is ridiculous.

I left work at five, but since I was seeing a show (a broadcast of Benedict Cumberbatch in Frankenstein) at seven in the same building, there was no sense in going home and coming back again. So I walked downstairs to the student lounge, sat down to read, and promptly fell asleep. Woke up a half-hour later sprawled all over the couch like nobody’s business, clutching my school ID in one hand and my reading glasses in the other, with only another napper for company.

I read for a little more, giving some chatty newcomers the evil eye on behalf of my fellow sleepy student, then walked upstairs. I bought a small coffee, a container of pineapple, and Goldfish for dinner. MY VEGAN DIET IS SO BALANCED, DERP DERP.  When I was in line I saw a dining hall manager who’s usually at my dorm’s dining hall, and so I said hello. We’d seen each other earlier at lunch, so he joked, “Can’t get away, eh?” And instead of replying like a normal person, I quoted Dave Matthews lyrics. In Spanish. Something to the effect of, “Working’s as hard as the day is long.” We both giggled (probably at my piss-poor Spanish), and I made a graceful exit.

I sat down at a lovely window seat, ready to enjoy, BUT THEN I realized I had to use the bathroom. Clearly I decided to go after I set up my laptop and bought hot food. So instead of going across the hall, I climbed two flights of stairs to go to the one on my office’s floor because it’s my favorite. Clearly I spend too much time in this building.

Finally I ate my weird dinner, realizing along the way that the pineapple was crap. I’ve become a fruit snob without even knowing. I also found myself tearing up as I watched Eddplant’s Less Than Three because oh my god it’s so my life guys you don’t even know. Or something.

THEN at ten of seven I went downstairs to get my ticket, only to see the lobby full of dance stuff. Merch, people in dancing clothes, ladies dressed up nicely. That’s so weird, I thought. Why would this be here during Frankenstein? I walked up to the window to get my ticket, and the woman laughed at me.

My show is next Thursday.


I’d pissed away two hours, slept weirdly on a gross couch, drank a coffee that was now making my stomach hurt, and all for nought.


So I headed home, giggling manically when my iPod shuffled from Merrily We Roll Along (a wonderful musical by Sondheim) to Eminem. I got a haircut (trim, really), admired the sidewalk demolition outside my building that will probably wake me up tomorrow, and gave some nice-looking ladies directions to Grand Central. The conversation:

Them: “We wanna go downtown! To the Grand Station!”

Me: “We are downtown, folks. You wanna go uptown.”

Them: “Is that were the Grand Station is?”

Me: “It is grand, and it is a station, but it’s called Grand Central.”

Them: “That’s the one!”

Well, whatever. I wasn’t going to do much besides read anyway, and now I can do that. I might even meet some friends for St Patty’s celebrations, though their plans probably include binge drinking and, like, leaving my dorm room, neither of which are very appealing. Until next time!


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