I had meant to be kind. Last night he said we ought to turn the light off and listen to the rain. Having just finished an 8 page paper on Donne's Holy Sonnets, I fell asleep after we turned off the lights. Perhaps the rain helped.
This morning, Los Angeles is wet. I woke up, found some clothes to put on, said 'happy birthday' to his sleeping ears, and went merrily off. Everybody looked glum. I missed the campus express, and since they stop every 8-10 minutes, I had to watch it go by to realize I've just missed it. I watched it from across the street. This happened for two reasons, I'd stopped by the corner store to pick up smokes and a sugar free energy drink. And my bus driver was particularly gun ho about sailing through an orange traffic light. Everybody is, always.
And I thought the rain would have washed off some of these people's discontent. On the days when the basin isn't filled with water, these people are brittle like bones. Skeletons walking around shouting into their phone, or changing the radio station in their cars and honking at pedestrian traffic. No sparks, or these would flame up like the chapparal bush we hear so much about on the surrounding mountain sides. Don't these people crave water? Dried up and would up as they are. Don't they ever want to fill the tub until it overflows, or drive to the beach? No, the landlord who pays their water bill will threaten to up the rent for the whole complex, and the six mile ride to the beach translates into hours in westside traffic.
As I walked towards the empty bench where my bus had stopped moments ago, I thought this was a good change of pace. I thought I could sit down and write some of these down. But then I realized the bench will most likely be wet. And then I too, frowned. Los Angeles was wet, and to make a poor analogy, our brittle bones all ached with arthritic pains.
As I cut across north campus because the bus dumps me out diagonally across from my building, I crossed a small road barely the width of a pick up. A minivan was driving through, and it had collected a lot of rainwater. I watched the splash and couldn't help but be excited. I thought I would jump in there, then the thought of sitting through a 2 hour lecture in wet clothes, stopped me.
On the way home, there was a dark girl on the bus who had the worst speech pattern imaginable. She punctuated all her thoughts with like and hmms. I thought I would be very tired if I was her. She warns the voice on the other end to "proceed with caution" AND "a grain of salt" regarding a potential mr. right now. In the way of evidence mounted against the chump, she rattles off a list of names, people who were introduced and subsequently hit on; she said "he has a thing for all my friends". I wanted to tell her that maybe she's just jealous because he never had a thing for her.
Then I realized she's just some stranger on the bus. I have no place making a commentary like that. If it were a friend, whom I didn't particularly like, maybe. Then she make up some scenario wherein they were both drunk (invariably), and he actually did try to make a move on her. I could pursue it and go on asking, teasingly, how drunk he was. Or maybe we'll just talk about something else that wasn't as awkward or telling of my perception of her. Either way, I had no business telling the girl on the bus, about my perception of her.
I had to stop by school again later in the day, to drop off my paper. I felt an unspeakable sense of warmth at some point after the bus trip back onto campus. I think as I walked away from the class, was when I couldn't help but be giddy. I wanted to be nice to somebody. I wanted to make a new friend. Waiting for the bus, there was the girl I secretly accuse of copying my haircut, and a girl who looked as if she didn't know how to smoke a cigarette, whom I've never seen before. Because I like to beat things up with my feet whenever I wear boots, I made a little dirt slope with my foot while waiting for the bus. It climbed all the way to the beginning of the sidewalk. And I thought maybe some handicapped ants will appreciate the ramp. Then I thought if I had accidentally maimed some ants while kicking the dirt up, that would be unfortunate.
We all piled on to the campus express. I sat next to a guy who was filling out a sudoku. I thought over and over again how I should tell him I've figured out where to put a six. He left the box empty, and his hand is stopped. He's twirling around his pencil; he's thinking. I become plagued with a heightened sense of urgency. Finally I pointed to the box, and I said "I think that's a six." He checked my work before replying, "yes it is." Then I apologized for interrupting and got off the bus one stop early. I didn't know how to make a friend after all.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
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