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Perfect strangers tell me about their lives. The girl next to me is studying Music but wants to get into Arts Administration for graduate school. She's stressed she says, very very stressed. More of the nervous type. The woman at Backstreet Mission told me that she loves her job because no one is around breathing down her neck and she can make customers smile by smiling at them (imagine that)although she didn't always want to work behind a counter helping customers but she hopes I have a job and love my job. An older man shopping at Oppurtunity House told me he got his sleeve tattoos done 20-some years ago by a friend of his in Texas. He was most proud of his dragon on one of his forearms. The woman who made my coffee at the Student Union says that her back has been killing her and she's tried one of those foam back rests for when she drives in her car, but the results haven't been what she expected. Oh, and how could I leave this out, the guy to my right was smiling at his computer and leaned over to me to inform me that he and his father are leaving for Las Vegas tomorrow. He's going to miss his classes and his professors don't know yet.