(no subject)
Boredom always seems to lead to paranoia. Paranoia always seems to find a way to validate itself.
I left Walpole last friday intending to live out the rest of the break in my apartment far away from cats, awkward encounters, and the need for a car. I spent 3 days alone in my apartment writing, watching tv, and talking to myself. I went 60 hours without leaving the house. It was lonely, but pleasant. I did a lot of thinking. One thing I thought about, however, was my budget for the next semester and I realized I will soon run out of money. So I returned home to put in a few more hours at the store and get another month's rent under my belt.
Going home is always eventful. It was tuesday that I came back. I woke up that day hoping to meet someone for lunch. Things fell through, but I got coffee anyway. I worked on a project over a pastrami sandwich and listened intently to strangers talk about other strangers. I'd like to find a cafe table for my room. I would steal a napkin dispenser and get some chairs and i would be able to sit and have coffee in my room. I'd put on recordings of random conversations as ambient noise and I'd drop partitions and mirrors. I'd be completely immersed. It'd be great.
I walked back to my apartment from Harvard square. Along the way I found the Bazaar--a grocery store I'd heard about for months but never bothered to find. I'll have to go there soon. I'd like to investigate baking this semester. I say investigate because I'm fairly unineterested in recipies. I think cooking should be treated more as a science and less as a set of operations. That's the only way it can be fun.
People are way friendlier on the T when it's not packed with college students. In a rather out-of-character move I flirted with a cute girl who needed directions. I accidentally did my weird southern accent thing too. It was awesome.
By the time I got to backbay I had to run for my train. The train ride was fairly uneventful but as I was walking down west street on my way home from the station I ran into a fairly young kid. He must've been like 13 or 14 and he was stopping everybody asking for directions. Not a single person would stop and help him. Here was a lost little kid who only wanted to know how he could get back to the city, and like 4 people just walked right by him as he was talking to them. I was kinda shocked. I helped him figure out where he had to go. Hooray me!
On my way home I stopped by the baseball fields to wait for Hoppy. I haven't been down there in years. I remember when I was a kid I used to tell my parents I was going off to climb trees and instead I would bicycle down to the baseball fields to watch games and eat pretzels. Those were fun times.
Tomorrow I return to the city for the weekend to see Phil and Sam. I've been home for only a few hours and already my head feels like a wrecking ball.
In other news, at work today I was fixing some problems with the e-mail accounts when I accidentally opened up some undelivered messages sent from the store account. Apparently Larry has been cheating on his wife. Now everybody knows. Haha... ha.