Wildcat Morning

*Beep Beep*
*Beep Beep*
*Beep Beep*

"Damn that alarm is annoying." I think to myself as I'm brought out of my sleep. Something about a pinata keeps bouncing through my head, and I'm not quite sure why.

I reset the alarm on my cell phone. Its sort of like pushing the snooze button, but takes a lot more brain power and tends to help to wake me up in steps.

This time it was beating up the first lady, while inside a Circle K on the Death Star. I remembered it easily.

*Beep Beep*
*Beep Beep*
*Beep Beep*

7:20am. I needed to be out the door for no particular reason but to get to class on time by 7:30. My allergies are killing me and I'm in a rotten mood. That tends to happen when you stay up too late playing Gran Turismo 4.

Shit, Shower, Shave. Grab my keys, grab my laptop, (as I know I'll be noding at some point today) and speed out the door. 7:35. I'm cutting it close.

I turn the radio on in the car, it starts playing the current CD and the techno beats of "The Robot Theme Song" begin echoing through the cab. I'm not really in an aquabats mood, so I pop out Myths and legends vol. 2 and insert a mix which I'm sure contains Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

Leaving the parking garage, I'm accosted by a Gideon. "Miniature Bible for you?" I shake my head with disgust. I still fail to see the point, if they really want to make a difference in the community why don't they stop buying these tiny fucking Bibles that only contain one or two useless books and start volunteering to send their funds to the countless homeless that have overtaken the streets of Tucson?

My mind continues to play over these thoughts, over how those old men would do better to don an apron in a soup kitchen rather than those silly blazers armed with cardboard boxes full of small, green Bibles.

Its about this time that I have arrived at my first class. Music appreciation, or as I call it "snooze alarm part 2." Its just sort of sad that it takes me about thirty minutes of walking-parking-walking to get to my next hour-long nap. Today we will be discussing what "rhythm" is.

"Professor? Wait, I don't get it... could you explain syncopation again?"

I wake up with a puddle of drool on my keyboard. That's right, I was supposed to stay awake and check out e2 during this class. The joys of wireless can no longer sustain my consciousness.

I am awoken by the magic words: "I know its early, but I'll see you all on Friday." I pack up my laptop without responding to the countless AIM messages flashing on my screen and head for my favorite part of the day. Maybe soon I'll get some noding done. I already know I want to write something comical about that bunch of Gideons occupying every corner on campus.

I trapse to Yavapai. I arrive at the front door just as she is coming out of it. "Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?"

"I'm officially sick"

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that, what can I do to make it better?" Truthfully, I'm not 100% sorry. I know that if she's sick, I have an excuse to cook for her more often, the Union simply doesn't supply sufficient food to make one well again. (sidenote - sorry if that comes as a suprise to you, but you should know better. I love making your face light up like that.)

The conversation turns to other topics, and our pace is quickened as she is late for class. By the time we have reached our destination I'm winded. I really need to get into shape. I have no class for three hours, and an hour to kill while she is learning spanish. Maybe I'll get some noding done.

I decide instead that its high time to hold down the floor, so I lay with my head on my laptop bag, a bum, just like the ones that those Gideons need to help. Its not that the floor is exceedingly comfortable, but I sleep well. I don't move much for fear of losing the small bit of comfort I've found on the tile floor. Soon she's waking me up, having exited her class wondering if I want to grab something to eat with her.

I'm not a fan of Existentialism. I hated I ♥ huckabees and have never really had an interest in the feild, but I suppose thats what our lunch conversation could be qualified as. Humans are simply a complex chemical reaction. Reactions can be defined by formulas with inputs yeilding specific outputs. With quite a great deal of theorizing, you can come to the conclusion that without a god there is no free will, but that is news for another time.

The trip back to the dorm was standard, as was the zoning out while playing Civilization 3 while she did her homework. Amazingly her bed failed to eat me.

Before long, noon had rolled around, and it was time for her to make her way to Chemistry. I've got an hour before class maybe I'll get some noding done.

Sorry, but I wanted to try an existentialist look at noding...