The
alto who I spent the noon hours of Friday and Monday exchanging
timid, uncertain glances with solved our mutual communication problem by waiting for me to make my first move, and immediately shooting me the nicest smile I've ever seen. I tried to respond in kind, but as I never smile at the mirror, I don't know what it looked like. Once again, she skipped out at the end of class before I even had a chance to put my music folder away. Here's to
Friday.
For the first time in a while, I was the first person to hand in a test. Suspect it's the positive thinking that did it: I sat in the front of the room, in anticipation of exiting while everyone else was still working, and it happened. Nothing quite like juxtaposing yourself with 100+ classmates who are frantically scribbling away anything they think will score them a few more points in the last two minutes for a quick shot of sadistic self-esteem.
Bonding experience with my roommate, as we stood around drinking Steel Reserves in the back of the coin wash, waiting for our clothes to dry and burning sections of the Dandy Dime. I'd never fully realized the truth behind that whole "alcohol makes people more sociable" idea. Moderation in everything: in my case, as I've now come to accept, this means one 24 oz can of high gravity beer and a single-digit number of personal acquaintances, rather than a house full of drunken strangers and all the alcohol a spoiled Phoenician asshole's money can buy.