HORNS UP:
*Getting so much schoolwork done not just on time, but early. And having long stretches of time, a comfortable computer chair, a nice desk, and air conditioning to do it with.
*The literate, generous, perhaps lazy, person who put cast-off books on the first floor hallway counter, instead of donating them to Goodwill, giving them to friends, or throwing them out. I now own a copy of Gig, which I checked out at the library about a year ago and have been meaning to get back to. Also in the stack: a GMAT study book, The Craft of Copywriting, How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship, & Musical Theater, and When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough.
*Daily emails to my best friend from junior high. I look forward to finding a new one each morning, because they bring me peace. I didn’t necessarily need closure, but I once heard, “The older you get, the more you need people who knew you when you were young.” I’ve also begun to pose questions, like, “How is adulthood different than what you expected?” I love reading her take on things, realizing that despite the years, she is still the girl who’d ride her bike to my house.
*Dusk in Manhattan.
HORNS DOWN:
*Going to the NYPL after reading online that three of my holds are available for pick-up, but not getting my three holds because they aren’t shelved and the scraggly guy behind the desk isn’t willing to take the time to look for them in the stack of unshelved items. “Don’t ‘come back tomorrow’ me ever again! You didn’t even try to look.”
*Insomnia. I can’t go to sleep at a reasonable hour. When I fall asleep, I can’t stay asleep. I toss and turn. My body feels tired from the horizontal macarena I’m doing under the covers (get your minds out of the gutter and then hose them down before reattaching), but my mind won’t shut off. I woke up at 8 a.m., so I hope I sleep better tonight. I doubt it, though.
*The punk kids I saw suspiciously lurking on the street with a wrench this afternoon. They were eye-molesting the fire hydrant in between bouts of hiking up their pants by the crotch. I had a feeling they were going to do something stupid. They can’t even spell “wrench,” nor do they care to fix anything. When I walked past that corner later, I saw the fire hydrant gushing out water and flooding the street. My feet got soaked crossing the street. I didn’t see the kids around the area, but next time, I think I’m just going to play snitchy white lady and call the cops before it all goes down.
*The black residue all over my feet from my flip flops. Why must the most comfortable shoes I own disintegrate with my every step? It makes me feel really gross.
I LOVED “How I Got Through College…” It was so cute and funny! I hope you like it!
what makes these kids punks and how do you know what they can spell?
anonymous:
Clearly, you don’t live in New York. They’re everywhere. Personally, I use the term “thug”, since “punk” has a different (Ramones-esque) connotation for me.
Amanda:
Next time you come across an open hydrant, call 311 and ask for your local fire house. It’s technically not an emergency, so it’s not appropriate for 911.
Cheers!