The music of ABBA lulls in the background as the wind howls past the now closed door. It used to be quiet, but then again it used to be empty. Ok make that ABBA songs are being screeched through my eardrums as clearly these guys cannot sing. It used to be quiet, but then again it used to be empty.
My sisters came home from a weekend camp and still I didn't get much work done. It seems as though I need distraction to hold me in order to do work. As usual, Facebook is up, and I'm signed into MSN, Gmail and Skype while watching the highlights of the NBA game. My desk is cluttered with all the work from all the courses that I'm doing. It's funny how we say "peace in the midst of the storm". I had a pretty eventful week and my desk is a microcosmic reflection thereof. There weren't any big events like a camp; just little things to keep my mind occupied.
This week I thought that my parents had stopped loving me. I had to catch the shuttle twice this week and if you want to know anything else about me, I hate catching the bus - it feels like a punishment. I don't mind smelly people (I'm a fan of rustic and natural), loud music or fights; I just dislike the intrusive discomfort of driving in a vehicle that sounds like it's about to fall apart and having to endure it for at least 45 min. So Monday morning I left home at 8am for my 9 am class thinking that I would drop off my brother and ease to school. But that didn't happen. Instead I got dumped off at the health store and met 3 other people. As I waited, with no music or conversation, holding a bag that was slowly becoming too heavy, the crowd trickled in to the health store in their ones. Soon a bus load of students were waiting. As the bus turned, we all rushed to the stop. (Now I'm a novice at catching the shuttle and in my mind I let people pass once they were infront of me. Unaware of the dangers of manners, I found myself staring into the behind of the last person trying to squeeze into the already packed shuttle.) That was 9am. Another shuttle came at around 9:30 and I got on only to be told to get off but unlike Rosa Parks I got off but I turned and sat back in my seat. I finally managed to get to school at 9:50...punishment.
By the time Thursday came I was quite wound up and running around trying to finish all the stuff due this week. I woke up at 5am on Thursday to do my favourite past time - dishes. I got half way through them before the dishwashing liquid ran out (Amen!) so I prepared breakfast and watched Wednesday's NBA highlights. At about 8 my brother came downstairs, dressed and ready to go so I watched the end of the hightlights, jumped out the chair, threw everything in the sink and ran into the shower. Thirty seconds later, I brushed my teeth while packing my bag and dressing. I ran outside to the car and looked around wondering where my brother was. After searching for a little while I realised that he caught the bus (clearly it's not a punishment for him).
I stayed up all night trying to finish some assignments until I finally decided that it was better I go to sleep than be groggy for my interview on Friday. I had to catch the shuttle again - the horror - but I managed to get there in time to use the bathroom (changing in a bus was never one of my fancies but if I'm a billionaire I can tell the kids that it's an essential part of being successful). I came into the interview quite empty handed because my notes were left along with the other things I ended up leaving on my bed so I prayed that my memory would serve me well. It is said that you can't walk before you crawl but when I walked into the room I ran straight into a wall. It wasn't the best interview of the day; when I came out I thought it was excellent but upon contemplation I realised that I could have done better if I wasn't in such a hurry. I've learnt nearly all of the ways not to do an interview - from the dress, to the focus to the whole intent of the interview. I guess people are not that interested in how smart we are but rather who we are.
The house is not quiet again, much like I hoped it would be on Saturday but instead of doing work I went into town that day to buy wedding gear. I hate shopping period. There never seems to be anything that I like which can fit me and/or is in my price range. I try to do the conventional thing (straight jeans and fitted, in a white t-shirt) but that's so boring (I did it). I don't know why I thought I was going to be successful but I went anyway. We got in Cave Shepherd and I asked for a pants. When I tried it on I said "that's the one". The light shone brighter, my Converse looked better and all the happy music began playing. But my mother was convinced that I should but one with pleats - it has more volume - so I tried it on. When I did the cars crashed, the glass shattered and a few bombs exploded, starting small fires and mayhem. I hated it; it looked like parachute pants but she loved it. Thankfully my dad was on my side so we outnumbered her and my sexiness was saved! Unfortunately, that style isn't sold in monopod so after spending an arm and a leg on it, I'd have to pay a tailor to fix it. We eventually spent 4 hours to no avail, trying on about 10 different pants in 3 different stores, but none could fit me and well, no other lights came on. I guess I'll go to the wedding in my boxers. No one will notice when I'm at the table.
The rain is falling and I just remembered what work I have to do. I'll probably go and read something academic or learn a theorem. Until next time we meet. Don't forget to breathe and drink water. Out here is quite hot and dry and hectic. Adieu.
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