I've started to develop a routine of spilling soy sauce all over my pants during my chicken and rice lunch days, but this time it was different. I squirted the sauce on my pants like always, and then I proceeded to spill the first spoonful all over my pants and jacket. I then stood up and brushed it off directly into my water cup. That sheepish expression slowly began to develop on my face again, and I stood there with my hands on my hips and my eyebrows raised for an amount of time that I can no longer remember.
I've begun to do this thing where I kind of make weird animal sounds when these unreal events happen. It just kind of helps me to do a reality check to see if I am dreaming or not: a more weirder version of pinching myself, if you will. Most of the time, however, no one really pays attention to the weird kid making cat noises in the corner, so I guess we will never know if this is real life or just some sleep-induced psychosis.
The other day, after my new freshman friend referred to me as her "gay best friend", I left school early to go to the post office to get my passport renewed. I wasn't very excited because in my passport photo I look like a sex offender, and I was not looking forward to whatever nerdy comment the people at the post office were going to make. The terrible thing was that I had essentially paid $8 to get a photo taken that would most likely get me stopped and searched in airports whenever I try to travel out of the country in the future. I reluctantly parked my car and walked in carrying my terrorist ID and passport application (which, by the way, had been deleted the first time I completed it because my computer had died). I entered the office and it was deserted except for a suburban mom and her two innocent nerd children clinging to her pant-legs. I approached the front desk and asked for assistance, but the lady working swiftly informed me that she could not take my application without a pre-scheduled appointment, even when there was absolutely nobody in the vicinity. I meowed at her a few times and then stormed out of there, gripping my application tightly in my right hand.
Unfortunately for me, none of these anecdotes can compare to the one that happened today. I'll pick up the story at around 5:30 pm, when my friends and I had just defeated a soccer rival in a real solid performance, and I was on a high for the day. That high was quickly suppressed as soon as we got on the 45 minute bus ride back to our cars, which had turned into an hour and a half ride due to unbelievable traffic. We were 4 pathetic blobs just scratching our asses on a bus together trying to amuse ourselves, and the night had only just begun. When the bus finally inched its way into the parking lot, we exited and stretched our stiff muscles out on the street. When I reached into my bag for my keys, that's when things started going downhill. I had left them on the bus somewhere or even down in La Jolla, so now my two friends and I were stranded in a deserted parking lot a fair distance away from my friend's car. Some rasta dude on his way to smoke weed behind a building drove by and we began to take the long trek down to the car, lugging fat backpacks on our backs and lumbering one step at a time with our sore feet pounding the rough concrete. After slithering our way through dark roads and an empty school campus, we emerged from the local sage-scrub wilderness and plopped our selves in the car. My voice hoarse already from yelling obscenities at the sky, we began to discuss our lives and realized that my bad luck had sort of seeped out of my body and affected everyone within a 10 foot radius of me. The three blobs then went to gorge our fat selves on some overpriced Islands' burgers and fries to top off the night.
Although I thought that I had hit the rock bottom (and I thought I hit it hard, too), apparently this isn't the end of my sufferings, and I still continue to chip away at the crumbling barrier beneath my feet. Luckily for me I am able to see the humor in it all and at the end of the day I can laugh my ass off at my troubles over a few Cokes at Islands. I am looking forward to keeping the bad times rolling and looking back at them later with a newfound lightheartedness and apathy -- the good kind of apathy, at least.
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