Ready or Not

I don't know. I'm just not where I thought I'd be. Things came up in my stupid moody little head.

But I did get some productivity out of it. And there were a few moments of relaxation. Playing piano and enjoying it for once. Reading David Sedaris' When You are Engulfed in Flames while drinking black coffee in the morning, or late afternoon.

I still won't say I'm satisfied with this week. But like my mom said, "When are you ever?"

In my defense, there were times I did like the way things turned out from breaks. But she still has a point. So whatever. What's happened has happened. All there is to do is face the music. Maybe then, I'll get to live a little and be happy.

Mini-Saga

Despite the flaring heat, they trained section after section. The sound of shoe rubber hitting against sweaty palms echoed off the white walls. Afterwards, they horsestanced for what seemed like hours. “Jia yo!” they yelled. To end the day, they sat on the garage door ledges watching the sunset together.

note: a mini saga is a short story written in exactly 50 words. I know I could have written this better but I wanted to give things a try. more to come?

Dilemma

Every so often, a college student faces a dilemma in the dorm laundry room. All the washers are full of clothes but one has finished washing. He waits a few minutes, if he's nice. But after that, the question remains: should he take out another person's clothes, boxers, thongs, and all?

Alas, I was in this situation. There are a few other stories like this, but none as traumatizing as this. Let's continue.

I open the washer. Great. It's a girl's. In my defense I waited a few minutes, filling another washer with clothes. I still had a shit load of clothes to wash.

Work fast!, my mind thought. My hands raced, trying not to think too much on the fact that I was touching various undergarments. Quick! She might be coming down at this very moment.

Right when I slammed the door, she arrives. Well, shit.

Then I did the worst possible thing: I tried to be smooth. Emphasis on tried.

I went to my other washer. She opens the door. Her washer coincidentally no longer holds her clothes. Wonder who made that happen? (hint: who else is in the laundry room?)

I left the room, as if it wasn't me. Then I had second thoughts. I went back, thinking it didn't really matter.

Or did it? Because my friend Steven was now in the laundry room. Girl #1 was now putting clothes away in the dryer. Then another girl came in.

"Oh, are you in line?" Girl #2 asks Steven.
"Yeah, I'm just waiting a few minutes for some other people to get their stuff out," nice guy Steven replied
"Oh, people get my clothes out all the time." Girl #2 said as a matter of fact. Her words didn't seem to matter. Not when the owner of those removed clothes was in the same room.

The blood of Humiliation was rushing full blast into my skull. With a layer of sweat on my forehead, I ran to the elevator back to my dorm. As I got into the elevator, I heard the ominous footsteps. Please, I begged the elevator door, close faster.

Just as the door was about to shut tight, it reopened. And in walked Girl #1, the girl whose laundry I shamefully pulled out of the washer. It was a long and awkward 4 flights of an elevator ride. Why me?

Somewhere, a divine creator is chuckling rofling his ass off.

Should I feel guilty? Or is it not that big a deal? Thoughts?