Mmmm...Ham & Cheese...

The perfect dinner breakfast after-work treat..

Damn. I only had 2 cocktails after we closed, and I'm feeling mighty happy.

I love working in a bar. Teehee. Even if I only made $20 tonight (grr). And even if I have to be up in 5 hours for school hell school. Ah well. Suck it up, it's only an hour and a half. And then I can come home, take a nap, go to my dentist appointment, come home, and go to bed.

I'm not all that sure that being a bar-person is perhaps the best job for a student to have, especially when there's only 143 days left until graduation.

So...

Goodnight.

T'was just a dream

You have the strangest dreams when you take naps. Or maybe it's just me.

In one dream, I was a midget gingerbread man being chased by a giant toothbrush.

In another one, I walked into a room and every guy that I've ever been with - sexually or romantically or both - and when I entered, they all stopped talking and turned to look at me.

In yet another one, me and the guys were sitting down to a fat kid's dinner of mozzerella sticks, cheesefries, calamari, cheesecake, a giant (like 20 pounds) hershey's bar and there was a huge pack of cigarettes on the table - which held like an entire carton of cigarettes. We're all chowing down, and then death (as in, black robe, cythe, the whole bit) comes roller skating by the table and stops and asks "Will that be all for you?"

And in the last one before I woke up, I was Goldilocks. Only, more like me in drag looking like Goldilocks. And instead of actual bears, it was just fat hairy men into leather. And instead of a house, it was some bar. The porridge was non-fat soy lattes. The rocking chairs were Prada shoes. And instead of beds, there were tricks. And the bears came into the back, found me with the "just right" trick and instead of chasing me out, they gave me a pack of rubbers and giant bottle of lube.

And this was all in the space of an hour and a half nap. Um. WTF?

And now, a dribble

Not technically a drabble, because I've no idea how long it's going to wind up being, but I felt the need to write something. I'm in a funky mood since this afternoon. Guilt, over not going to class; sadness over a conversation I had with someone today and what that convo means; worry over finances; you know - the usual stuff. No worries though, still high and dry. Just felt like brooding a bit. Hence, the dribble.

The fog dissipates like a curtain thrown back, and the city rushes to life once more. Taxi horns in the distance, a car alarm screaming. A homeless man pushes his cart across the intersection, one of its wheels missing and scraping against the asphalt. A bus rushes by, sweeping its blue-black smoke into my face, my hair, my mouth. I feel dirty. The dirt freezes in me with each step I take along the grey sidewalk. One cement square followed by another and another, each one with its own tracks and cracks. A thousand journeys pass over them with each sunrise and sunset. My path is the same as ever, my steps as repetative as the hour, the day, the month before. It's a travel I know well. I walk alone, two feet, two hands, two eyes, one heart beating in time to the sounds of my steps on the pavement. As I look ahead, I can see row after row of parked cars. Reds, blues, whites and blacks all overlaid with a thick coat of grey dust, ash, slush from this greasy winter. They reflect the sunless sky, the dark clouds that soar above the beige and empty tree branches. With each clip-clap of my feet, the daylight darkens; my soul grows heavier. I feel coldness on my cheek, wetness on my nose, and I turn my face back to the sky. Thick and heavy flakes float dreamily down; white chases away the grey. Suddenly the day seems bright, as it wasn't before. It seems colder, but this cold kisses the senses rather than drowning them. The wind stirs the flakes like confetti, and I am a parade of one, continuting on my journey, marching towards the end. No trumpets to announce me, no crowds to cheer me. Only the clip-clap on the familiar squares and the sounds of the city as I'm swallowed by the day once more.