I'd forgotten what public places were like.
You can hear strangers breathing or swallowing or shifting weight
or typing.
Phones ring in places I can't see, and people I can barely hear answer them.
This kind is different, because it is quiet, but not really. One hundred inhalations and a dozen knuckle-cracks, and I start to feel mildly uncomfortable. Or maybe I'm just paranoid, moving in my generic swivel chair to get out of someone's way.
Time is passing relatively quickly, I think. I graduate in one hundred and... seven days? I'm not sure, my strangeness of schedule makes it a little hard to keep track. I should be working right now.
But instead of working, I want to write letters and read comic books. My library has volumes 3-10 of Sandman; this is awesome, but does not help my work ethic.
I need to figure out how to describe, in French, the symbolism of a mask I made. I'll post pictures later, right now I need to find out the translation of "Scotch tape", "glitter paint", and "bisexual".
Posted by samantha at March 11, 2005 10:56 AM