Cambridge Diary 6

Sleeping in her arms.

Eight pieces of mail today. Mostly paychecks. All addressed to previous tenants. There is no God.

Pass Harvard Law during the heatwave, outside are three steel tanks of liquid nitrogen. And I am envious.

Sitting on my Internet Bench, a highly pregnant tabby cat comes up and starts attack-snuggling me. Really this is happiness.

Cold-calling area employers. Remind me to add ‘skills with cold-calling’ to my resume.

Picked up eight books at the library today. Average length: 622 pages. UNEMPLOYMENT AS SHE IS PLAYED.

Spent six hours sitting under an oak tree just off Harvard Yard, drinking old beer out of a brown-bagged bottle and reading historical fiction. Yeah.

Got a note that my electricity would be turned off if I didn’t establish an account with the power company. News to me! So I called and set up the account. Which starts today. Does that mean I get the last two months of electricity free? Stay tuned to find out!

Four giant piles of laundry in the laundry room. Seems today’s The Day for putting on your washing and then falling asleep.

Something goes wrong with my external hard drive, my access to media drops pretty much to zero. And the walls close in…

Ran into someone from high school. They looked successful. DEATH ON A STICK.

In the trash behind my apartment, a 4×6 framed poster containing dozens of pictures, all of the same girl. However you slice it: creepy.

Building’s fire alarm system goes haywire. End up just saying ‘fuck it’ and walking to The Yard to read. Fortunately I grabbed a good book. Unfortuately I grabbedpj pants, a Hampshire t-shirt, and fluffy sippers.

6 AM sharp: jackhammer crew on the street. This is why I don’t own a bazooka.

Protip: don’t wear a two-piece suit to interview for a minimum-wage job.

I may be young, but my suit is old enough to be senior management!

Accidentally ate about 160g of fiber in one day (that’s 640% of the DV). No idea how I’m still alive. Or not developing super powers.

Walked up three flights of stairs to a room full of old men sewing. Bought a suit, then and there.

Walked past a guy. He mutters “fat whore!” as I pass. Then he does this to the next three people he passes. And I feel better.

A flock of pigeons wheeling about the Boston sky, passing between the skyscrapers, blocking out the sun.

Having a hard time calling her ugly. Having a hard time telling her just how beautiful she is.

Anagnorisis after anagnorisis. Pretty soon I’ll be applying for an internship at McDonald’s. And I’ll still lose out to a Harvard Law 2L.

Sitting back and thinking about my life and how I want to live it.

Then getting up, and going out to live.

Less than three.

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~ by davekov on 11 August 2011.

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