"I Thought She Was Waiting For You"
I thought Andy and Ryan were messing with me and set the clock forward a couple of hours, but I leapt out of bed when I realized that it really was 2:30pm, and I really did sleep through my 9-12 class this morning (photography again, argh) and then some. The odd thing is that I remember turning off the alarm and showering- its just that I don't remember anything afterwards.
My sense of time has officially been wrecked. I played awful/wonderful pop songs of middle school until the morning with Krista and Fuchs, something I haven't done in forever. I've been neglecting my baby for way too long; Fuchs probably plays it more than I do now.
So I run downtown, catch a Purple express, and tow the remains of my FM3a to Central Camera (hoping I won't be too late like yesterday). Thinking of everything that needs to be done tomorrow, everything that needs to be done for today, and everything that needed to be done yesterday, my brain was completely wrapped around the Book's Lemon of Pink when out of nowhere I see and meet the most beautiful girl in all of Chicago. I ran up the steps to the camera repair office, and I see her waiting to pick her camera up. Now, I've never believed in love at first sight, maybe hotness at first sight, but I've never been so instantly enraptured in anything before than I was with her. Just everything about her, how she joked, how she laughed, her eyes, and the way she bounced back everything I threw at her. I have no idea where she lives, where she goes to school, nothing, except her name, Kelly. So, big deal, we exchanged glances once more, she left, and then so did I, and that would be it. Except that I'm writing about her now, and I couldn't think of anything else, any of the thousands of things I have to do and prepare for, except for her. Mushy Mush. I'm such a corny romantic.
And then, apartments have been found, and decisions must be made. Dinner must be had at Norris, papers must be done before the weekend, and poker must be done tonight. Classes must be registered, and favors must be fufilled. Plans for work and plans for play (Birthdaypalooza) must be made soon, and projects must be finished tomorrow. If I stop thinking for too long, something will snap, and thus chugs along the routine and order of the day. But my thoughts are never what they're supposed to be, and never about who're they're supposed to be, and then I find myself waking up at 2:30 in the afternoon...