Changes

Both her shirt and shorts are tight. His eyes seem trained, chaste, ignoring the obvious. She seems flirtatious, an Anthropology major, she says. Again, he's uninterested. This is my kind of dude. The kind who ignores the short guy who just walked out calling him 'bro'. He asks if I've been helped. I have, and I tell him so. I suppose this is the kind of situation people are starting to understand as "bromance" or "manlove" or "mancrush" - a straight man's attraction to another man. The finding of similar characteristics, qualities, or disposition. This is what I have right now.

Its my first day on this campus, my first day in this area. My first time exiting the station at Fullerton instead of transferring to the brown. Its disorienting. There are a lot of young people in flip-flops and dressed down demeanor, walking with the kind of cockiness yet confusion indicative of a college campus. Its disorienting. As if my life, attitude, and segmented world has progressed over the last four years but these bubbles reign unchanged - only the details change. The fundamental stuff, that's what doesn't. The students filter in and out. And I'm sitting here with a moleskine in my lap, scribbling notes.

Blanky Title!

Long have I...wait..I'm going to start over, that sounded way too ridiculous. I've been riding the train sporadically for a few months now. Watching cloud forms get on and of at each stop, legs crossed as I jotted down my longing to join them, to flow like them. And now, I begin that transformation.

Today is my first day, as I walk slowly, too slowly, from the front door of my new apartment to the gentleman handing out copies of the Red Eye and opening doors for restockers of processed and preserved, packaged foods next door to the Sheridan Redline Stop. I sniffled as I walked by, adding a dollar to my car, wishing I hadn't spent as much money but more time cleaning out the dust caked to the ceiling fan as it circulated air above me.

Its going to be a good day, I think, at this exact moment, trying to ignore the pile of nicotine gum blister packs in the seat next to me. After work I'll have my back adjusted and spend about half hour cleaning out and ferrying the last bits of my left over "stuff" in Shane's SUV to the new place, only to wash more dishes and spend more time making my first real meal at the "coming together" apartment. Or I'll watch some TV and crash at about seven-thirty like I've needed to do the last four nights. Dreaming of a class schedule and the uncomfortable seating in a lecture hall.