August 6

 

Sleep deprivation has made me use my energy more efficiently, not wasting it on such useless things, like what other people think. I have noticed that all my energy is used to just stay awake. It is nice, just to be with myself and not have to care about what others think. I will strive to make this my standard, but hopefully I will find a more efficient way of achieving this state of mind.

            I stood today, for thirty minutes, waiting for the bus to arrive. The late afternoon sun was shining more intensely than yesterday; I took refuge under the shade of a tree, joining the many others who sought to escape the cruel rays of light. Many people hurried about their day, making a dash for their respective buses. I saw confetti scattered along the street, the clear sign that the festivities were in full swing. There were many more people than usual, all of them smiling and looking out of place. See, I hate these people because they come and make a mess of things and then leave after the weekend is over, thankfully not returning for another year. Yes they are the sole source of income in our city, but they are f*****g annoying. But all that aside, I still hate fiestas. Let’s celebrate the harsh Spanish rule that killed most of our natives, whom succumbed to the even more frightful “White Man” and then let’s give all the Mexicans a day to pretend they are something they’re not and make them do these god awful Spanish dances. Yea, that’s a real good idea. So while the entire city is ignoring our country’s debt crisis and partying like we have money to burn, I am on a crowded bus to an adult education facility. Yes, is there a better way to spend a Friday? I think not. Sitting in a bare, almost medical looking room for hours on end staring at a book that at this point looks like a bunch of blurs. My eyes burn from lack of sleep and despite the fact that it is one o’clock; I am still trying to keep sleep at bay. Now I hardly even look at my book, I am an hour in and do not want to continue, so I start my usual regimen of staring at the girl that sits a table away from me.  There is nothing particularly special about this girl; she is just the best view in the room. When that gets boring I switch my attention to the strange guy that sits across from me. Now this guy has stared at me nonstop since I walked in. He has a stupid looking, overly jelled, Mohawk that just looks ridiculous. He stares at me as if he knows me, knows who I am and what I do, and it looks as if he does not like me. Now normally this would not bother me in the least, but this has been a reoccurring event, and I have grown tired of it. My patience is all but gone, I really just want him to do something, to make a move, so I could put him out of his misery, but he never gives me the satisfaction.  I readjust me eyes to the old fool whom asked one of the teachers to edit something he had written and then had the gall to question the teacher’s corrections. His crude overuse of “and” was sickening, but the kicker was when he insisted that the teacher leave mistakes so that the letter would be more, and I quote “personal”. Bad grammar has never made me feel anything but irritated and certainly not more comfortable with someone. I quickly dart back to the girl and then to the clock, noticing the time, I spring up, and almost simultaneously, everyone does the same. I walk toward the cabinets and so does the girl; I felt that fate had taken us both by the hand, brining us together. She arrived first and opened the top cabinet, as I waited I could smell her sweet scent of coconut. She finished rather slowly and then turned to me and said “is yours in there?” to which I replied with a romantic “no”. That was the end of our fated exchange and we have not spoken since. It was romantic in the same way riding the bus was.