Wednesday starts when I wake up from a dream about an ex-boyfriend, an hour and a half before my alarm will go off. I hear the shower running, and realize that I have to pee. Writing is like having to pee. Out of nowhere, the urge comes on. I can ignore it, and it will go away for a while, but it always comes back, stronger. So while I'm waiting for my roomate to get out of the bathroom, I figure I'll attempt to knock out a catch up post.
I've been thinking in songs these busy days, in my solitary rush from home to summer job to gym to school, and back home. This morning: I'm in love again, felt like this before. I'm in love again, this one's real I'm sure... Would I die if you ever left me? Maybe cause you're all I'm living for? After this life, there'll be no other, until the razor cuts! Yesterday, during a picturesque lunchtime stroll: But oh, if we call the whole thing off, then we must part. And oh, if we ever part, then that might break my heart! Biking home last night, feeling outside of the hipster/gangsta continuum in my gentrifying neighborhood, what popped into my head but: I'm living on a Chinese Rock! I'm living on a Chinese Rock!
Often, it's: I want a boyfriend, I want a boyfriend, I want all the stupid old shit that matters so much, or this: Hear that lonesome whiporwill, he sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low, so lonesome I could cry. (By the last one, though, I'm usually laughing at myself.) So there you have it, the soundtrack to my melodramatic life over the past 6 months when I have put off blogging about law school grades, drunken nights with new and old friends, and the travails of internet dating.
It's summer now, and even when I wake up from a sad dream, there is vacation in the air. (Summer, summer, summer! It turns me upside down. Summer, summer, summer! It's like a merry go round!) My window looks out on the alley, full of hazy sunlight dappling haphazard back decks and ramshackle garages. My neighbor's parrot is cawing, a window unit whirs, and someone is always speaking in Spanish. Sometimes I catch a whiff of garbage on the street and think for a second that I am back in Cuba. Or when I pass the back security desk at the government office where I'm working this summer: the guard looks up from his paper, cheerfully says hello, then turns back to his day's work of catching up on world events and doing sodoku. Nine to five, what it takes to make a living.
I'm not sure how I feel about government work. The bosses wearing black jeans and bringing their kids to the office are nice. The co-worker who mumbles to himself while staring at the cinderblock walls in the break room: not so much. But I bike to work. We interns go out for lunchtime sandwiches and tomorrow, happy hour at a safari-themed bar. Life is pretty good, even on the days when I wake up dreaming about ex-boyfriends. At least the last dream image burned into my brain this morning was said ex-boyfriend wearing a kente cloth dress. She's so swishy in her satin and tat, in her frock coat and bippity-boppity hat, oh god, I could do better than that! I'm smiling now, even though I'll be late for work. More blog updates soon...
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