Yesterday was just another day; my sand clock was full again, but it was getting ready to turn around and count more time. It was one of those days in which the winds, the rain, the water droplets and all that is lovely in my meteorological mind, did not even attempt to rescue me from going under.
Not even a raindrop.

It was around six in the afternoon, another sunset I donít see. People were getting ready to leave their offices and workplaces to welcome a deserved weekend. As I walked on the crowded avenue, I saw some of them standing on the sidewalks, staring at all the curious things some people put on sale on a blanket on the street because thereís no traffic after 6. Other people stand on line waiting for the woman who sells phone calls, $0.10 dollars a minute. She was relatively young, pregnant, standing up leaning to a light post. She looks tired. A man lasts 2 minutes or so talking to the other person heís going to meetÖ I looked his faceÖ he hangs up as he gives her some coins; then she gets back the phone that is tied to a belt on her waist with chains.

An octopus.

I witnessed all this as I kept walking; trying again to find the reason for my way of thinking, trying to figure out why is it that I am not comfortable or happy. No answers. Then I get to the traffic lights on red that made me stop on the edge of the sidewalk. Good chance to see to the other side of the street and look at people standing, waitingÖ like me, a bizarre mirror.

Once lights turn yellow, some adventure to run across, some of us stay standing; we get hit by the Friday dusk rushing crowd.

Itís alright.

In the middle of the street, my music player finished another song and then started to play the other. Every three minutes or four, I remember that I have to study statics, and wastewater, and prepare a report about the same clouds that betrayed me that afternoon.

I still like them though.

After having walked more than ten blocks away from my building, I got hungry, or at least I thought so. Then started thinking about the mouth, and how it moves. Then started asking myself about the way the skull finds balance on the beginning of my vertebral column, and then remembered again that I had to study. Itís getting late; itís time to go back.

This is when the sand clock turns around. I donít know why I felt better by 7pm. I stopped using my earphones and I put my hands in my pocket. I think that I have to get home and take a pill, or drink some milk and go sleep. Remembered again about statics and wastewater and got anxious. I have to keep showing people good grades, thatís my totem, my fortress. It doesnít give me anything back though.

Now, Saturday afternoon I am having a coffee and cookies as I write this.

Chocolate chip cookies, the ones than mom used to buy in a box, waiting for my full smile and hug.

I donít know why I write this, I havenít studied statics, or prepared my reportÖ itís fake, isnít it? I need a grade printed on a paper, then Iíll get happier, and then get ready for another grade.

Thatís it.

Today at night, thereís a meeting at a friendís house. I donít even know how to get there, but Iím sure Iíll find a way. Someone will tell me.

They want to see me.

I will sit down and talk, of course being aware of how the building stands still or how the breeze hits the window. Itís all set. At the end of it, Iíll say good bye and thanks, minutes before telling the cab driver my favorite sentence of the night: 2nd avenue, 16th street, Building 5 please.

_________________________
Consider the postage stamp: its usefulness consists in the ability to stick to one thing till it gets there. ~Josh Billings.
The Round Table, Mondays 7:30pm CST.