Shoes can solve all sorts of problems.

"Reality is merely an illusion, although a very persistent one."
~ Albert Einstein

I want shoes.

Today I spent the first half of my day sleeping, due in no large part to a couple of beers that I casually consumed last night with dinner...and before bed. One was a Corona. One was called Rabbit something. Piss maybe. It was American, and therefore bad. I think I was just tired of consciousness. Rolled around in my heavenly comforter until around 1:30. Today began another exodus from the East Towers to the West apparently. Yay for renovations. Not yet sure when I have to move out. I think I'll just squat till somebody gets pissed off. The West is gay. Spoke to Rasta a bit, even though he had company and probably shouldn't have been speaking to me. Ahh, the privileges of the Outside Woman. Oh wait, they (or should I say we?) have none. Kidding about the outside woman part. Sorta.

Spoke to a couple friends in Trinidad today. We had one of those lovely conference calls where I could speak to all of them at the same time. It sucked. Felt like crying and hanging up at the same time. Don't even know why. I miss them. So much so that I didn't want to speak to them. Although I'm sure if I were at home, I'd wish to be here. No pleasing me apparently. Got off the phone and apologized profusely to kdarn, whom I was supposed to help move. I'm a bad friend. I helped roll across the last of her suitcases though: Redemption. She and I had lunch at that indian/arabic/terrorist kabob place: Lamb Curry, aka curry lamb. It was pretty good. Then we crossed the street, in adoring appreciation of the beautiful scene before us: blue and red flashing lights illuminating a freshly-arrested middle-aged man; white and grey police cars everywhere. Yes, Campus Police was there too. Partayy. We crossed nonchalantly, disturbingly accustomed to the hell-hole known as Georgia Avenue. Got some McFlurries (apparently they can make cardboard taste like ice-cream too) and sauntered down to the benches at Stokes. We sat and talked. Don't remember much of what we said. Saw the crackhead lady cross the courtyard, cringed at one of her psychotic exclamations, and then mused on how easily I could become her. Somehow that thought didn't scare me. I'm losing my mind.

Gathered up my things, and parted ways with my summer friend. Headed across to the Annex, neither dreading nor anticipating the four hours of Work-for-Housing ahead of me. Only had to endure it once before, and I kind of liked it. Charlotte Brontë kept me company. I love her, and I know that she loves me too. This time the honors laptop that I'm not-still-supposed-to-have kept me company. Time passed by pretty quickly. Went to the vending machine that's too close to my station to get some sugar. Just when it looked like my snack was going to get stuck, two packs of Skittles fell out. I'd like to thank Carbos, the God of Fat, for blessing me with his manna. Rasta called. He invited me to Niagara Falls for a weekend. I didn't give a definite answer. We'll see. I predict us getting stopped at the border for a couple hours and enduring an annoying interrogation about our Caribbean contraband. Even though he's from California. O Canada.

It's 11:49 now. I should start packing up and prepare for my power-walk back to the Towers. I can only imagine the element I'm going to encounter tonight. Guess I'll hafta vaya con Dios. Rather do that than plead with the Campus Escort to come get me right this second. Hot shower awaits. I should wash my hair. Maybe I'll just cut it all off, save me the trouble.

I want shoes.