November 14th 2004 Just Another Weekend

Yep, just another weekend. Nothing to see here. Move along.

That’s not entirely true. Although pretty normal in most respects, there were some recent highlights to my weekend that made it a bit surprising. For example, on Friday, I went out to dinner with Anna, an old friend of mine from high school. Anna called me up the other day and insisted on taking me to dinner for my birthday (which was not Friday night, for those of you who are wondering; we went out early because Anna is going to be busy next week). Not one to refuse a free meal and excellent dinner company, I readily agreed.

Our plan was to go to Applebee’s, but by the time we got there, there was a thirty-five minute wait in line. Honestly, who would go out to dinner at 6:00 PM on a Friday? We were, however, undeterred by the failure of Applebee’s other patrons to recognize my birth by allowing us to go ahead in line, and instead broke our bread at the Perkin’s restaurant down the highway.

It was a good meal. The food was decent, and it was especially nice to have a chat with Anna, whom I haven’t talked to a great deal since I “left” for college in August. She told me a lot about things going on with her and her friends back at high school. It’s great to know that the melodramatic activities of LAHS did not end when I left. Although a bit disappointing and somewhat surprising, it’s also comforting to know that the world does not, in fact, revolve around me. I must admit that in some ways, I almost miss high school; the social scene in high school was certainly way more fun that the one in college, in the sense that something was always going down, or someone was always mad at someone else. Things don’t happen that way in college; we get along (for the most part). In that sense, it’s nice to hear about the ridiculousness of high school, but not actually have to deal with it on a daily basis.

I then came back to my room, and attempted to make polite conversation with my roommate, as I have been doing for the past several days. He’s still not talking to me, which sucks, because we do have to live with each other until May. I find it kind of immature that he’s bitter and giving me the cold shoulder, but I guess he has a different perspective.

Saturday went along fairly normally—until I decided to go to bed, that is. I was asleep for a short period of time when I heard a pounding on my dorm room door. I figured it was just some drunken person, so at first I didn’t answer. But the pounding continued, so I finally answered the door. My initial assessment, it turned out, had not been that far from the truth; the person knock-knock-knocking on my chamber door was, in fact, slightly intoxicated. He was an old friend of mine from my high school days, someone I had never expected to find outside my door at 4:30 in the morning, and he wanted a cigarette. I didn’t have any of course, but I borrowed his friend’s car so I could drive up to the Sunoco station by Bechtel’s and buy the poor guy some. Along the way his friend yelled at me for exceeding 30 miles per hour in her VW.

Then I made pancakes in the morning, and all was good.