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lord henry wotton Since I've been so busy for most of the week, there hasn't been that much time for thinking and or writing. All of my time has been occupied by either school or work both of which require thought but are much less personal than what I do here. Any real amount of free time has been taken from me and I am starting to think that I am going to need some very soon. Another casualty of the week has been my usual amount of sleep. Somehow I don't think that I have been getting enough of it and I have a feeling that most of my upcoming Sunday will be spent in bed trying to recover whatever amount that I can. Now I realize that the human body doesn't quite function that way, but I am certainly willing to give it a try. ... Walking to class brings back so many memories for me. Even though I may not have gone to this campus before, it doesn't stop me from picking out the student houses mixed in amongst the permanent residents. Generally speaking people that live there all year round probably don't have music pumping out from their windows. Nor do they feel the need to sit on their front porch and watch the students walk by. What is even more sad is that I used to be one of those people. The music pouring out of the house may not have been mine, but I took any opportunity that I could to sit out on my porch and people watch. To me it was one of the advantages of living alongside one of the main streets leading to the campus. In winter, however, our major thoroughfare status was less enchanting. If we didn't get out there early enough the masses would stamp down the snow and leave us with some seriously compressed ice. Chipping away at a solid sheet of ice grows old very quickly. ... As I was making my final approach to the building where my class is held I spotted a young woman literally sprawled out on the sidewalk in front of me. From what I could tell she was blissfully worshipping what might very well be the final warm rays of the sun for the season. At first I thought that this was amusing, but then I realized that there was no possible way to avoid her and I would have to either walk around her or step over her. For the briefest of moments I pondered standing over her and asking if I was blocking her light. Then an image of her kicking me in the crotch came to my mind and I chose to walk around her instead. What I may have thought of as being cute might not have triggered the same response in her. Despite what she may or may not have thought, I have to say that looking at her on the sidewalk was much nicer than seeing a homeless person.
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