college Archives - Page 11 of 12

MIA concert Miami

September 18, 2005

Busy, constant, and fluid: I need to work at being more boring.

Tuesday I was sick, but I got a new computer, and a Ipod-thing, but…um… yeah. I haven’t figured that one out.

Hosted the Sexologist and then skipped over to the Morgue on Wednesday, Movies at Sunset on Thursday, Wal-Mart Adventure Friday night, Adventure Saturday night (2am, West Little Havana ((think Flagami), “Okay…” “Okay…”), The M.I.A.Concert on Sunday then belligerent up in Little Havana’s latin quarter…

… at Dadeland mall with Anthony, getting accused by Chris not John of something unmentionable and staring at battery acid spilled jeans, oh no. Dropped $70 on hats at Target – Hi, I’m Doug.

I can design again. Expect things gleich…. New format.

Another week in Miami (hipsters, rabbit ears, etc.)

September 4, 2005

I stood with my friends and eyeballed the hipsters. Creepy past-middle-aged Peta people milled about and mingled with dreadlocked art students. This guy who calls himself “TV” was wearing cardboard bunny ears. Emaciated post-punk-somethingcore whatevers with painfully tight jeans, dirty chucks, skin-tight T’s, and hideous piercings mixed with the spot bleached punk-prostitute electocrash girls. Kristen had the cleavage. Kyle had the camera. We were good to go.

We ended up at this indie record store in Wynwood after a long detour through Brickell (we took the pastor’s parking spot while we ran to the atm) and through Overtown/Midtown. As we were walking towards the record store (after we finally found it and parked in a nearby shady alley) a girl walking towards us pointed and said, “You’re going to get so much shit for that shirt!”

Kristen and I both looked at each other, “Who was she talking about?” was Kristen’s cleavage too large? What was wrong with my shirt?

When we got into the record store, we understood. It was a vegan event thrown by Peta.

My shirt said “OFFICIAL TURKEY TASTER” and had a turkey drum on it.

So, um. Yeah.

CJ was there (of course) with Pete. Frank was there too. We were there to support Luz, Katrina’s band. We waded through the pretentious herd and then went outside. The muddy backlot of the record store was set up as a sort of mini vegan fairground. Veggie burgers, wall painting, small vendors… I bought a bowl made out of a melted record. Oh, and apparently I’m on the Peta email list… we’ll see how that one goes.

Luz began playing in the center of the mud fair about 30 minutes after we showed up. Katrina turned on the power vocals and impressed all the pierced, tattooed, and ultra-naturals. They had a goofy drummer who kept smiling mischievously as if she just farted and got away with it. It was endearing. Danny and Patrick played some violin-like string instruments which weren’t violins – an interesting touch.

While Luz played I looked at the crowd and had a sense that this was one of those nights that people refer to when they talk about the college experience. This sense of guilt and shame also crept in – a night like this was a novelty I didn’t have time for. Underground parties and local bands will be forever associated with high school. That time of exploration should come at 15, 16, maybe even 17. But wasn’t I too old for this? Standing there I looked at the middle aged – the thirty somethings, the forty somethings… had no one told them? I didn’t want to be the 25 year old attending events populated by people barely past puberty, dressed as clowns and enveloped in their middle school rebellions.

Harvard Law remember? Flex remember? LSAT remember?

I stood in the dark mud fair with friends and stared at the “indie vendors” and their backdrop of dilapidated houses (across the street). Katrina belted out lyrics as I accepted that this night belonged to a time that had already passed.

Reality hit this week. I’ve realized that there are a lot of opportunities and choices closed to me because of my age. Every day there’s one less opportunity for me, something passed, something missed out on. I think part of the problem of growing older is this pervasive awareness… the awareness of so many opportunities and options, and the knowledge of when they pass.

There was an interpretative dance afterwards…

Afterwards Kristen, Kyle, and I drove through Allahpattah, saw some car racing and got caught by a bridge. 20 minutes later we were zipping through traffic on the Dolphin and avoiding a lake on the Palmetto Ramp.

Into Kendall we went. After figuring out which theater to go to we parked at one of Kendall’s massive strip malls-masquerading-as a real mall deals and saw a fight behind Pier 1. Apparently there’s a club in front of Pier 1. Oh, and a Chuck E Cheese across the street. Now that’s class.

Of course we were too late for the movie so it was time for Wal-Mart and an intense discussion about FlipFlops and purses. We also saw the creepy guy who used to work at the bowling alley arcade. Woo… There was a trip to Wal-Mart earlier in the week as well. It was with Kali and Eric I believe. A lot of car dancing and a nice pitstop in Liberty City.

…then Steak and Shake. Steak and Shake made me want to cry. So of course the creepy dude from Wal-Mart who is like 45, with medium length blond hair, a red face, and the creepiest child molesting-clothes on sits RIGHT across from us. We couldn’t stop laughing. Well, that’s not true, we did. But then this semi-homeless guy with a sore throat came and the girl in the booth next to us decided to play peekaboo and the laughter was back on.

Oh Steak and Shake.

So we finally get to the movie theater and the movie turns out to be a documentary about a joke. I did not need to see the father from Full House tell a vile joke about incest, vomit, and poo. That ruined my worldview.

The next day, the week ended where it began – at Oz. (that’s the official name now by the way)

It was packed. The parking lot was as packed as the club and you could hardly move inside. I was so drenched when I came back that my jeans were dripping with sweat. Gross, I know. It was the best night at that club ever. No leprechauns this week but all my FIU and MDC people were there …also some UM people I know but don’t really talk to. Heck, even Loochkartt made an appearance but then disappeared. OH! Even the exchange student was there!

I went with Kristen, John and Kyle… Kristen was mortified… well to be fair she did get a rave review (seriously now) about the cleavage. I think Kyle was a bit freaked (because he’s closeted) and John seemed to have fun. They left early and I stayed until 2:30 (curfew’s at three).

Simply insane, best night ever, I think my ears were about to fall off afterwards. And I think I dozed off during the show. Whatever. One of the best club nights ever.

I’m glad Oz was so amazing since I’m not going out again until November 2nd. This week has simply been too heavy between the late night movies, adventures (like with Kali driving to six different McDonalds at 1 am to get milkshakes and ending up in little Havana, … or during the day to get the hamsters and that THING (with the white wig) walking down Je Leune… oh oh hell nah), class and the project I feel like I’m only available to the guys on my floor in passing. On the 2nd I’m going to go to the Morgue and I’m dragging Rafa there. But nothing else until then.

I got off schedule this week (the hurricane being a very poor excuse) and things have gotten really deplorable. I’m also ‘talking’ to possibly maybe dating someone? Uh… we’ll see how that goes.

And booooooooooks. Ugh. I have a crapload of reading to do and my room is a mess and and and… more next week (I think post day is officially moved to Monday).

college / Sophomore Year

Sophomore Year at UMiami

August 28, 2005

So Kali, CJ, and I were walking down a perimeter road near campus reliving the dozens of crazy moments and characters from the club. We had left John and Anthony a few minutes ago. Hurricane Drive was pitch black since the area still doesn’t have power and we had to be careful not to stumble over the branches that littered the sidewalk.

I tripped over part of a palm and almost ate into a meter. Oops.

Hurricane Katrina managed to cancel classes from Thursday to Monday. It seems as though the category one hurricane managed to take out half the trees on campus – including all of the UM-Iconic strangler figs. For the past few days students used muddy paths that cut through lawns and hug the sides of buildings since some sidewalks are blocked by huge overturned trees.

Working the hurricane was like being on a NBC primetime drama. Busting underaged drinkers, druggies, collapsing ceiling tiles, flooded rooms, belligerent/uncooperative students, hallsports, electrical fires, and and and…

My guys got a bit creative. They taped post-it notes all over the floor.

I seriously have the coolest guys on my floor. I think I lucked out. I’m really proud of them and so grateful that I got the best guys in Hecht. Everyone is interesting, they get along with each other, they are wild but not in a bad way, we don’t have that many serious writeups, and I think they’ve realized that I’m not an asshole.

Classes also started this week… bejesus. I have some of the dullest teachers ever and an oppressive amount of homework. Half of my classes are in this tiny hole-in-the-wall in the history department. It’s actually like the break room or something. We all sit around this conference table in hard plastic chairs dreading being stuck with a teacher all up in our personal bubble for two and a half hours every week.

I’ve had two of the three classes that are in that room already. The first teacher barely speaks above a whisper and I couldn’t hear her even though I was right next to her. The other teacher speaks up but is so flamboyant… he had maroon glasses with diamond studs in the side, an embroidered cowboy shirt with heavy vertical stripes, a tie with darker red vertical stripes, striped pants, a shiny (silver?) belt, and white shoes.

…and he’s quite serious.

That class was miserable because we were only four.

My English classes are going to be a chore too. ENG212 looks like it’s actually going to be interesting but we missed two classes because of the hurricane and I’m not sure how we are going to make up the time (the teacher is showing a movie). My two 400-level English classes were … we’ll lets say the teachers need some time to get in the groove of things?

It’ll be alright with some Starbucks…right?

I was good about the gym at the beginning of the week but the hurricane killed my routine. I start again tomorrow? I didn’t want being busy this semester to be an excuse for becoming slovenly and it really won’t.

I actually like being this busy. Being a ‘good’ RA takes as much time as they say it does…but I’m surprised by how good I’ve gotten at budgeting my time. I’m on my floor a lot of but I’ve gone out a lot this week too – I saw Skeleton Key with Kali, Mikela, and John, at Sunset, and also saw 40-year-old virgin with Kristen at Sunset too… then went to South Beach with Kristen and saw Broken Flowers. I also had time for a Wal-Mart adventure (and it’s always an adventure) and clubbing with Kali, CJ, Anthony, and John.

– Anthony and I harassed a leprechaun.
– An interesting find upstairs
– Mongolians
– BAND AID!
– Lots of screaming because someone kept following us
– Flowers from CVS, oh and relaxer…
– Guess…and Guessing…
– Abercrombie kid …AND THAT NUMBER EXCHANGE! AH

Also,
– Scurrying from Shalala
– Jesus of the ducks and popcorn
– $6 Grandpa shoes
– Wallet theft at Chartwells
– Things that I didn’t need to mention but everyone got
– The one with the massive heels who was so busted
– Kissing the DJ (who never played my song by the way)
– Starbucks mug
– Library incident
– Creepy security people on bikes
– And and and…

Ready for another week like this…

Sophomore Year

UMiami freshmen come, and drink

August 21, 2005

So the residents have finally come and I can honestly say that they are all cool. Not one asshole! Not one! I was surprised because in training they make you think you’re going to have a floor full of Bebe’s kids who do nothing but have keg parties, cut themselves, and talk about suicide. Well, not quite that bad, but you get the idea.

Someone in the other tower burnt popcorn at like, 2am. The fire alarm lights were flashing on our hall but I was asleep. One of my guys actually woke me up and then we all started knocking on doors getting everyone off the floor. Everyone was real cool about it. Again, in training we watched a video about this RA who was burned alive knocking on doors by herself because none of her residents would come out and evacuate. But we were all downstairs within like 2-3 minutes. Awesome again. There are some real interesting characters on my floor. No one’s creepy, – I expected to have at least two creepy guys, and no one is an obvious druggy.

I also had duty this weekend – ugh. How do freshmen get beer so quickly? We wrote up so many people it was ridiculous. Heard some stupid excuses too.

The top 5 stupidest underage drinking excuses of the weekend:

#5 “I don’t go here. Erm, yeah I do. Ye-no, I’m 21. I’m a junior… my student ID? I don’t know it. I don’t go here. Or wait, yeah I do. But I’m 20, I mean 21, and leaving. Bye.”

#4 “I tried to find a place off campus to drink but couldn’t!”

#3 “I like having my coke in plastic cups and shot glasses…”

#2 “…we only had a little bit a beer.”

And #1 “No one told me the rules.”

Hmmf. Yeah, whatever. It’s not the massive problem that they said it was going to be though. I think once the brunt of the class work comes along the partying will die down.

My next duty weekend? Halloween. Yes, I know – shut up.

Oh, and I’ve reintroduced myself to that thing, you know, the gym. I’ve lost 10 pounds since I moved to campus. Rockt. I’m sure most of it was muscle mass and water weight… dehydration is fun for the whole family (and yes it’s like 85 and I’m drinking coffee).

I haven’t had time to read journals. Sorry. One noteworthy entry from another journal is from thatbitch.com – “something happened last weekend…something pre-eminent and noteworthy. serena and I crossed a very important milestone. yay the kind of milestone that is indeed a true test of what kind of parent you may be for the rest of your life. my child…my angelcake…my mild mannered sweet honeypot…wigged the FUCK OUT in public…” (read it)

Floor meetings and programming tonight… class tomorrow… aie. I need to pick up writing again. Ladidida.

Sophomore Year

Resident Assistant training at the University of Miami continued

August 14, 2005

I’ve been so busy lately. I’ve been in RA training for the past couple of weeks and I’m a bit tired. The day I moved on campus I saw a car accident. This guy was semi racing me, ran a light, and crashed into a van. No one was hurt. Just a lady in shock and five screaming kids.

This weekend we had a RA retreat in Marco Island…basically a big hotel’s penthouse by the beach. Team builders and bonding, lectures, programming, training, meeting,…etc.

Oh, and when we were driving back the luggage compartment of the bus busted open launching our luggage and food into the road. Bejesus.

My days have been spent doing team builders and attending training sessions and afterwards working on first my room, and now since that’s done, my floor.

Residents start coming in this weekend I think. I still have so much to do… this retreat thing drove me nuts because I couldn’t work on my hall…but I now can so I will… hah!

Sophomore Year

Resident Assistant training at the University of Miami

August 7, 2005

RA training is amazing… but there’s so much work, but this is awesome.

Simply awesome – the resident halls staff, my bosses, resident masters, and other RAs are all really cool. The awkwardness is slowly going away for us new RAs as we are getting to know everyone else – I’m probably the least social because I’m always either working on my room/floor or thinking about it,… …or simply exhausted. Naja.

Oh, and my room… let’s just say my beat is correct. Pictures Sunday.

Sophomore Year

The end of summer post ist da, die Vöglein singen tralalala

July 31, 2005

Already? Seriously? Well, yep. It’s come. Summer is finally fertig, but I’m ready for it to be over. Summers like this one definitely have an expiration date and it’s time.

By next Sunday I’ll already be back in Coral Gables, finishing up my dorm (which is going to be amazing this year, I swear) and preparing for RA bootcamp. Woot. I’m excited.

This upcoming week is going to be hectic – preparing things for the dorm room, last minute hanging out, websites (luz!) and a lot of sewing. Wal-Mart is my friend right now.

Last week:
– annoying Otto (sorry Paris isn’t that interesting)
– midnight beach runs with Matthias (I may be chubby but I have endurance. Yessir.)
– 9 mile walks from UM to my house (and the creepy people along the way)
– A lot of metrorail and library time.
– Merrick Park at 1am

I’ve also spoken a few of the guys who will be on my floor next year. They seem pretty cool. Hopefully all 40 are so laid back? (maybe that’s too much to ask?) We’ll see.

It’s sort of strange getting back to work and coming back to the world after this summer. I didn’t exactly go to the woods of India and sit in silence with a guru or anything, but I did sort of disappear – my internet access has been sort of limited and I made an effort to stay away from AIM. I focused on discovering Miami, meeting as many new people as possible, reading, and of course, writing.

Lots of reading.

Reading and oh, having as many adventures as possible – And although I’ve almost gotten arrested, robed, killed, abducted, and eaten too many times to care for I can’t say it wasn’t fun. “Just because I’m sorry doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it at the time.” Country roads filled with trailers at 3am or a dark alley at 4 will always hold special memories. But no more of that, business mode from now on.

Besides wreaking havoc and doing incredibly stupid things that should have been done at 16, I also managed to set some goals — one thing that I want to do in three years from now is to be driving to a new city to attend a top 10 law school. Yeah, I know that means start studying for the LSAT… yesterday or something. I’ll tear it up.

There were some things I didn’t accomplish this summer too – even though I did exercise a lot, I ate a lot more. McDonalds keeps luring me back. So does Taco Bell and the Cuban-Chinese place on down on 8th street.

Chartwell’s (our dining hall) will be my saving grace next year.

Oh and the gym…yeah, that.

Room pictures next week.

Sophomore Year

1953 Calendar

July 24, 2005

So I’m on the street outside of my car in my undershirt, it’s just past 1am and I’m listening to a wino explain to me how valuable this 1953 calendar with a nude Marilyn Monroe on the cover was. “I can get some real money for this shit.”

The pile of junk across the street from my apartment building seemed to be from an eviction, or an angry girlfriend. I had seen various semi-homeless people picking at it all day, but this short guy with the dirty beard, cap, and piercing blue guys was by far the most industrious. He had been looking through the pile on the curb when I had left for south beach, and four hours later he was still there.

After politely nodding and listening to him speculate about the worth of the calendar for about five minutes I started to inch towards the gate. “There’s a lot of good shit here. They didn’t know what they threw out,” he said.

“Probably an eviction,” I offered.

“Nah. This guy is dead.”

“Or maybe it was a girlfriend,” I suggested, now having exhausted all of theories.

“Nah,” he approached me again, “There were cremation papers there,” he pointed to the pile, “Jul-ly twenty-second, yessir.”

“You serious?”

“Yep.” He was serious as syphilis.

I had just gotten back from seeing Devil’s Rejects (for the second time) with Matthias. Funniest movie of the year, I swear.

This was the week of movies; towards the beginning of the week I went and saw Wedding Crashers with Jose R. at Dolphin after enjoying the human-entertainment at Top’s China Buffet. Mmm classy. Enough “oh hell nahs!” to go around. Wedding Crashers was funny for a while, the two main characters have great chemistry but it loses steam three fourths of the way through. Corny ending.

The Miami Beach Regal got most of my money this week. Seeing Modigliani had been on my to-do list for a while so I looked it up on Fandango and saw that Kontrol was also playing. But it happened to be the last night Kontrol was playing at the Regal, and the Lincoln Road Regal was the only theater in South Florida showing the movie. So I saw Kontrol instead.

It was spectacular. It’s actually my new favorite. It takes place in the Budapest subway-underground, and well, is simply amazing.

The next day I saw Modigliani. I was worried it was going to be another Frida, but it succeeded in being a convincing tragedy without slipping into melodrama. Well done Andy Garcia.

– Riding the metro rail is fun.
– Raided Barnes and Noble’s. Even got some hardcover books, mostly on economics.
– Had Chinese a whopping 5 times this week. I think I should try and get an internship at HSBC’s home office.
– Diet Mountain Dew y’all.
– Dates in the coming week? We’ll see.
– Hairspray, hairspray, hairspray… plastic chic.
– so many perfectly shady people…yes, this is Miami.

Oh, and this guy at the movies (at Kontrol I think) was ridiculous. I was in the theater early, first one there actually, and sitting with my feet up on the back of the seat in front of me.

So what does he do?

Of course he walks to the row right in front of me, with his chubby sidekick trailing behind him, and sits right in front of me forcing me to put down my feet, and then puts his feet up on the seat in front of him.

Ass.

Then, after the movie, as I’m walking on the side of the theater, guess who comes flying out of the parking garage and runs the stop sign in front of the side walk almost making me eat windshield?

Yep. Same guy.

Double ass.

Anyway, I should head back to my book. Next week seems interesting… then again, every week does, and is.

picture of the day / Sophomore Year

Hanging around Miami

July 17, 2005

This week,
– Canned Salmon isn’t a great idea.
– Uni Miami At night (they redid Hecht’s lobby, the new architecture school looks like a mosque)
– Me, Jose R. at “Me and You and Everyone We Know” which made up for last week’s terrible movies.
– Screaming (“debating”) about OPEC for six hours on the boardwalk. (and I was right, by the way)
– A few long midnights
– This was a vacation week, time to regroup. “This novel isn’t writing itself!”

freshman year / picture of the day

Medley

July 3, 2005

I’ve spent lots of time in the country near Pembroke Pines in the middle of the night. A soda machine at cemetery ate my dollar at 2am. Snaps.

Other nighttime adventures include creepy houses in suburbia (you know who you are) and warehouse districts (with dog chases, seriously) Long, Long, midnight walks and discussions at FIU, Gables, and Little Havana.

Oh, and bad movies.

Oh, and impromptu parties on the expressway because it was shut down for a hour due to a rather nasty accident.

freshman year

Flooding in South Beach

June 19, 2005

We carried our shoes and had our pants rolled up to our thighs and slushed down Alton Road. We all exchanged stupid grins – yes, the water was knee high. The girls tried to walk along a wall, but that didn’t work – we were late to the movie.

– productivity (Somewhat)
– wal-mart at 4am
– Trollope, Rand, and Capote.
– Not a recluse anymore

freshman year

We’re going to win this

June 12, 2005

It’s official. I’m a recluse. I haven’t seen anyone all week and haven’t gone out save a few more past-midnight adventures/walks through Little Havana, Riverside, and Downtown. (and even those are deplorably rare) I’m going to get mugged hardcore one of these days.

I finished Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged” which is definitely one of the most important books I’ve ever read.

So I’m halfway through summer and I’ve managed Atlas Shrugged, (1169 pages mind you), Truman Capote’s Biography, John Grisham’s “King of Torts”, and some short stories by Kafka.

freshman year

Walking through Little Havana at 4am

June 5, 2005

– Two men slept on a faded yellow mattress in the breezeway of a shopping center on 17th Avenue.

– A homeless man, who swore I spoke Spanish followed me a bit of a distance from 16th Avenue to 12th, shrieking. I stopped and glared at him. He stopped, stared, and continued rattling off in Spanish.

– An old Ricky Martin song could be heard from the closed metal screens of the dollar store. When I passed it again a half hour later they were playing Reggaeton. (impromptu party?)

– More drug deals and prostitutes going around the neighborhood than I care to remember. Why to prostitutes always ask for a cigarette?

– this week: work, no exercise (alas!), Coors nonalcoholic

freshman year

Ein meer full mit licht und farben

May 29, 2005

While driving through Rosewood:

“Arguments can be endearing and I’m thrilled beyond belief,” he said.

We all looked at him like he was a moron. (At that moment he was).

“So anyway,” I said, “Taco Bell right?” The fire taken from his speech, he pouted in the corner. Everyone else in the car was laughing.

“Right.”

freshman year

Linda & JHR

May 22, 2005

Linda, JHR, and I left the club in silence and got into JHR’s car. He nervously turned on the radio but didn’t say anything. He sensed the tension. We all did. She sat in the front and I sat behind JHR in the back. No one talked. Ciara’s “Oh” was on the radio.

After about five songs she adjusted her top, tossed her pencil-straight brown hair out of her face and turned back to me. “I forgive you,” she said.

I hadn’t said anything and I didn’t now. I responded with a smile.

Ciara’s “Oh” came on again on another station. We all danced in the car and sang.

O– never makes sense when she’s drunk.

freshman year

Little Havana

May 15, 2005

I was out of the door early and over the bridge within minutes of my phone going off – it was still dark. I jogged through Little Havana past dark coin laundries and cafeterias and climbed the hill that leads up to the Flagler bridge since last night’s junkies still occupied the stairs. To the left of the bridge a condemned turn-of-the-century mid-rise was perched on the river; to the right the raw beams of an unfinished condominium high-rise. Within a few months the mid-rise will be leveled and replaced with similar beams.

The city’s skyline appeared as I reached the top of the bridge. It was just like the glamorized shots of the city on TV. Down the bridge and under the expressway – I entered downtown. I approached the courthouse and the Starbucks. Both were still closed but would spring to life in a couple of hours.

In front of Starbucks a day worker was passed out on his back middle of the sidewalk still reeking of alcohol. One of his legs rested on an overturned black crate – probably what he sat on before succumbing to exhaustion and smacking on the ground. I wasn’t sure if he was alive as I approached in a slow jog until he licked his mustache and belched, moving the dirty black cap still firmly attached to his head. I trotted around him trying unsuccessfully not to breathe in the funk.

Flocks of homeless sleep on downtown’s covered sidewalks in long, neat rows. Even when the nighttime temperature hovers in the 70’s they still wrap their bodies in layers of dirty blankets, like rows of corpses hiding from an omnipresent winter. As I jogged past one of these rows of corpses the sight of chunky skater shoes made me stop. A boy around was lying in the row of bodies. Unlike the others he was not wrapped in a blanket. He laid on the sidewalk relaxed, legs crossed, with his head resting against the marble façade of the bank. He shifted his weight a little, but kept his dirty orange cap over his face. Who is this boy, my age?

– A few homeless people watched me as I crossed Biscayne Boulevard.

– An old Cuban guy who was almost-speed-walking around the fountain shot me a glare. I bet he thought I was another wino.

– There will be a day when I can’t do this anymore.

– Daylight escorted me over the bridge and through Little Havana. Four elderly Hispanic men waited impatiently outside of a coin laundry with large white sacks. One wearing short slacks and dress shoes began singing something in Spanish.

– The neighborhood was awake – people stood outside of houses chattering away in Spanish, a young man stumbled past me probably returning home from whomever’s house last night ended at. As I approached 6th avenue a stocky guy in his mid 30’s asked me if I had a pipe.

On 12th Avenue old women with short curly hair opened up Café con leche stands and dollar stores. The sun had almost risen. I crossed into Allahpattah by the 12th avenue bridge. As I went down the stairs on the side of the bridge, the bridge attendant opened his door and shot me a nasty look. He probably was convinced I was another bum trying to camp out under his bridge. Why am I always mistaken for homeless people?

I smiled at him and passed the gate with a bit of a skip. He scoffed and slammed his door.

I didn’t go to my apartment, I went to my car.

The sun rose over Miami as my tiny, old Celica zipped over the expressway. I was bound for the Hialeah Wal-Mart. (e-yeah!)

– The faint clunk of Reaggeton from some distant speaker could be heard. The day had officially started. Welcome to Hia-leah!

0L / freshman year

A freshman in the law library

May 8, 2005

My favorite desk in the Law library is the one on the fourth floor right by the elevator. I had claimed it since 11am this morning. An elderly lady with bright blue eyes approached and asked me how I was.

“Fine, and yourself?”
“Good. Studying hard?” she asked, her voice cracking a bit.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Oh you poor soul.”
“It’s not that bad,” I said, “my last final is tomorrow.”
“Oh so you’ll be done with all your final exams tomorrow? Your last one?”
“Yes.”

Her elevator came.
“Oh, that’s good then. I’ll say a special prayer for you.”

I thanked her and said goodbye as she disappeared into the elevator. I then closed my laptop, and went back to my much-neglected textbook.

freshman year

Towards

May 1, 2005

I sat in Allen Hall until I had finished the third chapter of John Grisham’s “The King of Torts”. I was tired and the cleaning ladies’ music was too loud anyway.

I got up and tossed the empty, grease-stained fry pouch and burger box in the Donald’s bag and walked towards the stairs. “Tttrash?” asked one of the cleaning ladies. Her puffy blond hair was tied back in a long ponytail.

I smiled as I turned towards her cart. Another lady came out of the classroom and stood behind the cart. Both offered heavily accented “hi’s” as I approached.

“There?” I asked and motioned with the bag. The second lady, a neck-less woman wearing bright red lipstick, nodded and pointed to the sack hanging off of the cart. She smiled as I tossed my grease sack into the indicated garbage bag. “Have a goodnight,” I said, hoping my smile would make up for my language deficiency.

The cleaning ladies gave me two toothy smiles and heavily accented “byes!” as I went down stairwell. I walked back to my car to get my hat, then back to my dorm.

freshman year

The roommate

January 10, 2005

A goofy smile spread over the Denise the RA’s face, “You know your new roommate just tried to meet you.”

“Really?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah, he’s from Spain and hardly speaks any English. He said he knocked on the door but your music was up and you probably didn’t hear him. He came back down here and said that he thinks his roommate hates him and that he’s spending the night with a friend in Mahoney.”

“Really?” I asked stupidly. “Wow. Talk about first impressions.”

Denise’s snicker escorted me back to the elevators. I had gone downstairs to ask for toilet paper and didn’t expect to be told I had unknowingly offended my new roommate. “Oh well,” I thought clutching the toilet paper and walking towards my dorm, “at least I can go potty now… which is surely more important.”

The next day I woke up around noon and skipped over to the gym. While swaying on the elliptical machine I tried to picture my new roommate: his accent, his mannerisms. I envisioned him as a short guy with greasy slicked back black hair, yellow teeth and a forest of chest hair. His name would be Juan-Carlos and he’d have a new girl trashier than his taste in clothes every night.

I also imagined that he’d have smelly feet – although the guy huffing on treadmill next to me probably influenced that guess.

Squished back sweat laden to the dorm and collected new clothes to change into after my shower. As I turned the door knob of the bathroom I heard a knock on my door.

Then another.

freshman year

AAA and the fishstore

December 20, 2004

I was on a deadline – I had called AAA because my car battery died last week and I figured that they would be busy around Christmas and New Years towing drunk driving wrecks. My room was still in a deplorable state and I wanted to clean my dorm and eat before the AAA guy came. I took a shower and then headed towards the campus convenience store. As I crossed the dorm parking lot heading towards the store my pocket buzzed: AAA had arrived. The, “not more than two hour” waiting time was really “not more than twenty minutes”.

The guy tried to start the car with a mobile booster but it wouldn’t work. He said my battery was shot and I’d have to get a new one. I thanked him and walked off to the convenience store. I wasn’t going to be driving that day so I had to get some food. It was closed. So was Sbarro’s.

I called AAA again and asked them to tow the car to Sear’s. I was really hungry, so I scurried to the McDonald’s across the street from my campus, praying that AAA wouldn’t be as prompt as they were last time.

They were. I had only eaten half of my burger in the parking lot near my car when the tow truck rolled in. He drove past me and into the neighboring parking lot – and I thought I saw someone in the passenger’s seat.

My pocket rings and he asks me where I’m at. “Behind you!” I respond. After a brief exchange I had to actually walk to the tow truck, wave him down, and escort him to my car.

There was a woman in the passenger’s seat.

We spent the next twenty minutes trying to get the car on the tow truck. The towtruck driver was a bald, husky middle-aged Cuban who hardly spoke English. I couldn’t understand what he wanted me to do and he became increasingly agitated. He kept screaming, “What?! You don’t dddrive?! You gotta license?! Then what’s wrong with you?!”

He had me steer my car as it was being hoisted onto the back of the tow truck by a cable. I was worried that he expected me to ride in my car the entire time. (he was that angry with me) But, I didn’t have to ride in my dead car, instead I rode in the tow truck, sandwiched in between the door and his wife, who had a small girl (about four) on her lap. There was another girl, who looked like a second grader in the car too. She practically sat on the clutch.

The girl on the mother’s lap kept eyeballing me and the used pink bicycle with a “sold” sticker on it that was strapped to the back of the tow truck. I suspect that was her Christmas present and she knew it.

The entire ride the tow truck driver was screaming into his phone in Spanish. He sped through Coral Gables towards Sears, almost hitting a dozen cars and running a half dozen lights along the way. In the Sears parking lot he wanted to turn into a narrow aisle and almost smacked into a compact SUV. The Martha Stewart-like woman driving the SUV wanted to get out of the lot but couldn’t turn because the tow truck was blocking the entire parking lot exit. The tow truck driver screamed at her out of the window and angrily drove to the next aisle.

He plopped my car in front of Sears and sped off. It took about two hours, but I eventually got a new battery and then drove to my fish store and got a 15 gallon tank for the turtles. I needed something to put in the 5 gallon tank that I would move the turtles out of but I didn’t want to buy another $30 filter for fish. There were two hermit crabs in the store but I looked at their tank and they were these immobile things that lived in shells. “What depressing pets.” I muttered. The guy who was helping me, a twenty-something Hispanic guy with unibrow, agreed, “Yeah, depressing as hell.”

Great.

He said he didn’t really know how to take care of Hermit crabs. The cumbersome blond woman behind the counter, who I consider the most knowledgeable person in the store, even said she didn’t really know how to take care of them.

“What I do know is that they hate moisture, but that you need a bowl of water in the tank. You also need to feed them,… uh, they eat peanut butter and coconut.”

I was sort of shocked, “peanut butter and coconut?” I repeated stupidly.

“Yeah, like, you know the ones you eat? Just break that open and they’ll eat the inside.”

I peered at the crabs for another ten minutes and decided to buy them since the guy couldn’t come up with a suitable replacement. The best suggestion he had was a snake…but those are definitely not allowed in the dorms.

I went to CVS and got cereal and milk – the staple of my intersession diet due to laziness, and peanut butter for the crabs. I then drove home and set up the tanks, and started cleaning again. Peter asked me to hang out, which I thought was weird since we haven’t talked in a month. I finished cleaning my room and setting up the fish, then went to bed.

I woke up this morning and it was 68 degrees in my room. I was offended.

After a phone tag session that ended a few minutes ago. I found out that my dorm, Pearson, works on an antiquated heating system. They basically pour hot and cold water into the pipes to make the heat work, instead of us actually changing the temperature within our room, we can just change the degree of hotness or coldness, depending on what the entire building has at that time.

So, in theory, I can’t heat my room while another person cools theirs.

Mahoney, the building right next to us (that’s connected actually by the lobby) allows heating and cooling. Ugh. I just hope my fish don’t die during this break.