Happy backpack.
Friday, 11/14/03 - 1:14 pm.

Carmen came over this morning. Dullness, I'm sorry. But there were good moments, of course. I won't even start talking about how I felt when she told me last night that she was coming over.

Victor's band was great. They had no original songs, but still, they were very good. He said "thanks for coming!" to me last night, when we were saying goodbye to each other. How nice, really.

After the concert I went to Burger King (the one with the Elvis statue!) with my brother and his girlfriend, to have lunch. How I love that, going out with them. We go by car, which doesn't make a lot of sense if you see in a map where Burger King and the UCA are placed.

Then my brother and I went to the UCA bookstore. Just for kicks. Bookstores rock, ok?

At 2:30 pm, I was alone in the cafeteria, and I noticed I had a happy backpack: I was carrying (among books, notebooks and pens) an apple pie, a chocolate bar, a hairbrush, a toothbrush and red toothpaste, the book Prozac Nation (got it for Pablo's birthday), some candy, and Martin-Baro articles. This does sound incoherent and irrelevant, but for some reason, the phrase "what a happy backpack" came to my mind when I saw all that. Just carrying an apple pie made me very happy.

I barely saw 1, because he was busy working on a project. I was even happier about that, because I got to be alone around the UCA. But I was disappointed to see him after my first class finished, because I was expecting I wouldn't. He'd finished his project already...seriously, I miss not-having anyone following me around and waiting outside for me. It's sweet, yes, and I appreciate it...but not if it happens ALL the time.

We went to a conference, and Good Lord, I just cannot reproduce what Father C. (my professor, by the way) said. But it was amazing. It's so wonderful when you open your eyes to reality, however cruel it is. Although...yeah, it's cruel.

I already ate my apple pie (awww). But at least it's friday, and I'm also exactly a month away from leaving to Houston. That's not the point, though. The point is the anticipation, and everything that happens before (say, see my friends, send out cards, Pablo's birthday, the windy wheather that's back...err, you know, carpe diem).

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