Working-class loser.
Saturday, 05.03.2014 - 8:57 pm.

Say, I'm home alone until tomorrow morning. Andrew had to stay at his grandfather's tonight to take care of him, since none of the usual caretakers (two nieces or Andrew's dad) was available. It's a shame because this is my last night before my week-long trip to the north but so it goes.

A good friend of Andrew's stopped by in the afternoon. He lives in the capital but was born in the south, and it's always cool when he visits and we get to hang out. I wish we were closer because I'd like to have longer, deeper conversations with him, but I get the same thing I used to get with Lighthouse: "he's too cool, I'll go mute". I run out of things to say, quickly, and I'm reminded of how uncool I am. But it's ok, this friend is very fond of me and we had a nice chat over coffee. I don't get chats over coffee with friends too often, so bonus points for that.

(I must point out though that one of these nights Andrew and I sat at the table, ate dinner and the conversation was so nice that we poured a glass of wine and continued talking. About anything and everything. It was awesome)

Speaking of being uncool, I hate that. I spent most of my teenage years and until a few years ago thinking and feeling I was cool. Even if I wasn't, I thought I was and that was enough. Now I don't like the way I look, or the fact that I've stopped, say, writing or being witty or more reflective. It could be that the working-class life has destroyed my fantasy of being an interesting person.

I tried to write a short story tonight, based on some conversations we used to have with Joseph (I may be over everything but he's pretty much my favorite source of ideas for stories). I hated it, it was bad. The plot was boring, the writing was plain and the idea got lost between fiction and reality. And I do not have the guts to write about the latter as such. I can't even. Even when I get a winning idea, I execute it poorly and end up erasing the whole thing.

And that's it, I'll keep my whining short. I have a long day ahead tomorrow: one flight at 8 pm, the next one at 2 am on monday. And I have no idea if the professors at the university in the north are waiting for me and at what time. I just want this week to be over already, I want it to be next saturday night, when I'll be back home with Andrew and the cats.

Wish me luck. See you in a week.

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