I am habitually nervous when I am around Andy, recalling those so-called moments of high school. Why am I like this when I don\’t see myself like that anymore? I am too aware and afraid of making the wrong thing.
Self-consciousness and thinking are both often too much.
Yesterday, I woke up around 11:30 am, staring at the ceiling wondering what to do next. I had gone to sleep at 5 am due to going to the matrix. I looked at the time, the time passing by slowly. I reluctantly got up in the chilly cold of the winter, seeing the snowflakes fall softly outside.
In the bathroom, I stared myself in the mirror. I had slight eyebags under my eyes, something that I didn\’t have until this year. I splashed water on my face, washing away the remains of a discomfort go away.
By noon, I was somewhat ready. But he didn\’t call yet. I sat in front of my computer, remembering our funny phone txt msg exchange.
Simplicity is something I miss so much.
Around 12:30, I finally walked to the cafe. Making up an excuse for myself. Inside I got Darjeeling. No milk though, but I appreciated the taste. I started writing my essay for game design. Finally when it was around 1, I decided that maybe I was being stupid and perhaps there was an expectation that I was supposed to reach. So I sent a txt msg to Andy.
I settled back in my comfort of tea and the silent ambience of the cafe. Then suddenly, I heard the ring on my phone. Andy, always a soft somewhat delicate voice. Apparently, he had been sleeping as I had thought and was going to be over in 15 minutes.
\”Take your time,\” I said. \”I have work to do anyway.\”
He arrived around 2. We exchanged smiles and chatted about nothing once I finished writing a significant part of the essay.
He had a meeting with a project teammate. But we walked up Murray. \”Lunch?\” he asked.
We stopped by Smallman\’s where we sat down where I struggled with the sandwich with my left-handedness.
He ran off to his meeting and came back almost 2 hours later to my house. He awkward used my mac to do stuff. It was slightly embarrasing for me to have him in my room. I went to his place later, him carrying my vacuum. I sat there doing my essay, not thinking very coherently, while my music played. Where he vacuumed and finally just cleaned up his entire place.
He seemed surprisingly unmoved by Sam\’s songs, the ones I had written (the lyrics).
Then he made dinner. Rice and beans. And cheese.
And he walked me back to my house carrying the vacuum. \”Have a good week,\” he said. And we waved sad goodbyes.