The good, the blah (part 2)...

My Monday was a lot farther of a roll downhill, after my nice weekend away.

I returned Sunday night, hammered out that post, and almost as if fate had willed it, got a call from the Fuck Buddy. An hour later...well, you get the idea.

Even though that meant staying up much later than I intended (since I have an 8 a.m. on Monday morning), it was completely worth it, and a nice cap to the evening and weekend.

This morning I bolted awake, thanks to my alarm, from a great dream. One where you're floating around, and details are very fuzzy, but you're not unhappy with that at all. I reached over to shut off the alarm, and felt a pull in my neck-left shoulder.

Youch! Whats this?

I felt this pain basically where the neck and shoulder meet. What could have caused this? I chocked it up to sexual injury, and continued to the shower.

Class was interesting, as was my weekly lunch with Kelsey. He's very like-minded, and our discussions often fall into political and social debate. It's fun, because he's one of the more intellectually stimulating people I spend time with, and we always think through problems and current events.

All in all, not an unpleasant morning.

Things took a downward turn upon arriving to class. Our marks for some assignments had been posted, and the prognosis was not good. Our prof is a super-hardass marker, and does not tolerate our pathetic attempts at our assignments. Not that I think we're pathetic at all, but that's her answer.

Essentially, the entire class is on the verge of flunking. She's put the fear of God into us, and with 'mini-assignments' worth 10 per cent each, we're struggling to get by. Nobody wanted to discuss their horrible marks with each other, but after some private consultations with people, I determined we're all in the same boat. It feels pretty bad to be bashed so unashamedly by our prof, and left us all in an academic funk from which I'm not sure how to lift myself.

Then, another classmate came in. She's a dear soul and I could see the lines from lack of sleep and cloud surrounding her. Marnie was clearly not in a good state. Moments later, she was telling the girl next to her about her new tattoo, "I got for my mom...she was just diagnosed with breast cancer."

My blood ran cold. My heart shrank, and chest hurt. She got up and left the room, and I followed her.

A moment later we were wrapped in a hug. "I heard what you said," I offered, and told her about my mom. "I'm so sorry. But I'm here, if you need to talk, about anything. I never had anyone when I was dealing with it, so if you have any questions, ask."

She kinda teared a little, and then I did...and I didn't want to start crying in the hall so we went back inside.

Through the class she asked me a few questions, about how to balance school and going to appointments and such. I told her my experiences, and she drank them in. I can imagine how difficult this is for her, and I told her so. "A lot of people just don't know," I offered.

Later, before we were done, I pulled her over again. "You know, if you need to talk, about anything, anytime, call me. I'm always around."

She looked at me with the dazed-tired eyes I've seen before. "Thanks. I mean, really, thank you. It's nice to know who your friends really are."

I've been waiting for this to happen, waiting for one of my friend's family to fall victim to breast cancer. Waiting for the moment where I'll offer advice, a sympathetic ear, and a hug for someone who really needs it. I guess she's found me finally. I just hope I can help.

---

I took the subway home because it was raining. Careful not to slip on the wet stairs, I went to the automated token machines, pulled out a $10 bill and slid it in.

The machine went into a frenzy of grinds and beeps. The green light turned red. My tokens did not come out. My $10 bill did not come back. This is not good.

I went to the man behind the partition and relayed the sad news.

"Call the number," was all the asshole had to say. What number exactly?

I went back to the metal thief just as a woman was putting another $10 into it.

"Don't!" I hissed. "It ate mine." She smiled and thanked me for stopping her from loosing the money.

As I was writing down the phone number, a man entered my peripheral vision. "Is there a problem?" he asked. I warily looked at him.

It was a transit cop. I explained my sad story about loosing the money. He smiled warmly and apologized, and pointed out the number and the machine ID to give to the operator, then told me to mention the time when I called. "They'll be able to spot your money easier," he said.

"But you still need to ride today?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said on a sigh.

"Well, here, we'll send you on your way then," he said warmly, and walked me through the bank of token-takers and onto the platform. And I got a free ride home.

I guess what goes around comes around.