to College Street today. With my pockets padded. All right, not really. I'm (perhaps naively?) hoping to find exactly what I mean at exactly the price I can afford right now. The last time I was seen rummaging through piles of discarded comic books was so long ago. I'm almost nostalgic.
It occurred to me that some people at uni think I'm a class clown. I don't think anybody knows I can actually 'do' anything except say provocative things (various degrees of 'provocative', here). Which always amuses me. Unlike a few people I have to endure in class, with their constant braying need to assert their smart(arse)ness and general overcompetence, I'm so. Laidback? I work for pleasure, I am pleased by relative obscurity. I am given to understand, however, that this is no way to be, the world being what it is. It remains to be seen if not being to push my way with brute force to the front of the crowd is truly a sign of overall ineptitude. I think it's not so bad yet. Or maybe it is and I'm being optimistic, although I usually don't bother to be.
My mother just came armed with a piece of fruit for to rub on my face. Apparently it's 'good for the complexion'. Oh my sweet mummy, I am happy with my burnt brown skin, and you'll have to put up with worse once the swimming (pool) season starts this summer.
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