Sunday, April 24, 2005
The birthday progressed well. First, I awoke at 5:45 to shower, read A Wizard of Earthsea for a while, then journeyed to the mass communications building to judge the first round of UIL poetry. Rebekah and I ate muffins there together, for she felt beckoned by a supernatural force as well, except she judged prose.
The girl I placed first performed three pieces having to do with the identity of a black woman. She had great energy, good body movement, and much better vocal control than the other students. Everyone else performed quite well, and definitely deserved to be at UIL, but they were all on about the same level and were therefore more difficult to rank. One girl did a dramatic piece, with quite a bit of sobbing, but despite pulling that part off fairly well, she did not convey the full meaning of the poems (two). The girl in second affected an accent similar to Sally Field's; she interpreted her first poem with it very rightly, which compelled me to place her second, despite finding the two poems she did a little less interesting than some of the others I heard.
After my round finished, I walked to the Student Union building for a burger and a frappuccino. As I exited the bathroom there, I found the girl who interpreted the dramatic piece, with a friend of hers adjusting themselves in front of the bathroom mirrors. She said, 'Hi' in acknowledgement, and I contemplated giving her some commentary, but decided against it. I ranked her sixth of eight...
I rode with Jared and one of his good friends, Tim, to the elementary school, where we dug spaces for plants as volunteer work for a couple of hours. We then lunched at The Cotton Patch as Jared had the Tech band people wash his truck. Jared and Tim, between them, had enough cash to make a three-dollar donation, which was just as well, because I noticed afterward that the band nerds did not bother to jump in and clean the bed.
At Hobby Lobby I purchased molding clay and small, plastic carving tools for the aqueduct project. Back at the dorm I packaged two small boxes with some books and a few miscellaneous items in prepartion for departure in a few weeks. Then I checked stuff on the computer and went to work.
Work last night was incredibly fun- it was like Clerks the entire evening, because I worked with all the good people, and one of them blared his Offspring CDs on a continuous loop. Between singing along, Kimmy and I contemplated how best to destroy the aliens.
A "boy" comes into Sam's often, but he purchases nothing save an extra-large fountain soda every time, and he always walks out the door sucking on it. He wears glasses and has a large, oddly-shaped head. His card identifies him as "Michael". I thought to myself: That cannot be human; he must be an alien life form! As he left last night I pointed out the above to Kimmy, who agreed wholeheartedly with my conclusion and offered to help me destroy him, using her supernatural powers.
Of course, Kimmy and I are not capable of destroying a race (there must be more- this "Michael" is probably their leader) of aliens by ourselves, so we enlisted the aid of our coworkers, Fisayo and JPat, as well as our manager, Serg (who doubted our possibilities for success). However, none of us could facilitate a plausible course for destroying the aliens, and we therefore sought information from persons coming in to buy food, if they appeared knowledgeable about the subject of eradicating alien life forms.
Though many people who come into Sam's at 12:30 a.m. for munchies seem alien-wise, apparently none of them know how best to kill the aliens in our midst. Several people I asked did not understand the gravity of the situation, which I found rather sad, for they will probably be the ones who are eaten first.
At some point around one a.m. the line at my register extended back about six or seven people, who were all apparently friends, chatting with each other about the party they just returned from (less enebriated, though, then other people I encountered last night). The first guy, wearing a bright blue shirt that read, Horn if you're a honky, looked at me blankly when he handed me his candy bar and I asked, "Do you know how to kill the aliens?" I said it loudly to be heard over the Offspring, and everyone in line stopped in mid-sentence to look at me. Pleased to have full attention, I explained the situation, but no one offered answers. They each exited, laughing, oblivious to their impending deaths.
Close to closing time, a boy came in for cookies and two twelve-packs of Dr. Peppers. Dejectedly, I asked for the hundredth time: "Do you know how to stop the aliens?" He could offer no suggestions, either, to which I simply shook my head and uttered, "Shit." He felt sorry for me, though, and wished me luck.
It is for all humanity that he should feel pity, for we are doomed.
Tonight I work again.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 9:08 AM]