Today and yesterday I've been either sad or irritable. For some reason I feel really unnecessarily driven to continue toward my 2nd manuscript, even though nothing on my advisor's end is happening with the 1st.

Distraction, maybe.

I'll try to force myself to update later after I've lounged some. It's hard been hard to concentrate, which all things considered makes sense.

* * *

Thankfully the business re: Katie taking her make-up exam is resolved. As long as she gets notes for her manic-depressive episode, she can delay the 3rd exam and the final. I hadn't known what to do when she didn't show up thursday to take the make-up. We'd already re-scheduled twice.

It'd gotten where I'd scheduled her for a last-ditch final exam date on sunday and drawn a line in the sand. But she hadn't been able to study. There were flights of ideas that were more important--and having had cyclothymia (read: mini-mania, mini-depression), I know exactly what she means. But I had no idea what the prof would think. So I emailed him the situation, he emailed back, and all seems well.

At one point, while I was at Barriques, I asked Katie to come by and give me the current notes she had. She came by and smiled that curious sortof confused smile. One thing led to another and I told her what happened with my step-father. She looked terribly distraught and sad. I explained it was ok and that she hadn't pryed too much. I just don't want anyone besides friends knowing because: 1) I hate faux-pity like very little else; 2) While I'm obviously distraught and irritable and sad I'm not dysfunctionally grieving. And I don't want to be treated like I am.

We parted ways thereafter. It's kinda awkward, trying to reason and be fair professionally but caring about someone personally. I hope the new medication helps her get away from the extended manic episode.

* * *

All of yesterday (saturday) was generally either disturbing or alright. The disturbing part mainly centered around a hobo coming into the cafe and sitting in the couch area downstairs.

To give you context, I'm usually stuck there because of lack of tables. This guy had come in on a previous night a little under a week ago. I had my headphones on. He sat next to me and mumbled something twice with a gesture.

So he's black, he's dressed poorly, and he was trying to get my attention when I was obviously occupied. I hadn't heard him with the headphone on. I'm prejudiced from past experience and society, so I thought he wanted money. I told him I had none. He said it wasn't that and that could I call 911 for him. He was grabbing his chest and making painful faces and noises.

Well aside from feeling kinda like a dick for thinking he wanted money while he may have been having a heart attack, I got the address from a barista and phoned 911. I hadn't done this before. The guy on the other end was calm and stable. I had to go in once or twice and ask the irrascible bum if he had a history of heart problems, etc.

In 3 minutes time the ambulance arrived. As I was telling the baristas about the situation, the guy collapsed on the floor. I phoned 911 again because the dispatcher said to do so if the situation suddenly got bad. But the paramedics had gotten there quick.

Thing is, this guy had had 911 come in at a different location 15 minutes earlier. Of course I couldn't have known that. In short order the dude got into the ambulance and left. The barista people were beside themselves about the whole deal. I went up and asked them for water. They offered me whatever I wanted.

So the moral of the story is: if you call an ambulance for a hobo faking a heart attack in a cafe, you just may get an iced tea out of it.

...So after selling my rights to PBS and several days transpiring, here was the guy again. I thought, "Oh dear fuck." And sure enough at one point he tried getting my attention and asking me, 'how you doin', dawg?' This was after trying to get the attention of some other people. I was creeped out and frankly wanted none of it. Thankfully he fell asleep for awhile. I studied, the chick next to the guy who looked like a bitch studied, all was all. Later on the guy woke up, picked up some ice water and shasta he'd carried in, and somehow spilled it on himself. At first I thought he'd just randomly decided to pee himself. A 5 minute swearing binge on his part disconfirmed this. This seemed to upset a flock of asian girls studying, which lead to him asking one if she was alright. It was with a tone of voice that engendered confrontation far more than apology. Then he sorta sat down, sat up while napping, stood up, starred into space for awhile, repeated this a few times, then finally left.

God I felt so incredibly uncomfortable.

A little while later one of the baristas from the 911 night came. It was the hot girl who'd offered the iced tea. She asked me if any 911-faking hobos had come in. We bantered, we laughed, she went to finish 2 papers.

Didn't get as much I'd like to get done that day or this one, but then I've felt a bit adrift for a few weeks.

Second part after this...

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