this was a thereputic chain of events...

I didn't sleep well that night. Zach crept into our room later then usual at 5:30. The oddest part was that he was walking steadily, and I could only smell the fruity perfume. No alchohol.

At 6 I gave up on sleeping and began praying that something might be in the kitchen for breakfast. After digging around for a few minutes I managed to find an old pack on apples and cinnamon instant oatmeal. While I waited for the water to boil, I cleaned up a bit. There were old ciggarette butts all over the counters and broken jewel cases near where the stereo once was from our last burgalry. They were common, but there wasnt much left to steal anymore. I kept the boombox under the bed while I slept and my Panic CD was always in it. My laptop was kept nestled in with my sweaters and school books in the bottom drawer of my wardrobe, and I often slept listening to my MP3 player. But I was certain that someday that wouldn't stop them from stealing it all. I just tried to forget. 

School flew passed. Nothing ever happened there. I was sure that people must talk to me, and I know I replied. And I never sat alone at lunch. But I could never remember what we talked about 5 minutes later if you were to ask me. It was just this humming in the back of my mind.

Starbucks was quiet. No one was speaking except the workers, yelling orders back and forth to eachother. I liked days like this, days when I could really concentrate. These were the days I did my GPA 4.0 work. I practically lived for them during the week.

at 3 I dropped my bag off at home and headed off towards work. I swept up hair clippings and shampooed hair at some fancy salon in Manhatten. I had no interest in cutting hair or anything, but one of my friends from childhood had reccomended me for the job so I took it. I worked here on Fridays, Mondays and Wednesdays, I bussed tables at an indian resteraunt near battary park on Fridays also, along with Saturdays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  Sunday was my only day off, because on Thursdays I would pick up any odd jobs that could come my way.

Halfway through my shift a rather robust woman asked to speak to my manager because I accidentally used red hair shampoo on her blonde hair and it left an odd orang-ish tint. Then I accidentally tripped someone with the broom as I was cleaning up. The manager gave me a warning and said that one more problem would loose me my job. I sighed and left the salon in disgust at how the upper class works.

But I was going to see Panic! at the Disco on Saturday.