If I had to die tomorrow I think I'd be dissatisfied with the way I spent my last Chritmas break ever. Mostly I've complained, ever since Christmas ended. And frankly I'll be kind of excited to get back to school. Poetry workshop seems promising. It sounds corny, but I always knew that poetry workshop junior year would be really exciting. I hope that my poetry will be as good as everyone else's Junior Year Poetry.

The past few nights I've been afraid to sleep in my bed because I keep finding bugs in my room. There was a roach on my ceiling night before last, and last night after I'd been reading for almost four hours, I rearranged my pillows and a brown spider crawled out from underneath them. Maybe it's god's way of letting me know that I'm dirty and gross and need to wash my bedsheets.

I think mostly I'm upset because whenever we have long stretches of vacation that don't involve traveling, I realize how much of my life is based on routine and school and reading and work and learning things. I'm thinking about applying for a job at Ruby Tuesday's. Sarah Black and I were talking about it -- how there are either places that have a long list of PhDs lined up for jobs, or places that will hire a ham sandwich. I'm hoping to find one of those ham sandwich places that isn't looking for someone to work more than weekends. "Please hire me -- I'm a ham sandwich. <3 glynnis."

We went by Planet Smoothie today before going to Carolyn's (she got her wisdom teeth out), and there was only one guy working there, blasting Modest Mouse. He was sort of strange to begin with, but the way he looked at us was especially odd. He wasn't looking at us any more than any other person would, he just did it differently. Maybe it was because he didn't say much. I wonder sometimes if I look at people that way. So I asked him for a Captain Kid, and he made it and gave me an extra cup. "I made way too much, so here," he said. I was ready to go but Sarah grabbed a key lime bar and paid for it, and he asked her, "So are you guys from Birmingham?"

I thought that's what he'd asked, but wasn't sure. "What?" I asked. "Do we look like we're from out of town or something?"

So then he said, "No, I've just never seen you guys before." Sarah and I looked at each other, puzzled -- Birmingham isn't that small. "See, I work two jobs. I work here and I helped found Cave9." Cave9 is this hole in the wall music club, if you could even call it that, where Birmingham's "local music scene" thrives. I've never been but every time that I've driven past, there's just a bunch of kids lined up outside with sloppy haircuts and strange clothes, smoking. The best part is that he couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen, and Cave9 has been around long enough that to found it, he'd have to have been twelve or so.

From now on, when I want to impress people, I'll just say I helped found things.

"You know the internet? I helped found that."


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