Stalking My Memories

Wheee! One of my freshman is back!

Ok, so there's lots of things that are back. Our vending location hauled ass from the -

language. Want to watch my language.

....

... we got back to the atrium from the *cough* alternate location, there we go, a nearby classroom, and renovations on the atrium itself are almost done - they still need to put the lights on the underside of the bridge that's now over my head when I work at the register. It makes the place look a lot smaller and much less airy, but not the awful thing I was hoping it wouldn't be.

Students started Monday too, so it was a nice bump up from the hours of boredom that it's been over the summer (though that HAS been good for my reading).

And today one of my freshman came in! Damned if I can recall the last time I ranted about this, if ever, so here we go. The folks who were freshman in the fall of '04 I still think of in a slightly propitiatory fashion as "my freshman", because they started about 2 weeks after I started working at the atrium. There were a few who really stood out, and that I latched on to, and would always enjoy running into. Obviously, most of them graduated. A few did that thing where if you don't get out of CMU fast enough, you become staff of some sort. And it seems that another one is back and still working on a degree of some sort (no idea which, didn't think it was polite to ask). This is one of those continuity things that just makes me feel good. There's also that strange sense of connection, that's rather arbitrary, but happens throughout life - the person who rides the same bus, day in and day out, and y'all never share words or looks, but you sometimes sneak a peek at the titles of the books they read. The person who works at the bookstore and used to ask if you wanted help finding anything, but after awhile just gives a knowing little smile and shoos the eager new hires away so you can scour the shelves in peace. That guy you pass in the hallway whenever you leave class, and it's obvious that he's just gotten out of one down the hall - it's those crazy little moments that you might not even recognize, but if something goes amiss, if that person stops being there for some reason - maybe they just can catch a more advantageous bus - then there's something that wonders. Because there is that connection.

That person who would come in for lunch, always have a smile and a witty comment - or at least a witty comment and an appreciate for a smile and wishes for a better day - and then doesn't. The semester is a month in, and no sign, and while they might have classes in all other parts of campus, typical human habit says they'd stop in to see if the pizza is still just as good/awful/what-have-you as they recall. And it's clear they took the semester off, or switched schools, or who knows what, and you sometimes just... wonder. Hope that they're doing well, and ponder poking at google in a fairly freakish way, just 'cause the not knowing is sometimes frustrating. People fascinate me in this way. Maybe it makes me stalker potential. Maybe it's what makes me good at being a cashier. Maybe this is what drives that strange tendency towards being a people person, or a writer, or just another lunatic with a blog.

I dunno.

In randomly other news, tomorrow is my last day of physical therapy. Thank. Gods. 6 months - actually, no, almost 7 from broken leg to "Better".

Yeah, I'll take it.

I wore 2 sneakers to work today; no boot!

Not only does this make me ridiculously pleased and amused, the fact that so many customers were equally giggly and willing to congratulate me is very, very amusing.

Honestly, it feels like it's time to keep wearing the shoes; I can feel the difference in my ankle as is. Muscles loosened up nicely over the day; I think keeping the brace type structure was starting to limit recovery. Time to push limits and muscles (again).

WHEEEEEEEE!

2 to 3 more weeks of this. Removing the foot from elevated above the heart will lead to pain, and then swelling. In 2 weeks, a shit load of stitches come out. They removed some of the dressing today so I actually for the first time SEE the stitches, which leads to a combo of wanting to puke and/or panicked whimpering (yay, PTSD and cancer fun lingering Issues). I still have to change the gauze dressing on that daily, meaning yes, I will in fact have to look at it. In the meantime, I can't go back to work yet, 'cause even I can't see how I can run a register with my feet up - literally. Just... fuck. I'm going back to bed.