2001-08-16 || 4:17 p.m.

|| it's your birthday. and elvis died on this day too. ||

sometimes i spend my breaks people-watching and trying to figure out what they're like: she's a bit of a shoe-whore. she does aerobics and wears thong underwear she bought at ross dress-for-less.

and she lives on campus. her mother bought her a cal sweatshirt at the student store while visiting for parents' day. they looked in the yellow pages for a costco and her mum spent over two-hundred dollars on boxes of tampons and soap and macaroni and cheese.

and he works on campus. you can tell by how fast he's walking, how he keeps his face pointing down.

if they saw me they would think: she is wearing that wintery hat in 78-degree weather because she is having a very bad hair day and is just about ready to cut off the 7-month effort towards long hair. she had lunch with her ex-boyfriend today because it is his birthday and it seemed like a good idea. she is glad he liked what she made him and she got to see him and talk a little, but she is feeling rather sad over the fact he will be spending a night out with his friends this evening and she was not invited. and that when she coyly asked to give him a birthday kiss he said no, laughing but adamant, and when she went to hug him he made sure to crane his neck and turn his face away. and then she stood there for a bit while he unlocked his bicycle from the bus sign, hoping he would change his mind, and he even commented she shouldn't stand in front of him looking so sexy, but when she lingered for a minute he didn't take her in his arms and lay one on her, or tell her he really misses her, or ask her to go back in the alley for a couple minutes. he just smiled and fastened the strap to his bicycle helmet and got on his bike and rode away.

maybe it is that i should not ever again go for a boy who wears a bicycle helmet.

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