Clouds

Midterms approach. I study.

Having studied the entire day, I went outside and walked around the yard. But other than briefly chuckling at yet another tourist-infested Saturday, it was quite a forgettable walk.

I sat down in one of those peculiarly neon chairs on the grass. I looked around at the the buildings and the trees, trying to tell myself how beautiful this place was. I even muttered the words to myself out loud, but I didn't process anything I was seeing or saying.

At that point, I saw a squirrel munching a nut a few feet away. I fixed my eyes on it. I tried to derive some significant message or meaning, but of course, I couldn't. There just isn't any meaning in a god damn squirrel that's hungry.

As any directionless person would do, I directed my gaze to the sky. I thought to myself that it was entirely clouded, yet totally bare at the same time. There were clouds, but then again, there was nothing.

I stared intently at the bleak atmosphere for what seemed like an hour. At one point, I convinced myself that I saw a fish, but shortly afterward it occurred to me that every fucking cloud looks like a fish if you want it to.

Then I wondered: what was I doing looking so seriously at the sky, pretending as if I was in the middle of some deep philosophical search? Who was I trying to fool?

I glared around at the swarm of camera-touting beasts. I sure as hell didn't give a shit about what they thought of me. I looked around to see if there was anyone in the yard that I knew. There was. But it's not like they would care about why I was staring at the sky.

I then entertained the possibility that I was trying to impress the prim and proper trees scattered about the yard. They had seen all those freshman walking across the yard, once upon a time. But after that brief moment of feigned insightfulness, I promptly laughed at my idiocy.

I'm the fool.
Stop trying to find meaning where there is none.

I started walking back to my room. My break had lasted long enough. And for some odd reason, the clouds seemed to look a little brighter, almost like shining silver.

But I didn't care. They were still fucking clouds.

Say hello and forget

Hey.
Oh, hi.
What's your name?
Ryan. I'm from San Jose. You?
I'm _____ and I'm from ______.
Oh, that's cool. So what are you majoring in?
I don't really know yet. Something sciency, probably. You?
Yeah, I don't really know either.
So when did you get here?
Yesterday night. You?
This morning.
You committed here yet?
No, I'm still deciding.
Same.
Hey, well nice meeting you.

Take this conversation and multiply it by 30, and that equals the vast, vapid majority of my social experience at Visitas. 

Am I a loser? Perhaps. Am I a horrible conversationalist? Probably.

Then again, I've learned to not expect much out of mingling conversation. We're all a bunch of fakes because no one is comfortable showing the inside to random strangers - because we're all too aware of our ugliness.

Walls are as much to keep others out, as to keep us in.

So no, I didn't loathe having the same formulaic conversation every day. Because I would rather not see the prick and asshole inside everyone until much later.

As I'm sure is the case for them.