Acclimating

mothball

Having to cram everything I own from the exuberant size of a Victorian studio into a tiny room the size of a sardine can of which, the spongy heat proportions are sometimes barely endurable, is not something I’m complaining about in light of the fact that after having lived here for one week, I already feel an immense shift in life-outlook. Even if I wanted to feel ucky and dark, I’d have a hard time; this is all affecting my intolerance for delayed gratification in a seriously positive way. I’m not even complaining about the traffic backed up for miles as a result of the roads being repaved either, I’m thrilled!

asphalt

I still feel strange about how I fit in, but not too strange for some reason. I’m just hoping I’ll find some friends I can hang out with; meet people and avoid the alienation I so experienced from where I came from, with all of its attendant oppression and dread. I still have a few friends that I met there (you know you’re reading!) that have probably been there long enough to know how to make light of the place, and when I get the chance under the right circumstances, I’ll make a trip to what I’m guessing is the scrabble capitol of the Central Valley?

trail

We have bike trails that crawl all over the place, and the views are rustic with plenty of vegetation to provide shade as a relief from the sun as well as a treat for the eyes. In fact, when I think of it, I forgot to take pictures of the arboretum, but I’ll have plenty of time for that as I have a class right alongside the trail. The building my class is in has a contemporary look with glass for railings, and I still feel out of place thinking I’d even be attending and studying in such a structure. When I was twenty I was in a grimy room with people doing terrible things in one of the worst places on earth; I would’ve never thought I’d be where I am now. For others, I understand it’s no big deal; for me, it’s all very strange and curious, not so much for the structures themselves, but that my name is connected with the curriculum connected to these structures.

building

I’m sure the novelty will eventually wear off as I immerse myself into the business of learning and tutoring, but one thing we have to worry about in this town is the frequency of bicycles in much the same way as the frequency of animals near a busy road: combine the situation of traffic with a populous of bicycle riders, and the results are certain to emerge:

bkbent

deli

I’ve been invited to the Aggie football season opener, and I do want to go so bad, but wouldn’t you know it, I have to work. Maybe I could leave early, but there’s still the long drive which would make me late; I need the money badly or else I don’t get to pay for things that need paying–I need every penny; so I guess I’ll be missing the season opener and my free t-shirt. Why does the need for money screw everything in my life? But this won’t deter me from heading to the next hometown game I hope.

football

squirrels

We have squirrels that come right up to you and eat out of your hand. These guys can be seen all over the place livin’ it up. They look so happy, by god, I want me some of that happiness. On the way to getting my student ID and seeing the squirrels, I encountered the egghead. The campus at Davis is renowned for it’s eggheads, although I thought, when I saw some man using the egghead as backing for some notes he was apparently trying to take with a pencil, I thought the act to be a little disrespectful. “Hey, that’s Davis art you’re using as a desk you lop,” I wanted to yell. Eventually he stopped and wandered off, but that didn’t change my opinion of the guy. I’m of the type that if I see something that is supposed to be art, or resemble art, whether it’s bad art or good art, I don’t pull out paper from my back pocket and start using the art as backing so my paper doesn’t go floppy while I’m trying to write, but that’s just me I guess.

egghead

note

I don’t think she could know, my new roomie, how long it’s been since someone wrote my name that wasn’t for some business purpose. I haven’t seen my name written in this context, aside from what I read from my dear blogging buddies, since forever in ages. I was mystified. I was taken aback with intensity. I’m going overboard here, but I mean come on, when was the last time I can think of where someone baked cookies and left me a note telling me I could have some? Jeez, my memory’s foggy and clouded, or I just can’t think of a time.

There’s lots of stuff on the horizon so I’ll keep my camera handy and post more when I get the chance. I’ve already located where the horses are, so I’ll be sure to get at least one class there, and I’m going to get to a football game one way or another. Stay tuned…

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2 Responses to Acclimating

  1. noranoir says:

    Everyone should have cookies left for them regularly. It is the currency of joy.
    Watch out for that tunnel. It could be a good mugger’s trap. Don’t be naive about the plush surroundings.

  2. LK says:

    Nora, interesting response. I also read an article in Davis Wikipedia about someone who got caught hanging around some girl’s window doin’ his thing, so yeah, it’s not all cotton candy and bunny rabbits around here.

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