sunday funk

Traditonally, Sunday is my least favorite day of the week. It gets a little better during football season but not much. Sundays like this one don't do much for my dislike for the day; I've been feeling overall ickiness, because I'm a little under the weather. My throat was sore (it still is), so I didn't really feel like talking much, and this is the day I usually call people I know out of town to say 'hi' and let them know I still remember them. My dad called and we talked about sports for a bit and then his cell battery started to cut out, so we had to cut it short. I really didn't feel like speaking, though. Later on, I talked to my aunt and uncle, which was nice, because they would always watch me and my sister when my parents went out for the night. My uncle seemed to really want me to get a job back East, and I'm really torn on that subject.

I laid in bed almost all day, and then laid on the couch for the remainder and tried to rest up for the week ahead. I even got some work done for tomorrow so my bosses will think that I know what I'm doing.

I think what I hate most about Sundays is the resignment of it all--the weekend is over, and that's just the way it is. You have this whole day off to do what you want with, but you can't do too much because you have to be in work or school in the morning. Granted, this is the first time in my life that I've had weekends off. For the longest time, I was either in school, at work, or both seven days a week.

It's hard not to get distracted by my roommate fighting with his (not his) girlfriend. It's a long story that I won't get in to.

Yeah, so Sundays suck la de da.

It's hard not to eavesdrop for me. I'm really far too interested in other people's lives. It's what makes my life interesting. I may be boring, but I can say that I've always managed to surround myself with fascinating people. It must be the voyeur in me or something. Someone told me once that I fade too easily into the background. I think that's what he said; maybe I just made that up, but he said something to that effect, and I guess it's true. I do my best not to be noticed. I won't approach people I know sometimes unless they see me and call me over. For the longest time, I thought i had the supernatural ability to go unnoticed as long as I didn't want anyone to see or hear me--not so much invisiblie, but unnoticeable. The same friend who may have said that to me stood behind me on line at a restaurant once. I saw him and looked at him for a while, and he didn't even notice until I said hello, and it still took him a minute.

Last night at the bar, a few women from the office were out on the town, and I was sitting alone at a table. I watched them come in a little while before last call, but they didn't see me. I thought about going up to say hi, but I didn't. I ended up seeing them later and hung out with them for a bit until the bar shut down. It's not that I don't like them or think that they don't like me; I've hung out with them both on many different occasions, and they're both a lot of fun. And they've always been nice to me and have invited me to tag along, so I assume that the friendly feelings are mutual. I'm just like that sometimes. It bothers me when people are over anxious socially, though I admit that I'm far too lethargic.

The cold that was threatening to make my today a living hell never actually hit. I can feel it kinda camping out in my throat, though, waiting. The supplements I took last night and this morning have kept it at bay so far. I plan to take down another glass of the fizzy, vaguely citrus concoction--along with a refreshing NyQuil cocktail--before I go to bed. There's nothing like the warm, soothing high of a good cough syrup.

It's still in the 90s here, but at night especially, it feels like fall is right around the corner, not that this place really has a proper fall. There are some color in the leaves, but it's nothing compared to the colors back east. Yesterday, I watched this brilliant crime drama from Korea called Memories of Murder, and a lot of the movie took place in the rain. The camera work was really nice, and for some reason, it made me want to run out in a rainstorm, even if the movie was about a serial rapist / murderer. It just looked so refreshing, though really, rain water is anything but. It's kinda sticky and gross. It's been so long, I forgot what it sounded like. It's weird to think that Florida gets pounded by hurricane after hurricane lately, and here we don't see a drop for almost two full seasons. Makes you wonder what marketing genius thought it would be a good idea to call Florida "The Sunshine State."