The Finite

I’m really bad with names. I helped a guy carry his stuff home from Target. I see him all the time, and he says ‘Hi, Tommy’ to me. I don’t remember his name but I do know that he’s a Chinese American and that he wants a white roommate. Then there’s this other Korean guy that I’ve never met before who also knows my name. It’s gotten to the point where it is more awkward to ask their name, especially after a long period of complacency since Awkwardness vs time relative to meeting is generally exponential.

I find myself not generally hanging out with Asians because, well, the Asians here, are really Asian. Like “born-in-China-smoking-Korean-cigarettes-Lenovo-running-Mandarin-Windows” Asian. And I just don’t fit in with them. I’m hanging out with white people so much, though, that they forget I’m not white. My “Kill Whitey!” statements confuse them apparently.

Last week, we had an “Indian(a) Summer”. Basically a period of unseasonable warmth due to warm air from the southwest. Ladybugs sneaked into the building and try to have sex with our light fixtures. I think they follow the smell of popcorn through our ventilation system. It was becoming a big problem on the lower floors especially. It’s colder now. Everyone just busted out their winter coats, but as soon as it hit 60° last Wednesday, all the meatheads on my floor took their shirts off. I felt like I was the only one with modesty/pants.