I don't like breakfast. All breakfast food just seems syrup-ey, soggy, and full of eggs. It makes me nauseous. I don't even ever eat it regularly anymore, and I say good riddance. Breakfast is no longer part of my system - in fact, my body rejects it, it's so incompatible now.
The only exceptions are meals made by my parents, the French, or bed & breakfasts, who have it down to an art. Essentially, I only eat breakfasts prepared by the best, or by those who know exactly what I want.
So I heard that tonight there was going to be a late-night buffet in the dining hall, as a celebration of the end of the semester. There'd be a whole lot of food, prepared by members of the faculty, and a raffle and stuff. For once, I figured I'd be able to eat like when I ate back home - at ten o'clock at night.
I showed up, got my raffle ticket, and walked into the kitchen area. Something smelled amiss. Omelettes? Pancakes? Sausages? Waffles?
Aw, HELL NAW!
Where's my dinner? Where's my chicken?! Where's my french fries?!
Where the living FUCK is my mashed potatoes?!
What kind of discrimination is this? They have vegetarian options, so where the HELL are the DINNER options? Breakfast pizza?! That's the best you can do?
THIS
IS
AN
I
N
S
U
L
T.
But what was I supposed to do? I settled. I surrendered. I got a breakfast burrito, two breakfast pizzas (which were more like pieces of light, poorly flavored bread), a glass of orange juice, and sat down next to two guys I didn't know. I took a bite.
I may be be able to suspend my belief, but I can't fool my body. It could take two more bites before quitting. What was I thinking? The concept of the breakfast burrito is a perversion of both breakfast and Mexican cuisine. I swilled those bites down with my juice, put the remnants on the conveyor belt to the wash room, and left. I put my raffle ticket on the table before I did.
But you know what I did that was cool?
Between the two ends of the Emerson campus is the Boston Commons and the Public Garden. These are two different areas that tourists get confused, though they're probably governed by the same committee. The Commons are really big, while the Garden is about only a third of the size. I've always preferred the Garden, because it's prettier and closer to my dorm, and it has a bridge and a lagoon, and swans, and fountains, and a big statue of George Washington on his horse, and ducklings. Even in the winter, it's like a beautifiul arctic wasteland.
Ever since winter began, the ice rink at the Commons have been packed. I've kind of wanted to give it a shot, but a drawback to introversion is that you look kind of weird doing things by yourself. Whatever. Besides. it's crowded to a ridiculous point, and the music they play is terrible. It really IS the kind of thing that would only be fun with a friend.
But I don't need that. The Garden has its own all natural rink - a frozen lagoon. On my way to class today, there were kids playing hockey on it. That, coupled with the fact that I had seen Eternal Sunshine for the first time this past weekend, filled me with the urge to walk on the frozen surface.
Once I got out of class, I went straight to the closest end of the lagoon and got right on the surface. It was hard as rock. I felt safer on the flat surface of the lagoon than on the icy sidewalks. I walked clear across, by the pier, under the bridge, and past the little island on the other side.
I took pictures, but I know they'll look shitty. That's why I'm letting you know how awesome it was now. Take my word for it.
Bender: If that stuff wasn't real, how can I be sure anything is real? Is it not possible, nay probable, that my whole life is just a product of my or someone else's imagination?
Upgrader: No. Get out.
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