Pinkeye-ponderings

As I sit alone in my dorm this Friday night wondering if I have pink-eye, I ponder. I have been doing quite a lot of pondering this semester, so this is in no way an unusual activity for me. Some may think that it is… an unusual activity… for me. I regret to inform them that they are mistaken. It seems as though some have mistaken my silence and learned indifference to be an indication of my stupidity. Although I may at times, or most of the time, seem rather vapid… I assure you that I am thinking. You can comfort yourself with the thought that I may just be trying to figure out a way to end our conversation. 

Back to the pondering (the meat).

My pondering begins almost as soon as I wake up (I say ‘almost’ because I usually begin my days with several minutes of confusion—“where am I?” “What happened to the tree that was about to fall on my bed?” “why did I just have a dream that I adopted a monkey with a human head, and why was I showing it pictures of tigers in my grandparents house?”—you know, the usual—I have to get this stuff sorted out first before I can start learning… learning in college… “I fucking hate college”—I have heard that one before). 

I ponder while trying to snatch a few more minutes in the warm cocoon I affectionately refer to as my bed (am I a fetus? —maybe), before heading to the shower where I continue my pondering. I ponder as I pick out my clothes, spray them with febreze, and then put them on, only to be assault them again by several sprays of cologne. 
“You smell REALLY good today!”
I will later ponder this statement while trying to stifle my laughter.
“Oh… (sheepish smile), thanks. Its Lacoste.”

I ponder as I brush my teeth, and floss under my false one (food has a tendency to gather underneath it—disgusting--I know…). I ponder as I avoid the elevators on the way to class (I prefer the stairs—elevators are awkward, and I can use the exercise). 

My pondering continues after I enter class. Should I go to my usual seat or should I mix it up a bit, throw the others off? (I feel as though my new vantage point has given me a new perspective-- “I’ve never seen that mole before.”--“Wow! You see something new every day.”). There are new faces to read, lives to analyze… I ponder the questions of my classmates.
“Did he really just ask that?” I think. 
“Is he retarded?”
“Maybe he has Aspergers.” 
“Assburgers?” (Hi. My name is _________ and I am here today to talk about my assburgers)
“He does talk funny.”
“I really shouldn’t role my eyes at all of his comments if he has Aspergers, because that would be mean—he can’t help it.” 
“Do I really go to school with retarded people?” 
“Am I retarded?”
“Should I even be using the word ‘retarded’?”
“Don’t some people find that word offensive?”
“Special?”
‘What’s for lunch?”

I ponder on my way to the dining hall.
“What ridiculous combination will I come up with today?”. 
Fried rice… burrito…. baked potato…. and…. a Danish? I am rather proud of my inclusion. I will make such a wonderful cultural anthropologist.

I ponder as I search for a seat. I like to turn this into a game, a hunt. As my eyes scan the room I analyze each table. I access their pros and cons. 
“Do I want to sit with my back to the door?”
“I can’t sit there. It is by the door. When people walk in the wind from outside will blow my napkins all over the room. It will look kind of pretty--the way they will frolic about the room, free… unstained, joyfully escaping my messy mouth-- but I won’t pick them up, I need to conserve.” (I think of Greenpeace and cringe).
“A booth?”
“No, I sat at a booth yesterday.”
“Hmmmmmmm……”
“That table over there?”
“No.”
It turns into a dialogue. I realize I have been standing in the same position for an unnatural amount of time. I panic. I walk to the corner booth. There is shit all over the top of the table.

“Fucking—balls!”
I sit.
“Did I just say that out loud?”
“Shit…”
Ponder. Ponder.. Ponder…