Bruce Springsteen and Breakfast Burritos

After class yesterday, I went and spoke with a econ professor about doing graduate studies… amazingly he gave me a pretty solid idea for what I want to do. The only downer is that apparently I need pretty much a billion more math classes and I simply must get A's in all of them.

"A's," he said, "Not A minuses"

Ah well, next year will be interesting

Inspired, I spent the next couple of hours bunkered down in a nearby Whole Foods where I tackled my International Economics notes in preparation for the imminent final looming in the horizon

Unfortunately, that lasted until about eleven at night, when my best friend and I decided that we simply need to hang out. That dragged onto one in the morning, as we dithered our time away in Ray's Café on Saint Marks.

Woke up early this morning ready to tackle the econ world, walked outside into the glowing city… the sky is so blue that it almost hurts to look at. Unfortunately, my reverie was interrupted by some random guy who decided he had to get to know me. One of the few reasons I don't like the East Village, you can't really walk outside by yourself without some sort of attention or another.

Now I'm sitting once again in the dining area in the Whole Foods on Bowery and working away at my notes. After a breakfast consisting of cereal and a breakfast burrito, I'm feeling ever so slightly nauseated. There was a lot of egg in that burrito. Well. It doesn't look like I will have time for lunch, so I guess it'll balance out.

I'm really growing very attached to Bruce Springsteen.  The more I listen, then more I love his voice, softly murmuring into my ears.

I'm on Fire.

"… waking up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head… I'm on fire…"

It reminds me of the hot summer days I spent in China, where I wake up swimming in the humid mornings with cicadas singing outside my window and the sound of pots and pans as the neighbors begins to prepare their breakfast.

There's much to be missed of China. The friendly people, the serene mountains with its ancient stone trails laid centuries ago by men who had long since turned to dust. As foreign as it is to me now, having spent the last eleven years of my life in the states, it still draws me to it through a siren song of my childhood.