I am walking back, very defeated, from my French final when I notice an interesting character. He appeared to be mumbling to himself, which, though odd, is something I do myself so I wasn't about to judge. But his weirdness was compounded by the way he had contorted his body. His shoulders were hunched as far up and forward as possible. His head was akwardly nestling into his right shoulder. And, best of all, his hands were shoved so deeply into his pockets that he could scratch his toes. After taking in this site I knew something was wrong. Maybe he was mentally handicapped, maybe he was simply suffering an awful post-final experience, maybe he can't think of a christmas present for his girlfriend. Who knows? Anyway, all the possibilites run through my mind while I focus on what he's saying (at this point I've removed my lovely ipod earphones). He was speaking actual words, He was speaking coherent English. "Wait a minute, what's that?" I ask myself. It's a phone, that damn Razor (sic?) one, tucked between his cheek and his shoulder. The oh-so-frightful winter in Los Angeles forced this young man to use his shoulder, not his cold, fragile, little hands to keep the phone in place.

In hindsight that's a really normal thing to do, but most people bring their shoulder up to their cheek. He prefered bringing his cheek down to meet his shoulder. I found it enjoyable.


It's hard not to get down on yourself sometimes. But, what the fuck, they're just grades.