I got back from my Tuesday class, grabbed something to eat, and now I'm determined to type up a mybloggers post.

This past weekend, I started my part-time job at my college's cafe - basically working (7-10) Fridays, and (3-6) Saturdays, which is great because it provides plenty time to work on homework during the week and still have free time for Brent, friends, and family. Everyone is so friendly. They all seem like a really fun group. I've never done a job like this before, but its pretty easy. The people come up, order, and a few minutes later when their food's ready, you just walk their meal to them. They do leave tips which is a plus. Most of our customers are students at the college, but I spotted a few teachers as well. The cost of the food is reasonable and very good, too! We serve basic soups (homemade) and sub sandwiches, melts, and salads. It will be nice earning a little extra gas and spending money this semester.
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On Friday, I handed in my first short story that I wrote for my writing class - hopefully the instructor understood what I was trying to say. We were assigned to write a one paragraph short story on a descriptive feeling/emotion. I chose to write what it feels from the perspective of an old man who feels regret for a life lost. Have to warn you it is rather depressing. It's not easy condensing a short story into one paragraph! I am happy with it. Hopefully my instructor will understand what I was trying to say. Anyway, here it is:

An old man sits alone in his favorite chair, it's silent in his house, no sounds of happiness, no children who visit, no grandchildren to watch happily playing or to tell stories to, no wife or lover to spend his days with. The mistakes and the bad decisions he's made in life, his poor attitude, and the unending hurt he caused those he loved dug deep in his gut. He pushed everyone away and denied them the pleasure of knowing him. He sits and thinks of what could have been if only he could have made people happy instead. What if he had been a better man and more loving person? With a deep regret for those he loved and hurt, he looks at the liquid in the glass he is holding, he takes one final drink closes his eyes. He says I'm sorry for what I've done and fades silently into death.
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Here is a funny picture of my cat, Crash, perched atop my bike. He cracks me up. We always find him in the strangest places too - he's one of those cats like like to be high up, above the ground. So we'll find him on top of cupboards, on the refrigerator, in the garage on top of a shelf (like 8 feet high!), and on my bike. He likes my bike for some reason best of all. :)