Earlier this evening, I was at Espresso Royale on Comm (like I always am), sitting in the back without buying anything, leeching off the wireless and looking somewhat grouchy with the amount of work that sat before me. I've been kind of slacking on laundry, so I've recently been spotted in skinny jeans that belong(ed) to a Canadian gal who was once rather close to me. If you've seen me in these, you've noticed two things: one, they're too tight for me (duh, girl jeans) and two, they're covered in curse words. Why this is so, and why I own them is quite another story, as is the girl who gave them to me. All you need to know is it's hard to multitask when I'm wearing them, so I was slouching and sprawled out, and probably frightening employees who were trying to clean up the cafe.

No, that isn't entirely true. I probably looked pleasant, but I had certainly made myself comfortable. I was finishing up some neuro work and trying to shuttle out the answers to the most recent physics assignment, which I had just completed after a several hour ordeal that involved writing out two derivations on my left hand for portability purposes. Then, there was a camera's flash and the girl sitting in front of me took a picture of my half of ERC before sitting back down with a friend. Twenty minutes later, she walked up to me and made one of those "I don't know you, but you should look up so I don't feel weird" noises.

"Hi, I'm sure you've noticed that I've been drawing you this last while." She was sitting, like, twenty feet away. I can barely read what I'm typing right now. No, I couldn't tell.

"Oh! No! I haven't, but that's great!"

"Oh, you didn't notice. . .well, that makes this a little more awkward."

She then flipped around a charcoal drawing of ERC, with just me sitting at my computer.

"I don't usually draw people. But I was feeling adventurous. You looked kind of overwhelmed with your work."

"Yes, well, you got that right on. You're a great artist, the picture's really good."

"Thanks, I'm gonna go out back and spray paint it now."

I'm not sure what spray painting would do to it. I looked really, really silly in it. My face was kind of egg-shaped, which isn't an insult to her work, I think I'm just generally egg-faced and hate coming to terms with that. But, dear friends, there's a more important issue at hand than the ridiculousness of my image.

I'm not really going to try to explain why I like moments like these, so this might have to suffice just as a story I wanted to share with you all, sans my opinion on it all. But that's a cop-out, and I hate cop-outs, so let's talk about it. I prefer to share stories rather than to explain them, because I want you to decide. So we'll keep my commentary to a minimum.

I want to be able to do things like what this girl did. I want to approach people for lesser reasons (esp. since I can't draw, and it would be creepy to say "hey, you probably haven't noticed, but I've been thinking about you") and start conversations. I want everyone to do this. Fuck assumption, awkwardness, whatever it is that keeps you from asking someone if you can sit with them and talk. That's not too much, is it? No.

See you there.