Enter The Creation

I'm officially done with one week of school! Let's have a celebration! Only one more week to go! I had my mid-term today. It had 115-mulitple guess, true/false, and matching questions. With 10 extra credit fill in the blank questions at one point each. I missed 14 total and got a few of the extra credit right. That makes my total 95! I was so excited because I'm pretty much a slacker until a few days before the test and last night I was getting messed up on a lot of the dates. Now, I just have to survive four more quizzes and my final on Friday and I'll be fine. Then I have 3 days off and I start my 3-week long Old Testament 201 class. Work is going good. Turner Research got brand new Gateway Computers, DSL connection in every office, 65 MB Memory Voice Activated Digital Recorders for our phone calls, and a new survey. We are surveying Connecticut for the Department of Transportation about commuting. It's going to be interesting because I have to ask people for their name, phone number, address, etc. My hours will hopefully be picking up so I can save some money.

Speaking of work, during my shift a couple nights last week, I was doing a survey and nobody in Florida was answering their phone. So thus began the commencing of me jotting down some ideas for a new poem. This is my creativeness for the week. So, please gag, heave, vomit, spew, and just generally get sick at will:



The Operator Said
“Insert 25 More Cents”
(5/16/02-5/17/02)

I think about all the times I cried.
All the crimes I was tried for.
I call you all the time, as it feels that way for me.
In reality, it’s actually never.
I wonder what it’s like to be
On the other end of your receiver.
I listen to that subtle, faint tone
As it screams at me
When your phone sits and constantly rings.
Each ring seems to form a sentence
That so sweet and eloquently boasts
“I hate you.”
I get that pledged and constant feeling
Every time the operator’s voice so calmly assures me
“We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is not longer in service.”
Why are my unanswered phone calls,
Metaphors for you lost feelings?
And why does it seem like your illicit tears
Are always wiped away by another man fears?
I lay here and try to hear.
It’s no good; I’ll never understand the way.
The way we could never comprehend.
How each other really felt,
I guess this is better than being left with doubt.

Later On