The custodians at UCSD work early and long, cleaning up whatever mess the university students leave behind. Roberto is one, and I make sure to say hello when I see him. Good man. Plays soccer on the weekends with his local team. Childhood friends, he says.
On the last week of school Roberto invited me over to the custodian’s office to share a cup of coffee. Next to the supply closet is a coffeemaker, and the rest of the custodians trust Roberto to make the coffee for them. For every cup of coffee, he adds:
- a spoonful of sugar
- a stick of cinnamon
Cream and sugar are commonplace, but I’ve never had cinnamon in coffee before. Tastes fantastic. I told my roommate Victor from France about how Roberto made me a cup of his special brew.
“Ah yes, he made me a cup of coffee, too!”
I applied (and am still applying) for summer internships, but nothing is biting so far. The boat’s sailing away, and I’m disappointed that I’m not on it — not because I feel entitled to ride on that boat, but because I feel like I could have run a little faster to the harbor to catch it.
But that’s how it goes sometimes. That boat’s gone, but I can get on the next one.
The last thing I want to do over the summer is just sit on my ass, and I told Tavish I wouldn’t mind scooping ice cream or something like that. Anything, really. My friend Kenny had done it a couple years ago, and he said it’s more tiring than one would imagine. Scooping ice cram is good for character, and it’s good for the forearms.
Tavish: “Don’t forget to switch arms. You wouldn’t want one to be bigger than the other.”
A daydream: an attractive woman walks up and squeezes my right arm. You working out? Nah, I tell her. Just scooping ice cream.