Tick, tock

I have to leave for work in two and a half hours. I have to have my room spotless before then. I have to have all my belongings packed, once again, to move down three floors. So, here I sit. I spend eight hours a day doing mindless, dirty, sometimes disgusting work. In those eight hours, my mind wanders. I day dream, I plot, I plan, and sometimes I pray. Today I spent way too much time plotting... It seems that there is a division among Brian Taylor's physical plant day crew. It is usually the Stalker sisters versus myself, Josiah, Nate, and sometimes Liz. We hide in closets, wardrobes, and under beds to startle them. We sit and talk while they bustle around efficiently, singing songs from musicals and Disney movies.
Yesterday we decided to take our pranks to the next level. Mental warfare. I worked alone with the Stalker sisters today. For a long while they worked quietly while I listened to my offensive music. They were in the kitchen, I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the bathtub in the bathroom. I was trying to think of a conversation to engage them in, but decided to let them do the talking. I turned off my music, reluctantly, to better eavesdrop. They turned on Disney songs. I instantly regretted my own silence. Yet, I patiently listened. And the conversations started. Significant portions of their conversation is now saved in a text message on my phone, which I sent to Josiah. Now, we wait. And the next time we are all together, they will hear the very conversation they themselves have had. Down to the word. "Josiah has a pet crab named Tom Hamilton, also? Bizarre!" This is what I do with my day. I get paid nearly 10 dollars an hour to connive and clean. Its not such a bad deal, until I am pushing a gigantic cleaning cart down Wells, sweating and swearing as a bar of soap falls off every few feet, looking like a fool...
I think of other things other new ways to prank my coworkers... I think of meaningful things. I think of a lanky blond playing the piano with such passion that I get a little weak in the knees... Haha.
Seriously though. I realized today that 20 years is a long time. Much has happened in the twenty years since I first graced this world with my presence. I am sitting with a miniature laptop in my lap, a touchscreen cell phone at my side, and looking out onto a street occupied by Hummers and smart cars. I have known of three presidents, including the first African American one. I survived Y2K. I watched the World Trade Center topple as well as a statue of Saddam Hussein. But what is 20 years? I am only 20 years old. Too young for marriage, for my own house, for a rental car, and for drinking. Yet in another 80 years I'll be dead. 20 years of my life has passed and what do I have to show for it? Not much. I haven't been further west than St. Louis. I haven't left these blessed American shores. I don't know what the hell life is. I feel like for having lived 20 years, I haven't lived much at all.
Thank You, God, for eternity.