omarwali13
Almost Home
It’s 6am in New York City. My eyes are crusted; begging to be shut. I face a war on two fronts. From above, my blanket attacks me with its warmth. It compels me to stay with an almost motherly disposition; the world outside is cold, unforgiving and unknown. From below, my pillow strikes hard with comfort and the softest touch. It utilizes the same effective tactics the enemy from above has. It’s a perpetual war that I seem to have always won, barring the few rare exceptions. Like all New Yorkers, I’m on a mission. Like all New Yorkers, I’m loud and belligerent at anyone that gets in my way. This is best taken literally, I get very upset when people walk too slowly and restrict my path. The aforementioned mission begins at the corner deli near my school. I walk in and great familiar faces in Arabic. “Keef Halak Habibi.” A conversation may ensue but usually I walk over and say verbatim every day, “Hey chief! Sausage egg and cheese with some ketchup.” “Coming right up boss!” I walk over to make some coffee. The ingredients never change: hella cream, two splendas, and hazelnut coffee. I’ll make exceptions when I’m told the coffee is different and I want to enjoy it black. The morning hours of school were rather routine; find the volume enclosed by a couple functions, e-field of a charged rod, just a lot of integrals. My friends all gathered in the same place to eat lunch and laugh. Honestly, the rest of the school day was mostly laughing and eating, at least for me. I was training to compete. I head to the gym for a grueling workout. For the sake of story, it was leg day. I pump out sixteen grueling sets of squats, another sixteen sets on the leg press, and a superset of leg extensions and hamstring curls. The day summed up was exhausting but rewarding, funny but serious, challenging but rewarding. The juxtaposition of so many different emotions in one day can take its toll. But, the lifestyle comes with its failsafe. The commute to the gym after school and the commute home is accompanied with music. I get to sit down and do nothing but relax, think and reflect in the hour I have to get home. All the hard work of the day can be appreciated. I get to breathe a sigh of relief and defuse any stress that may make tomorrow’s war harder. I throw my legs up on the lucky days the Q18 isn’t packed full and smile. I’m almost home.
Almost Home
It’s 6am in New York City. My eyes are crusted; begging to be shut. I face a war on two fronts. From above, my blanket attacks me with its warmth. It compels me to stay with an almost motherly disposition; the world outside is cold, unforgiving and unknown. From below, my pillow strikes hard with comfort and the softest touch. It utilizes the same effective tactics the enemy from above has. It’s a perpetual war that I seem to have always won, barring the few rare exceptions. Like all New Yorkers, I’m on a mission. Like all New Yorkers, I’m loud and belligerent at anyone that gets in my way. This is best taken literally, I get very upset when people walk too slowly and restrict my path. The aforementioned mission begins at the corner deli near my school. I walk in and great familiar faces in Arabic. “Keef Halak Habibi.” A conversation may ensue but usually I walk over and say verbatim every day, “Hey chief! Sausage egg and cheese with some ketchup.” “Coming right up boss!” I walk over to make some coffee. The ingredients never change: hella cream, two splendas, and hazelnut coffee. I’ll make exceptions when I’m told the coffee is different and I want to enjoy it black. The morning hours of school were rather routine; find the volume enclosed by a couple functions, e-field of a charged rod, just a lot of integrals. My friends all gathered in the same place to eat lunch and laugh. Honestly, the rest of the school day was mostly laughing and eating, at least for me. I was training to compete. I head to the gym for a grueling workout. For the sake of story, it was leg day. I pump out sixteen grueling sets of squats, another sixteen sets on the leg press, and a superset of leg extensions and hamstring curls. The day summed up was exhausting but rewarding, funny but serious, challenging but rewarding. The juxtaposition of so many different emotions in one day can take its toll. But, the lifestyle comes with its failsafe. The commute to the gym after school and the commute home is accompanied with music. I get to sit down and do nothing but relax, think and reflect in the hour I have to get home. All the hard work of the day can be appreciated. I get to breathe a sigh of relief and defuse any stress that may make tomorrow’s war harder. I throw my legs up on the lucky days the Q18 isn’t packed full and smile. I’m almost home.