Milk and Math Rock

“Is Ichika math rock,” says Kaia Stallings at 6pm on a Tuesday. It is unbelievable what I have to put up with in this office. What is Ichika??? What is math rock??? More importantly, what is my life???

Every decision I have ever made, the one where I decided to stay in state for college, the one where I decided to go to CU Denver out of a (perhaps misplaced) sense of superiority over the people who go to CU Boulder, the one where where I decided to join the newspaper because it would be a good thing to have on my resume, the one where I applied to be the news editor (for the same reason), have all led to this moment in which I am sitting at my desk, directly across from Kaia Stallings, on a Tuesday evening, having to now contemplate if something that is I don’t know what is something which I also don’t know what it is. That lack of clarity right there, perhaps throughout most of that last sentence but especially there at the end, should demonstrate to you the effect that this environment and the people in it are having on my cognition.

AND THEN, before I even have a chance to take a moment to decide on the answer to Kaia’s question, she just blurts out, “yeah… it is.” And so it was all for nothing.

To be fair, I suppose I contribute my own fair share of calamity to the Sentry office. Now is the part where I address the milk issue. First, I want to say that the fridge in the office was gross for a multitude of reasons not related to the fact that I may have left like just a little bit of half & half in there over the weekend. But yeah, I mean that milk thing was my bad. Despite how I present myself in this column, I’m not perfect. That’s my honest truth. I am simply a man. A man who likes to put a little bit of half & half in his coffee when he drinks coffee—which is often. I am a man who is cripplingly addicted to coffee. But I am also a man who is cripplingly addicted to being a cool guy who people like and don’t get mad at for making simple, honest mistakes.

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