We spent most of the Christmas break working on Lou’s MBA grad school applications. I helped by editing and typing the essays; my mom also proofread. Since his grades are poor, the applications focus on his ability to persevere, overcome adversity, be creative, entrepreneurial, and just do whatever it takes to achieve goals in life. He certainly does have a lot of examples to demonstrate success in those areas and has management experience as the steward for the fraternity house kitchen. Louie took on that role because it pays toward room and board, plus it is a thankless job nobody else really wanted to do. The steward manages the cook, organizes the cleaning jobs, approves the menu, and maintains food and supplies inventory within a budget.

Cookie is an older woman who had been the fraternity house cook for probably decades. As steward, Lou was her boss, but she didn’t appreciate his suggestions for improvement. He thought that some things she did were gross and some of the food she prepared was disgusting and wanted her to change. Instead, she decided it was time to immediately retire. So, I did the frat house cooking in the interim until he could find a replacement. He ran an ad in the paper, and hired the new cook entirely based on her looks and flirtatious manners; she is absolutely gorgeous and works it. She cooks fine, but I almost throw up when the brothers give her a round of applause after every meal. Most afternoons, she lounges on the couch watching General Hospital with the guys in the living room instead of prepping for dinner. Do I sound jealous? Maybe. Irritated? Definitely. Do I say anything? Nope.

For me, school is great, and work is a blast. Bruce and I usually take the 7am-3pm shift together on the weekends. The managers tried splitting us up because we have too much fun, but that didn’t pan out because the other people they tried to schedule with either of us kept calling in sick and bitching about getting up early on the weekend. I leave home very early and ride my bike to the hotel, go for a swim, and take my shower there. My favorite part of the day is in the early morning before we punch in when Bruce and I hang out and talk in the stairwell up at the roof level. We have become best friends. I spend almost as much time with him as I do with Lou. Maybe more.

Bruce jokes around constantly, and we laugh all day, but I think sometimes the humor is a cover for what is actually a difficult life. As close as I feel to him, we are different in so many ways. He outright ridicules the music I enjoy, and I cringe listening to most of the heavy stuff he likes. The only musical common ground we have is The Beatles. When John Lennon was killed last month, I was saddened, but Bruce went into mourning. He can be very intense at times, but there’s something I admire about a person who feels so deeply. I wish I had his passion… about John Lennon, about music, about his art, about his ex-girlfriend, about life. Nothing is mundane or neutral in his world. I like a lot of things, and dislike a few, but pretty much dwell in the middle; I wonder if anything could ever bring me to the depths of emotion he experiences. Either good or bad.