I slept a dreamful sleep, and when I woke up, I felt just too bad: some lingering vestige of a cold had not yet gone away; my body felt all but numb from weariness; and my mood was expectedly bad. Flipping open the lid of my cellphone, I saw it was already 9 o’clock. “Gosh! I overslept again!” I heaved a deep sigh of regret and tossed about in bed uneasily, trying to shake off my depression. Then lying there stiffly like someone who is dying and needs special care, I turned over all the stuff that happened to cross my mind and kept asking questions that kept baffling me. Finally with another deep sigh, I mustered all my willpower and got up.

After doing all the formalities and necessities that a man is supposed to do after getting up, I sat down before the computer screen and mechanically pressed the button to boot it. It was only the night before that I had thought of getting up early the next day to rejoin my companions in going to the study hall, but sadly I had just let myself down again…Before I could think any further , I had eagerly logged on with my QQ to check my personal info centre, clicking here and there to see who had written what, who had changed his or her QQ autograph, who had added new touches to his or her QQ mood, and just as importantly, who had come to my zone. I felt an addictive fascination, an inexpressible rapture about something I always consider consuming, when I was doing all this and when I later made my rounds of those zones that promised some interest and fun. All this done, I was not done, yet: seeing that few people were online, I kept scrolling up and down the list of all my friends in an aimless and listless manner that defied sensible logics. The silence and solitude irked me, and the boredom saddened me in so poignant a way that I just felt I gotta do something, something that kept me from thinking or I would fall into the negative spiral of pessimism again. Eventually I settled down and contented myself with watching Late Show with David Letterman for the rest of the morning. It’s always so much fun watching it.

At noon, I had to make shift with dining alone. Well, I like that ,although I would prefer the company of some people, and I guess no one on this campus can be more accustomed to dining alone than me, such a confirmed loner. So with the joy that I had derived from watching the late show, I tried to lift up my spirits, reliving the jokes that Dave had made, chuckling as I prepared to go out. However, there were always sobering downers. I looked in the mirror, and it came to mind that I hadn’t washed my hair the night before, my face hadn’t been shaved for days and I looked just as weary and melancholy as I felt inward. I sighed again, like a desperate prisoner, putting on my slacks and slippers instead of shoes and sox, and went out without combing my hair or changing my T-shirt, knowing that I had no one to please and no one to care that much about.  Not wanting to hear unpleasant discourse, and certainly not wanting to waste time, I took my MP3 with me and started listening to English. My MP3, unlike others’, contains no songs and no music whatsoever, but English speeches and news broadcasts. So as I made my way to the canteen, I heard Obama’s voice ringing in my ears as if he were right there speaking to me:

“Thank you so much. Good afternoon. I am honored to be in the timeless city of 　　　　Cairo and to be hosted by two remarkable institutions. For over a thousand years…”

I stood in line to buy my meal ticket, looking impatiently and indifferently at those before me. I felt hollow inside and didn’t know why I was doing what I was doing. My body felt like it was not dictated to by my will, but by some invisible hand that runs my body through the daily routines of my boring life, devoid of pure joy but rife with troubling sorrows, with which I have to constantly contend. I uttered another sigh of disappointment, the mere sight of strangers, especially men, filling me with contempt and disgust… Later on, sitting down to take my lunch, I had to make sure that there was nobody around who could recognize me for fear that my sloppy, down-hearted appearance today should shock him. As I munched on my lunch, I kept my attention focused on what I was listening to:

“So let there be no doubt: Islam is a part of America, and I believe that America holds within her the truth that regardless of race, religion or station in life, all of us share common aspirations: to live in peace and security…”

I sat there quietly, almost lost to the surrounding world, like a ghost, a statue that despairs of everything, pays no attention, asks none and cares not a bit.

Back in my dorm room, I found my roommates still deep in sleep, and couldn’t help but wonder how some people could do with only one meal a day while most of the others need three. I sat down, and thinking of my graduation trip, couldn’t inhibit another sigh of disappointment. “Let it go hang,” I thought to myself, “It’s so poorly planned that you just can’t understand the way some people think. It turns me off! I have to reconsider my options.”  While I was so distracted, the great speech went on,

“This history is well known. Rather than remain trapped in the past, I’ve made it clear to 　　　　Iran’s leaders and people that my country is prepared to move forward…”