Been One of Them Days
The kind when you open your eyes to the morning sun and think to yourself, "Maybe I should just stay in bed." Instead of re-setting my alarm clock to 10 from 9, I should have just turned it off. I could have called in sick to work. I should have.
But I need that $12 an hour. Every bit counts as I careen toward graduation with no job prospects, save for my current one as admin. mook, in sight. One of those days when the thoughts in your head get muddled up into one big one that you apply to your entire existence and realize that there is no hope for change. Yeah, it's been one a them days. So, as re-planned, I awoke at 10. As if I were standing on top of a hill, it all went down from there, beginning with the fact that I got into the bathroom and brought all the wrong clothes in with me and failing to bring the essentials.
No, this isn't a big deal. After turning on the water, I started a pot of coffee, but not before the stupid swingy door thing fell off spilling grounds everywhere. After an uneventful shower in which I managed not to do damage to myself, I grabbed a cup of coffee and proceeded to spill some of it in my room. I didn't get it all over my shirt, though. The train showed up right after I got downstairs, which is rare. I made it safely to work and took my seat in front of my computer.
Not wanting at all to be there, I started surfing the Web, checking for any articles about the Spurs' victory over the Lakers and anything else I could find. Shortly after that, I was asked to go run an errand, which was great. I had to deliver evaluations to various departments in Parsons. This damn division has 300,000 different departments in it and my ass was traipsing up and down stairs. I couldn't very well take the elevator from the third to fifth floor; fifth to seventh; seventh to ninth; etc. When I finally reached my last destination, I had begun to prespire. And this was when I had to ask someone where the Interior Design dept. was. She was cute and I was sweating.That's not fucking attractive. I was starving by this time and I decided that a chicken burrito from Garden of Eden, a rather overwhelming healthyish grocery store around the corner from school. These chicken burritos are wonderful, mouth-watering treats that, when I decide to buy one, I look forward to with great anticipation. They didn't have any. It's 2:30 by now and I hadn't eaten anything. So I settled on pizza with no cheese (makes me sick). Still, none of this sounds too bad. I realize this. But it's all undergirded by my angsty mood. I was taking on the New York gusts of wind with frustration, but with one of those smiles on my face throughout that shows I'm taking it all in stride. Or, and what was actually the case, that this is just one of those days I had to get through. I had plans tonight and they were cancelled. Postponed till tomorrow. Whatever. Funny. Smiling. No biggy. I made it home finally around 10 and watched Average Joe guy pick the other girl. Yes, I watch Average Joe.
In writing news, I spent a good few hours yesterday going over the feedback from my class last week while watching the Spurs end the Lakers' 11-game win streak. No one writes about the Spurs but whatever. Anyway, I really re-worked it and integrated my personal stuff, lending more analysis to the film, rather than all the description, which is what I think I had too much of. I sent it to my advisors but haven't heard back, which makes me nervous. I can just see it now: "Uh, Catherine, this shit sucks. You're gonna need to start over."
I'd surely slit something at that point. I am at a bit of a standstill, though, because I now have to work on a transition from the end of chapter one to chapter two. And I have to completely re-work chapter two, because pretty much no one liked it. I haven't gone back to that in over a month and I already know what changes to make and what I'm going to add. I can actually feel the momentum of my argument pick up, because this second chapter I feel is really significant to the whole story. My story, Hedwig's story. Construction and all that. I already wrote the anecdote that will be in it, but I will go back through that now, because I wrote it before my last class. And it seems like they want more of it. We'll see. My plan is to have chapter two finished this week and then it's onto chapter three next week. Then, well, it's the intro, conclusion, theoretical foundation (post-structuralist crap) and then the end. Which I can't see. So it will be interesting to see if I make it to graduation. I can't imagine having this thing over. Why I went into such detail about such mundanity (not a word; should be) is beyond me. It's late. I'm tired. But for some reason, I just want to live as much of this dumbass day as I can. Maybe something else will happen. Maybe I'll lose my ability to form sentences with words. It would certainly keep me out of trouble, keep that image of the mysterious player that seems to get me so much attention. There are not too many posts that I regret. I have never deleted one. I've edited very few. I have a feeling this will be one I'll regret. Too much whining. Too much "poor baby" shit. But whatever. It's in me in this 2 a.m. hour. And what's it for if not to be real?
