Taylor is sitting across the table from me with both of our blogs up, complaining about how plain his page looks compared to mine, and Lance has just looked over to see for himself and reassured Taylor: “It’s very… clean…”
He followed this up with the statement, “As for me and my household, we read the New York Times.”
I’m so worried about my homework. Working here is very distracting. I don’t know when Taylor does his homework, but when I do mine, he comes and distracts me from it!
Dear God,
Please just let me make it the two days, three papers, and one test until Spring Break.
Love, Becky.
*
It’s strange how simple your needs get at times like this. When you’re satisfied with just staying above water, it’s so easy to relinquish control and cut the crap. Life is purified to its most essential elements around your work: eating enough to stay focused, sleeping anytime you can, showering when you start to nod off but can’t afford to. Realizing it’s not necessary to plan out next week or spend the whole afternoon with your significant other or make it to every club meeting. The stress level never stays far from the surface, but in your mind it seems so distant, seen through a filmy veil, like water, like coming into and out of sleep.
*
Breathe in. Breathe out. Rinse. Repeat. Get up and do it all again.
What’s necessary will come through. The rest will happen, or not happen, depending on forces you’ve ceased trying to control. If it doesn’t end up done when the dust settles, it wasn’t necessary in the first place.
Both of my credit cards bills came due over exam week and I forgot to pay both of them.
As my late & great grandma would have said… “Dammit dammit dammit!!!”
The paper is done.
In eight hours, it’ll all be over.
I should be overjoyed, but really I’m just exhausted. I’m still in Lance’s room, where I’ve been for the past 10 hours writing this thing, and I think I’m just going to crash right where I’m sitting.
the system… is down… the system… is down…
I officially announce my hate of all scholarship regarding Southern religion in literature.
Well, except for you, Flannery.
“As belief in the divinity of Christ decreases, there seems to be a preoccupation with Christ-figures in our fiction. What is pushed to the back of the mind makes its way forward somehow. Ghosts can be very fierce and instructive. They cast strange shadows… ”
Upside: all government conspiracies previously entertained are no longer valid.
Downside: 7 more pages to go on this $%&# paper.
Well, I have cramps and I’m a bitch, so things are looking up for the “not pregnant” argument.
On the down side, I’m getting to that sleep-deprived point at which no amount of coffee can redeem a person.
Two more days… two more days…
Even though I know for several reasons that it is not remotely possible, the stresses of exam week and a late period are currently combining to make me quite sure, with the irrational certainty of the unstable, that I have become pregnant.
While my rational side is aware that generally, one has to actually have had sex for this to occur, the side that keeps my awake at night is totally convinced that somehow some little rogue sperm has managed to creep into my bed and impregnate me. Maybe the FBI is injecting me while I sleep or something; I don’t know.
I know it’s just like the times I had as a kid when I would fixate on some unlikely possibility – thinking I had to jump into bed because there was some creepy hobo under there waiting to grab me, my belief that stepping on cracks would cause harm to my family, being firmly convinced every time my mother left the house without me that she would die horribly on the side of the road without me to protect her – and I know that none of those ever came to pass.
I shouldn’t let my anxiety over exams get to me like this (heck, that’s probably why my period is late in the first place). Nonetheless, this crazy idea still has power over my waking thoughts to the point that I’m actually considering buying a pregnancy test when I pick up prescriptions at Walgreens this afternoon. I’m not sure what good I think this is going to do, though, as I’ll probably still believe when it comes out negative that there’s some kind of error in the test.
As a kid the only way I could lay to rest the certainty that my mom was in mortal peril was by watching her walk in the door, and I guess that’s just what I’m going to have to do here.
Anyone know of any methods to bring on a late period?
 | radiofreebecky on subversive confession: |
 | Taylor on subversive confession: |
| Taylor Jackson on women i love, part one |
| Taylor Jackson on my mother’s olympic… |
 | Brooke on my mother’s olympic… |
