It's four am, and I need to be getting onto a regular sleeping schedule, so it makes sense that I should decide to post an entry here before going to bed.
There are a few things I want to say. The first is that I've realized something kind of freaky about myself. Freaky in the sense that, although I'm aware of it, I seem to be unable to stop it. I'm obsessive and I transfer my obsession. I find something I really want that I can't have, and then I make myself forget about it by falling in love with inanimate objects, or more accurately, concepts. Bands. TV shows. Books. Movies. I'll watch or read something over and over again and I'll start to feel, I don't know, this "Don't ever change" feeling, which it can't do because more likely than not it's an inanimate object.
At the moment, if you asked the people in the audience watching the movie of my life, they'd tell you I wasn't really at my peak period. I just got myself out of something, or I'm trying to, and I'm trying to break contacts with something I love but know is bad for me. Not to mention smoking, the B-storyline beautifully paralleling the A-storyline in this case ;) I shouldn't be falling apart, but I shouldn't be hysterically happy, either. And these concocted, substitute obsessions make me too happy. Nervous happy. Fake happy. I'm not about to blow up a building anytime soon, or do anything maniacal at all, really, apart from maybe talk to myself a bit more than other people, but still it's worrisome to me.
The second thing I want to say is a little less worrisome. There's this guy Kevin in my class, some of you know him as the Seamus guy because, well, he kind of looks and sounds like Seamus. If you don't know who Seamus is, well, you missed out on an important era in Canadian television, let me tell you ;)
But I digress. At our very last poetry class, a few of us were discussing this incredibly easy exam some of my friends had taken in another class, where they were required to memorize 20 lines of poetry (any poetry) and simply write it down during the examination. Dude, I could ace that exam right now.
Dude, I wonder if I could ace it with The Oatmeal Song.
Dude, this is what I'm talking about. :)
Anyway, we were talking about this when Kevin said he had to memorize a two page poem in high school when he went to school in French. I'd had no idea he'd gone to school in French, even though he's been in my class for two years and we've been fairly friendly (if decidedly uncurious) the whole time. I figured he meant French immersion, or at most a French school in Ontario. Imagine my shock when the guy turns to me and starts speaking perfect Parisian French. Turns out, Monsieur Kevin is half French and grew up in Paris, and I've been in his class for two years and had no freakin' clue. So of course, he being from France and I being from Québec, we started insulting each other almost right away. But I just couldn't believe it. Still can't.
I can't wait to get back to class though. Although, seeing as how I've been officially off school for a whole day now, have been home for two days and still can't relax to the point where I'm not freaking out about things I'm sure I've forgotten that I need to do, maybe I'll take a bit of vacation time.
*yawn* Sleep time.
Posted by hKath at 4:24 AM ()
Sunday, December 1
Today I do nothing. I do nothing. I was planning on doing nothing in my pajamas, but my hair was way too good, so I had to put on pretty clothes. So now I'm doing nothing in style. I'm done with school, except for one exam which is on Friday at 8:30 am. Yesyes, after the concert, while Donna and hopefully Angie are still here. The only consolation is that the bastard prof will have to get up early too. Actually, that's not fair. He doesn't decide when the exam is. But he does smirk at us and belittle our concerns that it's too fucking early. I will have to leave here a full hour before the sun comes up.
But for now, I'm doing absolutely nothing. In fact, I'm moving as little as possible. No move. Nothing.
We have these new people at work, and one of them is fine, but the other two are fucked beyond repair and unfortunately since they're just transfers from another store they'll be very hard to fire. One of them is a 17-year-old boy whose brain seems to be decaying visibly. The other is a middle-aged lady who confessed that she was or is a crack addict, and who doesn't seem to bathe. I'm frightened.
Posted by hKath at 2:06 PM ()