nap time

Is it scary that I just spent four hours and ten minutes on the English paper (which is actually less time than usual) and, other than the part before I made my outline, actually enjoyed doing it? Usually I go through this massive range of emotions and panic and everything as I'm writing papers, mainly because I always second-guess my ability to be an English major in college as I work. I usually like my paper topics, it's just that the process gets so muddled and frustrating that I feel miserable. But tonight's poetry explication was FUN. It's 2:30 in the morning and I have to get up in 4 hours and I don't care at all. I can take a nap tomorrow during study hall and after school before I go to work.


It was fun because it was like doing a puzzle. That's also the worst part, though...so many of the literary devices overlapped that my intro and conclusion are really general just because I wasn't sure how to list a million different techniques in the right order. There was no real order. I hope the fact that I actually found this enjoyable doesn't mean I'm going to get a bad grade. That would be just the sort of twisted irony an English student would appreciate if it didn't relate to a class grade. I mean, since I do want to major in English it will be an enormous plus if I get to the point where I actually love writing papers, but this is very surprising. I think it has to do with the fact that I used every shred of willpower in my body and managed to avoid using the Internet for fun stuff during the entire paper-writing process. That usually doesn't happen. I was proud.


Salsa wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I was really nervous on the way and it rubbed off on Kristen. We practiced in front of the bathroom mirrors at Morton before the lesson. We started laughing and for some reason I felt exactly like I was in junior high again, awkward and giggly and self-conscious and strangely happy. And I could turn better than I thought I could during the lesson itself, except for one terrible moment when I anticipated instead of letting the teacher lead me and turned the wrong way when he was supposed to grab my hips. I ended up spinning off alone toward the trash can.


I've really got to go to bed. This is the second night in a row I've been up past two. It's not even like getting a night's worth of sleep, now--I just feel like I go from one nap to the next, with a huge number of waking hours in between.


It's so good to be done.

I prefer tomorrow

I'm about half a second behind schedule. By that I mean I'm so tired everything takes that much longer to register. I forgot to tell Don about a spill at work, and when he discovered it I didn't have the presence of mind to act surprised--some bratty kid spilled his milkshake (I actually don't know if he was bratty, I just feel like being a little bit mean) and his grandmother told me, but we were really busy so I didn't have time to get the mop and clean it up right away. I felt so guilty watching Don clean it up. Then I spilled ice all over the bottom of the fridge and the floor. Don swept it all onto the floor. I foolishly started trying to pick it up with my hands, but I was in the middle of making a drink for somebody so he told me that he would take care of it. I went back to working on the smoothie, which I ended up partially spilling. Because I was waiting on other people, I had to leave the smoothie spill sitting on the counter. Because Don wasn't waiting on anybody, he ended up cleaning that mess, too. I felt like a helpless child. I obviously would have cleaned everything up had I had time, but the circumstances made everything slightly off schedule and weird.


I'm glad I don't have anything going on after school tomorrow. I'm going to do my homework in the afternoon and maybe buy new jeans (suddenly it seems that all but one of my pairs of jeans are ripped and worn out and stained with oil paint) and make popcorn and watch "The West Wing" DVD and the Fried Green Tomatoes special features. I'm going to get into bed at a reasonable hour (maybe even before midnight!) and read a book and write in my journal. It's going to be fantastic.


Oh! The most obnoxious people came into work. Three mothers, all nice enough, with this...passel of noisy, shrill little boys between the ages of 3 and 5. They sat separately from the children and didn't seem to care if the kids ran around screaming, crying, laughing hysterically, hitting each other, etc. Suddenly they tried to implement time-outs, but it was too late. It was so noisy--since I was feeling very sleepy, the sound seemed amplified. The other customers seemed somewhat annoyed. The kids were getting ice cream all over the place, too. We had to clean quite a lot when they finally left. The funny part was, this one tiny little boy was climbing all over a really tall chair and standing up. Besides the fact that it's rude to stand on furniture, it looked dangerous, so Don just walked over, picked up the boy without saying a word, and set him on the floor. That, of course, was the time when the mother started paying attention...they exchanged words. It was one of those forced-politeness conversations, with the mother saying "I really appreciate your concern" even though she obviously didn't. Well, if she'd been able to control her own children, she wouldn't have to deal with the somewhat awkward sight of the owner of an ice cream shop picking up her child. I was so relieved when they left. Don said, "Well, we don't have to worry about them coming back!" If he doesn't care, I don't care. One of the mothers, who had only two children--including a baby daughter--actually stayed and helped clean up. She actually apologized for the mess of the others and was a very nice person. It's good when people prove their decency from time to time.