I have an excuse.
James Joyce ate my brain.
This class has been pretty extraordinary. Not because of the excellent teachings, although Bingram was at best quite interesting and informative, but because of how eye opening it was for me. I had taken so much for granted. So often, in my leisure, I've sat for so many hours in front of my computer with a finger forever upon the backspace button and my thumb standing guard by the spacebar. Editing... Thought. Backspace. Cut. paste. Insert thought. Delete. Thought. Thought. Delete. Thought. I love computerness...but - Ohmygod.
I walked out of my final today, the last student out of the room with my hair all crazy, covered from head to toe in the remains of my pencil eraser, actually three pencil erasers...the side of my hand was silver from the lead of my pencil. I'm left handed so I drag my hand across the page when I write. Two hours to write a paper. Two hours to take a simple opinion about a story and turn it in to something wonderful. Let me tell you, folks, that by the end of the paper, my head was lolling in my hand, the other hand was taking turns tearing paper, writing on it and twisting my nervous finger through the front of my hair until I looked like a pale, dirty blonde version of Davey Havok on the Black Sails?Helloween tour, you know, in which he was trying so desperately to be Glen Danzig?
I actually didn't see myself in the mirror, because I was sitting in class writing for my final, but in my head, that's exactly what I looked like, only prettier, in my beautiful new puff-sleeved Bannana Republic winter jacket and instead of combat boots I had one New Balance Tennis shoe (grey and powder blue) and the large metal and foam black boot that I wear because I decided a few weeks ago that it would be a good idea to trip over a roll of tape while walking down the sidewalk in Knowville, Tennessee.
Yes. I am not at Rebecca's party tonight. I am in bed with the covers up to my waist while I listen to Fred Astaire. I am totally exhausted. This has been a crazy few weeks. But my absence from the crazy Sweet 16 + 20 party does not mean I love Bec any less or am any less devoted to helping her conquer the world. 1. I cannot drive and Jim is at home grading papers. 2. James Joyce ate my brain -- after he came to visit me in the ER today.
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