If I knew that when the sun rose this morning, it was carrying with it such a bitter reminder of my own fallibility, I might have buried my head under my covers and refused to get out of bed.
Perhaps I’m being a little over-dramatic right now, and I’m willing to accept that. Tomorrow, today probably won’t seem like such a disappointment. But for now it is and I deign it my responsibility to be honest and confront this unpleasant sense of disappointment in myself. Allow me to explain how this all went down.
Yesterday, I decided that I needed to take a little sleep, so I got all comfy on the love sack and shut my eyes. I’m not exactly sure when I went to sleep, or really when I woke up. I just know that at some point in the middle of my sleeping, I woke up abruptly and remembered that I had a paper due at 5 p.m. today. I am immensely grateful that God (and yes, it was God. I hadn’t thought of the paper at all, except for the 30 seconds of class last Wednesday when my prof mentioned it in passing) was loving enough to remind me that I had a paper due. Even if it was in the middle of a nap.
Being that I have decided not to do homework on Sundays, I didn’t do anything about it, and merely lamented the fact that I had failed to remember earlier, and also that I failed to study at all for the American Literary History test that I had to take today. And yes, it had to be today because my professor’s one of those lame people who only keeps tests open for one day, even if that one day doesn’t work for you AT ALL. So here I am with this massive conundrum: I have to study for a sizeable midterm, and write a paper, oh, and go to a group project meeting and do other homework all in one day.
Now, I realize that I could have managed my time better, and if I was a better student, I would have remembered these things and prepared for them and today wouldn’t have been a massive stress bomb on my life.
But I’m not, and I didn’t, and it was.
The paper took me WAY longer than it should have, and I turned it in frantically 1 minute before the deadline, knowing full well that it was more than 50 words too short, a.k.a. automatic 10% deduction. So that was disappointing.
It was also disappointing that I didn’t start studying for my test, which I needed to start taking by 8:00 until 5:00. Let’s look at the time breakdown here:
-Relatively Minor Paper: 11:00-5:00 (6 hours)
-Definitely Significant Test: 5:00-6:20, 7:00-8:00 (2 hours and 20 minutes)
Is this at all sensible, or indicative of which one should have been my top priority? No. Not at all. Very much the opposite, in fact.
So, after dinner group, I came back and studied more (and missed out on Heather’s pies
), and then charged up the hill, which meant my calves were on FIRE, and prepared for an abysmal failure. On the upside of things, the test didn’t turn out to be an abysmal failure. However, the overload of stress that today was can’t really be ignored by the tiny fact that one test wasn’t an abysmal failure. I am simply too entrenched in the general unhappiness of today for that to happen. (Tomorrow I will be fine, so don’t worry about me. I’m just expressing things as they are in the present moment.)
Right now, the only thing I’m finding consolation in is the song, “Who Says?” by John Mayer. Just ignore the stoned part.
Who says I can’t get stoned,
Turn off the lights and the telephone,
Me in my house alone?
Who says I can’t get stoned?
Who says I can’t be free
From all the things that I used to be,
Rewrite my history?
Who says I can’t be free?
Who says I can’t get stoned,
Call up a girl that I used to know,
Fake love for an hour or so?
Who says I can’t get stoned?
Who says I can’t take time,
Meet all the girls on the county line,
Wait on fate to send a sign?
Who says I can’t take time?
Who says I can’t get stoned,
Plan a trip to Japan alone?
Doesn’t matter if I even go.
Who says I can’t get stoned?It’s been a long night in New York City,
It’s been a long night in Baton Rouge.
I don’t remember you looking any better
But then again, I don’t remember you.
I almost did some crazy things tonight. Not crazy in the get-stoned-or-something-equally-rebellious kind of way, but just the doing-things-that-I-know-would-end-very-very-badly kind of way, because sometimes we want things that aren’t good for us. Like ice cream and J Dawgs and extensive exposure to sunlight.
Speaking of sunlight, today was a great reminder of a little pessimistic lesson that I’m rather fond of at present. I’m perfectly aware that it’s pessimistic, but you can kind of turn it on its head, and then it’s not pessimistic anymore. I just think it sounds and works better in the pessimistic sort of way.
So today I was walking back from class, miserably anticipating finishing my paper, I was walking through the sound circles area in front of the JFSB. The sun was shining, it was beautiful, and I can’t deny that. But we had one of those semi-rare moments when, despite the sunshine, it happened to be raining. I had no clue where that rain was coming from, but it was definitely falling on my face. And here’s where the pessimistic lesson comes in:
Just because the sun is shining
doesn’t mean it isn’t going to rain.
Isn’t that lovely? Sure, you can flip it and say that just because it’s raining doesn’t mean the sun isn’t shining. But let’s face it – usually when it’s raining, the sun ain’t gon’ shine. That’s just the way it is. Whereas the first one … well, it just works better and you and I both know why.
Blame it on all the Byron and Keats I’ve been reading today, but dangit, I reserve my right to be pessimistic sometimes. And right now I’m having a pessimistic moment, and I feel like shouting to the world that even if everything in your life is going just peachy, it doesn’t mean that you’re not going to end up with a wet face and shoes. That’s just the way life works. It’s not perfect always. Doesn’t mean you can’t be happy anyways, but it means that disappointments are going to come regardless. Sometimes, you’re just going to have to turn in papers that aren’t exactly what you hoped them to be, and you’re going to be practically hyperventilating and praying that all those six hours spent writing this tragically imperfect paper don’t come to a bitter finale by not letting you upload your paper. (Thank goodness that didn’t happen, even though for a little bit, I was totally scared that it was going to.) Sometimes you’re going to be sitting at a kitchen table trying to cram as much information about transcendentalism and realism and naturalism and romanticism and regionalism and whatever other crapism that you’re supposed to know into your head as you can, even though you haven’t done any of the reading since the last class, and your professor sometimes acts like he’s stoned on the sound of his own voice and his own stupid trivia and makes you want to punch a baby. Sometimes you’re just going to be so disappointed with the way you handled things, and the fact that you can’t do everything, and that you make really stupid mistakes sometimes.
Sometimes these things happen.
