time
tuesday, november 20, 2001
my professor cried in class today. it was most unexpected and quite awkward. we're not sure what happened. he was clearly in a deflated state as class started. after knowing how moody he is, this was not unusual. i even passed a not so subtle note to marla, reading: "he seems depressed." .. marla nodded.
he gave us a story to read, by a friend of his. it was a personal story of a man reminiscing of a good friend who had died, and pondering his own death. this prompted our professor to tell us a story of going to dinner with his young daughter last night and how she accidentally locked his keys inside the car with the motor running.
it was an oddly emotional story, for him, at least, and at the end of it he said: "last night was the first time in years that i prayed. and i said.." and he broke down crying. i asked him if he needed a minute to himself, but he shook his head and recomposed himself and continued with class.
the concept that broke him, it seems, was the realization of how important it is to prioritize and spend time with what really means something to you. to him, it was the choice between spending an hour or more pissed off and yelling at his daughter while they waited outside a restaurant and hour for a locksmith to show up, or simply calling the locksmith and taking his daughter inside for dinner as planned. he chose the second one. good for him.
and right there, i made my own choice. i'm taking 6 classes. two of those are with him. one of them, the one i was ludicrously accused of cheating on a test in, i'm not doing so well in. in fact, i have a test today that i know i will do badly on, and another paper due next week in a topic i feel beyond shaky on. so. i quit. yeah. i up and quit.
i informed him that i will not be attending the test today, that i've made an assessment of my stress and health and whatnot, and this is the best thing for me. sure, i'm getting an F. yes, i will have to take the class over, with the same teacher, next semester. yes, that will suck. but i will be ahead. and i am not drowning. so there you go.
and i've got that song lingering in my head... "ti-ii-iiime is on my side.. yes it is.."
i guess it is for now. :). cin cin. �� 12:36 p.m.
...
so. i had a hard time going to sleep last night. all these memories kept popping up. old ones to boot. i'm not sure what brought that up. they were so scattered. after a few hours i gave up my futile attempts to sleep and found a pen and paper to jot the memories down onto.
memories of policemen breaking up our household arguments. grandma buying me a hideous white polyester dress at a flea market for $1.50 when i was 6 years old because i insisted it looked like a princess dress. she made me a crown out of an empty toilet paper roll and some gold tinfoil that protected the ground coffee brand she used.
the one time my dad slapped me. our cat missan, who died two years ago, and the way she would get outrageously pissed off and attack us out of the blue. the time i played "house" with three friends, we were 7 or 8 years old, and we made fake breakfast porridge out of terese's dad's huge bag of cement and then simply left it to dry. (i never figured out what happened to the huge cement block that we left behind. he never mentioned it.)
falling asleep at the library and getting a ride home from a librarian. trying to hitch hike for the first time and the embarrassement when a friend of the family caught it and picked me up and gave me The Big Lecture on Crazy Predators in cars.
the way enormous icicles would form down the side of a mountain hill on me and helena's way to first grade, and how we would break them off, these enormous ice swords half our length and suck on the tip before we were duly lectured on why that's not a good idea. picking huge bunches of tiny blue flowers that exploded across that same hill come spring and bringing home every day until our mother's explained they were running out of vases.
the horror of getting caught shoplifting, and how my mother didn't get mad but tried to make me feel better by telling me she once was mistakenly accused of shoplifting and that we'd just not tell anybody about it. my brother finding the slip from the police station and informing my dad who told me "if you ever want a chocolate bar and have no money, let me know and i will give you the money, okay?!?".. heh.
but finally, by the time the ink was about to run out of my dinky pen, and my eyelids were stinging just a bit, i felt done. so.i'm going to angela's tonight. i will dog and house sit for them from tomorrow till sunday afternoon. while i'll have net access, i might have difficulty with the e-mail thing. so. have a good holiday. cin cin. �� 4:48 p.m.
