Disclaimer: I did not edit any of this. I wrote it the way I would say it, which means (as you will soon see) that it is an insane, often nonsensical ramble. We’ll be back to normal posts soon. I hope.
I’m having a bad day. I’m having a bad semester. I’d say I’m having a bad life, but that’s ridiculously hyperbolic and only further reinforces how desperately I need a good dose of perspective. But right now, I need to feel bad about my awful day/week/semester/life.
Someone egged my car. Yeah. That happened. Someone THREW EGGS on Malibu Barbie. The eggs froze on and I can’t get them off. I can’t see out of any of my windows because they are COVERED IN EGGS. In my city, public transportation is free for full-time students. It’s a really wonderful service…it just means I have to get over my motion sickness and “I’m stuck in a crowd of sweaty strangers, help me!!” anxiety.
Also…it’s Finals Week at my school. I don’t have any exams. Instead, I have a billion enormous projects to prepare and present. I feel like “enormous” might be an exaggeration, but, let’s be honest: When you’re me, even the tiniest project becomes enormous because I have perfection issues. I’m working them…or, I’m working on working on them. I’m still trying to acknowledge that my raging need to be Perfect is extremely problematic.
I took the Women’s Studies Capstone this semester; it’s the last requirement for the degree program. The final was organized as a colloquium; we were required to give a thirty minute presentation on our semester-long projects. We all gathered in the Student Center, the class and… oh, yeah, it was open to the public and the entire Women’s Studies department was invited. None of us knew this was going to happen, the open to the public colloquium bit. We chose really sensitive topics to explore and suddenly had to share that with strangers for half an hour. Do you know what I don’t like doing? Talking about growing up in an abusive home. Do you know what I like even less? TALKING ABOUT THAT TO STRANGERS. It was a really wonderful start to finals week.
The most dramatic and soul-crushingly bad badness: I’ve been working really hard on coding a website for my Writing Online class. I was ready to upload it to the server today and, I’m just going to cut the preamble because it’s too horrifying and ridiculous for an introduction: I didn’t have my flash drive. Even though I put it in my nice zippered pouch where it would be extra safe…I.Didn’t.Have.It. Remember when I impulse adopted sweet bunny Hugo this summer? Yeah. He chewed holes in my backpack. FLASH DRIVE SIZED HOLES. Have you ever crawled around a city bus looking for a flash drive? I don’t recommend it. But that’s okay because you always always always save things in more than one place. I opened the folder on my laptop and IT WAS EMPTY. I have a folder clearly labeled Large Web Project and THERE WAS NOTHING IN IT. So I threw up. Then I cried. Then I took deep breaths, realizing that this might mean I fail a class for the first time in my life. So I cried some more. Then, I knew I had to be an adult and talk to my professor in person, and not send an explanatory email, and I knew it was going to be an awful talk where I had to take responsibility for being an idiot who can’t even figure out how to SAVE THINGS and NOT LOSE FLASH DRIVES. But during this talk I was not going to cry. Because I am an adult, and I need to be responsible about my failures. AND THEN I CRIED. Do you know what I hate doing? Crying. Do you know what I hate even more than that? CRYING IN FRONT OF A PROFESSOR. I don’t know if you know this, but I think professors are basically gods. And gods do not want to deal with the disgusting tears of mere mortals who are too stupid to NOT LOSE THEIR PROJECTS. It was horrifying. My professor is the best of all the gods because she didn’t even yell or tell me to get out of her sight or fail me. In fact, I get to make another project. And sure, I spent a month on the other one and have a week for this one, BUT IT’S GOING TO HAPPEN.
I’ve been working on it for a couple of hours, and I’m honestly impressed by how well it’s coming along. I should be working on it now, but I’m trying to distress before my next event of the day: the poetry reading I have to go do in an hour. Do you know what makes me uncomfortable? Sharing poems I write. Do you know what makes me even more uncomfortable? READING THEM TO A ROOM OF MY JUDGEMENTAL PEERS.
So. I’m having a tough day. Because I have this idea that if I’m not Perfect my life will fall apart and nobody will ever love me, when things start falling apart I tend to go crazy. My internal monologue becomes, “Why don’t you just quit, LOSER?!” If this had happened to anyone but me, I would step back and say, “Okay. We can work through this. Let’s figure out how to make it happen and make things good again!” But because it’s me and I have impossible-to-achieve standards for myself, my response becomes, “You’re a failure, you’re a worthless, miserable degenerate who can’t get anything right and CRIES IN FRONT OF PROFESSORS.” Ughhhh. I wish that hadn’t happened. That’s probably the most embarrassing part of the whole awful day.
Oh. I gave my niece a Christmas gift last year…she sent it back this year because she “just didn’t like it”. That made me feel just wonderful. Gift giving is my #1 talent. Apparently, I’m even failing at THAT now. Not that it matters because I can’t go home for Christmas to give anyone a gift in person anyway on account of, I can’t afford applications to graduate school AND airfare.
It’s just a bad time for me, presently.
1. Allie Clarke, my amazing roommate who has been more supportive and comforting than I could have ever asked anyone to be. She’s out of town tonight, but let me keep her brand new adoptee Otter. He keeps climbing into the chair with me, just to cuddle. I don’t know how he was ever in a shelter, but I’m glad he’s in my lap right now. Sometimes you just need a warm body to make you feel better. Otter is extremely smelly, rambunctious and a bit misbehaved. This makes me love him even more, because he is decidedly Not Perfect. Perfect is boring. I don’t know why I want to be so boringly perfect.
2. Katherine, the lovely, the inimitable…thank you for texting me every thirty seconds to tell me everything will be okay.
3. You, if you are somehow still reading this.
Uncultured is my favorite youtube/charity/project/anything, ever. There’s no way I can watch this video and still throw myself a pity party. God, I love Nerdfighters.