Concentration Factor = Negative
This is ridiculous. Just finished my CompLit Oral exam, ridiculously nervous about the questions Roberto, Ulrich, and Sedley were going to ask me, I almost answered Ulrich in Spanish again after talking to Roberto. Again, ridiculous, was my immediate regression to Baskin Robbins to reward my *stellar* (read: sufficient) performance.
It is now 3:30, and I have a little more than an hour before I have to leave for Hot Soup. My goal was 4 more pages this afternoon, I’m at 1.5. Ridiculous. Keep reading emails, checking the Go boards, and finding more music to suit my confused mood. “Out of Habit” I return to the solid, stable, Ani. After all these years, I still love that woman. Even if she did “sell out” and marry her manager; don’t be so critical, people.
Sometimes I need to get over myself for wanting to be extraordinary, for people to bow down before my awe-imspiring Thea-ness.
Like the fear that you’re standing here
‘Cause you want to be liked.
Yes, you know you need your instrument,
But does your instrument need to be miked?
And you keep imagining that pretty soon
You will just disappear,
And figured out one thing is what saves you
from your fear of being here,
Here for now…
You’re here for now,
Here for now.
I bet you’re looking for the little red x
Next to the red arrow and the words “you are here”
…and I keep imagining that pretty soon I’ll just disappear,
But I’m here for now,
I’m here for now,
I’m just here for now.
I tried on the dresses in my closet last night to see if there was anything appropriate for Graduation, and no such luck. A few things didn’t fit the same as they did 5 years ago, 2 years ago, or whenever, but they fit. It brought back some strange memories: my sister’s graduation party in SoHo with all Viking appliances, a foreboding Screw sophomore year, and riding home on the subway after a VIP treatment at “Go!” I felt surreal wearing that stuff in my dimly lit hallway, felt the need for something new, something without the old connotations of memory for this year’s graduation. Something pretty that is waiting to be filled with new memories.
So instead of finishing my English paper, I listen to more old Ani, more new Chilean pop, and fantasize about dresses. Much more productive, yes? NO.