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So...Yeah...
Jul. 22nd, 2007 11:11 pm...I think that this semester is going to be a fairly crappy one, lit and fig. Thursday and Friday have already become the days of fuck up once and make up twice--what I screw up in my first Film History class (like, say, not showing up with my notes, at which point I get to talk off the top of my damn head for an hour and see this one guy in row four smiling his creepy-stupid constant smile throughout; he kept talking under his breath, so I confronted him, which got me nothing but a mumbled: "You have REALLY good hearing..."), I can sort of make up in my second one. Yet it's not exactly fun, and it gets me so freakishly off-balance that it ruins the rest of my day(s).
By Saturday, meanwhile, I got to hear a LOT from Mom about how Steve (and I) still haven't managed to hook Cal up with any sort of therapy yet, even though it's been two whole weeks since we saw Dr Sgro. And Steve hasn't called about that, and I haven't called about this, and we haven't bought this or that, etc./etc./etc. Because I'm a shitty Mom and she loves my son so much better than I do, obviously--I mean, I'm endlessly selfish and Steve's a fantasy-addicted five-year-old in men's clothing, and I'd rather go along with him pulling Cal out in the middle of the night to pick up The Deathly Hallows than argue about it, because I'm fucked in the head. Right? And all this really boils down to is that I resent the "fact" that if any damn thing needs to be done, I'm the person who has to do it...but that's just true, so what the Hell, suck it up, bitch. SUCK IT. For the rest of your GODDAMN LIFE.
And today, strangely, I have diarrhea, all day. Black-tinged water hosing from my ass, every hour on the hour. Constant menstrual-sized cramps. No energy to do anything, though I still somehow managed to clean the bathroom, install a new shower-curtain, do the damn dishes and the five loads of laundry. My son running around in a diaper all day, ignored, yelling bits of commercial jingles at the top of his lungs. No energy to prep for tomorrow's full day of classes, including having to go over people's scripts with them. No energy to work out, the only thing which might have made me feel better. And a fire drill. And 250 more questions to do by Friday. All that.
No work of my own for two weeks now, and counting. Man, I'm loving my fucking life.
By Saturday, meanwhile, I got to hear a LOT from Mom about how Steve (and I) still haven't managed to hook Cal up with any sort of therapy yet, even though it's been two whole weeks since we saw Dr Sgro. And Steve hasn't called about that, and I haven't called about this, and we haven't bought this or that, etc./etc./etc. Because I'm a shitty Mom and she loves my son so much better than I do, obviously--I mean, I'm endlessly selfish and Steve's a fantasy-addicted five-year-old in men's clothing, and I'd rather go along with him pulling Cal out in the middle of the night to pick up The Deathly Hallows than argue about it, because I'm fucked in the head. Right? And all this really boils down to is that I resent the "fact" that if any damn thing needs to be done, I'm the person who has to do it...but that's just true, so what the Hell, suck it up, bitch. SUCK IT. For the rest of your GODDAMN LIFE.
And today, strangely, I have diarrhea, all day. Black-tinged water hosing from my ass, every hour on the hour. Constant menstrual-sized cramps. No energy to do anything, though I still somehow managed to clean the bathroom, install a new shower-curtain, do the damn dishes and the five loads of laundry. My son running around in a diaper all day, ignored, yelling bits of commercial jingles at the top of his lungs. No energy to prep for tomorrow's full day of classes, including having to go over people's scripts with them. No energy to work out, the only thing which might have made me feel better. And a fire drill. And 250 more questions to do by Friday. All that.
No work of my own for two weeks now, and counting. Man, I'm loving my fucking life.
