(ir)responsibility

With all the "St. Patrick's Day" references going on in people's journals, the Heavier Things Tour 2003 shirt I busted out today, and the absolutely icy coldness that met me when I stepped out of my door this morning, the line "here comes the cold" has been emblazoned on my brain. (And it's not even SPD season yet. All hail November.) But the torture has been that I couldn't, could not, remember the next line. I basically knew that it was "break out the winter clothes," but I couldn't get myself to say it. You know why? Because the tune of "here comes the cold" in my mental jukebox registers something resembling "I know a girl." "Daughters" (and might I add that as much of a die-hard John Mayer fan that I am, I didn't realize for a long time that it was released on the radio) and "St. Patrick's Day" have been all jumbled up inside my head. So all day, until now when I pulled out my trusty Room For Squares CD jacket and confirmed the lyrics, I've been singing this: "Here comes the cold. She puts the color inside of my world."

I need to make a confession. I am one completely irresponisble, ungrateful squanderer. Aside from yesterday's passive citizenship, I've screwed up again. Okay. Sunday at Sissy's, Mom gave me some cash. Like forty dollars worth of cash. Because I was not near my purse, I just stuck it in my pocket. I knew that I shouldn't have put it there, but I did. And with my usual style of procrastination, I told myself I'd put it where it belonged later. I didn't. Today, I remember digging in my pocket for something and feeling the money. (Yes, I'm wearing the same unwashed jeans.) And then later, it was gone. Yes, gone. It's not here. It's somewhere on campus or any someone's pocket or wherever. But I don't have it.

Just like with my non-registration, I know the consequences. I can't complain about the election. Whatever. That whole soap-box gets on my nerves anyway. And I know that the losing of this money means forty dollars less in my pocket. Again, whatever. I'll just have to be more careful with spending. The real problem is me. How ungrateful can I be that I just throw these privileges, these gifts around without concern? But I'm not too down on myself about it. Yes, they were immature things to do (well, not to do), but recognizing them and learning from them is a maturing process. For that, I am thankful. If I'd never lost the money, would I ever have realized this?

Um, in other news, I've gotten two tests back. Spanish: 94.5. Earth science: 93. Now, only if I can keep this up. I have a BarbCobb test Friday. And a great amount of other mid-termy type things to do. And I need to be catching up on my work for my night class. So I'll be doing that now.

hamartia

Procrastination has finally gotten the best of me. I have officially forfeited my right to vote in this year's presidential election.

I know. Don't scold me. My vote is my vote and not yours. And I didn't mean to not register. It all began long ago in the Henderson County Courthouse. Mom and I were there to pay some sort of tax or something. Well, that's what she was there for. I was there to register to vote. This was, I don't know, at least six months ago. But the hateful woman, I dare not call her lady, smirked at me and told me the books were closed for the day. In a fit of rage, I stomped out of the building mumbling something about not wanting to vote anyway. That was sarcasm, might I add.

It's not that woman's fault. I've been over 18 years of age for almost three years. She just picked a particularly rare politically active moment in my life to bite my head off. That wasn't the best move. But I could have registered since then, but in my disgust, I didn't. Not even while I was at the Awareness Fair, where I told Jenny I would register today. My reasons for not registering at that thing was that I didn't trust it. You think I'm going to give my social security number to those crazed hippies? Well, I guess I should have because I didn't remember today was the last day to register until about 4:35. Five minutes after the Calloway County Courthouse closed. But I rushed to the Curris Center anyway, hoping the registration table was still set up. Nope. I rushed to the courthouse, hoping that closing time was 5:00 instead of 4:30. Nope. As a last ditch effort, I sped like a maniac to the post office. For what reason, I am not sure. It's a government building, but no. Its doors had closed, too. On the verge of tears, I came home to see if I could register online. Well, first off, my printer is out of ink. And the mail-in form had to have been delivered by today. So much for that.

You may be a little confused. If you have read my post about this year's election, you might wonder why I even care. Well, the truth is that I may not have voted on November 2, but now, even my choice to do so is gone. By that time, I might have actually come to a conclusion about who I'd vote for. Maybe not. But now, it doesn't matter. Chances are that I would have scrambled to cast my ballot and missed it by this much, just like I did today.

sunday circus

Sundays. They are kind of strange days. There are certain days of the week that get their very own feeling. Mondays have a certain feel. Fridays have a certain feel. Saturday, now, it has a slightly confusing feel to it. Like it's not sure if it's Friday or Sunday. But Sunday, it has its own feeling. And I think it might be different for everyone, but regardless, there's something different about a Sunday.

I slept too late again. And then I just laid there in bed. Thinking. And hitting the snooze button on my phone even though I was awake. After taking my precious time getting showered and such, I did the whole weekend thing and went to Sissy's to see the family. That was a short visit. I didn't get to Calvert until 2:00, and I had to leave a little after 4:00 so I could be here to work by 5:00. While I am here, I need to work on my research paper that, no, I haven't worked on yet. I always find something much more meaningless and entertaining to do. And it's not that I mind doing the work. I just have such a difficult time getting started. And by the time I get home, it'll almost be 9:00, and I'll have to go to bed somewhat early because I have to be at work again at 8:00 tomorrow morning. Then where will the day have gone? I don't like days that pass before I know it. Because they turn into weeks, months, and years that have passed, and I'll never know where they went. That's such a scary thought to me. So Sundays give me an eerie feeling. And I wish they didn't.

I feel like I need to be somewhere different for a little while. Another state maybe? More like another state of mind. I feel like I have a million things I need to stop and think about, but they are just external to me. I need to go somewhere where I can reach out, grab those thoughts, and pull them inside so that I can deal with them. They are ideas, beliefs, concerns, whatever that belong inside me, and I'm not quite sure what it is that is inside me right now. Nothing, maybe. Futility. And I don't like it. Everything feels like a chaotic mess.

This is what I want to do. You know that part in Big Fish when Edward Bloom is at the circus and he sees the woman he will love forever and time basically stops? He's walking toward her, and there happens to be some popcorn hanging in the air and he pushes some of it away? I want time to stop like that and let me move some things around. I don't really want to change things, I just want to rearrange them. Or at least look at them long enough to understand what's going on around me. But just like in Big Fish, after time starts again, it speeds up to make up for that lost time, and by then, I would just be confused again.

Maybe that whole analogy made no sense whatsoever. Besides its impossibility, it really wouldn't work anyway. But it's just the feeling I get. Kinda like being in a circus. So many things going on at once. Maybe if I could just see that one thing that I will love forever, time will stop long enough to sort things out, and then it'll all be okay.

too much computer

I have successfully wasted most of my day. Well, I've actually spent waaay too much time on the massive undertaking that I will publishing here on October 22. Okay, maybe it's not a massive undertaking, but it will all in all take quite a bit of time to compile and compose. I happened to choose to make some of that time today. When I should have been working on the research paper that is due on Tuesday. I have not even decided what I'm going to research, much less begun to research. That's just the first of two 5-8 page papers that I need to write over the next eighteen days. Yay.

What also really needs to happen is this: house cleaning. Well, just doing the dishes would be a good idea. I have no clean glasses, spoons, or forks. And I should also take the trash out. Yeesh.

Here in a couple hours, I'll be going to Justin's band's show. It's sponsored by Students for Social Justice. After having seen The Weather Underground last night at Cinema International, I'm afraid the show might turn into an anti-war hippie rebellion ending in violent protest. The things I do for my friends.

Okay, so I think I'm going to do some of that house cleaning business. I've sat in front of this computer long enough today.

searching for my lost (or first) shaker of salt

Okay, people. I know how much you'd love to see me drunk, but the likelihood of that happening is pretty slim. You know I'm not the biggest proponent of drinking, and I know that my will power is so tiny that if I ever started drinking, I might never stop.

I'm incredibly sick to my stomach. But I'm pretty sure I know why. You see, last night at about 9:30, I got the biggest hankering for fudge pie. The recipe came from that crappy cookbook I bought this summer when I thought I was going to be Little Susie Homemaker. Well, this recipe, at least, was golden. The problem was, though, that I had managed for all of my vanilla extract to empty itself in the bottom of my cabinet. So, succumbing to this persistent craving, I went to WalMart to stock up. I came home and made the thing, but it's supposed to refrigerate over night. That meant fudge pie for breakfast. It was good about an hour ago, but now, all I can say is bleh.

Yay. October is here. I celebrated by donning my first hoodie. October is quite the month of celebration--and not just my birthday. Two very important anniversaries are this month. And it just so happens they are on the same day. October 22 is the one year anniversary of the B-Unit. It is also the anniversary (or would birthday be more appropriate?) of this here blog. Don't be confused. The name and address have changed since then, but it is the same blog. It just had an identity crisis. Ooh, and I just had a fun idea for how to celebrate the past year of blogdom for me. Okay, you might not think it's fun, but I do. Let's see if I decide to roll with that idea when October 22 rolls around. And as always, it's a celebratory event when another month gets added to my archives list. I really don't know why that excites me so much, but it sure does. But my question is this: Where did September go?

Whoa, some lady just walked through the lab, and she was wearing that same perfume that Ms. (Mrs.?) Blackburn wore. Kindergarten will always haunt me.

*deer in the headlight look* She's back. The crazy lady's back. After a week of freedom. After a week of assuming she wouldn't come back. She's back. But I'm going to be positive. Maybe she is miraculously reformed. And again, I see many alcoholic beverages looming in my future. Oh, the temptation. Oh, the temptation.