the state of things
february 7. 2000
My sleeping patterns have been really fucked up lately. I'm getting to the point where I need a two or three hour nap every day, regardless of how much sleep I've had the night before, whether it be 5 hours or 9 hours. For example, last night I crashed at around 10:30 pm, and got up at 7 am. That's a good amount of sleep. But I was lying on my bed at around 6 pm tonight, reading IH and next thing I know, I wake up at 8:20. I sat up, remembering I had laundry downstairs, but I never made it off my bed. I did this routine of getting up thinking, I must go get my laundry. Finally, after about a half hour, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled downstairs.
I don't know what's wrong with me lately. Rebecca suggested this morning I go get checked out for mono, and I figure better safe than sorry. Other people have offered suggestions. Anna said I might be dehydrated, which is entirely possible considering the amount of soda I drink versus the amount of water I drink. Amy suggested it might be my diet, which is also possible considering that if it were up to me, my diet would consist of pepsi and salt and vinegar pringles. I used to eat healthy, I protest. I really need to get my shit together. *puts sour patch kids down*
I think one of my problems lately is that I don't have a lot of schoolwork. Yes, believe it or not. After getting my ass totally kicked academically last semester, and me coming away limping and bleeding, I find myself with free time on my hands. A lot of free time. I've been trying to figure out the logic of this. People have said to me that they're really hard on you your very first semester so they can weed out all the people who aren't able to make the cut. Which makes sense, but I keep sitting around waiting for the work to kick in. It's the fourth week of school, I'm starting to wonder if it will.
I'm really happy with all my classes, with one exception. Instead of Tricia the sadistic little Irish woman hellbent on t-squares and rapidiographs for 2d design, I have Rebecca, who seems mostly harmless and I like her quite a lot. After Tricia's class (which I did manage to ace in the end, nearly at the expense of my sanity), Rebecca's class is going to be a piece of cake, maybe even fun. 3d design is a marked improvement from last semester. Curtis-the-Vague with his amorphous assignments due whenever he felt like it got tiring, and even if Daniella, my professor now, is a little flaky and can't seem to show up on time, at least I know what the assignment is and when it's due. Drawing with Sarah last semester, with the rampant favoritism and sexism, had me disgusted by the end. However, drawing with Chuck continually amazes me with his ability as a teacher. I really want to take his figure drawing class next year. Art history is bearable, and I manage to stay awake by taking copious notes, even as my classmates around me are slowly dropping like flies.
But, oh, Intellectual Heritage is the thorn in my side. While last semester I merely hated the material we covered, I have now developed a healthy dislike for the teacher, Dr. Ivan Taub. It's hard to explain why he pisses me off so much. It's something ephemeral and infuriating, because whenever you're talking to him in class, trying to make a point about something or other, he's staring at you, chin in hand, a slight smile on his face, not hearing a thing you say. It's gotten to the point where the entire class doesn't take him seriously. I sit and glare at him and try to send him psychic messages of what an asshole I think he is. To make things even more amusing, there's this woman my mother's age who flirts with Taub every day to a ridiculous degree. It's funny and rather sad to watch.
I'm really getting to the point here that I wish I could do some of my own work. The entire freshman year is just learning visual skills, the basics of design, that sort of thing. While this is really valuable, and I do enjoy it, I'm itching to get into clay. I miss it so much, the whole process. I miss mixing clay in the mixers. I miss trimming the pots and feeling the smooth leatheryness of the clay. I miss sitting in the warm kiln room, watching the kilns like giant living creatures, clicking and glowing and heaving and breathing. Those feelings, those memories are home to me.
The snow we got two weeks ago have turned to a black disgusting mess lining the edges of the roads. Most of it will be melted soon. The days have been wonderful, though. Not too cold, the air so crisp and clear. Amy says there's hardly ever days like this in Scotland.
all writings, (c) 1999-2000, BRR