I'm frazzled. I don't know the time. It never passes here in the kitchen. The crappy little Walmart clock I bought for six dollars is stuck at five til one. The second hand is eternally twitching between forty-four seconds and forty-five seconds. Always ticking, never tocking.
I'm busy. I've set up a to-do list, and I'm not stopping until it's finished. I'll admit, I got far too carried away with the paragraph I was supposed to write for English. Somehow it became five pages of how I never had any faith in Southern Baptist preachers. It's supposed to be one paragraph about which story I like best so far from the class. Not a novel-length memoir. I need to calm my ass down.
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
Sometimes I'll get so caught up in my work that I forget about the glitch on the clock. I'll look up, and depending on the light through the window, I'll either think, Holy crap! It's one o'clock. I'd better eat some lunch! or Holy crap ! It's one o'clock. I'd better hit the sack!
I need to outline Chapter Two in my Biology book. We've already moved through Chapters Three and Four, but Chapter Two is the one the really kicked my butt. (Organic Chemistry...not my strong point.) I need more intense review. I only have an 89 in that class.
Not ninety.
Eighty.
Nine.
History is pretty easy. Read the chapter, take notes in the lecture, pass the test. The teacher is great. He loves what he does. He knows we might not love it that much, but he still holds our attention. I had him last semester. I liked him so much, I scheduled all my other classes around his class this semester. He's a keeper.
Art Appreciation is all online. I wanted to take Drawing, but I couldn't fit it into my History-centric schedule, so an online class was an easy solution. I'm way ahead in that class, mostly because it's all writing. I don't know if you know this, but I can write a thing or two.
Earlier, around one o'clock, my phone rang. I was thankful for the break. I needed to rest my head from thinking so hard. Of course, it was Kim from Lab needing the data we collected Monday night, and could I help her with the answers to some of the questions because she's struggling in that class? (She must not know about my eighty-nine.)
Phys Ed?
Show up with a heartbeat.
Get an A.
Awesome.
I should get off the computer. I've been working since one o'clock, and here it is almost one o'clock again. That seems excessive, even for me. It's Friday night, and I should get a shower and go find a movie date. Or maybe I should just go to bed. The day seems stuck at eighty-nine points.
Always ticking.
Never tocking.
I'm busy. I've set up a to-do list, and I'm not stopping until it's finished. I'll admit, I got far too carried away with the paragraph I was supposed to write for English. Somehow it became five pages of how I never had any faith in Southern Baptist preachers. It's supposed to be one paragraph about which story I like best so far from the class. Not a novel-length memoir. I need to calm my ass down.
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
Sometimes I'll get so caught up in my work that I forget about the glitch on the clock. I'll look up, and depending on the light through the window, I'll either think, Holy crap! It's one o'clock. I'd better eat some lunch! or Holy crap ! It's one o'clock. I'd better hit the sack!
I need to outline Chapter Two in my Biology book. We've already moved through Chapters Three and Four, but Chapter Two is the one the really kicked my butt. (Organic Chemistry...not my strong point.) I need more intense review. I only have an 89 in that class.
Not ninety.
Eighty.
Nine.
History is pretty easy. Read the chapter, take notes in the lecture, pass the test. The teacher is great. He loves what he does. He knows we might not love it that much, but he still holds our attention. I had him last semester. I liked him so much, I scheduled all my other classes around his class this semester. He's a keeper.
Art Appreciation is all online. I wanted to take Drawing, but I couldn't fit it into my History-centric schedule, so an online class was an easy solution. I'm way ahead in that class, mostly because it's all writing. I don't know if you know this, but I can write a thing or two.
Earlier, around one o'clock, my phone rang. I was thankful for the break. I needed to rest my head from thinking so hard. Of course, it was Kim from Lab needing the data we collected Monday night, and could I help her with the answers to some of the questions because she's struggling in that class? (She must not know about my eighty-nine.)
Phys Ed?
Show up with a heartbeat.
Get an A.
Awesome.
I should get off the computer. I've been working since one o'clock, and here it is almost one o'clock again. That seems excessive, even for me. It's Friday night, and I should get a shower and go find a movie date. Or maybe I should just go to bed. The day seems stuck at eighty-nine points.
Always ticking.
Never tocking.
And somewhere, there's a German saying;
ReplyDelete"Ve have vays to make you tock..."
Given how I was in school, eighty-nines were a happy thing. At least that clock's right twice a day, even if time is an abstract.
I'd read your paragraph[s] about Southern Baptists, but perhaps that's just the theology student/heretic in me ;)...
Everybody keeps telling me I should be cheering about the eighty-nine, but in my world, it might as well be an F.
DeleteThe Baptist rant is best left in the recycle bin, lest my grandmother should click over to my blog. She can be a scary woman.
Ha. When I was in school, I would start writing, then get excited about something tangential, and then end up with a great piece of writing completely off topic. Some profs get so bored grading 40 identical papers that they appreciate something like that.
ReplyDeleteAs someone who has ONLY owned cheap clocks... Cheap clocks with second hands tend to bust. If you're going to get a WalMart clock, get one without a second hand. 1
I wish I had a teacher like that, but she already warned us to save the extra shit for the bazillion freelance contests they have at the college.
DeleteI hope you went to the movies. Today is a new day; maybe you'll find a new cheap clock.
ReplyDeleteI went to bed. I remembered that Friday night at the movies is Giggly Teenage Girl night. (the HORROR!)
DeleteHahaha, love the eternal one-o'clock. I'll have to try and order a clock from Walmart :)
ReplyDeleteIt's best to order it online. When you step inside Walmart, you run the risk of being sucked into a chaotic vortex that will spit you out somewhere near the seventh level of Hell.
DeleteYour latest post has a feel of Orwell's 1984 about it. For some reason the clock sounds as it's watching, almost taunting you? Have to say; I don't think I could handle a clock stuck at the same time! Very pleased to see a blog post from you. X
ReplyDeleteI've read the most minimal amount of Orwell. In high school, the regular classes read Animal Farm, and we (the honors classes) read Steinbeck and Hemingway and Hawthorne and Sinclair and....well, many others. We were big readers.
Delete