The Diary of Queen Mothy |
A Sorry State of Affairs for Sam written @ 8:33 PM on January 21, 2003 Quote of the Day: "So the pharaohs married their sisters to keep the bloodlines pure. But they also had other wives and concubines, which, I suppose, you call mistresses in this day and age. You know, my ex-wives never understood that." Professor Demarcus, the Professor Snape of the History of Europe to 1715, spoken like one who was truly mystified on January 21, 2003. I think I'm going to begin transcripting my history class and publishing them in my memoirs. The other day in 3-D Design we made plaster cubes, seven inches by seven inches, weighing approximately 15 pounds. The whole purpose to creating the plaster cube was to carve a perfect sphere using the Home Depot equivalent of an ice pick and a cheese graeter. What the purpose to making the damned sphere is I'm still trying to figure out. Feel free to e-mail me with any epiphanies. So Saturday I begin to carve this mo-fo, and between Saturday, Sunday, and Monday I worked vigorously, as I have 19 credit hours of college work and no time to fool around anymore. Plus I worked my last weekend at Bali Accents from 9 to 4 each day. Needless to say, however, I overexerted myself with the carving aspect of the project and now my wrist is wrapped up in a linen first-aid bandage, given to me by my neighbor in the dorm who has carpel tunnel. It's a bitch to type right now. I hope this injury in not permanent. It was rather painful to write or hold a paintbrush today in the theater... In fact, I probably should not have worked today. But it was work that had to be done. I always knew my art would kill me. My wrist included, I do fear my health is deteriorating. I don't tell my mom this though. I have a small breakfast in the morning, and I eat decently at dinner, but between nine and five I do not have anything to eat. Or drink, now that I think about it. And I have no food in my dorm to munch on while doing homework. I've become a little pale, and I do feel tired down to the very marrow of my bones. People have been commenting more than usual as to how thin I am. But I have no time anymore. I'm carrying 19 hours of work. After going to class from nine to 1 (or 3, depending on what day), I work in the theater for the rest of the afternoon until dinner. I have no break in between, except for dinner, and then I do homework until ten o'clock. And I have trouble finishing that. This night I have finished, however, which is how I've been able to get online. Actually, I kind of slacked on my work. Still no internet connection in the dorm however. I think they are going to give me that stage management position after all. I'm still finding this a little hard to fathom. A college freshman running a show for the Year-End Series? I wasn't expecting this. I do want the job, I'm just not sure I can physically handle it now. I'm waiting to see how the next two weeks in the semester go. Maybe my work load will even out. Yeah, right. In spite of the hell I feel, I am not complaining. Oh no. I lost rights to complain eons ago. No, this is my own mess, and I'll get through this semester well enough. I may have bitten off more than I can chew, but when you're a double major, there are some sacrifices to be made, and, well, biting off more than I can chew is a concept that is not exactly foreign to me. I probably should decline the stage management position, but if I do it and do it well, it'll guarantee me work and a name in the department. I tell you, though, if I can survive the semester AND not contract mono, there is a God indeed. Between all my work and my wrist being as sore and stiff as hell, the week so far has been a little rough. I did bring this trouble on myself, though. You see, I'm going to New York and Philly in three weeks and I'm trying to get ahead in my college work so I don't lose face before my professors and get behind in my classes. I guess this is a matter where you just have to do what you have to do. I would love more than anything right now an hour or two with my art. Or an hour or two with my novels. I should study a little more-- there's no room for slacking-- but I'm close to reaching a breaking point. I think I will write, or draw. If only to relieve some tension. Something interesting that did happen to me today, though, was that my mom called me to let me know an old friend is trying to get in contact me. How old a friend? Let's just say a friend dating from the second grade that I lost contact with when I moved from Pittsburgh eleven years ago. I couldn't believe it! Lisa Myer, my best friend from "the other life," as my mom and I mutually dubbed it. She's still living at the same house, it appears, in Moon Township, just outside of Pittsburgh, and she's trying to contact me. For what, I can't imagine. Maybe just to rekindle those ties. But now that I think about it, she probably went to high school with a lot of people I used to know in the first, second grade-- hell-- even kindergarten! I never expected, in all truth, to hear from any of those people ever again. To my mind, those ties with Pittsburgh were severed when my grandparents died. The guidance counsellor at Lakota East wouldn't give her my contact information, however, because of provacy policies and whatever. But I have her address and her e-mail in my hand. My God. Lisa Myer. Talk about a blast from the past! In the first grade, I hated her because she was so girly and feminine and meek, and I was, in every sense of the word, a tomboy. But by the second grade, we were best friends that suffered through the horrors of Brownie Girl Scouts. I remember having sleepovers at her house, her above-ground pool, and her infatuation with Minnie Mouse. She knew I liked unicorns. I think she'll be surprised with how little has changed with me... and then so much. I want to e-mail her, but I don't know how to begin. It struck me recently at how many places I've really lived in my life. Unlike people such as Katharine, Christine, and maybe even Casey, I don't know what it's like to have friends older then five, six years. I can't fathom having friends who have stuck with me since kindergarten because I honestly don't have any. As far as ageless social groups go, I have always been and possibly will always be out of the loop and, as my nature has unwittingly revealed, a loner. Life is just funny for me like that. It's my fault partly. I bury myself in my work for my career. But when what you do is that important to you, what else in the world is there for you? Ah, such are the state of affairs in the world of Sam. Things can't possibly get any worse for me with conditions as they are... oh wait, yes, they can get much worse. So then things aren't so bad. They could be better, but I'm still breathing. I think I'll go e-mail Lisa now.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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