VIII: Woman Moving in the Shadows

July is positively teleporting by.

You know, it's weird. When you have nothing to do at all during the entire summer, it seems to crawl, and when it's gone you think "Oh Fuck I wasted this summer." But when you get out of the house even just two days a week, and have the rest of your time to be bored, suddenly you find yourself with the urge to make the most of your free time, so by the end of July you (and by this point it should be clear that by "you" I mean me,) feel pretty good about how time has passed.

But let's talk about that, because although the summer school plan has worked out well, that doesn't mean I'm walking on sunshine. As with anything, I had some responsibilities and, as I am wont to do, I totally shirked them, because hey, it's summer. So for the last week or so, but really coming out of the weekend, there was this assignment, a 12-page(ish) paper hanging over my head for Poli Sci. I had absolutely no desire to do it, but of course it was worth 30% of my mark, so it's a little tough to justify skipping. So since Sunday I've been like "Okay, I'll do some readings, and then get started on this paper, it'll be fine, I've got time." And then slowly, slowly I tried to make headway but it was ungodly boring. I was reading about health care, my pet issue (and my word does it steam me when I hear Americans talking smack about it) and just not digging it. So procrastination set in.

And I was really going to get down to business on Wednesday, and then I... didn't. So there's me, up at 1:30 AM on Wednesday night (Thursday morning) clicking around the readings and really just playing Freecell. Fuck, man! I'm 22 years old, I ought to have more sense than this. Or maybe it's because I'm 22 years old and I'm no longer afraid of the threats of not performing well at school because I know I've sunk as low as I can.

That's comforting.

So I made myself a resolution. I'd go to bed, get a good night's sleep, wake up earlier than usual, get as much of my paper done as possible and then, if somehow I managed to get it done, go in to school and hand it in or, likely contingency plan, figure out some time tomorrow I could go in to hand it late.

So I did go to bed relatively early, and I did set my alarm, and I did wake up a few hours earlier than usual. for a while anyway.

Because you see, I was so engrossed in my dream, so comfortable in my bed, and so relaxed by the sound of rainfall outside of my window and the surprisingly gentle tunes my random playlist had selected me to wake up to (for the record, although they are randomly selected, I moderate and arrange them for maximum disruptiveness. Ireally thought My Name is Jonas and Are you Gonna Be My Girl would've gotten me out of bed quicker) made me drift back into a comfortable sleep for another 90 minutes or so, well past the end of the 15-song playlist. So when I finally got out of bed it was nearly 10, which in my defense is still a little earlier than the norm, but not by much.

So, fuck me, right? Well, the kid is nothing if not a very determined last-minute essay writer. That attitude has gotten me in trouble more than once. Maybe my "best work" isn't when I'm right up against deadlines, but my quickest often is, and between 11 AM and 2:30 PM I wrote 11 pages double-spaced on health care, with plenty of citations (note however, I was only able to use the 6 or so articles he provided, and they were pretty much all about Clinton, not current stuff.) The concept of the paper was to summarize the issue and what can be done about it, not to form an opinion, so I'm not all that proud of it, but it was workable. It's maybe a 70, which would be right on par for me in this course. I guess American Government just ain't my thing, although it's still better than I was doing in Shakespeare, and that, I thought, kinda was my thing.

So I managed to get the 3:40 train to Union (because after that time the schedules get rush-hour wonky) and get to class about 40 minutes late, in time to hand in my paper at the halfway point. I guess there's not more to say about it than that, and I deserve whatever mark I get on it, so if I fail, I deserved it, but I felt like my general sense of the project was enough that I should pass, just not.... excessively.

On the way home, I ran into RyLai, we talked about music, life, people we know.. the usual overly bold conversations in plain hearing of any random commuter.

So now I'm just unwinding. I'll have quite a bit of reading to catch up on for the last test, but I've got other stuff I want to do and now can. Like, for instance, blog. Hell, I've only done 8 entries in this whole month!

I must be a busy guy.

Or a boring one.

I'm trying - trying - not to focus too hard on what I hate about my life lately. The whole bored-directionless-lonely schitck I drag out every now and again. Even I get tired of it after a while, but it's what I do. But I'm trying not to, because my life doesn't totally suck and I should realize that.

This has been, almost without comparison, the best summer of my life, even notwithstanding the bullshit of school and the usual malaise. For God's sake, I did Half-Past Eight PM, and even with all my angst and anxiety and insecurity that was an unqualified success. I had at least a glimpse that maybe, maybe I'm on the right track, and it felt good.

Well, it felt like a lot of things, but good was one of them.

2009 has been a big one, yes kids.

But sometimes I wonder...

what is... the Humpty Dance really was our chance... to do the Hump?

In totally unrelated music stuff, I'm listening to Aerosmith more lately, some of the less iPod-worthy stuff. I'm rediscovering how much fun Get a Grip is to listen to. Maybe because that album more than anything else reminds me of my carefree prepubescent days when I had no idea what all the lyrics were about and I had fun imagining.

I love Rocks, although it reminds me of Grade 7. Just Push Play reminds me of Grade 8. Pump doesn't remind me of anything in particular, although it hits close to Get a Grip. Get a Grip is the order of the day. Because I was raised listening to the albums over and over, I equate Steven Tyler's voice with a level of comfort and security that is probably just shy of unhealthy.

Well, I'm stalling now. This entry ended like twenty minutes ago. Well, twenty minute of writing, maybe three minutes of reading. Still too long.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto