meta

it turns out I do care, and I don't know why.
yesterday was bad.

something on the way to school made me think I wouldn't survive the day, but I still went. my 8:00 a.m. class on Tuesdays is sculpture. sculpture is intolerable for me, being that it's three hours long and I'm dick with art, and the professor (BRUCE THOMAS) treats me like shit. just.. like shit.

my mind was in lots of other places in class yesterday. I was mostly thinking about my family and how they are feeling about my grandpa's death. and thinking about what a weird time this came, since a lot of my aunts and uncles were fighting. and then he died, and how the fuck do they feel? this is the first major death in my family in a really long time.

so I just thought about that for three hours and thought about the music I was listening to and thought about leaving early because I couldn't handle it anymore, but I made it through the class. I made almost no progress whatsoever on my sculpture, but I didn't care.

until, until.

at the end of class I'm cleaning up, and I leave my sculpture to go wash my hands or something. when I come back, the professor is standing at my sculpture, studying it.

"we made very little progress on this today."

yeah, I know, you dickhole. "yeah, it didn't go too well. I'm not having a great day."

I'm staring at the long black hairs growing out the top of his nose. who the fuck has long black hairs growing from the TOP of his nose? not even on the bridge, like a unibrow. but on the actual fleshy tip. how the fuck do you get long black hairs THERE.

it's not his fault. I have long black hairs in places I don't want to think about. but what the fuck, his teeth are rotten too. how do they stay in his HEAD? oh, he's talking.

"blah blah blah something about bringing in something or something something something and let's work together on this on Thursday.."

"oh, well, I might not be in class on Thursday."

he throws his head back in frustration, staring at the ceiling, as if to say, WHY GOD WHY, WHY HAVE YOU THROWN UPON ME THIS MISERABLE WENCH WHO IS NOT FULLY DEDICATED TO HER SCULPTURE OF A HIPPO'S HEAD IN MY DELIGHTFUL GODDAMN CLASS.

"I have a FUNERAL to go to."

and he laughs. and he looks at me. and there's no sympathy whatsoever. even though my face is already collapsing and my voice is already broken.

and he doesn't say anything, just looks at me like it's some kind of fucking joke. so I say, "it's not MY fault somebody died." I don't just say it. I yell it. my hands are shaking fucking fists and I'm yelling at my dickhead professor who thinks he owns the fucking world.

and I don't know what he says after that, but he whines it. he's whining about how someone in my family is dead and that means I will get behind on my sculpture again. that means I won't be in class until next Tuesday and gee golly is that ever inconvenient. it's really too terribly bad that I value burying my dead grandfather over, you know, fixing the left eye on my HIPPO SCULPTURE.

and what he says next is what destroys me for the remainder of the day, is what makes me cry in public places and forget how to use my voice.

be mad at whoever died. they could've hung on for another week.

and then it's my turn to throw my head back and stare at the ceiling as if to say, whygodwhy, why have you cast upon me this apedick motherfucker who sees fit to insult my family and my sculpture and HUMAN FUCKING EMOTION all in one fell swoop.

I gape. I say, oh lord. but not in a funny way this time.

and he's still smiling that asshole smile and says, well at least we have a plan now, and he walks away.

BRUCE THOMAS, ART DEPARTMENT, HAMLINE UNIVERSITY.

I am positively incredulous.

I tried to make it to things yesterday, but I was crying pretty much as soon as I walked out that door. fucking old shit of a man, what the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. who SAYS that. he could've hung on for another WEEK? for the sake of my fucking SCULPTURE? Grandpa was dying for YEARS. it was unbelievable that he survived this summer. he was supposed to die six months ago. he could've hung on for another WEEK so I could fix my sculpture that is clearly a piece of shit.

WORTHWHILE shit.

so I sat on a couch in the Klas Center, by the big stupid window that is an entire wall, and I talked to my amazing boyfriend and cried. and it was shit. and that is just shitty. and I can't fucking believe people sometimes. be mad at whoever died...? because I will get behind on my sculpture..?

[edit as of11/16/06: BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP]

yesterday was bad. my fucking family. then this morning I was going to be okay, I was really reallyreallyreally really going to be okay and then I got in an accident because the residential streets around my school are maniacally icy and I am a fuckwit who can't fucking drive so I cause a fucking thousand dollars in damage to my mom's car, and I have to pay, and fuckfuckfuck, you know? just fuck. I don't know if I'm going to go to Ireland anymore. just because of shit and money. when the fuck did I become the kind of idiot who gets in a car crash on the first snowy day of the season? it was entirely my fault. entirely.

fuckyblagh.