I had a minor breakdown yesterday. I say ‘minor’ due to the fact that I’m not curled up in a ball in my bed crying right now. It started when I called my mother in the morning and I just broke down. So, she called my grandmum who in turn called me. We talked for a little bit. It was nice to talk to her. I don’t think I’ve called her for at least a month which is unusual for me. Then she put my grandfather on the phone, who I haven’t talked to since the summer. The downside of this, was that it took time. Time that I had planned to do work before Shakespeare….
I went to the film office to pick up one of the Shakespeare movies for my paper, of which I still haven’t chosen a topic for, to find out that it needs to be returned before 1 the following day (i.e. today). Mildly wonder if I still have time to watch it…
I went to the farmers market in Stata. I bought 2 pomegranates, 2 potatoes and a bag of baby carrots for 3 dollars. Normally, I would feel pleased but I feel somewhat apathetic towards my purchases. I remind myself of the game poem that I need to create for my digital poetry class which is tonight. I head back to my dorm.
I peel(de-husk/de-seed?) my first pomegranate. I attempt to delicately tap the seeds out with the assistance of my knife. I give up and start ripping the bloody seeds with my fingers. They clatter gently into my bowl. Tip. Tap.
I’m lying in bed. I emailed my professor telling him I will not be in class that evening and that my assignment is not finished. He tells me to turn it in next week and to get better. Between that and the 15 crab ragoons–ordered from Pepper Sky only because it was minimum amount I could order for delivery– I consumed, I feel like crap.
My Networks professor emailed me back. She tells me that they have noticed my effort in class and to do practice problem and the like to prepare for the exam. I reflect briefly on the potential futility of it all. I consider screaming. I roll over and sleep.
I wake up. There’s still time for me to get to poetry, if only to listen and discuss. I can’t compel myself to leave my bed. My room is cold. It is my preference but it does not help with creating incentive to leave my small cocooned world. I browse the internet. I have no desire to work. I’m tired. I’m sick of all of it. I attempt to go back to sleep.
My floormate comes by and starts poking me. I curl. She continues to poke me and then offers to buy me food. I point to the bag that used to contain ragoons. She cites the non-existent nutritional value of my meal. I ask her to buy me ginger beer as consolation. She acquiesce.
She bring back the drink. I cuddle it. The cold bottle, counterpoint to the warmth of my blankets. I tell myself, “Tomorrow is another day.” I leave my bed. I place the bottle in my fridge. I shed my clothes for my pajamas. I go back to bed. I turn off my computer and the light. I go to sleep.
Tomorrow is another day.
I actually have no idea if he turned in the paper or not….