  I finally have a break from one hell of a day. A good day, folks. Dont go worrying that I fell into despair again. I just had so much on my agenda, I didnt even have time to eat anything until 3pm. My brain is a little fried from the wealth and breadth of my accomplishments, but Ill tell you its a lot better than the feeling of the whole day passing and still being unshowered an in my pajamas slipping in and out of the safety of the bed sheets. I think Im lucky.
Im smart enough to do well in my classes even with my head somewhere else. And Im tenacious enough to keep my head in the game even when distractions mount so high. And Im lucky to have killer friends with the consistency of clock work backing me up, never letting me to fend for myself all alone in those hours when I really need the help. Speaking of friends, I heard back from Kerri this afternoon. I checked my email when I got home from class, and there she was. Relieved I was to be validated that indeed she has been a ghost since all this transpired.
I was beginning to wonder if maybe it was I who wasnt allowing for a proper silence. It still could be, but I feel satiated now that Ive actually heard from her. That shes ok but working a lot. And that she liked my poem or that she was impressed by the emotion, not necessarily a signal of liking it. She said she needs time to let the words sink in. I care about her, her struggle.
Thats what the words were aimed at expressing. Nothing more. Aside from a kick in the pants for me to have written something so out of my element (an English sonnet with all its structure/confines) that /I/ actually like. I did so good today. And yes, I told myself this all through it. When I was wrapping up my last sentence in Haytons midterm, I stopped in my mind (had that split while writing where you can have your mind on many threads at once).
I thought to myself, Good, baby. You did it. Scary to confront the failure of missing this the first time, but youre here now and doing swimmingly. Sounds a bit corny to me, but you should hear the tone I take with myself most other days. I showed up and I did it. I may only get a B on it, but please I was ready to take an F in the whole class just one week ago.
Hayton yelled at us this morning. Well, not yelled but she was aggressively negative. Not to me, no. thats what I dont say much in her classes for fear my lack of brilliance at any given moment will set her off. My heart hurt this morning, and it wasnt even about me. She was frustrated with her perception of our dedication levels, and she wasnt about to back off of it.
Told us to get out of school if we dont feel up to the task of deconstructing every verse of every piece of reading were assigned. Who can do that?! Well, I know she was questioning her behaviour because later on when I was taking that test outside of her office, she asked her TA whether she was too hard on us. And of course, cute, meek and mild Erin wasnt going to go against her. I agreed with her point, but not with her delivery. Shes scaring more of us not to speak and feel beneath the bar of success.
You tell someone theyre dumb, and theyll believe it and start acting the part. Its a fine line, being frustrated and alienating us. Bless the rain. Id give so much to have this weather everyday until spring. And even then some. One day I want to move somewhere that I can wear my silks under my pants more days than I can here.
It felt like a slice of Italy this morning getting out of the shower, loud music playing in the background as it was in my flat out there. Except my towel wasnt warming on the hotwater pipes like I rigged it in Bolzano. But slipping into those wooly socks and silk undies before putting on my heavy pants and a coat it felt fantastic. So safely tucked away in black. Tonights the poetry reading evening in my American Lit II class with Susie. Since Howl is such a long piece, I decided to present my other favourite of his, A Supermarket in California.
About homosexual alienation and paranoia and loss and apostrophizing to Walt Whitman. Its only a page or two rather than 22 minutes of spoken word mania. But Ill offer to relinquish my mp3 of Howl to anyone who wants it in my class. It should be fun, although Im exhausted and want nothing more than to lock the doors and strip down into my pjs. Shes bringing coffee, my prof, and encouraging us all to bring food or something to share. Im bringing a bag of satsumas and my poem.
More than most will do. And the paper thats due tonight (which I havent even reread, but I know Ill get an A on). So Ill go. Ive done the work, I have things to contribute. These are moments when I have to share myself and not heed the call of the recluse inside of me. 
