Today, January 15th '13, what did I do?
I woke up yesterday morning with water in my eyes,
and the sensation of a brick over the front of my head,
that seemed to communicate that I was not meeting the necessary quota of snooze.
I mechanically propped my spine up-my spine conjoins with my thigh at an unnatural angle (this being the result of a decade of sitting at the computer with bad posture and improper workout routine factors that give me an unpleasant jolt when the dream ends and I awkwardly slouch on the mattress), requiring that my hands exert a vital thrust upwards to get me out of bed- and I, my spine unnaturally arched and my feet teetering (both as usual) propelled myself towards the cell phone. Using only my thumb, I unlocked the setting and pressed the "alarm clock" icon: 10:35. I sensed instinctively, at that moment, that I must bolt towards the stair, down the stairs, and escape under the yellow "EXIT" sign. But Deutsch with Sanaz's elegant chrome-colored gradebook (and suave Persian figure) notwithstanding, the gravitational pull on my cavernous eyes and on the forehead-bound brick served to pull me back to the bedside, but not under it, halt lethargically above my center of mass in the manner of an obtuse angle, and stare mindlessly through the cascading waterfall for five minutes before painful acceleration by the ticking in my mind...dragged yesterday's jeans, the nearest suitable plaid shirt and a checkered vest over my body... Teetering down the stairs and beneath the EXIT, I rambled through a blistering wind and chapping sun until 11:01, I tiptoed cautiously around the edge of a filled classroom...
The open seat in the corner, the one with a newspaper on it, reeked of smoke and I soon found myself redden mit a lanky fellow named Yonaton, who sported six crayon tattoos. Yonaton and I hit it up with a vorstellungsgesprach, getting to know about place of origin (Washington D.C.) favorite movie (blade runner) and the like, via pedagogy of language. My voice drooped continuously due to m(g), naturally synthesizing with his Seattlesque cool, only to, within moments, sense the closing hausaufgabe Ankündigungen. I bid the obligatory "so long" to my new friend, "Tschuss" to Sanaz before teetering off once again, with less velocity, towards that white-rimmed, tessellated edifice that reads "Charles Young Research Library."
Drag impeded the advance of my feet and body, made painfully evident my deformed spinal anatomy and the icy northwest wind snarked at my dry face. I had no lunch plans, no afternoon courses and certainly no desire to exchange a cup of cocoa by the fireplace for a barely air-conditioned study chamber. All that compelled my reeboks, inch by shaky inch, forward was a vague sense of urgency to write an analysis, Middle Eastern politics, so by an affixed date of 01/29, I would have some concrete magazine publication worth mentioning at a graduate school interview two to three years down the road. Trapped by instinct, I, incrementally, let envious imagery, a ticking clock and space carry me to the workstation.
The problem is that the scheming of the mind can never prevail against an obstinate heart or soul. I sat down on the wooden bench, took out and turned on my laptop but one the window appeared, I could not even open the “word document” that bore my assignment. Catching a link to The Atlantic on my toolbar, I clicked on one article about urban fare structures, another about “minority gentrification” or “Hagel’s relationship to Israel:” such crisply-written commentary should have motivated me but instead, I diverted my own creative abilities to the fawning consumption of those of others. There are few adjectives sufficient to describe the sheer angst one feels, watching others seamlessly execute an act that one is under deadline to accomplish. Perusing through samplings of world-class journalism only reminded me of the odds I fced in my writing, making me more consigned to let the effortgo undone. When I finally managed (with two hours left in the day) to begin, I was not only demoralized but grasping for the original strand of inspiration, biding my time on an already-flawed project…
In the three hours that I spent in that library, the baggy eyes, head pain, and slouching set in only more vigorously.. During the following round of sleep under my belt, my headache-of monstrous proportion-had me tossing and turning. I woke up this morning under the weight of a fever. However, my mind acting as it does, I ended up-for the sake of personal fulfillment- to chain myself again to the laptop, my shameless desire to appear the dilettante resulting in this abstruse blabber that you have been (hopefully) reading so far.
When I wake up with drowsy eyes again, I think that I will just go with gravity…and get back to sleep.