Feb. 15th, 2005

jimmickwatersmith: (Default)
I may be coming down with a hint of pseudo-melancholia, a subtle departure from, albeit mild, happiness. But chances are it's just weather-related bullshit. Yesterday was horrible, an absolute bitch of a day. Today is slightly overcast, but at least there isn't a depressing sepia tinge to everything in front of you. Like some sort of fucking old-timey photograph.

I didn't sleep last night and here's the thing: I was sweating considerably from the waist up and freezing almost to the point of numbness from the knees down. I blame Paxil for the sweat and Adderall for the cold feet. I'm going to get Paxil out of my life. If I wanted to wake up soaked in sweat, I'd sleep on some sort of heated mattress. With an electric blanket. In August. The Adderall can stay, for the obvious reason that it's such a great thing.

Today is Tuesday and Tuesday is the busiest day of the week for me. The agenda includes attending three classes in a row, the first starting at 9am and the last ending at 2:45pm, driving back to RVC music from 4:30pm to 6pm, and returning to school for one more class from 6:30pm to 8pm.

This writing is drivel. I realize the unimportance of LiveJournal as a medium with which to write, but it's my main outlet for doing so. And when I write about trivial matters like my busy schedule or sleepless nights, what does that say about me? It says that I'm a selfish writer. Sure this is a non-fiction account of my everyday life, so it doesn't necessitate the lavish wordplay as would creative writing. All I do is create a series of contradictions, i.e. if complaining about one's insignificance is selfish, complaining about selfishness is not only a backwards task, but a hypocritical one. Also, contradiction is seen above in, "...so it doesn't necessitate lavish wordplay." If it doesn't necessitate lavish wordplay, then modifying "wordplay" with a word like "lavish" is, by my own misguided definitions, unnecessary. These are meaningless words strung together in a manner most trite. Most trite indeed.

But fuck it. I forgot to mention something that happened last week that made me feel pretty proud of myself. One of my students, the adorable Iman Jones, a tiny, black, 5th grader with a head like a watermelon, came into the lesson with a gloomy look on her face--the kind you would see on a child whose dog just died. Now I don't consider myself good with children at all, so I was real scared that I would make her cry or worsen her mood. When the lesson was over, however, she was all smiles and laughter on account of I'm the funniest man in the universe. I guess kids are alright, but most are little scoundrels.

Maybe you can call me today. Like at 2:45 or something. If you feel like it.

Profile

jimmickwatersmith: (Default)
jimmickwatersmith

January 2016

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627 282930
31      

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 27th, 2025 03:02 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios