%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
"Still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise." |
| I shouldn't be writing this. I should be writing, but not this. I should be neck-deep in sociological theory and churning out intelligent phrases that will impress my professor when she gets to the bottom of her stack of papers. There are three hours left to the semester and then I'm finished. I will be able to finally put this semester to rest. But I'm tired. And crazy. And so exhausted beyond measure that I want nothing more than to be put out of my misery. There is a bed in my room but I can't touch it. Not yet. Not until this paper is submitted, fully quoted and actualized. It's not that it is difficult. I took an oral life history of a former drug dealer turned hospice aid who is probably one of the warmest, gentlest people I know. She was honest and brave and told every detail of what did in order to feed her family. And she gave it to me to write my paper. I have the notes typed and the conversations recorded. I just need to throw in some theory and I'm done. But my mind is so damn slow. The sugar has worn off. I went to the coffee shop and bought the most sugar-ridden, caffeine injected, caramel monstrosity of the java bean to keep my senses about me. It has taken a half dozen years off my life and left me jittery as all hell, but I still can't get the words out. The pressure of time isn't even hitting the high notes. Today was day that should have been many things. Happy, love-filled, joyous. A celebration of loyalty and commitment and perseverance. Instead it was full of stress and absence and longing. And there is no rest on the horizon nor glimpse of something better. A friend offered a hitman. Not in the budget. My older brother offer a sock in the shoulder and his famous "suck it up" speech. I kicked in the shin. My mom offered optimism. That died about a week ago. I've got nothing. No more cards. No more sense. No more...nothing. And I've still got three hours to kill. Five bucks to the person who is willing to whack someone on a budget. No? Can't blame a girl for trying. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
