I FINALLY got my essay back in my poetry class. He is a harsh grader. I spent over 9 hours on that essay and made a B+. I am trying not to be upset about it.
I did, however, make a 91% on my poetry test, and I am very pleased with that because it was a hard test for me.
Other than that everything is going a-ok. My very first test at work is today and tomorrow is my second logic test. I am hopeful. Optimistic? no.
Have I mentioned that I made a 100% on my first political science exam? Yea, I know. I'm the shiznit. Elvis points rock!
Next Sunday I will be crawling around in bat guano with a Russian and a bunch of rednecks. I am slowly starting to get nervous. It will be a 10 hour cave trip inside Big Smittle. Big Smittle is what the local cavers like to call a ceiling sniffer which means that there is very little space to crawl in and most of the space will be occupied with water and mud. JP, the Russian, called to confirm just a little while ago. It took me about 20 minutes to decipher his message because his accent is so thick and another 20 minutes to work up the courage to call him back because I have this fear about talking to people I do not understand. It went well. He is a lot like Scott #2, my tennis partner in Springfield, very polite and very Christian. We are riding down together to save money on gas. I am more nervous about the car ride than I am about crawling around for 10 hours in a treacherous cave. Will we talk? What will we talk about? What if I have to tell him I do not understand something he says? Will that offend him?
This past week has been quite obnoxious. First I must tell you about Friday when I was on the radio; yes I was on the radio. I really wanted to win tickets to a particular concert, so I called. The dj, sweet lenny, ANSWERED. Even though I was calling it never occurred to me that someone might actually answer. Our conversation went like this:
Sweet Lenny: 95.7 the vibe
Me: Is it over?
Sweet Lenny: No I think we could make this relationship work. Don’t you?
Me: No
Sweet Lenny: SLAM, you’re one of those mean girls aren’t you?
Me: no I just want those tickets.
Sweet Lenny: Well we’re giving more away later on tonight. What’s your name?
Me: Hannahjane (I actually told him. god)
Sweet Lenny: Where are you?
Me: Bo Lings (I was ordering takeout).
The Chinese lady behind the counter gave me a nasty look.
Me: oops I’m at Chien Dynasty.
Sweet Lenny: what??
Me: Overland Park
Sweet Lenny: Oh so you’re a JO girl (JO is for Johnson county)
(I would go on, but I’ve already embarrassed myself enough.)
When I got back out to my car (I swear to you this happened) I turned on the radio and right away our conversation came on the radio. I sounded like such a snobby prat.
My logic class is slowly starting to grate on my nerves. I really don’t give a damn about deductive validity. It is boring as all get out. I made a 75% on my first
test. Bombed it. It is definitely not my cup of tea.
I did, however, make an 88% on my first math test.
Tomorrow is going to be hell. I have two tests, political science and poetry but Monday is usually quiche day in the cafeteria so there is light in the darkness.
My anger is such a great battle. I have such great control over everything in my life, but my anger… I hit and kick walls, throw books, cuss out my closest friends and family and then feel so small afterwards. Too small for tears or words. Very small. I am so contained. If I were to remove my perfect face I would be baring contorted features with burrowed lines of insecurities, trenches disguised as wrinkles. I am too small, too big, oblique, so very clear, morbid, polite, simple, complex… My breasts are too small, too big, I am not happy enough, too happy, so very old, so very child-like. I cannot run fast enough, I want to run until my heart bursts. Who am I running from?
This is funny. I currently have ‘spider hotels’ in my apartment. The maintenance men strategically placed twenty-three of these miniature hotels. I have six in my bathroom and I stepped on one. Who knew that you could stick to the roof of them? I have come to the realization that spiders are here for three reasons. 1. peek-a-boo. They love this game. ‘Look’, one says to another, ‘she’s got shampoo in her eyes. whenever she gets most of it out, but not all of it let’s DROP from the wall and swing out. This way all she will see is a fuzzy black spot swinging towards her.’ 2. eating. this is a given, because as a living creature, they must eat. Unlike other creatures they leave their leftovers tightly wrapped in creepy crawly webs. 3. To claim all of the great cds in the world. I have found more spiders drooling, yes drooling, on my Justin Timberlake cd than anywhere else in my apartment. Ok, well it’s a tie, my Justin Timberlake cd and the shower.
I have become quite the artist. Depending on what type of shoe I use to kill a spider, a masterpiece is sometimes born. If I were to leave the squished spiders around my apartment I could start an art museum with a catchy name like “Splat”. I would use my serious voice as I showed people around. “Here you will find a spider that I killed with an Amanda Smith heel at 2:00 in the morning after I woke up to pee. AND HERE is a pretty red spider killed during an unfortunate collision with an Adidas tennis shoe. Note the ripples in the Spiders guts. This means that the shoe was a RUNNING shoe.” It would be a fabulous show.
I told my dad about the spiders and he gave me some fabulous advice. He told me that I needed to talk to them, let them know in a CALM voice that they are unwelcome and should relocate. I tried this. I was putting on makeup the other morning when I looked up and noticed that I was surrounded. There, on each wall, was a spider. I’ll let you do the math on that one. I calmly looked up and because it was 5:00 in the morning, promptly let out the most horrific scream ever to grace this planet. The spiders didn’t even move. I tiptoed into my closet and grabbed an old grubby tennis shoe and tucked the laces inside the tongue (I’ve learned to do this because one time a spider grabbed hold of one of the laces while I was trying to kill it, and the shoelace AND spider whipped back in my face while I was flinging the shoe around. Needless to say that was the only time in my adult life that I have ever peed my pants). So, SMACK CRUNCH SMACK, three spiders down. The fourth spider dropped to the floor, and scampered. I had to dismantle a bookshelf to get to it. I was getting grumpy. But I did talk to him the whole time. I told him that God was coming to take him away and that God probably had a nicer apartment than me. I also told him that God went barefoot a lot.
I feel like I’m turning into an insensitive bastard. If I held a flashlight underneath my chin and laughed low and long my true identity would be revealed.
While on the subject of mass murder, we have been studying Adolf Hitler in my political science class. So, Robert and I went to check out the Winston Churchill exhibit at the Truman Library. I truly think my grandma would be jealous. Robert and I got so caught up in the Truman part of the library that we had little time to check out Winston Churchill. It was all so very fascinating.
Peppy and I went running tonight. I love that dog more than any human being on this earth. He is always so very happy to see me. Robert calls me sometimes and lets him talk to me. He makes these beautiful snorting/breathing noises into the phone and all I want to do is run over there and play with him. Robert also has him trained now. Whenever I am on my way over there to run with him I call and Robert tells him that “mommy is on the phone”. I swear to you that I can hear his toenails start clicking on the floor as he jumps up and down in anticipation. Isn’t that amazing? A love like that is the reason why God put us here.
