Life Et Cetera

Pet peeve: people who say excetera. Not too hard, folks.

Anyway.

Origin of the term blog in a nutshell: web + log → weblog + americans = blog. Web of course meaning this, you dimwit, and log meaning a record of one’s life. A record of one’s life, as in personal details.

When has this blog even been personal? That’s right, never. And it is a blog, that much I’m certain. So why not?

Because it’s unprofessional, my subconscious whines. It doesn’t look good. Well screw you, subconscious. In any case, I do actually have some material, abstract though it is.

Last night was pretty hectic. I’d woken up at five thirty after a particularly late night of half past midnight to find myself sick to my stomach but unwilling to go to sleep again and wake up to my alarm. A long shower did little to comfort me, especially considering I was soon ousted to save money on the oil bills – and a long day did little to help afterwards. Thus I arrived home, my body wrung like my hands were throughout the day, my mind little more than the oatmeal I hadn’t eaten for breakfast. I remember catching myself sitting completely still and not just reading the same sentence from the homework several times but also occasionally pausing for several minutes, looking at nothing in particular. It didn’t help that I had a large project I’d worked on only minimally due the next day.

I went to bed two hours early, ignoring the project completely. The last thing I did before I turned off the lights and was lost to the abyss was to say, “I’m sorry.”. My room echoed when I apologized to it. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish, but it made me feel minutely better about myself.

I suppose it also didn’t help that the project was for a class I’m currently failing in.

I’d like to justify myself slightly in saying that despite this rather desolate-looking statement, I’m doing quite well – even garnering grades worthy of the title ‘fantastic’ in other classes. All my other classes, to be precise. I know I have A’s in at least four and suspect I’m achieving them in the rest. And when a student not only succeeds but excels in all of their classes save one, the logical thought process follows as this: “The problem resides not with the student, but the class, or perhaps the teacher.”

Selfish justification aside, I know I need to do better in this class. I’m working on it. Plus, the failing grade was most like caused by failure to hand in one out of a possible two assignments on the grade report – and immediately after, I handed in a fairly well-written report, which should sit nicely for my average. Regardless, I’m worried, and not without reason.

In any case, roused by my alarm this morning I felt much better – with nearly nine and a half hours of sleep under my belt in contrast to my normal six and a half to seven, I had nearly woken up naturally. With another shower, a quick dressing, and my normal ritual of stuffing the next day’s needed papers into my backpack hurriedly, I was out the door.

And into the snow.

I’d heard that it would snow on Wednesday, but not like this. There were nearly four inches already, and it was falling so fast that while I was waiting for the bus nearly a quarter of an inch accumulated on my head. Nevertheless, I dutifully waited. And waited. And waited. For nothing, apparently, because every single person on my bus that I know got a ride. Is that even legal? I thought school had been cancelled after all and I was saved!

In any case, with yet another somewhat uneventful day done, I arrived home again, if a little more energized than usual. And now here I sit. C’est ma vie.