I only wish all of my papers could be written this smoothly. But as I sit here, typing these words of nil importance, listening to APC sing The Noose (Thanks, Erin!) and drinking my bloody mary, I wonder…will my grade reflect how long this paper didn’t take me? I researched about 16 articles. I organized them into themes. I wrote up a blurb on each as it pertains to the constant of my paper. And yet…it doesn’t seem cohesive. It seems like I read 16 studies, wrote them down and hoped they’d sound good together. I planned to spend three and a half days writing it. It took me about fifteen hours to do, start to finish. That’s scary. I guess the good news is that I’ll know if I did terribly before the final (which is take-home, and in a similar paper-format). What’s terrible is that I feel good about it. I’ve never managed my time so well and gotten so much done so efficiently. It can’t end well then, right?
I even cleared up time for Stefan, which, by the way, was amazing having him here on a Monday. And because I absolutely have to write this down lest I forget, I walked into my apartment to dinner on the counter. Braised pork chops with potatoes and baby carrots, rice pilaf, pita chips and tabbouleh, and a mozzarella cheese, green olives and pepperoni plate with a glass of wine poured and ready. He reasoned it away that he doesn’t come to my apartment but once every few weeks and the least he could do was make me dinner, but…it’s more than that. It’s the fact that that’s what he thought about when he got to my apartment (or perhaps before). Not if he was going to play Zelda or MW2 (ew, who plays that anymore?) or take a nap. I’m so lucky that I don’t know what to do with myself. I do know that I tell myself that every single day, even on days I come up with stupid reasons to hate him. It will never change; I won’t let it.
All in all, I’m really kind of lucky these days. School gets a little crazy sometimes, and I feel excluded a lot of times, but at the end of the day, I have a lot of good things, and a ton of fortune. I’m sure this won’t last forever (and I’ll get Friday and Monday practicum and have to be up at 7 a.m. every day or something), but right now my clinic shifts aren’t so bad, my school schedule’s rather fair, I’ve got my homework almost down to a science and I work my butt off. I don’t always recall a lot of what I read, but I must do reasonably well, or I wouldn’t be here.
Addressing the big elephant in the corner of the room, I wrote my brother a letter last week. I gushed over his Halloween costume and asked about school and friends and homework. I told him that nobody likes homework, but everyone has to do it, because knowledge is the best thing in the world. I’m sure my father disagrees, because knowledge is what gives “people like me” opinions and apparently decreases simplicity in their family. Fuck, I hate my past. I hate my childhood. I hate that I’m so enamored by a typical family because I’m so jealous at the same time.
But I guess we live and we learn, and I won’t let my self-concept falter at the hands of circumstances beyond my control (the ultimate gist of my paper, by the way–the effect of divorce on children’s self-concept). If I can be one in a million that can get past it all, even if I have to write about it once a week until it becomes part of who I am, so be it. Cognition is key. Meta is betta. (I’m a dorkwad…and I love it.)