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I suppose it's time to answer that "What's up with me?" question, as I haven't given a proper update in about a week.

The phrase "home sweet home" has never been sweeter, as I left my room every day this week in the morning and didn't see it again for at least twelve hours. This wasn't a particularly willing desire on my part; it was because I had meetings and work in the math center and other schoolwork that I was behind on, and after two years, I finally discovered that doing it at my desk was in fact a really bad idea because that's where Compy and my main Internet connection sit. Thanks to this, I've been seeing the people in the math department (not bad) and the couch in the third stack (again, not too bad, as that's a comfy couch) more than I see the people I hang out with most.

Now, the third stack and the third floor of the library are declared a silent zone. There's even a sign for this.

QUIET STUDY AREA
No conversations, audio devices, or cell phone use.
Thank you.


Some people, mostly first-years, are selectively blind when entering this area of sacred silence, and they continue their conversation as if the sign were never planted there in the first place. I'm thinking the sign would be much more effective if it read "Welcome to the third floor. Now STFU and leave your phone outside."

I should make that sign and tape it over the polite version. The notebook paper would give it some attention, at least.

*
Ahem. Where was I? Ah, yes. This week. I actually managed to write every day this week, but the more I stop and think of stuff to write down about this week, the more I realize that not much really happened. Sure, I got a 5/10 on Monday's physics quiz because I just froze during the quiz even though I knew how to do the problem, and I didn't finish Lettres d'Une Péruvienne until after class Tuesday, and I need to do corrections on a geometry assignment (on which I got a B-minus the first time, and that's not normal for me), and Black Cat is next week, and I still need to do about 234234 other things.

The subject line is right--JP is practically life-controlling at this point. JP is this Friday. Six days. Yes, I'm in it, and while this is exciting, I'm even more excited (hell, ecstatic) that stuff I actually wrote is being performed to a real live audience. That's the writer in me. :D Sure, it's not Broadway or Hollywood or even a huge publishing house, but it's a start. Right?

But during all this, and especially after running into Stephanie at the library and at Mollie's (where I'm suddenly becoming a regular) and only occasionally catching everyone at meals and going to Java Monkey with Minda and Shauna and Sandra and Emily last night and going to Minda's BCM trip to Ikea with Minda and Sandra and Emily because Ikea and their cinnamon buns are love, I realized something really obvious.

You don't really know what you're missing until it's not there. Really. I've been running about, trying to get my own business done for the past week, only running into friends occasionally, but I always cherished those times. Not like those times when I'd see them every day and sometimes I'd hardly notice because I'd see them at dinner, right?

We never really see these things until they stare us in the face.

On the bright side: I did write in Dr. Nbook every day during this madness, and I did my laundry, thereby replenishing my supply of yellow shirts for this week, in which I will pretend to have class spirit under all those books. On the other hand, I could always use the math_jokes approach to studying. Yeah, I like that one.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
moonglade_swan
Oct. 1st, 2007 02:44 am (UTC)
Do you still have your triumvirate shirt? You know, the yellow bank shirt that Shea and I found three of at a thrift store? Because that would be really awesome. I wish I had brought mine to school with me.

I completely understand about the not knowing what you're missing until it's not there thing. That's how I feel about Agnes..... and lots of other things. :(

I have a feeling that "homecoming" here won't be nearly as fun as Black Cat. :(

I hate people who talk on the phone in libraries. I spent too much time in libraries as a child to not have the ever sacred Golden Rule of Silence™ ingrained permanently into my very being. Conversation and library do not go together; neither does conversation and recital hall, but that's another rant.
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