Thursday, October 20, 2005

murphy's law

i wake up late. go for a late run. am running late to school. i'm supposed to catch one of my professors in the "morning" to get his signature on a form i need to turn in for my dissertation defense.

i deposit my computer and backpack in my office and run to the history department, feeling agitated because i've not had breakfast. i am at his office just after 11AM. he signs without telling me that my dissertation is great! fine! i need that encouragement in my weakened state.

instead i go in search of breakfast tacos. sold out at the sandwich truck. no longer being sold at the campus "convenience" store. no longer being sold at the campus coffeeshop. no breakfast tacos on campus! i secretly feel this is a conspiracy against mexicans at UT. i opt for a slice of veggie pizza.

i go back to my office. i have not done the reading for my class. this does not necessarily spell disaster for students, but because i am TEACHING the class for which i have not done the readings, disaster does seem imminent.

i spend the next hour frantically reading the past week's worth of material that I HAVE ASSIGNED to the class. and i'm thinking, why did i give them so much to read??? i finish most of it but have no clue how i'm going to facilitate discussion.

i spend $2.60 on a cafe americano that i am convinced will help me to focus and be brilliant. it is weak and watery. i drink less than half of it and am not quite feeling brilliant when class begins at 2PM. as i speak, my students look at once confused and bored, which does not seem possible, but apparently it is.

a painful hour and a half later, i run to get my last signature and turn in my documents to the office of graduate studies. the woman points out a mistake i have made on my dissertation formatting, but nevertheless enters me into the computer database. now the university knows. i will be defending november 2nd.

back in the office i revise a job letter and assemble other materials to send to the university of very far away from my home. i finish, but the campus post office is closed.

i take the bus home, get into my car and spend the next forty minutes in traffic heading downtown. i have not eaten since 11:30AM; it is now nearing 6PM. i am anxious and frustrated. i see a parking spot a block from the post office and make a last minute decision to take it. i maneuver quickly toward the sidewalk and HIT THE CAR i am parking in front of. hit it. a nice shiny toyota four runner. silver. big scratch. BIG.

unethically, i run to the post office. mail my letter and come back to the scene of the crime. i leave an apologetic note with my phone number on it.

starving, i think that i will stop by this taco stand on the way home, but have no cash. i pull into a wells fargo and hit up the ATM for cash. the machine informs me that it will have to use my OVERDRAFT protection to fulfill my request, do i want to continue?

i don't continue. i would rather be hungry and poor and agitated all the way home.

i come home and hear strains of marc anthony on the stereo. my roommate's boyfriend is in the kitchen cooking dinner. eggplant parmesano. they are sympathetic and feed me. one of my students writes me a nice email. i talk to my parents. i feel better.

but i still want to sleep. to wake up tomorrow on a different side of the bed.

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