April 7th, 2004

Shoulda thought ahead

Coelho made me cry today

I almost never see 2:30 3:30 AM. When I do, it's almost always because I'm having a very good time or, and this is far more common, some sort of night terror ripped me from sleep. You would think that an exam that is nominally about various aspects of the Carolingian court wouldn't fall into that category, especially when in reality, it's presented as a series of brain teasers that must be worked out on old fruit crates.

Somehow, even though the premise is bizarre, I am affected deeply by such an image. There is always a knowing that I have squandered the semester. I know nothing of what the class has studied and that no matter what I do as I find myself incarnated into this situation, there is nothing to fix it. I usually can't even wake up because it all just seems to make so much sense. Of course I'll let my advisor down. Of course I'm destined to fail through my own negligence and forgetfulness. Of course there's always another class that I've screwed up even worse than this one. That all makes sense, even if the faces are from high school and I'm scribbling on a fruit crate. Details just enhance the trauma.

I know why this is hitting me now, but I've no idea of how to reconcile my life as it is with the ideas I have of how it could be. I keep being thrust back into my "You have angered the Gods" dream. Just as happened there, my course seems to be to stumble about trying desperately to please a being while knowing full well that there is no fathoming what he wants. Or perhaps it's knowing full well, but knowing that it is hopelessly out of reach.
The gentleman is always properly dressed

Savoring it as if it were your honeyed wine

"You have become my parchment... on which I write many things that I had forgotten, as if my hand proceeded on its own. I think that one who tells stories must always have another to whom he tells them, and only thus can he tell them to himself. You remember when I wrote letters to the empress, but she didn’t see them? If I committed the foolishness of letting my friends read them, it was because otherwise my letters would have had no meaning." -Umberto Eco, Baudolino