Thursday, February 8, 2007

Still stupid today

This time tomorrow I plan to be drunk.

Very, very drunk.

I will also be alone.

This fucking midterm will be over. I will probably have failed it. But at least it will be in the past and it will be something I have to "get past" instead of something I have to "get through". Always easier, no? I suppose it's a matter of perspective.

So, here I am, planning how best to get drunk instead of studying. And wondering if I really will be brave enough to get drunk all on my lonesome. In all likelihood, I will not. Knowing me, I will come home, have one beer and pass out on the couch. God I'm old. How come nobody told me that grad school was for 20-somethings?

I hate feeling stupid. Not knowing the answer to something because I can't make sense of the goddamn question. I have just realised that one of the good things about work is that people rarely tell you that you are stupid. Oh, I'm sure they think it often. Daily. Hourly, even. But rarely does someone come up to you and say "you are a fucking moron and you deserve to die". At least, nobody has ever said that to my face. And if someone asks you a question and you don’t understand what they’re asking, that’s more often their problem for being so retarded as not to be able to speak in clear english.

What do you do when it is a professor who is determined to mess with reality so much within the structure of two or three sentences that your brain is tied in knots and you second-guess absolutely every single logical and coherent thought that comes out of your head? Swear a lot. Think about putting the prof in a punching bag and beating the snot out of him a la what’s-his-name in Die Another Day. The crazy DNA-morphing Korean/white lunatic boy warrior. Colonel Moon/Gustav Graves. Dammit. How come I can remember trivial details like that but I can’t answer “Estimate the number of survivors who owe their lives to treatment?”

On a less bitterly self-loathing note, I cooked dinner today. Although it didn’t taste like utter garbage, although I didn’t burn it, although I haven’t given myself food poisoning (yet), I have no desire to eat it. Actually, it tastes just like X’s mom’s spaghetti sauce which is my favourite comfort food in the whole world. Really should have stayed with him for the food. Like I haven’t cried myself to sleep every other night for the last two years over that. The last thing I need to do is mourn the loss of food. I wish I could have left my muffin top behind. And now I have a yoghurt container of spaghetti sauce that I am not in the least inclined to eat. I should have put vodka in it. Perhaps I should make a note of how I made it.

Large pan: fry extra lean ground beef til cooked
Smaller pan: fry table spoon of EVOO with green onions and garlic
Add the two together
Add pasta sauce, tomato paste, oregano, rosemary, thyme, pepper, paprika
and thicken
Sauce pan: half a bowl of whole wheat rotini

Too much for me to finish tonight, especially after baby spinach salad with craisins and balsamic vinaigrette. And especially considering I didn’t want to eat any of the stuff once I had finished cooking it. Tough balancing act. Don’t wait til you’re starving to start cooking in case something terrible happens. Don’t start cooking until you’re hungry because food always tastes better when you’re starving. However, perhaps this is a potential new diet/financial savings plan.

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