So yesterday was SO BLOODY LONG and I made a huge mistake and procrastinated myself into a corner. Then again, I watched the sun set, then stayed up just so I could see the sun rise again. It was really a special day.
Anyway. Dragged my ass out of bed to go to Organic Chemistry, where my prof looked at me like, "Gods be good, Rose, you're still here?" and I was all like:
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| I Bet You Thought You'd Seen The Last of Me |
Anyway. Then I went to Constitutional Law and that was great—we mostly just talked about the Schuette case that I read about on Tuesday and I managed to be The Luckiest Motherfucker Alive Since Jean Valjean Walked This Earth because my prof got too excited about Sotomayor's dissent to talk about Roe v. Wade, which was TOTALLY okay with me since guess who's only halfway done with that brief? This kid, I'm going to be the best lawyer ever. He also described the opinions as a "big, sprawling judicial street fight," which is 100% accurate, and then we bashed the Court's narrow reading of the 14th Amendment, because fuck that doctrine. Really, though. What's the point in having an equal protection clause if you don't actually equally protect minorities of ALL forms? EVER? It's hella frustrating.
There's also something in the Roemer v. Evans case that's referred to as the "Mysteries of the Universe Clause" and it's SO GOOD. Basically sometimes Justices decide they want to wax philosophical on something and it's wonderful if a little out of place—hell, you're writing a SUPREME COURT DECISION tell your clerks to lay off the drugs (then again, who'd be the kind of clerk to wax philosophical on the universe? This kid, I'm going to be the best lawyer ever).
I should probably put in the disclaimer that I've slept a total of one hour in the last thirty-six hours, and a total of six over the last seventy-two so you could say I'm a bit sleep deprived and loopy in the extreme. Sorry. College. Double Majoring. Ugh. 0/10; do not recommend.
Yeah but then I walked home and that was great, because it's always great, and I read Slaughterhouse Five and did a google search of my revolution while eating pizza rolls. Yay look at me college!
Yeah. Then I WENT to writing, where we talked about repetition (according to Vonnegut life is a repeating polymer and instead of being like an ocean as Dostoevsky says, it's all like cellophane because everything goes on even after we're gone. So it goes, as he'd say).
We also talked about the fictional city of Ilium, which is another name for Troy, which opened up some interesting possibilities regarding Billy Pilgrim as Aeneas, which is what I was going to say, but then I would have had to say, "It's the book by Virgil that starts with an 'A' with the guy from Troy that founds Rome with the magic armor or whatever" and then they would DEFINITELY think I'm on drugs because I'm pretty sure precisely two people in the room would know what I'm talking about—also I'm 99% sure that most people in that class only know what Troy is because of that film Troy with Sean Bean who survives and Brad Pitt man bless Hollywood and their modern attempts to make things like The Ten Commandments. Life is so hard sometimes.
Then I walked home again and that was grand. I got home, read some of Montecore by Jonas Hassen Khemiri, whose style reminds me a great deal of Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. Good novels nonetheless. Very inventive stylistically.
I also talked to my mom and got some disconcerting news regarding everything, and I also just have to say that I'm a lot like Mycroft Holmes in that I worry about my little brother and my little sister—especially my little sister—constantly. And I mean constantly. It's a full time job. I'd kill a motherfucker for those kids. They're massive pains sometimes, but god damn I love them fiercely and if anything were to happen to them then I don't think I could ever get past that. Being the oldest is weird because you feel in some way bizarrely responsible for what your siblings turn out to be. And because of that, you get to worry constantly. I'm terrified they will make the same mistakes I did and get hurt the way I did and that they'll have to grow up and see what a terrible place this world is like I did. They don't deserve that. No one deserves that. But at the same time I'm terrified that they won't be able to see the beauty and the joy that's underneath all the shit we get to put up with. I'm telling you. The worry never stops. Older sibs, you know what I'm talking about, and younger sibs, it's true. We just won't ever admit it to you.
After that, I packed up all my shit and headed to campus, where I went to orchestra and got free pizza so yay! My stand partner also said, "You know what I realized the other day at the concert? You're the only girl in our section." To which I was like "GODDAMMIT IT REALLY IS JUST ME AND NOT MY ENGINEERING FRIENDS AM I REALLY THAT PROFOUNDLY UNGIRLY?" It would explain a helluva lot, which would be nice to get some answers. And yet, it's also really profoundly unhelpful—I may not act like it 95% of the time, but I am a girl. And it's infuriating to always assert that because I'm not inclined to follow a lot of the stupid fucking gender norms society's imposed on us. You have no idea how frustrating that is.
Anyway. I then spent six and a half hours in the library researching the English Revolution because guess who procrastinated the shit out of her paper? THIS GIRL UGH. Almost fell asleep twice, chugged a Red Bull, and ended up walking home with Crissie when her shift ended at two in the morning with 1500 words to still write, yet 4000 words in quotes. Winning.
After a lovely walk through the Boulder night, I went up to the study room, locked myself in there with some Red Bull, Easter candy, and a playlist called "The Iron Throne," and I wrote my term paper on why the English Revolution occurred and why it had the outcome it did (Spoiler alert: It's due to Charles I's absolutism and religious strife and ended because the English are pretentious nerd that love their constitution and there was no way anyone but Oliver Cromwell would have been able to maintain the protectorate). Here is a selfie I took at four in the morning after three days with practically no sleep:
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| My Name is Maggie Rose and I Really Fucked Up. |
I came back to the apartment at 5:54 AM and promptly passed out on the couch. I got to see the same sun rise as I saw set. Like I said, it was really special. It really is all like cellophane—an endless polymer, ending and starting on the same plane, an endless repetition that's really, honestly quite beautiful in its familiar continuity. Maybe that's the sleep deprivation talking. Maybe it's because a small part of me really loves polymer chemistry and I know I'll never be able to do it because I'm so bad at organic chemistry. But the fact that we go on, and the world keeps on turning, and life progresses despite literally everything is astounding and fascinating and really just quite delightful to me. I love that. The resilience of the human spirit is something, at least to me, that I'll never quite get over. Our ability to keep going is one of the few good qualities our race possesses. We're just little units whose days pile up like monomeric units, and then we align and make something better. I don't know. Look up liquid crystals or azo dyes or polystyrene if you want.
I'm about to ACTUALLY WRITE THE THURSDAY BLOG NOW YOU'RE WELCOME and then I'm going to brief Roe, and then I'm going the fuck to sleep.
Thanks for reading :)
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