Listening to:
Blur - Death of a party

No. Bad move. Very, very bad move.

Sometimes I like to fool myself into thinking things that I know are wrong. Actually, I often do this. I convince myself that I'm not tired, or that I can get an essay written in three hours, or that the socks that I'm wearing don't really have huge holes in the toes. What I did in my poetry class, though, was convince myself that my prof was as powerful as he sounded.

He's not, of course, but sitting in the second row and watching him for an hour and twenty made me see this a little too clearly. For one thing, he's balding, which shocked me, for some reason. He's really pale, too. Maybe it was the light, but he looked sickly pale. And his hands shook the entire class. Only slightly, but they shook continuously. The pages of the anthology he was reading from (for half an hour, reading Eliot's The Wasteland) were shaking, too. It was very disturbing.

In short, it wasn't that he showed physical weaknesses that scared me. I know about that kind of thing. I shake sometimes, too. And I'm pale, I guess. What scared me was that I had fooled myself for more than six months into thinking that my prof was in some way superhuman. Which suggests that there might be other things that I'm fooling myself about, too. And that's making me a bit paranoid.

Anyway, enough melodrama for today. I redid some stuff, as you may have seen, and I like it. I let CowboyGranddad go on vacation until summer at least, because he really didn't seem suitable for winter. So now you get to look at my desk. Lucky you.

I must leave you now, gentle friends, as I've got a girl coming to see the house and everything is dirty from the weekend. Adieu, adieu.

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