in case you couldn't tell, i've been a trifle busy these days with schoolwork and such. oh, and being poor. which is just ever. so. much. fun. got stuck on campus today because, while i thought i had ten dollars in my bank account, the credit card slot in the payment machine (why, why all these machines? i miss people) seemed to disagree. check the atm, and discover that no, i have negative 74 cents. apparently my service charge was deducted. did i mention that's twelve dollars?! note to self: find new bank. so there i sat, like the little match girl, under an awning in the rain, waiting for the money to hit my account and concurrently running up a larger parking bill. had there been a person, i might have been able to sweet-talk him or her into letting me pay the four dollars i had in my wallet, or something along those lines.
all of which pretty well puts me in the right frame of mind for reading dostoevsky (how's that for segueway?). i'm supposed to be writing a paper right now about liminal moments and thresholds in crime and punishment, so naturally i'm here typing to you people. in class today we started talking about the idea of duality, and the fact that people seem to have, in modern times at least, de facto more than one personality. this is, in my opinion, entirely true. think about the different people you are. i'm one person at work (kind of necessary since i work with kids), another at home, another in my poems (actually, i'm all kinds of people in those), and still another with the people i hang around with. and lest we forget, i'm someone else here too. you don't know anything about me except what i've told you. i could be completely fictional. i'm not, but i could be. and then again, who's to say that i'm not? how much of ourselves is real, and how much invented? do we know the difference? is there a difference? feel free to weigh in on my existential crisis.
next time i promise to talk about cute boys in my classes and my feelings on realizing that they're ridiculously young and i'm kinda like a dirty old broad or something.
beatpoetgrrl
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