Seven o'clock

The blind was down, but I could tell that the street lamps were still on, what with the sun behind the furious snow clouds. "Oh, NO," I repeated as I slowly realized that I was getting up to walk through the snow to an eight o'clock class across campus.

Still, I awoke with more conviction than I ever did when I woke up for high school.

In my Rockport boots, my feet were impervious to moisture. My hat, however, slowly became soggier and heavier, covering my eyes as it sank. I didn't even wear a scarf, 'cause I knew it would just become one long, wet rag.

It blows my mind every time I wake up this early and go outside to see that other human beings, too, are active during this hour. And lots of them. The snow didn't stop anything. Students were out with their coffee. Cars were slower, but no less present. People were in the Commons with their dogs. Jesus, if my dog took me out in this, I would hate them so much.

I slapped the snow off of me in the foyer of the radio building where my Artist and the Making of Meaning class takes place, shoved my gloves in my pockets and wrung my hat in my hands as my boots squeaked obnoxiously to the elevator.

There was one girl in the class room, along with the professor - a Pugliesie-esque man, whose playful maliciousness doesn't undercut his demand for respect. The girl acknowledged my presence and greeted me in a rather girly way, a girlier way than even most girls who are considered girly would greet someone. The professor looked at me in a quizical way that suggested that he knew someone had done something wrong, and he didn't know if it was him or me. Being who I am, it was me, of course.

"You were in the first class, right? You know, you weren't supposed to come today."

"What," I said. I did not ask "what," but rather, I declared it.

Today's class was for the dozen or so people who didn't make it to the first class - though it appeared as though they wouldn't make it to this one, either, excepting the girl. I didn't have to come to the class, or turn in the first assignment, until Wednesday.

He asked if I travelled far, and I told him I was on the west side of the campus. He said it was a good thing that I at least lived on campus. As I left, I told him that I'd get some breakfast for as long as I was awake. I didn't - I felt the apple I ate before I left my room would hold me over till lunch.


I'm just saying, it figures - it always figures with me.

It FIGURES that the assignment for the class that I thought I was on top of wasn't due today, and the classes that I haven't even gotten the books for do have assignments due today.

I won't be able to get back to sleep. Looks like it's Wild Arms and laundry till my next class.

Damn, I probably should've put the pair of jeans I wore this morning into the load, too. This is my third day in a row wearing these jeans. Or fourth.

http://www.aantin.com/films/lepapillon.php