Feeling: compressed
Listening to: Coldplay - We Never Change
Reading/Watching: Running With Scissors, Augusten Burroughs

"So basically, I need a break. Who doesn't?" ~ Lala

A world of yes.

In the past week, I have discovered holes and/or imminent wearing-out of: two pairs of jeans, three pairs of shoes, half my underwear, four shirts, and my favorite two pairs of slacks.

I also had laundry piled up so high in my closet that it was wedging the door open. I spent two days re-wearing dirty socks and trying to go pantyless until I could run a wash. (You know there is something fundamentally wrong when a generally-hygienic college girl with decent funds and her own washer and dryer has nothing to wear. And not in the whiny, "liekomg I have an important date" kind of way, but the "if I wear that the fabric holes will line up and passersby will know I'm not a natural redhead" kind of way.)

My desk is an utter mess, covered in important papers, open textbooks, homework assignments I've already turned in, single earrings I've lost the match to, and a handful of Christmas presents that I've not assigned to specific people yet, much less wrapped.

The rest of the gifts are in various shopping bags on my floor. Finals are next week, and I still need presents for Krynn, Mel, Drew, Bear, Maffrew & his wife, and of course my parents. Don't ask me what I'm supposed to give Miller for his graduation, because nothing is good enough.

Then there's the studying, which actually took a slight vacation now that I've had my last class for just about everything, and finished with all Christmas concerts for the year, thus ending ensemble rehearsals. All that's left is studying for the comprehensive geology exam (nineteen chapters in four days, whee!), memorizing my five songs for the qualifying jury Monday (I cannot remember the damned Hebrew. I cannot get it. The Russian, Latin, Czech, German, French, and Italian are fine, but Hebrew? no), and fighting with my voice teacher about which songs should be in the jury and/or recital. That last bit is something I never expected to have to do, by the way, but suddenly she turned on me this week, trying to cut some of my favorite pieces from the program because she didn't think the judges would "understand" the musical style, and that they'd assume I didn't know what I was doing.

Gfgbuh? At what point in the past years have I not known what I was doing? Having trouble with text or pronunciation, yes, but flat-out not getting the damn notes right? I. think. not. Call me a diva if you want, but I know my shit. Don't ever tell me I don't.

So yes, the past week has been a fun exercise in braiding fuses, making all my complications intertwine into a ticking clock. Wednesday the fuses sparked.

Mon coeur had the unfortunate luck of being present when the powder ignited. (Well, not present physically, but telephonically.) All I did was ask whether he still wanted to go to Bartok and Kerry's graduation this weekend, and when he hedged, I just lost it, doing the Female Flip from icy and distracted to suddenly and utterly pissed off. Yelling, crying, saying "you're driving me crazy" and "I'm driving me crazy", until he was a big pile of confused male and didn't know whether to yell back, comfort me, or just hang up until the shrieking banshee retreated and returned his girlfriend to him.

In the end, he came over to my apartment while I was tearfully recounting my day to Nimsay, and hugged me until I stopped crying, then took me out to dinner. A brilliant move.

There are times I'm honestly convinced he deserves better than the Overextended Polygirl, but on this particular matter he and I disagree.

When all this is over I intend to spend several days being intensely cute and emotionally stable to make it up to him, at least until he leaves for Christmas with his mom (& dad, if he's reading this, needs to e-mail him).

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