Tuesday, October 21, 2014

from my wooden desk...

its exactly 12:51:22 am.
my computer and phone are currently in spanish, in hopes that this paper I am suppose to write, will begin to flow from my brain and soon enough right itself. but. . . i still find myself scratching my head, over and over, and over again.

i'm accompanied by some popcorn--which proves difficult to chew quietly--considering my roommate is sleeping. her heavy sighs and soft snoring are lulling me to sleep, but even when i shut my eyes ever so slightly, i can still feel the lightening glare of my white computer screen. the white blank paper that lacks black words that will fill its space.

its definitely been one of those mondays. the kind where you see a man trip down the cement stairs, and you feel like you did too just by watching it. don't forget the moment when you are staring at your calendar and you notice the littler reminder that says: spanish paper due. how convienent. or when you start losing your own self identity and sanity because you've read over 200 freshman papers--on the exact same thing--Lehi's dream! I could probably recite it to you word for word now.
then only to open your backpack to find your dinner--so perfectly prepared that morning--completely unedible and garbage worthy. the tomatoes have soggified every inch of that wheat bread and perfectly sliced pepper jack cheese. that one actually hurt. you settle with a chocolate oatmeal granola bar just to avoid the tears, smeared mascara, and way too many stares. you walk to that room that awaits you 300 freshman, perfect clothes, slicked hair, bright eyes. college hasn't ruined them yet. i walked in with air-dryed hair from after my shower, and just mascara on the eye lashes because thats all i really cared for or had time to do. college has ruined me. i admit to them of my stupidity and that i am not their professor, so if i don't know the answer to a question, don't hate me. i'm sure they still do. it was only until everyone got up and left, that one sat behind. quietly she peered downward avoiding my gaze and confrontation. i looked closer, then i scanned through my memory, flipping through all the students pictures pasted with their paper that i had graded. Rachel. it was Rachel. i spoke to her. "Rachel, are you Rachel?" she was taken back. she caught her hand on her chest, and said, "yes, I am a rachel." I remembered her. I remembered her words. Her paper was the first that really touched me as Emily, not just TA Emily. For the next half hour we chatted--human to human--about life, education, marriage, family, students, grades, even to the young woman that babysat for her so she could attend the review i was holding. she became my new day's hero. rachel. a mother, student, and obeyer of the spirit. i walked home. feeling weighed down, and not just from my heavy backpack. i internalized the voice of my mother through my ear buds as we talked. and soon enough my phone died, leaving me to walk in silence. i sighed again. came home, sneaked a pumpkin cookie in my hand from the kitchen, and collapsed on my bed. after releasing stress at my fhe, i came home, before it took me an hour to focus and scratch out my first sentences of my spanish paper. then, i received a facetime call from the only one that ever facetimes me. he told me we could say hi, and so i didn't wait another second to close my laptop, forget reality, and enjoy brief moments of studio c, and an enjoyable human conversation.  so now, this leaves me on a tuesday morning. 1:10:45 am to be exact. you won't need to ask me what time i went to bed this morning, the color of the bags under my eyes will be an indication enough. and thats okay. i'll just make up for my sleep when i am retired. someday, or one day.   

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Maira Gall