Dec. 1st, 2011

  • 6:54 PM
femmealunettes: (Moriarty is not impressed.)
Ugh. December.

No, I'm just bitching. I should have no problem with December. Today was fine. I did things today. I got the psych internship advisor to sign off on my internship, so now I just have to keep calling the Women's Center until someone will fucking talk to me, but I can do that tomorrow morning, and then maybe do the faxing of contracts and things when I go to work later in the morning. I also submitted the abstract of my thesis to the Eastern Psychological Association for consideration to present a poster, so I am like... officially an academic, now. Or I will be if I get approved.

My last poetry class was today, and it was good. No one had any criticism of my sonnet, and the free verse poem Bennett did some hack-and-slash line cutting that made it a lot punchier. And then the person the poem was about, who was supposed to show up to the poetry reading, did not come to the reading, so I could read the revised version. I wouldn't have done it had he been there. And the reading went well and a lot of people told me I did a good job and they liked my poems, so that was nice.

I just. Feel very flat right now. I want to be happy. I want to be okay. But I don't feel happy and I don't feel okay. I just want to curl up with my head in someone's lap and have them stroke my hair until I fall asleep. I want to not have anything to worry about any more. But when I don't have anything to worry about any more, then I have to leave and not see my friends for a month and a half. And I will still be worried, just not about grades.

I am more pathetic than usual right now. And I'm usually fairly pathetic. I want to be less pathetic, but honestly it probably makes me write better poetry because nobody wants to read poems about being happy. I would have written a lot less if I hadn't been in love with the wrong person for.. like sixteen months now. Which is a long time to be pathetic, really. I should do something about it. Something that won't result in my being miserable, preferably.

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