Sometimes you just need to sweat
Fatigue. I've had more than my share of it recently. Summer's coming to
an end, and there are many things that I should complete before the
school year begins and consumes my life. But my energy has consistently
failed me lately. I've slept more over the past three days than I did
the two weeks before that. I'm optimistic that today will be different.
Though I slept until 3:15p, and then got up only because I needed to
call Will before 4, this can only mean that my day's work will be
delayed, not cancelled. If I type it, it will be true.
I will have four jobs this schoolyear. That's gotta be a record of some sort. I just got an RA position, which I'll really need because, in all honesty, I was severely nervous about how I was going to make the rent at 118. I'll keep my position with the Black Studies department, but I'll only work that job 4-6 hours a week, or as often as I'm needed up to that limit. I'll still be a card swiper at the UC (for visibility purposes mainly, but also because I'll be getting a raise and it will be my highest paying job), but I'll only work one shift a week, hopefully Saturday mornings. And, finally, I'll be a Sharpe Comunity Fellow, which is technically more like a student activity, except I get a $500 stipend and will thus approach it like a job.
All of this will be facilitated by my courseload. I'm back to my usual 12 credits, and very excited about that. Plus, I have no classes on Mondays or Wednesdays, and only a 50-minute Jazz lab on Fridays. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be utter hell, but that's okay.
A new pursuit will make my life interesting. Some of us want to start a campus publication called From the Margin. Its focus will be the minority experience on campus and abroad, and it's shaping up to be an incredible work. At the moment, I'm acting as editor of the zine, but the approach will likely be a bit more cooperative once everyone who's on staff gets back.
Crystal and I took up tennis yesterday. She played in high school, varsity no less, and I'd never even picked up a racket. Man, it was so much fucking fun. And, partly because of the ridiculous humidity, I was leaking with sweat the whole time. Something about hitting those balls and feeling myself glisten with perspiration made me forget, if for only a moment, that I am a slave to a system that I not only don't believe in, but thoroughly hate. And that's what we call juicy.
I will have four jobs this schoolyear. That's gotta be a record of some sort. I just got an RA position, which I'll really need because, in all honesty, I was severely nervous about how I was going to make the rent at 118. I'll keep my position with the Black Studies department, but I'll only work that job 4-6 hours a week, or as often as I'm needed up to that limit. I'll still be a card swiper at the UC (for visibility purposes mainly, but also because I'll be getting a raise and it will be my highest paying job), but I'll only work one shift a week, hopefully Saturday mornings. And, finally, I'll be a Sharpe Comunity Fellow, which is technically more like a student activity, except I get a $500 stipend and will thus approach it like a job.
All of this will be facilitated by my courseload. I'm back to my usual 12 credits, and very excited about that. Plus, I have no classes on Mondays or Wednesdays, and only a 50-minute Jazz lab on Fridays. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be utter hell, but that's okay.
A new pursuit will make my life interesting. Some of us want to start a campus publication called From the Margin. Its focus will be the minority experience on campus and abroad, and it's shaping up to be an incredible work. At the moment, I'm acting as editor of the zine, but the approach will likely be a bit more cooperative once everyone who's on staff gets back.
Crystal and I took up tennis yesterday. She played in high school, varsity no less, and I'd never even picked up a racket. Man, it was so much fucking fun. And, partly because of the ridiculous humidity, I was leaking with sweat the whole time. Something about hitting those balls and feeling myself glisten with perspiration made me forget, if for only a moment, that I am a slave to a system that I not only don't believe in, but thoroughly hate. And that's what we call juicy.