Acting Out

Finals are horrible.  Even though they will be over in two weeks, it feels like an eternity.  I recommend keeping a safe distance from me until then, because I am beyond irritable.  I had to get gas today, which seemed like the world’s biggest inconvenience.  My car was at about an eighth of a tank.  Even though I drive an average of a mile and a half a day, it seemed like a good idea to fill up because here in Boulder the thermometers are ringing in at near record low temperatures.  It’s supposed to be about five degrees tonight.  I pulled up to a pump only to discover that the credit/debit machine was out of order.  This necessitated me getting back in my car, and backing up approximately 15 feet, and I nearly cried out of frustration.  This is not normal.  This is finals. 

BUT… there is a bonus to finals that I forgot about until tonight: the inevitable acting out.  Yes, acting out, like a small child who is over-tired, and misbehaves horribly as a result, perhaps enjoying it a little.  In college, it meant finishing studying at midnight and drinking until three, only to get up at seven to study more.  In grad school, it’s a little less exciting, especially in the frigid cold.  I spent an embarrassingly long time at the library today, and there was class squished somewhere amidst those hours, and finals haven’t even technically started.  However, tonight, I found myself drinking vodka, cooking obnoxiously garlicky pasta, and having a dance party to the Beta Band at inappropriate hours.  I was giddy with glee, and pulling dance moves of which the details will not be disclosed.  Did I mention that I have a presentation tomorrow at nine o’clock in the morning?  Like I said, finals are horrible, but the consequential psychosis comes with the occasional swing of mania that makes it worthwhile for a hot minute.

In case you were wondering, the pasta was a garlic and olive oil masterpiece, with lemon, tons of parsley, and enough hot pepper flakes to guarantee heartburn at this late hour.  I finished it off with some Parmesan.  It was all my favorite ingredients piled up together on one plate. This is actually a frequent antidote for exhaustion and desperation in my apartment. On this particular occasion, I garnished it with some capers for a dose of briny, salty goodness.  I will provide more detail one of these days, but not now, because I’m busy acting out.  If we’re all very lucky, I will refrain from posting until after finals are over, and hopefully, I will have recovered from the urge to divulge such psychotic drivel.