When you are a teenager, and you're having a rough or unusual week, it's usually due to the fact that the world and everybody in it are out to get you. However, as you get to be an adult, you start to realize that these stretches of time are less about the world being out to get you and more about the way you handle the things that happen. It isn't a conspiracy, it's just "classic you."
For me, this has been a week of classics. It is the first of two finals weeks for my program at Hunter, and the children in my after school art program are performing their play for parents and friends. There's a lot going on.
I spent the weekend slaving over my two final assignments for my literacy class. One of them, I knew was pretty good; the other I figured I would just muscle through when I got home from work on Monday night. I had no other obligations, it was perfect, right? Wrong. I arrived to work (in the already hot weather wearing a dress) to hear N ask if I was dressed up for the meeting we had after school. Whoops! Nope. Even though I have known about it for months and was even reminded about it on Friday afternoon, it slipped my mind. Classic me.
I will spare you the specifics of the meeting and head into my buckling down to finish this assignment. Last semester, I would have called it a night around bedtime and resolved to finish at lunchtime on Tuesday. But after a few too many crazy stressful afternoons wondering if my paper would end up being tinted in on time, I vowed to never do that again. My assignments would be done the night before. There was no alternative. I was starting to feel the pressure, but didn't worry too much because I professor had promised is the opportunity to revise. When I go to submit it via Blackboard, the attempt is labeled as late. I die, email the professor, and lay awake fretting over how many points would be taken off for my lack of punctuality.
Around ten o clock the next morning, I get an email stating that my assignment was, in fact, on time. Relief. Then I get to class to realize that this paper cannot actually be revised, as I originally thought. And I died. I fretted the whole subway ride home about how I would deal with what would most certainly be a zero point score for that particular paper. I buy ice cream before I head upstairs to ease the pain. Then I check my grades. 100. Classic me.
This brings us to Wednesday, the day before we are supposed to show our play to parents and friends. I go to dig out the costumes, props, and sets that the kids have been working on for the past three weeks so that I can do some last minute trimmings, only to find that they are gone. Upon further investigation, I found that they must have been mistaken by the cleaning crew for garbage and have been thrown away. They had been sitting in the same spot for the better part of a month, but were thrown away just one day before they were needed. I had somehow left them in precisely the wrong spot. Classic me.
Sigh. But we rallied. A was amazing at reproducing what was lost. It looked a little more adult made than before, but still wonderful. Thursday and Friday were a whirlwind of costumes and Mommies and Daddies and gourmet soft pretzels. A good time was had by all. Or.....most.
But it sure was a slow moving whirlwind.
You would think that Friday would mark the end of the insanity, but that just isn't the case. After factoring my grade in my undergraduate history class and realizing that, even if I didn't pass in the final paper that was assigned, I would still get my desired C or higher, I had a hard time concentrating. And waited till the very last minute. Which, if you recall, is something I vowed not to do. At least today is Saturday. And it's beautiful. And I will definitely be getting that C+.
Classic me.
Enjoy your weekend!!
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