mmmarilyn;

a big-city fairy tale.

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A Good day: Monday, September 18, 2006.

11.59pm

back home, pre-sleep

SUCH a good day. I hesitate to write here some days because I feel like I'm giving an update and status report on my life and people will worry if I'm negative or depressive, especially if it's the worn-down kind that doesn't even have much poetic tragedy tinting it. And I've felt more than a little suffocated in the last few days: I pulled two all-nighters already in less than two weeks of classes, and I hadn't even yet begun the assignment for the class I had thus far deemed the most difficult.

But I talked to the best woman today (coordinators and organizational head-types are so much more straight-up and helpful than professors) and realized that my whole school plan would not only be not destroyed by dropping one class, but it might actually open up some leniency to do some of the things that really matter. Like not kill myself.

My logic homework made me almost cry for the first but surely not the last time in my reinstated academic career (it started when I was in kindergarten, and my ambition first outreached my capacity; though no other kids could read, I was infuriated with myself and red-face embarrassed that I couldn't spell "box" or "banana" when my teacher asked me to try), but I did finish it (though not with absolute rigor, I fear) and in class, the professor admitted that the halved class-population perhaps being due to the homework difficulty was not altogether unintentional, and perhaps they would be a little more straightforward, at least for a little while.

I don't know why I feel determined to stick with my math class, but--no, that's actually a lie. Linear algebra is actually rather beautiful, and it inspires my brain to wriggle things out in a way that hasn't worked out so prettily since I first learned calculus back in my junior year of high school, with the illustrious Mr. Darrell Bach. It makes me feel nice, and I'm sticking with it. Just like I have dreams of one day making a difference in some way in the motivation of young girls and women to lend their brand of genius to math and science, I also like the fact that my school has a tightly linked working relationship, and not too much distaste exchanged, between the math and computer science departments, despite their varying angles and points of view at what are really a set and its subset.

I went to see Magnolia Electric Co. at the Knitting Factory the other night by myself and noted that it was usually only very strange girls who attend shows on their lonesome. Relatively strange guys, but only the very strangest of girls.

I considered this briefly, though then they played The North Star, and I forgot that.

I got the Style issue of the New Yorker, I wore a cute dress and the bowling shoes I'd missed for the past three weeks that arrived in the mail courtesy my sweetly fabulous mom, I had delicious food, courtesy the chef with the prowess, talked with my favorite people I know in NY so far and ate and drank wine that I got from the kickASS wine shop right next to NYU, got to know one person better who I had wanted to, ate a proper amount of shrimp and grits, crab spread on toast, a perfect succulent chunk of kiwi, watched that show and cheered in my mind and out loud about the fact that Aaron Sorkin is making television again.

This is disintegrating. It is a sign for sleep. I see my boyfriend in less than two days and I am happier than ever already at the very contemplation.

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