I spent today trying to convince myself that it was going to be a good day. I had at least gotten my class reading done for today, even though I had totally forgotten about the minor group speech in class. I don’t know how my introduction managed to “blow away” our professor, but I’ll take it. I wasn’t in the mood to do much of anything today, much less talk to other people and present. I know that may sound antisocial, but such is the nonsense of an addled mind—I can be peppy and talkative one day, and run on autopilot anywhere from minutes to hours to a day later.
I asked for an egg and cheese omelette and got mac-n-cheese, instead. Normally this wouldn’t bother people, but for some reason today this had a profound effect. All I could keep thinking were things like: You should have just gone next door for a burger. No, you’ve been eating too many of those; the sandwich stand is healthier. You could have even just asked for the basic pasta+sauce combo and avoided the trouble. It seemed like just another notch in a day I couldn’t put faith into being a good one.
This morning, I tried to get more reading done for an assignment that is due tomorrow, and is currently less than half finished. I could only read six or seven pages before my eyes began to cross, so I ended up taking a nap on the bus. Six or seven pages? That’s it? You were the first to read in your kindergarten class, and despite being a voracious reader you can’t go beyond six or seven pages? Pathetic. Lazy. This happened again on the bus ride home. No matter how hard I tried, I could not stay awake.
Tonight, I wanted to get as much work done as possible before “When We Rise” came on, and for the first time since I was a child, the following thought entered my brain, plain and simple: This is…boring. I finished the reading I’d failed to complete on the bus today, and was able to scan through an article I have to pick apart for another assignment also due tomorrow, but I kept having to take breaks. Heck, I’m writing this post to pass the time during one of these breaks. Usually, I don’t have difficulty unpacking academic literature, but as per my brain and the day it’s had, it wasn’t so easy to understand anymore. For the assignment requiring the book reading, I have to utilize terms and theories I’ve come across for years now, and yet I feel it’s so foreign to me. It’s suddenly become unfamiliar knowledge, and now my head is the weirdest place to be for me right now.
Then I watch the premiere of “When We Rise.” Some of the material is familiar, since I remember a previous class’s content covering it to a degree. I was hooked, and the next episode on Wednesday is already autotuned. It was heartbreaking and insightful, but it was also inspiring. The first thing I did when I got back on the laptop was search “how to hold a rally,” modifying my search terms when nothing relevant showed up in the results. I got discouraged and decided to return to my schoolwork, although you can see where that’s gotten me. I am torn between believing I can make a difference and not being able to make sense of material that should be familiar to me by this point. So far, few things have made me feel more inadequate than reduced capabilities in the face of blossoming hope.
I don’t feel as dead as I did earlier, but I’m still spacey and not entirely present. I am tired and know I must sleep, but I also have work to do and know I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep yet. This is one of the problems when you’ve stopped moving but your mind has not—when all you want to do is rest, but your mind is at war with itself, fighting between motion and stillness, and there’s no way you can be the mediator.
That’s when people start thinking you’ve officially lost it.