I want to go to bed.
(Do I get plus or minus points for inserting a snippet of The Smiths’ Asleep in my title? The song sounds infinitely more depressing than I feel, but no other lyric can do my exhaustion justice like a Smiths lyric can. I am tired, and I really do want to go to bed.
Plus or minus points for a mini side-ramble with a partly-imagined audience in parenthesis?)
Classes are having their way with me again, and my whole being aches for a good rest. Last week I found myself stuck in frigid temperatures wearing a coat that is hardly useful in fending off -6 ºC to -1 ºC, special thanks to: a closed-down campus, my frozen-shut car, and roadside assistance rejection. My late class ends roughly at 9 PM. It is also at 9 PM that all buildings on campus officially close and lock. Although I did manage to pry the passenger door open — albeit: after some time ticked by — may I advise anyone experiencing a frosty season to create back-up transportation plans? If anything goes “majorly wrong” with my car at an indecent hour, my back-up plans have remained as follows:
Call Mom! Mom always knows what to do. Why don’t I ever listen to her? Wait, nope. Mom doesn’t know what to do? She doesn’t have almighty words of wisdom to cure my wretched situation? “What do you want me to do? You made me miss the end of Tangled. Again.” Okay.
If, for whatever reason, plan A fails, I switch to plan B: Grandma! “You can’t get into your car? Well why not? I don’t know what to tell you, Raya. [Exhales audible sigh, as if to say, ‘Sitting at home and inside where it’s warm is tough work; check your privileges, girl,’ or ‘You woke me up for this?’]” My grandma is not among the helpful kind of people, I know this. This a woman who once asked me “why” I locked my keys in the car. I call my grandma for consoling purposes. Unfortunately, she is as consoling as she is helpful, which brings me to plan C: AAA.
But, oh no! Frozen-shut cars are not considered roadside emergencies?! Frozen-shut doors are of lesser significance than keys sitting inside a locked car?! “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” said the man on the phone, “but unfortunately–” Well, excuse you, AAA, but fortunately that raucous sound is the sound of angels sweeping down from a distant heaven coming to save me from hypothermia (and from the creepy man hiding by the bushes who believes he’s well-disguised in shadow). That sound is also known as my car alarm, because I just pulled the passenger door open. Ha, ha ha.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha. That is what personal triumph sounds like.
This experience taught me that I should hate AAA. I should hate AAA until another roadside emergency occurs and they hold up their end of the deal. I pay membership and they help. Isn’t that how it should work?
An additional lesson I took from this unpleasantry is: be prepared. I just haven’t figured out how I should prepare to un-freeze my car, unless details to worship the sun count. In any case, I wound up sick from the cold that night and I feel gross. I feel gross topped with TIRED and a side dish of EXTRA GROSS, a.k.a. “flu vaccine.” I know — people are not supposed to receive the vaccination if they are already sick, but I wanted to ensure immunity before venturing into the land of Sick People in the country of Nursing Homes. Clocking in clinical hours starting in two weeks, you know.
While this post is a great summary of the past three weeks, here are class notes to further the accuracy and representation of my mental state:
I can’t say I am impressing my instructor. How can she miss the one semiconscious student who is nearly falling out of her chair every five minutes? No one should sit through four hours of straight-out lecture. I need to move. I was born with the need to physically move every fifteen to thirty minutes. It’s crushing me, on the inside.
I haven’t died yet,