Friday, September 25, 2009

"make like paper sound"

One day, when I am a real grown-up, I will stop overindulging, and I won't have to spend entire days recovering from one evening's antics. One day. Not today.

Instead, today, I learned that three-and-a-half espresso martinis on an empty stomach is a bad idea. I'm a kinesthetic learner, which means I learn through experience, which means that even things that I understand conceptually to be dumb, I still have to actually do to learn to not ever do again. Huh? Exactly. Brain foggy. Tummy mumbly. Limbs rubbery. It took most of the day, quiet company and his generous coffee run, an egg sandwich, some cold noodles, and hours of Pokemon Puzzle League (N64) to get me even to this semi-coherent state.

So I gave myself a little break, and only started Sub-Project: Papers. And truthfully, here, by "started" I mean "sat on the ground with and stared at and contemplated for 20 minutes."

My plan was to start sifting these papers into piles and shredding things (I do love to shred things), but I got hung up on the first item, which made me want to write more than it made me want to organize. Plus, I really want to get into bed. So let's do this, shall we?

Before and after photos will be available during the after portion of our program, but let me attempt to paint the picture now: credit card bills, ideas scrawled on napkins, flyers from important shows, and tons of miscellaneous mystery sheets are piled into two semi-neat piles. On the very top of the first pile sit my notes from last semester's English 282 experience (wherein I decided "school is bullshit" and decided to drop out) and my notes from a 2007 Property and Casualty Insurance Licensing Course (wherein I became the "smarty pants" who passed the exam on the first try). Items like these pose several problems:

  • I worked really hard to pass the Nevada Insurance Licensing Exam, and I spent hours making flash cards and study guides and learning the difference between the different types of homeowner insurance policies. How can I dispose of the evidence of such hard work?
  • Inevitably, as soon as I shred any paper, I will want to reference it for something. My final paper for English 282 was something of a trainwreck, but I made some good points about media, disease, and the discourse of fear, and I might like to refer to myself or to one of my cited works someday. You know, to win an argument or a bar bet or something
  • So if I keep this junk, how do I store it? In binders on shelves? In boxes (grrr), taking up space in a closet? In a storage unit, because I know just how much "learning" is in these piles?
It's enough to make a girl give in and go to bed and try again tomorrow. A little sobriety ought to help...

p.s. Today's title comes from one of my favorite songs by Red House Painters. Sentimental girl I am, I always think of it when the season changes from summer to fall.

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