in the drunkness of the night

I am a sucker for proving my worth. As this coming school year's vice president of Keramos UW, and ceramicist extraordinaire, I downed a bottle of wretched wretchedosity aka strawberry cisco to prove that Yes, Bow The Eff Down, I am Vice President: President of Vice. Feeling the creeping of the hangover at 3am on a saturday morning, I am sorry. But not really. I came in third, after next year's president and the president of 2008, but before this year's president. I don't know what that means other than I am Champers McChampersaurus the Third and all dem bitches be ash and I'm lotion. I'm the only girl in Keramos history to do this shit like a pro, despite my history of never shotgunning anything in my life. Except maybe monsters right before a lab report. I am proud of myself.

And what do I do to expend all my sugary drunkness? I pick up the damn mechanical properties book to read about Surprise! CERAMICS. Did you know they have high moduli parce que they are held together solely by primary bonding? I knew that. I know that even more now. Aren't I a special monkey.

In rushes the insecurity. What kind of special monkey am I, that I don't have a co-op scheduled for this summer? Like an idiot I banked on a thing, a competitive thing, for which my application was suboptimal. And it is no surprise that they didn't absolutely love me. So good job, sparklemotion. You're spending the summer taking classes and making ceramics. You're spending the summer doing what you love for fun and no pay. You're spending the summer doing nothing you can use to get a job in the future. Through fire to perfection, mofo.

I love school more than I love myself. And as such I have given up things in order to fix my focus. Of course, I bullshit and say that I did it to do something else, but the fact of the matter is that I am better crazy, smarter broken, and wiser when there's nothing left to be wise about. I'm sacrificing to the goddess Athena again, breaking my bonds and working for the good of my own kind. My own kind being the kids who can't be kids. The grown ups who discover childhood in a book, in an episode of star trek, in a letter. And wonder why their actual childhoods were cold and hard and confusing, when listening to effing weezer is so simple and warm and easy. If only everything was like listening to weezer. Everything really is. However.

The headache is creeping up on me, i'm closing my eyes every minute or so, breathing in and wondering why it's always harder to breathe out. Expulsion of air should be just as natural as the intake, right? Wrong. So wrong. I know why it's hard to breathe out. Relaxation is a thing I only read about. Relaxation is for polymers. I paint obsessively, sew obsessively, read obsessively. Nothing I do is relaxation when everything I do to relax is obsessive. The intensity at which I am trying to live my life is the killing joke. And it isn't paying off. Athena, will I even make it to graduate school? Athena, will I even make it to tomorrow?

Athena is also the name of a friend. She's wise. Wiser than me, at least. Athena will not tell me what to do. Athena likes my art but says that there should be five eyes across. Athena is more real to me than most people, and I don't think I made her up. She really exists. People have seen her. She likes my honey lattes and says that I am a good barista. She says that I should do whatever makes me happy, even if it makes me miserable. Athena knows these things.

I accidentally smoked a cigarette today. It made me think of you. And so I hid.