Andare, Partire, Tornare

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I have everything under control! Except all those things that I don't.

I took an antihistamine that I mistakenly thought was a non-drowsy, and discovered the hard way that it was, indeed, the kind that make you feel like your head is slowly inflating with air and starting to rise off your shoulders. Any weird things stated in this journal entry (which will understandably be brief) can be blamed on that. Because, you know, otherwise I am error-free in every way!

Went with Cherbear to pick up some thesis books yesterday. Ahh, the good ole' days of elbow sprain from carrying giant books through a massive library. It's been forever since I entered the hallowed halls of Fenwick Library *snort* but nothing has changed there. At least it doesn't have the same feeling as the library at Penn State - the ceilings aren't an inch above your head, the stairways do not resemble those found on submarines, and the lighting isn't on a timer that will invariably go out just as you've found the right shelf, thus plunging you into total darkness and confusion just as the elation of finding your book is about to set in.

So now I have books. And I must read them.

I also took a long lunch yesterday and went to see a guy I went to grad school with present a brief lecture on his dissertation research. I wasn't particularly good friends with him, but he's a nice enough guy, and I think I rather shocked him by showing up. I haven't seen him in several years, and I'm fairly sure he didn't even know I was currently in DC, and therefore within easy reach of the National Gallery and his lectures. It was actually a very pleasant sensation to be dipped back into the scholarly world of the Italian Renaissance during the lecture, even if I had a bad moment when I couldn't remember what the word "paragone" meant. It's basically the term for the competition between the arts - sculpture versus poetry, painting versus sculpture, that sort of thing. Michaelangelo and Leonardo bickered about it a lot, as Leo figured that sculpture was kind of an icky dirty profession that would prevent you from being a gentleman (and thus, clean and tidy and presentable, even if you were in the midst of creating your art).

Anyway.

My good intentions about staying away from junk food have gone right the hell out the window. I'm stressed about the fact that I paid a bill early (thinking I had the extra cash for it) and discovered too late that I really didn't. I'm facing the fact that some things may bounce, and bounce hard, but I won't know until Friday. Plus, I had a bit of a pissing match with one of the curators today, because he didn't want to be burdened with the inconvenience of a half-hour meeting and was hoping I would oh so kindly delay the meeting for about four weeks. I wanted to walk into the other office and smack his PMSing face, but thankfully the director intervened and settled everybody's hash.

Really, all I want to do is hide out in a bathroom stall until this antihistamine wears off. I feel like I'm trying to think through a very thick layer of cotton candy.

12:14 p.m. - 2003-06-17

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