I knew, when I signed up for classes, that there would be homework. I’m OK with that. After all, I have no choice. I either do the homework or take an F in the classes that I spent my own money on. Money that, if I get anything less than an A or…A…would be wasted and better spent on groceries.
What I didn’t take into consideration is…all the everyday, live-in distractions that prevent me from doing homework at convenient times. Between all the day to day “must do” stuff to the demands of the five kids to my little job, I didn’t get a chance to start reading my homework until last night.
I opened my Creative Writing book, which seems to be very interesting. I started to read it. I got about 3 pages in and I promptly fell asleep. Drool and all. Yes, I’m a fine specimen of a serious student.
In my Creative Writing class, we are starting with a unit on poetry. POETRY. Not only am I required to read the stuff, I have to write some too.
Me? Writing poetry? Oy. I can barely fumble my way through a blogpost and I have to write poetry? For a grade? Vey.
I’ll have to experiment on all you lucky people before I turn anything in. Aren’t you the lucky ones?!
Men and Poker
Someday, and I am not sure I truly, in my heart of hearts, believe what I’m about to try to convince myself of. But anyway…
SOMEDAY. Men will not be so loud when they are playing poker. On that someday, they will be conscious of the fact that there are children in the house. As well as women who are trying to study but due to the noise has been forced to flee to her dear internet for solace and consolation. And distraction.
On My Psychotic, Neurotic Mind
Wanna know the random drivel I was thinking about today? Oh shush…sure you do. Here, I’ll do it in list form. It’s a practice run for the first poetry homework assignment I have. A list poem with no rhyming and some other instructions that might as well be in Ukrainian because I don’t understand a word of it. It’s about poetry, that’s all I know.
I write. Why? Because, whether or not I do it well, to me it’s like a pinch to prove I’m alive.
And then this…
Law is about facts only, there are no opinions allowed. Life is the complete opposite, it seems.
Then I thought about this, in light of recent gossip spreading like wildfire in my community…
People. Stop your freaking cheating. Because if the entire community knows about it, that means your children will find out. And do you really want your kids to find out you were fucking someone who wasn’t their Mommy or Daddy while they are swinging on the playground monkey bars? They might hurt themselves. But not as badly as you hurt them.
And lastly, I share with you this…
Tomorrow, my son has his gymnastics class. This class is a little over an hour long. Normally, I’d have my husband take him. But, no. I’m going to. I’m going to schlep my poor, tired, sorry ass over to the gymnastic establishment. I’m going to bring my homework with me. And for an hour and twenty-five minutes, I will sit there with no one calling me mommy. I will read. And highlight. And take notes. Maybe, just maybe. I might get something done while my son is swinging from the ceiling with some little pishers that call themselves gymnastics teachers.
That, my friends, is all you are going to be able to squeeze out of me tonight. I am drained.