The Trick of It

Today was a good day.

I made it to Spanish class on time. On a Tuesday. That means 8:30. That's right. 8:30 found me sitting in the right section of the room, ready to be assailed by another language.

In Caswell's class, I performed my first warrior exam, and survived just fine. I just so happened to get the story about depression, so I had plenty to talk about, and several people said during the feedback time that they were glad I got that quote. It was a really nice class today. Someone even remarked about how happy I was. If other people notice, that's a good sign.

I got my essay back from Caswell---the highlight of the day. I tried not to sound too eager when I asked him at the end of class, but when he said "Oh! I almost forgot..." and opened a folder full of loose paper, I thought--yes!

I spent every day since turning in that paper anticipating getting it back, hoping for those words in friendly blue ink... Bliss is getting an essay back from Caswell.

Physics... I was more prepared for the quiz than I usually am. Much more than usual. Yesterday I went to the library, put myself in a little cubicle, and read the chapter. I made a start on the homework, but I didn't have time to get all the way through it. But it's a good start.

Sadly, almost the entire quiz revolved around a bunch of math I'm not very good at. I don't think I did very well. But I certainly tried. Maybe next time I'll work on the homework on several different occasions, have it finished in advance, and really be prepared for a quiz.

I was a little sad about that.

Then I made this ridiculous decision to eat lunch. That's a healthy thing to do, but I had my honors advising at 1:30, and I didn't have my schedule planned out. I think it's good, actually, that I ate lunch, because I don't think I would have figured out my schedule in time anyway. I ended up having to reschedule the advising.

That's okay. I'll have time to do it tomorrow, because Wednesdays are good days as long as I don't fall asleep. 

But at the time I was very upset. It was a good day so far, but all it takes sometimes is a bad feeling about a physics quiz and a lot of anxiety about talking to the honors college people. Telling them, no, I'm most likely not in good standing with the honors college right now. Planning my schedule is just an overwhelming thought. I need to talk to Suzie, too, and one thing this semester has taught me is that scheduling is extremely important.

So I rode back to Gordon, sat on the sidewalk, and started crying. There's something about crying on a sidewalk that is profoundly sad.

I was very aware that this was irrational. I know everything will be okay. So logical, and so ineffectual against my stubborn heart, or neurotransmitters as it were. Who knows? But I could see it, and it was quite obvious to me that crying on the sidewalk and thinking about how sad that is was not a constructive thing to do. I couldn't stop. So I called Terri. I felt bad about calling her... isn't it awful to call someone because you're sad? It seems like such a selfish thing to do. I try not to call people or otherwise let them know when I'm that upset. I don't want to spread my misery.

I think it was selfish of me to call Terri, because I know my negativity must have been draining for her, and I made her worry, but she helped me a lot. She told me to go for a bike ride. I rejected it at first. There's so much to do... but I had to shock myself out of my irrational misery, so I went.

I rode to Tech Terrace and explored until I found Caswell's house. I didn't stop, of course. He probably wasn't there, and it would have been ridiculous anyway. But I did walk down the alley behind his house, and it was incredibly beautiful.

I came back feeling much better, and I got a few things done. I scheduled my follow-up doctor visit, did my Spanish homework, and took a shower. Then I lay down in my bed and talked to Jacob, and read the beautiful words written in friendly blue ink again.

And now it's time for sleep. I will sleep, and my heart will reset with the morning. I'll go to Spanish class on time. I won't fall asleep when I come back, and I'll get as much done as I can.

My heart will unwind like a music box as the day goes on, clicking slowly through the afternoon. I know the notes will space out in the evening, and the cogs will heave painfully against each other to force the tinny tones into the air, falling heavier with each strike. I know they will creak to a despondent stop and need to be rewound again.

But I also know the trick of it. The trick of it is not to fear the silence. Silence is music, too.