fireballandwater

we’re… 3 weeks into the semester. nowhere near midterms yet (thank fuck), and somewhat still close enough to the beginning of class that mistakes are regarded as expected. a delicate spot, rife with room for abuse. or, it would be, if I had any classes that didn’t specifically rely on attendance and in-class participation as part of the grading mechanism. woe is me.

anyway, it’s been fun. I feel a little overwhelmed with the amount of shit I managed to stack on my plate. it’s of my own doing, though, so I have to admit that I’m having a good time. being busy suits me — distracts me from all the other bullshit. makes me feel like there’s a purpose to it all, like I’m fulfilling a sort of prophecy.

I felt this in a particularly strong way today, while I sat on an armchair in the department of history in the Eck building. a small, unassuming office at the end of the hall before the exit stairwell. no lights on, just sunlight through the window. a locked closet door, a smattering of posters on the wall (one rather striking, a Lenin era poster, if I’m recalling the face correctly) and some assorted couches with the old arm chair. beautiful, a bit disorganized, a full bookshelf as the backdrop. exactly the kind of room Devin would’ve loved, that we dreamed of curating ourselves in our seaside home.

I wanted to be sad, when I sat down in there today to draw for class. naturally, I had some fireball in my backpack because I’m an alcoholic (joking, not though), so I took a swig of that. still sad, but a sort of joy hit me. Devin may have very well sat in that same seat before me. in-fact, it was most likely — he’s a former history major, he almost certainly had found his way through this building before my time, sitting in this room, perhaps in the anthropology department where I will soon find myself. one might say it’s hard to say for sure. I choose to believe that it must be true. it isn’t solace, not conventionally. but it is something beautiful, something that makes me happy, something that reminds me of him even when seeing pictures of his face makes me sob uncontrollably.

the fountains in that building barely function, if you’re curious. I thought of them after the alcohol, being that I never bring (because I am too good for) a water bottle. a rather nice HydroFlask to my name, and a Kinto (designer water bottle, Google it, I’m insane) to boot. the fountain produced rises something like 1″ above the faucet. I’m not easily embarassed, though, so you can imagine what it looks like when I’m nearly swallowing a fountain nozzle that’s probably been spat on by 70 years worth of students. whatever, as usual.

In typical me fashion, I didn’t finish writing this when I sat down to (which was 9/16/2026, it is now the next day, 9/17/2026) so I’m finishing it with some newer additions…

my friend, Tanya, is fine and is not purposely ignoring mine or anyone elses messages, so that’s good. the fact that they’re clearly dishoveled and seem fairly unwell is not good, but knowing they’re alive is a start. I’m realizing now that I take my acute stress in making sure things get done in a somewhat timely manner for granted — it apparently does not work this way for everyone. not that it ought to, we are all different, butI was due a good reminder that my handling of situations is very different than how another person might approach the same set of circumstances. so too, our responses are different. less worrying on my end for the weekend, a good and solid gold star for the end of my week.

anyway, I’ve got some photos to drag to my desktop, homework of all kinds to finish, and fish to look at. until next time.