P: Work, Patty, Work!

Where has my concentration gone? Out the window, clearly. I'm spending an uneventful day at the library, doing revision #4 on this stupid short story about two cousins who go on a shopping trip, and their various insecurities (body image, smartness, money, etc) come to light, with tension between their fathers stirring in the backdrop. Anyway, I don't understand why this stupid story can't just be PERFECT the first time around, as I've spent hours and days and weeks and now months on it, where it went from 17 pages, expanded to 32, then was cut to 21, and is now going to be cut again to probably 17-18. Wah wah wah.

I didn't do all that well in Leslie's class. It was a little ridiculous; at this party Sat night thrown by one of my classmates (Leslie showed up to it, btw), this one girl asked everyone how they did in the class. I got a B+. Big deal--I know Leslie didn't really like my writing, AND I only got into the program off the waitlist, AND he doesn't think my writing is as strong as the other students, including the two girls--S and S--who are not native speakers (from Beijing and India). So why should I be surprised? I kind of thought these classes would be graded not just on talent, but hard work. Like, how much you've improved in the class, how much you've incorporated feedback into the work, how much you participate in the class. J told me these two other girls in our class--S and S--got A-'s, even though THEY SAY NOTHING IN CLASS and they are always late with their feedback, and when you get your story back with their comments, there are all of two lines that say something stupid like, "Great! I really like your writing." So much for S & S adhering to the 'model minority" phenomenon.

I don't know, I also think it was dumb to bring up grades at all. I shared my grade because I don't really care. It's fairly obvious Leslie thinks I have a long way to go yet, he thinks I have problems with my commas and punctuation, he thinks my grammar sucks and ohmigod, I am about to have an ego-crushing moment. !@#$#~!!!

Speaking of which: J, who is, incidentally, a trapeze artist (she's got these big guns of arms, and both her clothing and her makeup favor candy-colored fluorescents), is a touch aggressive for my taste. She's nice and all, but she's the kind of person who (I sense) thrives on making people feel intimidated, whether she's aware of it or not. Like, we're still at this party on Saturday, and I was talking with a couple of guys, and she comes over and inserts herself into the conversation. That's all fine and good (these guys were nothing too interesting--the bulbs weren't flickering all too brightly), but what she was saying was completely non-sequitur. I think we were talking about food in the North End, and someone's talking about a raw food restaurant, which was unlikely given the abundance of Italian restaurants in that area, and she says, "Italian? Who's talking about Italians? I'm Italian." Then she said, in a very coy way, "So Patty, isn't your nickname--" and she started to say something really corny, like The Vipers or Super Duper something or other--but by this point, the guys had moved over to a different conversation while she was mid-sentence, and I felt a little embarrassed for her. So I finished her thought, and entertained talking with her a little more, until she drifted on elsewhere.

She's kind of abrasive in a way that makes me wonder if life was hard on her. Is that what I'm going to be like when I'm still single and 35? Is it a form of bitterness that's coming out? Or, why is there such a normalcy for women to be married by that age (or else they're weird) whereas guys can still be swinging bachelors? I think I would like to do a character study of her. Maybe she'll end up in one of my stories at some point.

Anyway, enough bitching--yesterday I ran the Somerville jingle bell race 5k with Amy (my roommate's best friend from high school) and .... Diane's friend Brian! Small, small world. My roommate, Amy, and Brian all went to hs together. Anyway, it was pretty damn cold--considering I was wearing just a long sleeve T-shirt, and everyone else was bundled in fleeces--and it was packed. You're running down these narrow streets of Somerville, and at one point we were on a bike lane, which was about 4 people wide at most--and we never quite hit our stride. We were essentially walking for the first part of the mile, and for the rest of the race it was stop-start, and you were dodging people right up to the finish line. But I DID hear jingling Xmas bells the whole way through the race, and they were blasting Xmas carols throughout. Surprisingly, Brian--who is a super marathoner who runs 5+min miles--ran the whole thing with us. Or rather, with me, as Amy is 5'10" and all legs. Anyway, my race time was an average of 8min, 49 sec, which--considering the circumstances--I was pleasantly surprised by. Certainly better than my marathon average time of 12min, 42sec per mile. Sheesh.

Anyway....CONGRATS ON GETTING 6TH IN YOUR AGE RANGE, ANNIE!!! 8min 18sec for a 10k--kudos to you, Annie! You are a super star.

Okay, off to ponder what I'm going to have for my fourth meal of the day, and doing other procrastinating activities...