The Last 24 Hours

Despite my obvious trouble finding things to write about in these past few days, I realized today that a recap of the events of the previous 24 hours or so could indeed be considered interesting.
Exactly 24 hours ago (from the time I'm writing this) at this very minute I was walking home from Mass at St. Paul's Cathedral. I was feeling a bit worried and very determined, because I had been trying ALL DAY to write a paper for my writing class, but the words just would not come. I had gone home early Saturday night to work on it and hermited myself all day leading up to Mass, allowing myself ample time for the creative juices to flow. I had researched and arranged my ideas in several different ways, but when it came to actually writing anything down I couldn't do it. I was discouraged with my procrastination and seeming inability to get anything down on paper, and angry with myself that I couldn't write. Writing is what I want to do with my life! I should be able to sit and write about anything, especially a topic so important to me as the one I was writing about yesterday. But no. Almost in a panic, I sank onto my knees after Mass and begged God to allow the Holy Spirit to flow through my mind and onto the paper. Perceiving no response, I turned to the Blessed Mother. "Please, dear Mother," I pleaded, "ask your Son to help me!" I knelt there for I don't even know how long, but eventually I heard or rather felt the words, "Go, do your work, little one, and I will do Mine."
So it was with this command and an incredible sense of relief and determination that I returned to my dorm room to write. I sat down at my computer and just wrote and wrote. Anytime I felt at a loss for words, I simply remembered the phrase, "you do your work, little one, and I'll do Mine," and knew that as long as I kept writing, He would take care of the rest. I wrote for 6 hours solid last night, finally crawling into bed sometime after 1 am.
For some reason, last night my sleep was somewhat disturbed by a very vivid, confusing, and upsetting dream. I dreamt that my dear father was walking me down the aisle at my wedding. I was beaming, so happy to be there with my closest friends and family and wearing such a lovely wedding dress! But as I stepped up onto the altar, I realized that I didn't know the guy I was marrying! I mean, he looked familiar, and I knew he was the one I was supposed to marry, but suddenly I didn't want to marry him. I froze, head whirling with the situation that faced me. On one hand there was the dress, the lavish reception that was planned, and the presence of all my friends and family. On the other was a life lived as the result of a mistake, and what a mistake! What would it mean for me if I backed out now? What would it mean for me if I stayed and married him? Unable to cope with the trapped, panickey feeling, I fled the church by the side door and sought refuge in one of the large white tents set up for the reception. It wasn't until I saw my mother headed towards me with a look of gentle compassion on her face that I burst into tears.
I know, this is bizarre, and very Runaway Bride -esque. Imagine the way I felt when I woke up this morning as my cell phone alarm went off beside my head. I'm having nightmares about my wedding???? ALREADY?? Geez. It doesn't help that at this point I have only had about 6 hours of sleep, a good 2 hours less than usual. So of course I hit snooze. Twice. I even got out of bed to hit snooze on the second alarm I had set at a convenient distance across the room and then proceeded to get back in bed.
By the time I got out the door of my dorm this morning I knew I was going to be late. I had only 5 minutes to get to work at 9:00 and it usually took me at least 10 to 15 minutes to get there. Luckily the clock in the costume shop is broken, so I hoped that they won't notice my tardiness.
My first job when I get to the shop? Install the new clock. Hmm. So much for that. I put batteries in the clock and polished it off before hanging it in a prominent spot on the wall where our old clock, may it rest in peace, used to hang.
My next job, though perhaps a bit more interesting, was not so simple. The head of the costume shop has recently been working on an Elvis costume for some show; I don't even know the details, really. By Elvis costume I mean white spandex jumpsuit with flared legs and sleeves and lots and lots of gold trim. And today, I studded it. Now. The costume shop does own a Bedazzler, but the studs and the machine are too weak to work with such a difficult material as spandex. So I placed by hand, 68 gold and silver studs, pushing the little metal prongs through the fabric and bending all 5 of those little prongs down on the other side with only my thumbnail as a tool. The costume looked amazing, though, and she was so grateful that I couldn't complain or really even be grumpy about it. So I headed to Italian class with a smile on my face and two very sore thumbs.
Italian class today was mildly interesting, as we were in the language lab learning how to use the recording equipment for our oral exams. The microphones were very sensitive to background noise, but not so sensitive to the person who was actually supposed to be speaking into it, so it made for an interesting 50 minutes. Bonus: hearing the guy across the table from my group speaking in an incredibly fake and cheesy Italian accent. ahahahaha gotta love it.
At noon was Communication Processes, in which we hurried through the last lecture before our test on Wednesday! It'll be my first test in this class, so I'm a little concerned about it even though I seemed to be grasping everything very well at the review session on Thursday morning of last week.
From 1 to 2 I had an hour to kill before my writing class, so I claimed a nook on the third floor of the Cathedral of Learning and settled down with Unita due of my Italian book. Unfortunately, I almost fell asleep conjugating -ere verbs and don't really know how much of the material actually stuck in my sleep-deprived brain.
In writing class we discussed why people come to college and whether it's truly necessary. I mean, what's wrong with learning a trade? Why has our culture shifted in such a way that you literally need a bachelors degree to get anywhere? An interesting topic, to be sure.
After a quick stop back to my room to change books I was on my way to piano class at 4. We are learning about intervals, which is somewhat easy for me but still something I'm glad to be delving into a little bit. At the end of class the professor assigned a song to the class to learn for Friday, then turned to me and said "Jane, I want you to learn the secondo part," referring to the teacher's part on the next page! Cool.
As I always do on Monday/Wednesday/Friday when I have piano, I hurried over to the Newman Center to catch Benediction at 5:00 and mass at 5:15. Sweet! God, I love daily mass!
On my way home around 6 I made a stop at my favorite place to be: IGA! Hahaha is it weird that I love grocery shopping? Cuz I do. This time I bought bread (I had just eaten my last piece with jam for breakfast this morning), honey, and Orbit Mint Mojito gum (they didn't have spearmint or sweetmint!! shameful).
So now, here I sit, munching on a peanut butter and honey sandwich on fresh wheat bread. Yummy! Is there anything so delicious? I think not. Or maybe I was just really hungry... either way, honey + peanut butter = :)
Now if you will excuse me I'd best be studying for my communications "quiz." Ha.