10am Thursday morning.

It is 10am. I am still in my night gown but I've bothered to put my glasses on (why? they're not real, anyway). There is a load of laundry swishing around the washer. I have a pile of books strewn across my living room table and a shift to work at 5pm tonight. I'm listening to: old Looney Tunes, the sound of two of my cats wrestling each other and that washer I mentioned earlier. Things are alright.

I write this because I normally hate mornings like this. They drive me crazy. You remember when you were in grade/middle/high school and you were sick (like actually sick, not playing hooky you douche-bags) and you'd be laying in bed-- it was around 10am you would wake up (I mean you're sick but COOL you got to leep in) and just lay there with your swollen throat and puffy sinus and wonder if your friends wondered where you were. What were they doing. Were they making fun of Mr. Preggir? Because his nose looks like a dick? Then it hits you: you miss school. You miss feeling not sick and your friends; maybe not school. Suddenly you feel useless and gross- no amount of shower can get this layer of "sick" feeling off of you and you haven't done any homework and you've just watched cartoons all morning and coughed into a pillow and whined at your mom.

. . . I sincerely hope that's what other peoples sick days were like, because I'm going to feel fucking stupid if they didn't. Anyway.

This is still programmed into me- hanging out around the house at 10am = being useless and gross. Especially if I'm still in my pajamas. For some reason I'm totally okay with it today though: I'm being productive, I know I have to work later (even though that's usually frustrating also; I HATE closing shifts when I have nothing else to do during the day. I just sit around and wait for work to take me like the hand of death in the night #dramatic) and I know I have homework to do. Usually at this time of the day I'm itching for an excuse to leave the house; go do my work somewhere else.

But here I am. All is well. Viva la Thursday morning.

Total Side Note: Has anyone else gone back and watched Looney Tunes as an adult? I liked watching them when I was a kid, but listening/watching them as an adult, the writing is really clever and the timing really is fantastic. Sometimes I still really want to be an animator. Is there some kind of degree in the historical impact of cartoons? I'd be on that shit.

A few things on the subject of "literature". Largely cheesy.

Literature and the analysis of it is the ability to rip the skin off of everything with words. It's beautiful, having that much power over text; any text. I feel so thankful and inspired that I have the ability to work with it like this. On this level. I feel like books let me understand them sometimes, not the other way around.

This is the few things I'm confident in. Literature makes me feel so confident, makes me feel intelligent but makes me feel tiny, insignificant and, for lack of a better word, stupid. It humbles me. I will never completely understand it and that, in itself, is comforting. This is a realm I'm comfortable in my insecurities and lack of understanding.

A theory is that literature is completely defined by the community and the environment; if you're involved with a church-- your state, your government, your peers. . . those are what determine what is technically literature. I found this amusing before I realize I'm surrounded by other English majors. Who also are the ones that study theories like this- that we only think it's literature because this group said so. Not really worth delving into right now (I'm pretty sure I'd give myself a migrane) but interesting, none the less.

The physical world holds no place for me. I find my comforts in line breaks and the indents of paragraphs. You are flesh and blood, but I am a semi-colon wearing a human skin. The sole purpose of these hands is to hold a pen, and moments spent doing otherwise feels a waste.

"My words become me. I suit them."

(The Invisible Man)