in the midst of journ work, and unfinished comm res surveys, and pol sci exams that never quite go the way i want them to... in the midst of nights that begin at 345am, of horribly edited news articles, of journalists getting the whipping from the president herself... in the midst of pressure, and stress, and thoughts of losing my scholarship, and all that fuck...
in the midst of all that, there is you.
and i smile and think, damn. things *do* fall into place...
a little conversation:
scene: music box, 6pm.
me: (lightly pounding forehead on butchered paper on top of coffee table) agh damnit, i'm losing my scholarship.
x: (seated across) of course you're not.
me: (continues pounding) i am, i am, I SO AM. and then there's the org to deal with, and then there's still comm res, and...
x: one at a time. remember my letter?
me: (looks up, grins a little) mini-statio by mini-statio, you said. (x nods) but i don't use statios.
x: well, you have birds. bird by bird, remember?
me: that didn't sound too good. (x whacks me in the arm) ow. (a few moments of grinning, insane) no, i'm still failing 121.
x: don't stress yourself out too much, ok? one by one... okay what's on your mind right now? get them all out.
me: my scholarship.
me: comm res.
x: is there more?
me: there's the org.
x: okay. and..
me: there's you.
x: (looks, sternly) no, damn it, don't think of me, i should be the least of your worries...
me: sorry, couldn't help it...