Manic

My friend used to call me "Manic" in undergrad.  I often become a ball of nervous energy that cannot just stop.  Is it the K-cup coffee?  Geez.

Today I met with a professor who invited me to a "working lunch," which was very sweet of her.  She wanted to give me further feedback on a paper and show me the catalog of an exhibition I really wanted to go to in Baltimore on images of blacks in Renaissance Europe.  I get nervous around this professor because I think she is so awesome, and also because she insists on speaking Spanish the entire time.  I'm sure the waiter was like, "Huh?"  This blonde white lady and this black girl speaking Spanish.  Anytime he came around, we reverted to glaringly American English to address him, and then went back to Spanish.  Anyway, I was so nervous, even from the moment I walked into the little restaurant.  I was early and so I was feeling awkward already.  I think I walked in just looking hyper/awkward.  "Um, hi, I'm um, meeting someone, but I'm early, and so, um, yeah she's a professor and I don't have my cell phone so, she's a petite lady who, uh, so could I, uh . . . "  Too much, just too much!  Why couldn't I have just said, "Hi, I'd like a table for two," and left it at that?  I always give too much information, giggle nervously for no reason at all, and create this unnecessary verbal world to fumble around in.  Just stop.  Why can't I just stop?

So, two Americans speaking Spanish, my professor asks for non-alcoholic beer (?).  Why not just go for the real deal?  Too early in the day, I guess.  So, I'm sitting there eating french fries with raspberry ketchup (?) (I chose it because it sounded weird), and half a roast beef sandwich.  Trying to look dainty and speak Spanish correctly (fail on both points).  Wanting to sound definitive on my research plans, make her glad that she extended the courtesy of inviting me to lunch and took the time to invest in me as a student.  Why can't I just be myself and stop being manic and worried and trying too hard?  Just breathe.  Just be.  Just stop.

Me with my old school purple binder with filler paper writing down notes, her with her smart phone, sending me links left and right.  She took 6 years to finish.  And she's awesome.  Noooooo!  (But the last year was spent in Spain, so . . . )  How could eating raspberry ketchup-laced fries in front of my genius professor make me start wondering if I'll ever get married and have kids?  See?  That's too much.  There's no need for that at all.  It's extra and manic.  And it needs to stop.

Walking here, walking there with my cowboy boots on.  Mind racing in the uncanny heat in January.  About to go do 30 minutes of core work for $1 at the rec.  I want fab abs.  I want fab abs, I tell you.  I want to channel this energy into something positive.  I want to get reading done.  I want my brain to stop worrying about things I have no control over.