when I come back down

Between avian influenza, the earthquake in South Asia, and mudslides in Guatemala, the news feels like one big bastion of doom of late. Because I believe in science, I can't believe the end is near. But really, all these disasters really make me ponder why so much is happening of this sort. But... on to the self-absorption:

When molecules are pulsed with energy, they are thrown into an excited state and then there is relaxation that follows. In some ways, I am fortunate, because I always manage to get into the excited state well in advance of the moment of truth.

Saturday, after several hours of class, I walked out of class to a sun-drenched San Francisco day. One of my classmates was trying to recruit me for a job at his start-up. I was like, "classmate, please." The kid's a total punk. We were walking towards BART, and I gave him some tips on how to hire someone who would actually be foolish enough to take the job he was trying to shill off to me. I stopped short of BART, and he looked at me quizzically, then asked whether I was taking BART. "Not today," I said, feeling as if I were cutting classes.

Then, as I started to walk to the Ferry Building, I started to feel like I was cutting classes. As I was approaching the Embarcadero, my phone rang, and it was A. We had the following exchange:

Me: Do you know what I just finished doing?
A: Something to do with studying?
Me: Three hours of classes, dude.
A: Did you make out with your professor?
Me: Dude, our love is pure, and I will not have you sully it with that kind of talk.

Still, I was feeling anxious. I wasn't feeling guilty, necessarily, because I have enough sense to know that it's just not possible to study after you have spent three hours in a lecture. Your brain is goo, and nothing is going to be absorbed at that point. By the time I got to where SJM was waiting, I did not know what to make of what was going on in my head. It was equal parts impending doom at the thought of the tests that lie before me and inconsolable funk that I was not out enjoying such a day to its fullest.

In the end, I forced SJM to check out the Ferry Building, and its crazy, overpriced wares, like buffalo mozzarella cheese (upon inspection of this, SJM remarked, "Does the buffalo know about this?"). Then, maisnon picked us up. Originally, we planned to dine at the Ferry Building, but there were two problems:

• The Ferry Building is filled with tres chic, overly pretentious nonsense.
  
• The entire pier/waterfront was filled with droves of tourists.

As usual, maisnon to the rescue. She drove us back to my neighborhood, because it is the only area of the city where I can be trusted as far as directions and restaurant recommendations go. That said, of course, the first place we went to was closed and also somewhere that maisnon, Bay Area resident since September '05, had already been to! Luckily, where we wound up was fine. However, we completely ruined SJM's plans to check out the Fleet. Each time a plane roared dangerously, thunderously above us, SJM threw us guilt-trip-imbued looks. But as maisnon points out, we're immune to that sh*t, because we have Indian moms.

Upon returning home, I kind of crumpled into a million, tiny pieces. I had a crisis of faith and a panic attack all rolled into one. Some day, I will get this sort of stuff out of my system for good, because it is nothing but counterproductive. I was in that crazed, excited state, highly unstable and bouncing around so much that I was getting very little accomplished.

Nothing particularly even snapped me out of it, just the fact that I had to snap out of it. By Sunday afternoon, everything felt possible again, and nothing felt so awful and depressing. It's amazing what a good pizza and eleventy billion hours of studying can do for a person. Walking into an exam in the relaxed state is best.