Not just now. I mean, I'm not like, typing this entry with my last remaining strength before succumbing to ant poisoning or anything. It's just that I woke up on Friday morning feeling absolutely like ass. Like someone took a clump of ass that had been in the back of the freezer for two years, reheated it, dressed it in my clothes, dumped it in my bed, and set its alarm clock for eight in the morning.

I had my first day of one of my classes on Friday morning, so I got out of bed anyway, put in my contacts and got dressed. I had to do this all very slowly, because every time I moved I felt like I was going to puke. That was basically it-- just nausea. Debilitating nausea. I figured I maybe hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, and it would go away by the time I was ready to walk out the door.

My tummy did not fall in line with this grand plan.

After about fifteen minutes of optimistic getting ready (and a theoretically stomach-settling can of Coke) I gave in and went back to bed. I slept for a couple more hours and woke up still feeling just as bad. I wrote my professor an excuse note, but it was a bad idea, because I had just woken up. I think I told him about the dream I had just had. "Sorry I missed class, but I was trying to keep Ernest Hemingway out of the pool of blood!" I went back to sleep.

I woke up later, and stayed up for a bit. I tried to do internet things but it made me nauseous. I watched Roger Ebert's Citizen Kane commentary but couldn't really keep up. I drank another can of Coke. I went back to sleep. I woke up and considered going out for ginger ale. I wanted ginger ale badly, and anyway, I was out of Coke. So I stood up, and felt like I was going to pass out. I went back to sleep.

And that was Friday.

I felt considerably better on Saturday-- not great, but a lot better. By today, I felt fabulous. The only thing I can think of is that I sprayed some Raid on my desk where there were some ants, and I think somehow the Raid must have gotten onto one of my graham crackers or into my bottle of water or something. That would probably do it.

Well, I guess I'm just lucky the ant poison didn't do me in. I am much heartier than an ant.

I hate AOL. This is nothing new; I have always hated AOL. Now that I am using it, I keep finding new reasons to hate it. It's an ever-blooming, unfurling, continual unfolding of hatred.

The newest reason is that all these annoying people have found my profile by searching for poetry, and then they IM me their poetry. And it is awful. It is rhyming, Hallmark-card, sentimental, horrifying shit. And I know these people are in earnest, and it's their art, and I should be nice to them, but I am personally insulted by it and I am a hair's breath from telling them exactly what I think.

What I think is not flattering. So, I went to update my profile. I wanted to emphasize that when I say I am getting a degree in poetry, I do not mean I am taking How To Write About Beauty, Love And Bunnies or How To Make 15-Year Old Girls Think I Am Trent Reznor or Words That Rhyme With Suicide. I want to exclude myself from the target audience of these... people. Maybe they'll think I'm a snob, but at least they won't send me their CRAPPY ASS FAUX-ETRY ANYMORE.

I updated my profile, but for some mysterious reason (read: because AOL sucks) it wouldn't save my changes. I tried like, five times and the changes wouldn't stick. And just now, someone sent me their poem called, I am not kidding you, "My Ageless Womanly Soul."

I fucking loathe AOL.

Exciting news: I get NBC again! I'm not sure what my roommates ordered-- it's not cable, but it costs $15 per month and they installed it and hooked a cable up to my TV. It was supposed to give us better reception without being cable, I guess? Beats me.

I was excited all day yesterday about my new NBC, and then I came home and Leah said all excited, "Did you look at your TV?" Turns out we don't just get NBC now, we get a random handful of cable stations-- including FX, Showtime, the Discovery Channel and Comedy Central. I think I also saw TNT, Pax and the Food Network. And maybe C-SPAN 2. Yeah, random.

Of course, FX means Buffy reruns. And I just saw my first episode of Queer as Folk at a friend's house, and now I get to watch it for real. And whatever the new Discovery Channel ocean special is. And I am sure some other cool stuff that I haven't discovered yet.

But I am still most excited about NBC. Friends, ER and the Winter Olympics. Bring on February sweeps, baby-- I'm all set.

Last week, school started and I had my first two classes: "Shakespeares" and my writing seminar.

(Yeah, it's "Shakespeares" plural. First we're studying William, and then we have a couple of weeks on his cousin Myrtle Shakespeare, his mother's brother's father Dwight Shakespeare and his dog, Sport Shakespeare. I guess. Or not. Most likely not.)

We're going to read The Tempest, King Lear, A Midsummer Night's Dream and Henry V. One from each of his four main categories. We're starting with Midsummer I think. I haven't read any of those plays and I am looking forward to it-- especially since reading all his plays is on my list.

We're going to be acting out scenes from each play and directing each other in scenes as well. (The professor says that Shakespeare's words are meant to be three-dimensional: unless you are moving in space as you say them, you aren't saying them right.) After class, he'll be screening movie versions of the plays-- more than one version, so we can see how different the interpretations are.

We're reading tons of critical texts in addition to the plays-- we have to read each play aloud to ourselves at home before we even bring ourselves to the table for the read-throughs. Half the class is coming from the drama side of things, and the other half is the poetry contingent, and Professor President is the guy in charge, and it's gonna be a great class. I can already tell.

My second class is a writing workshop where we're studying art history from the proto-Renaissance through the Renaissance and writing poems in response to the art. During the first class, she brought in all her materials (this is a new teacher, an artist) and had us play with them and make art while she lectured.

(Joey: "I threw mine away." Me: "Maybe I'll send mine to my sister." Joey: "Why would you do that?" Me: "You don't think she'll like it?" Joey: "No, not really... at all. No.")

We're studying some great artists. The negative side is that a lot of it is familiar to me-- I took a lot of art history in college, and loved it. I loved it so much that I retained most of the information. I know what the Christian imagery is all about-- for the love of god, I was raised Catholic. I've spent my entire adult life trying to forget the imagery.

I'm not terribly worried. There are artists on the syllabus of whom I've never heard, and it wouldn't kill me to have my memory refreshed about the ones I already know. And coolest thing of all: a field trip. You're never too old for a field trip. Next week, we're meeting at the Palace of the Legion of Honor (the art museum from Vertigo)-- I've not been there, so I'm excited. In fact, I'm hoping to be able to wander around a bit after class is over, if I can.

My other two classes I haven't had yet-- one of them starts tomorrow, the other one I skipped due to my ant poisoning experience. But never fear. You'll be hearing plenty about them soon enough.

"It wasn't so long ago that I was messing up orders right and left, and I wasn't sure how many pumps of chocolate were in a mocha. Suddenly, I'm miss know-it-all, lecturing everyone on the minutiae of their jobs. It's not real attractive, but I'm trying to get the information across in a constructive way. So far, nobody seems to hate me."