Last night was an exercise in adrenaline, flexibility and a true testament to a women’s ability to remain calm, eat a few midnight oreos, and get sh*t done.
After wasting hours spending my evening with Frances and Dawson’s Creek, I was just putting my head to the pillow at around midnight when it hit me that, wait a second– that three page paper that is due tomorrow (the one that I was putting off finishing until Monday morning) may not actually be three pages. That three page paper, may have actually been 5 pages.
And after confirming with a panicked text to Susie that the paper was in fact at least five pages, it quickly became an unplanned late night.
And though I was able to churn out a pretty awesome paper fairly quickly, getting up from bed on this Monday morning was a little rougher than previously forecasted.
I am in a fog. The sort of fog that after drying my hair this morning, decides to not turn off the hair blow dryer, but to simply just put it down on the sink still running for about 5 minutes before I notice. The sort of fog that walks out to her car without her car keys and tries to unlock the door by just pulling on the door handle a few dozen times. That sort of fog.
So, after completing some morning errands in record time, I decided to treat myself (treating myself for the poor in class listening skills, time management, and just being an all around walking zombie sort of mess, of course) to a quick Starbucks run. After ordering my Chai Latte, I waited and waited and waited for my name to be called. I finally asked the barista if mine was coming up anytime soon and he plainly stated that he’d been calling my name for 10 minutes. I looked down at the cup labeled “Stephanie,” confirmed that whatever the beverage may have been, it did not contain caffeine, smiled, grabbed the cup and walked out.
Am I going crazy? In my extreme fog, did I forget my own name? Or is Mr. Starbucks Barista in a similar fog so thick that it distorted the word “Julia” to something so ridiculously different? That is something I’ll never know. But it doesn’t matter. Because today, I am Stephanie. Third year communications major at UGA. Loves windsurfing and the color teal. Wears tall, dark brown riding boots and jeans almost everyday and has a black Jansport backpack. A Jason Mraz CD. And long brown hair. Hates the rain, but likes taking pictures of her Starbucks coffee cup when they start serving the seasonal flavors to post on Facebook. This morning, she is on her way to an interview at Bank of America for a part time teller position.
This post in long winded and has no point. Just leave me and Stephanie alone.