Yoko, Etc.

I happen to love Yoko Ono.

I know this is not a popular position, but I don't care.

She wrote a piece recently for the New York Times and I read it and was reminded that, however much I adore John Lennon, I love Yoko Ono.

This next part has nothing to do with Yoko Ono; I wrote this yesterday morning:
 

Today is the anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Today is Willa Cather and Noam Chomsky’s birthday.

Today is December 7, 2010. It’s a Tuesday this year. Last year, it wasn’t a Tuesday.

It’s been a year, my journal tells me, since I rejoined the studio and began to work again.

I’d love to be at the studio today. Instead, I’m sitting in the belowground library, in one of the tiny study cubicles. I just finished lunch (green chile stew and a thin, waxy tortilla, and a bottle of water). I’m avoiding practicing a presentation I have to give in two hours and forty-five minutes.

I don’t care.

Today, I don’t care.

I’d love to be at the studio today, in my little studio space, carving ornaments or platters, or something. Maybe glazing. I’d love to be at the studio, among my art things, rather than here, in the library, among science books. Today I don’t care about science.

I don’t care.

Mostly I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t care. I’m terribly angry about one of my group members who plagiarized my work for her own paper (which we had to write individually) because she wanted to go out drinking on Sunday night rather than spending hours on statistics for botany class. I understand; I didn’t want to spend hours on stats for the botany class, but I did it anyway. And she took my work from the slides I gave her when we were assembling the presentation we’re doing as a group today, and she cut and pasted them into her paper.  I was livid when she let slip that she had done this.

I stayed up part of the night, fuming, telling Dave that I was going to turn her in to the professor and that I wasn’t going to do my part in the presentation (which is worth 5% of a paper that’s worth 15% of my grade).