oy. paying direly tonight.

Today I endured my punishment for a liberty I took, two weeks past, against the will of some superiors I'm expected to answer to. Oh well. My punishment was well worth my crime.

I took it with a grumble and a sigh. I failed to fulfill some obligations, and well, being the responsible person I am, I fell back in line and dutifully performed all tasks necessary to redeem myself. Administered by life and the authority figures in my life, my consequence was a bothersome requirement to attend an event consuming much of my night. It's not in my nature to bother, under ordinary circumstances (for it is, to the converse, in my nature to object), but this was a much anticipated, fussed-over event I missed. And it caught up with me. Regardless.. I don't care. Anything to be, for a night, the fan Addison overindulged. (Well, to be Addison's only fan, and in effect, to be adored by default.) This was strangely reminiscent of the night succeeding the one that got me here; I sat through a Jazz band's interminable performance in the very back, surveying the performers critically and exuding an air of overall unpleasantness and negativity.

At the particular moment, I sit in the back of an auditorium sweating like a frozen water bottle and suffocating. The air in here seriously needs to circulate. It is unclear what state of consciousness I'm in, but I think, I think that I'm dangerously close to passing out. Hard to say, though. I'm far too irritated to be half-asleep. I'm far too ill-at-ease to fall back into any level of calm permitting drowsiness. It is far too uncomfortable and unbearably hot to care. I'm scribbling dilligently on a piece of paper on my lap -- to the delight and approval of my vigilant superior, I'm sure. (This message is being transmitted to blogspot via telepathy. In case you were wondering.) That's right... if the act of being present and simply sitting here being held captive against my will for two hours here in this oxygen-deficient zone wasn't punishment enough, I was given a dirty burdensome assignment.... OH, to be a subordinate!
I'm missing Finian McKean and Kevin Devine for this. So you see what I'm sacrificing. But Finian McKean intimidates me and Kevin Devine seems shallow. I'll take Addison over both of them any day. Besides, I had some sort of idea of what lay ahead of me while I was scheming in preparation for the 25th. My reality was clear -- in freeing up 5/25, I'd have to give up 6/8. And I'm pleased to say I'm pleased with my decision.

I didn't ever make it clear what I did, did I? Well if it would put your mind at peace to know, it involved letter forgery and one clever elaborate lie made possible by circumstances working in my favor and things falling into place in such a way that was ideal for me and my particular predicament, by some unlikely coincidence. I mean it, this was an incredible set-up of, like, supernatural stars-aligning proportions. (Thank you circumstances, thank you!) Because surely, they would not have accepted my real excuse -- "sorry, I can't be present, I have to see a band tonight.." So, I wriggled out of this obligation I had by means of a convincing lie and a forged note backing it. (Letter forgery -- fuck yeah, I got it down!)
Well, to be fair, since the suckers accepted my elaborate lie and accompanying fake note (they didn't know that though of course), this doesn't necessarily qualify as "punishment" in its concept and principle, but as some generous second chance, or opportunity for redemption. Nevertheless, this whole experience is punishment to me.