Just an isolated case.
There are probably at least a dozen things that I should be doing now. Rather than this.
Work Sunday was fun. After a while it was dead quiet, but I stuck it out until eight. Time and a half. I need it. And then Mollie called me, needing to talk, so I picked her up...we ended up at Denny's. Always sketchy...then back to her house. Didn't get home until almost one.
Monday. All I have learned in American Writers lately is that I. Do. Not. Like. Emily. Dickinson. And everytime I say that, I feel like a better person. So I'm going to keep it up. But not in front of my professor. She might kill me.
Creative Nonfiction was much better this week. Fred said that he and Jill Toler, my Short Story professor, had been talking about me. I HATE when professors do that...and this made me nervous, and I think it's my fault, since I talked to her last week about the newspaper. Normally I don't interact with her much. And I so totally have an A in Creative Nonfiction...and we did that group thing again with the short essays. Andrew and I spent most of the time just talking. He's really great...Fred made us go first for the presentations. Awkward. So I read the essay and Andrew talked, and the other girl Fred put in our group stood there. Yeah. And I'm slightly worried he's going to tear my essays apart, but it just makes me nervous when he starts trying to give you advice and be helpful when he hasn't actually really read the thing.
Walking out I was still pestering him to tell me what Toler said. He'd finally said "Later" and then totally just really didn't. Grah. And then we all got distracted, Chelsea saw this thing in one of the fishtanks in the hallway. So the three of us spent five minutes crowded around it going "OMG! Look at it! What is it?!? Cool!" Because we're awesome like that.
Fred said that Chelsea and I should both look into going to Smith or Mount Holyoke. Because we are smart...but neither has a journalism program...and I told him I didn't want to go to Smith. Or Mount Holyoke. To which Fred responded with "Do I have to smack you?" Facepalm. But honestly, he is right and it is really a giant compliment that I reckon I ought to gladly take. He's become one of a few people whose opinion on such matters actually means anything to me at all...and I'm so ambivalent about transferring. But I really don't want to go to one of the Five Colleges or Seven Sisters. I don't want anything prestigious. But I'm kind of honored that he brought it up.
Chelsea and I then spent about ten minutes standing outside in the cold talking about nothing. And Danny A. I hope she does write an essay about him (you hear me?!? It'd be AWESOME!).
Afterwards, met Lynne for dinner. Always reasonably entertaining. And I get fed.
Tuesday. Today. I'm beginning to worry about our Comparative Religion group project again, only David and I were in class...so I just e-mailed them all and hopefully we'll get our shit together on Thursday. And I still hate my Short Story class...everyone in it is still a moron, and I still want to punch that middle-aged woman who thinks she's so entitled and somehow more intelligent and worldly than the rest of us. I hate her. I hope I get another chance to yell at her or something before the semester's over; I've been really good about holding my tongue, but it's been close a couple of times. I can't guarantee I can keep it up.
Work tonight. Rose let me leave at about twenty of ten. Not bad...not bad.
There are still at least a dozen things I could and should be doing.
I want my musicsecret to get posted. Damnit.
Work Sunday was fun. After a while it was dead quiet, but I stuck it out until eight. Time and a half. I need it. And then Mollie called me, needing to talk, so I picked her up...we ended up at Denny's. Always sketchy...then back to her house. Didn't get home until almost one.
Monday. All I have learned in American Writers lately is that I. Do. Not. Like. Emily. Dickinson. And everytime I say that, I feel like a better person. So I'm going to keep it up. But not in front of my professor. She might kill me.
Creative Nonfiction was much better this week. Fred said that he and Jill Toler, my Short Story professor, had been talking about me. I HATE when professors do that...and this made me nervous, and I think it's my fault, since I talked to her last week about the newspaper. Normally I don't interact with her much. And I so totally have an A in Creative Nonfiction...and we did that group thing again with the short essays. Andrew and I spent most of the time just talking. He's really great...Fred made us go first for the presentations. Awkward. So I read the essay and Andrew talked, and the other girl Fred put in our group stood there. Yeah. And I'm slightly worried he's going to tear my essays apart, but it just makes me nervous when he starts trying to give you advice and be helpful when he hasn't actually really read the thing.
Walking out I was still pestering him to tell me what Toler said. He'd finally said "Later" and then totally just really didn't. Grah. And then we all got distracted, Chelsea saw this thing in one of the fishtanks in the hallway. So the three of us spent five minutes crowded around it going "OMG! Look at it! What is it?!? Cool!" Because we're awesome like that.
Fred said that Chelsea and I should both look into going to Smith or Mount Holyoke. Because we are smart...but neither has a journalism program...and I told him I didn't want to go to Smith. Or Mount Holyoke. To which Fred responded with "Do I have to smack you?" Facepalm. But honestly, he is right and it is really a giant compliment that I reckon I ought to gladly take. He's become one of a few people whose opinion on such matters actually means anything to me at all...and I'm so ambivalent about transferring. But I really don't want to go to one of the Five Colleges or Seven Sisters. I don't want anything prestigious. But I'm kind of honored that he brought it up.
Chelsea and I then spent about ten minutes standing outside in the cold talking about nothing. And Danny A. I hope she does write an essay about him (you hear me?!? It'd be AWESOME!).
Afterwards, met Lynne for dinner. Always reasonably entertaining. And I get fed.
Tuesday. Today. I'm beginning to worry about our Comparative Religion group project again, only David and I were in class...so I just e-mailed them all and hopefully we'll get our shit together on Thursday. And I still hate my Short Story class...everyone in it is still a moron, and I still want to punch that middle-aged woman who thinks she's so entitled and somehow more intelligent and worldly than the rest of us. I hate her. I hope I get another chance to yell at her or something before the semester's over; I've been really good about holding my tongue, but it's been close a couple of times. I can't guarantee I can keep it up.
Work tonight. Rose let me leave at about twenty of ten. Not bad...not bad.
There are still at least a dozen things I could and should be doing.
I want my musicsecret to get posted. Damnit.