(no subject)
They kicked me out of Sociological Theory because I'm not a senior. Although I will be a senior by the time the spring semester starts, I'm not going to argue. Obviously enough seniors (probably the graduating kind) need it to have them start kicking people out, so that's fine. Ceres, I'm sorry not to have a class with you.
That gave me room to take Teaching English as a Second Language with Kuhn, anyway. All of my classes next semester are English courses except my honors module. I'm the most excited about Kuhn's class, although Shimomura's History of the English Language is a close second.
Jenn could tweeze for hours.
Everything is so tiring. I'm trying to perk up at the thought that there are five and a half days of this life left before Thanksgiving Break, which probably won't turn out as relaxing as my mother says it will.
She called me today to ask about the menu, and I'm excited at the prospect of butternut squash, although I'm sure Jenn will secretly hate the creamed corn and beg me not to disclose her lurid distaste for my mother's cooking.
Today Theeeeo told me that he likes my hair better than my old hair. He still fits in my arms like a baby. I remember when Chance still did. When he's cold after a bath, I snuggle him and his wet hair makes my shirt stick to me before turning cold. That reminds me of "Once More to the Lake."
My uncle Steve is addicted to OxyContin.
I recommend (I am HTML illiterate, but this should be underlined:) A Framework for Understanding Poverty by Ruby Payne. We talked about some of her points in class, and I've been thinking about them ever since.
I talked to Malorie for way too long (nothing against Malorie, but everything against my ancient phone, the replacement of which is the other highlight of my upcoming holiday) and learned of lurkers. I never considered that some people might read my journal but don't talk to me. I don't think it's creepy; it's just unexpected. I think a "Hello my name is ____" nametag comment would be nice. I like people that I know.
I don't want to deal with tomorrow. While my voice is back, my spirit isn't quite yet.
That gave me room to take Teaching English as a Second Language with Kuhn, anyway. All of my classes next semester are English courses except my honors module. I'm the most excited about Kuhn's class, although Shimomura's History of the English Language is a close second.
Jenn could tweeze for hours.
Everything is so tiring. I'm trying to perk up at the thought that there are five and a half days of this life left before Thanksgiving Break, which probably won't turn out as relaxing as my mother says it will.
She called me today to ask about the menu, and I'm excited at the prospect of butternut squash, although I'm sure Jenn will secretly hate the creamed corn and beg me not to disclose her lurid distaste for my mother's cooking.
Today Theeeeo told me that he likes my hair better than my old hair. He still fits in my arms like a baby. I remember when Chance still did. When he's cold after a bath, I snuggle him and his wet hair makes my shirt stick to me before turning cold. That reminds me of "Once More to the Lake."
My uncle Steve is addicted to OxyContin.
I recommend (I am HTML illiterate, but this should be underlined:) A Framework for Understanding Poverty by Ruby Payne. We talked about some of her points in class, and I've been thinking about them ever since.
I talked to Malorie for way too long (nothing against Malorie, but everything against my ancient phone, the replacement of which is the other highlight of my upcoming holiday) and learned of lurkers. I never considered that some people might read my journal but don't talk to me. I don't think it's creepy; it's just unexpected. I think a "Hello my name is ____" nametag comment would be nice. I like people that I know.
I don't want to deal with tomorrow. While my voice is back, my spirit isn't quite yet.