Hey, You Never Know

I am writing the last paper I will EVER have to write. It's an easy topic and only 10 pages. I'm on page 8 and my brain has turned to mush! And it's only 3 o'clock in the morning. What is up with this?

What kills me is knowing I'm so close, and I just don't care. I have the ultimate senioritis; I'm soooo done with this school thing already. I know I've been saying that for years, but seriously, last f.r.e.a.k.i.n.g. one!!!!!!!

EVER.

Hehe, so, tomorrow being Sunday and all, I've decided I shall not set my alarm, and let fate decide when I will wake up. It's well earned I think. Two nights ago I collapsed in the bathroom and almost passed out on the tile floor when my blood pressure suddenly dropped. Yesterday I fell asleep in the library... and I NEVER ever fall asleep in public places. So yeah, I'm actually respecting my health for once BEFORE I get into a car accident on the way to school.

My mother hates when I sleep in. IT'S FREAKIN' SUNDAY!

So, as per my routine, I leave a sign on my door at night when I plan on doing this in the vague hopes that she'll leave me alone. About half the time it actually works. Sunday's usually a good day to do it.

( This is the sign I left today. I thought I'd get a little creative. )

So I'm sitting at my desk, watching Clerks I and Clerks 2 simultaneously on my tv and laptop (because I get way too bored watching one movie at a time-- I won't even mention all the other things I was doing while they were on) and I've decided I'm far too much like Dante for my own good. Randal's accusations towards Dante about how he's struggling to obtain a life that means nothing to him but he's determined to have anyway because he thinks everyone expects him to or everone else wants and therefore he should too are far too reminiscent of how I'm directing mine. I enjoy clerking, be it at the library or at my previous jobs, and wouldn't mind continuing the trade for the rest of my life. But everyone tells me it's awful and I'll regret it, or I'm too damn smart to waste my life doing that, etc etc. So here I am working my ass off at college (which is hilarious considering I was perfectly content to take the GED and jump into the work force early) while working two jobs because I can't stomach the concept of not working, and I can't quite understand why I'm fighting myself. Granted, it could be because it's after 1am on Sunday night and I'm still doing homework (yes, I can watch movies and write a lab at the same time, believe it or not), but I don't think so. I've never had any great ambitions, I don't plan on having to support a family, I don't want a big house or nice cars, so what the fuck do I need be fighting tooth and nail over? My biggest expenditure beyond groceries will probably be an annual vacation. Woohoo. The caste system is well and truly alive and kicking and I think I was definately born to the wrong station.

Does anyone else find something wrong with this situation?

Outside a college dorm, late at night, a girl screams help. Plenty of people heard it. Everyone ignores it, except one person. That person just yells, "Shut up!"

I feel soooo safe.

Talking to people is not my forte. I get all flustered and confused, and what ends up coming out of my mouth is usually not what I have planned in my head. I'm sure most people can relate, but I take it to whole new levels. This leads to me loving the internet for all those convenient non-vocal ways for communicating.

So today I need to sign up for classes for next semester, and most of those classes require instructor consent to enroll. Normally I just send an e-mail to the powers that be asking permission, and magically I get it within a few days. Well, this semester I had a brain fart and forgot to send the e-mails. So I'm running from department to department today, getting the necessary approval by the dreaded face to face conversation. [Shudder]

The first teacher recognizes me on sight, jumps up from his desk ready to jot down my name on the permission form. This is the undergraduate director of a very large university. OMG. (He's also a lot like Richard Hatch from Survivor, only not gay in the slightest, and 20 times scarier. It's weird.) So after less than a minute, I'm enrolled.

The second teacher is actually a Graduate TA. Why Grad students get to teach senior seminars I'll never understand. Fortunately he was my lab TA for another class, so at least I know he's competent (if a little snotty). Weird side thought- I already know all my teachers this next semester. I've had them all for one thing or another. Remember, big university. This is a very weird occurrence (especially since I didn't do it on purpose). Anyway, back to the main topic. As it's a TA and not a Professor, his e-mail is not listed with the rest of the faculty on the school website! Ah! Plus he takes classes on a different campus, so I can't track him down in person even if I wanted to. So I figure I'll ask the head of his department who has given me career advice before. Naturally this person was out of his office for the day. Grrrrrr. So I wander into the department secretary/general office-type-area and ask the first person I see what I should do. This person says, "Oh, no problem! What was your name? I'll sign you right up."

Uh, okay.... What ever happened to scary, self-absorbed, evil New Yorkers? I think I stepped into the Twilight Zone meets the Deep South. I don't know how to handle this. I'm shaken to the core. Be bitchy people! Let me know what to expect from you! I like my delusions.

Jeez.

So then I find my final teacher and she nods, "Uh huh, ok" and types up an e-mail to the secretary giving me her permission.

And here I am, signing up for classes, and the only one I can't register for yet is the class that sent the permission via e-mail. Who knew talking to people was so productive? God, why have you forsaken me and my precious e-mail crutch? Am I actually suppossed to talk to people for the rest of my life?

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!