It seems I only blog when I want to bitch about school.

Rightfully so, I suppose.

My classes start Tuesday, and my plate is overflowingly full. Just looking over two of the sylabi for my classes gave me a headache. It also gave me the impression that my education professor is a hippie. I mean the real deal type of hippie. She is concerned about the environment and gives off the "lets hold hands and sing" vibe.

I kind of want it to still be summer:

 

Lack of sleep coupled with a longer than usual car journey has exhausted me. I feel as if I'm going to nod off any minute and I still have to unpack all my crap. I definantly have some procrastination issues. Blogging instead of cleaning.

Roomie is also hosting a soiree here this evening, so sleeping will probably not happen anytime soon.

Just more proof, I should be living in a different era

I'm really a middle aged woman at heart. You could probably tell this solely from my fashion decisions. Today, I'm wearing a green top with puffy shoulders and cuffed capris with black scandals. It is even more evident when I'm having coffee with my vibrantly dressed roomie or my young at heart best friend (who says she acts like a grandma, but I tend to disagree).

I watch television with my mother, an actual middle aged woman. I actually go shopping with my mom and tell her what would look best, and we share clothes from time to time. This is odd because we have different body types and I'm a good four inches taller than she is. She borrows my clothes mostly come to think of it.

I like James Taylor and Carole King along with other musicians that usually find on the play list of the Baby-Boomers. I actually went to the Troubadour Reunion Tour for JT and CK, and I was one of the few young adults there.

I read classic literature more than works recently published. My two favorite authors are Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen both who worked in the nineteenth century for the most part. I have a thing for vintage things that I can't explain, because I have this weird aversion to previously used things (but that's a different crazy story for a different boring time).

I like more youthful things as well, but for the most part I prefer things that my parents seem to enjoy. I'm just missing the wisdom and maturity that comes with these refined tastes of mine.

The death of me

All right, so I'm not fairing so well on this whole eating well thing. Well, I've cut down on the sheer amount I eat, which I guess could be put in the win column. The things I eat, however, don't seem to be getting any better. I ate a big ole stack of pancakes for dinner. Roomie brought home the kind you add water to the bottle and shake. I made the whole thing upon her request, and we each ate half. I'm not too proud of that, but the only other thing I had eaten today was a Special K bar, so I blame lack of nutrition for my lapse in judgement.


Here's a little visual of something I've been known to eat:

That would be some premium frozen hot chocolate (one of roomie's concoctions and that bitch is skinny).

Everyone wants to fall in love. Some people just don't know how, or maybe they are just a little too proud.

I had wedding dreams all last night. They came in all different shapes and sizes. Everyone I know that has never been married were thrown to the alter. This includes myself.

The weirdest part was during my best friends wedding I showed up in my wedding dress, because she didn't ask me to be a bride's maid. It was very odd happening, and I cried the rest of the dream for ruining her big day.

I don't know what is going on in my subconscious, but it's getting weird up in there. I'm only nineteen people. This could not be normal. It could be the fact that we were watching "Say yes to the dress" on tv, and every time someone picked a dress my roommate and I would yell about how we were never getting married. We were a little tipsy and not thinking at our best. Well, at least I had a pretty wedding.

The first day of class is steadily approaching. Between nervous excitement and paralyzing dread, I am completely unprepared. I am back in Boone, which I recently spent a week in Gastonia (my home town). Now, as I sit in my apartment across from my wonderful roommate, I can imagine how the rest of this semester will play out.

My schedule is fairly tedious. Tuesdays and Thursday are going to be long days. My first class begins at 9:30 in the morning and my last class ends at 5 in the afternoon. In those days, I will also be doing the lab for my Curriculum and Instructions class, where I must tutor some unexpecting students. It will be an experience to say the least.

Monday, I have a Chemistry lab that is scheduled to last three hours. It doesn't usually take that long (or rather it doesn't take that long for other people). I am not a science kind of girl. I will never be a science kind of girl. I don't care how things works...I really don't as long as they work.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I only have two lectures. So, Wednesday and Friday are going to be nice. Although the classes are Chemistry and Curriculum/Instruction.

I don't know if I'm going to have a good semester yet. I never do. Half way through the semester I can pretty much predict if things will go my way. My first semester of college did not go well for me at all. I was sick all the time. It was a new experience. My grades were seriously lacking. Although, last semester I made it onto the Chancellor's list with even more classes. So, it's really a flip of a coin.