Straight No Chaser

Oof

this is me:

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periodically i take this picture out and look at it; it's number six in the "sophomore year homecoming" series and i think it's rather cute.

then sometimes i make the mistake of looking at it for a second too long and all its tragic flaws leap off the screen. i won't get into the ones i saw today. really i just put it up because i think the marcus picture is kind of deceptive. you can't see the shrimpiness in its full effect.

anyway. bad day today but tomorrow should be better. i went to bed at a verrrry relaxed twelve-thirty last night, a huge rarity for me (my average bedtime is around three o'clock), even though i had a huge paper due for my one o'clock professor. hit the snooze button one time too many and almost overslept through my public speaking workshop, which was a waste of time anyway, but in which i found out i have to make a speech on "some social issue"--not abortion or the death penalty--on thursday. this made me very grumpy. the number one fear of american adults is public speaking, and for once i fall well within the majority. i hate getting in front of people, i can't write speeches for shit, i read too fast out loud and i look ridiculous trying to make eye contact.

anyway. that's to worry about tomorrow. i had to skip the one o'clock class to finish the paper i would have had to hand in had i gone, beautiful irony and all that, but then i had to rush to my three-fifty to take a test and argue modernist poetics with a professor who truly hates me. so the paper was still waiting for me when i got back at five, and basically consumed my entire evening, and i never got to eat and i fought with krystle and now it's two-thirty and lawd i'm exhausted. as my grandmother would say.

on the up side: tomorrow i get kisses, and not the kind that come wrapped in tin foil, and i'm going shopping for clothes to meet marcus's parents in, and i only have one more paper due this week, and the most onerous part of my year (that which i never mentioned in here and still won't) will FINALLY be over on thursday, and then more kisses.

i've mentioned before that people often mistake me for a high-schooler. and not a graduating senior, either; all too frequently i get "tenth grade?" with a really wobbly question mark, like they still think they're guessing too old. i guess it'll serve me well when i'm forty-three going on thirty-nine, but for now it's just frustrating. sure! give me back those five years; maybe i'll get it right this time.

here i am again:

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try not to look at my chest or my collarbones. two gigantic (har) embarrassments.