Educating the Sweaty 12

Well, I survived yesterday somehow. Between the heat, humidity, and hunger, I’m surprised that I made it through the day. The heat index was over 100 and I think I lost 20 pounds from all the sweating (and from walking all over campus). I was surprised that my eye makeup didn’t come off, my lip gloss/lipstick/all the other crap I put on my lips came off on my journey from the dorm to my first class. I know, that’s seriously horrible stuff, isn’t it? 😛 Oh, the best part. I got a mild sunburn. For most people it would be considered a bit bad, but for me it was really mild.

When I got my books Thursday, I gave the bookstore my schedule as a part of their policy. They told me I could pick it up yesterday. Well, I had written out my schedule, just in case I wouldn’t get it back. Well, when I got up to school, I couldn’t find my schedule, which was supposed to be in my pocket. I went to the bookstore before my first class and asked for my schedule back. The woman behind the counter told me that they couldn’t give me my schedule until Monday. I was almost in tears because, though I knew which classes to go to and when, I had no idea which classroom each class was in. She let me see my schedule and gave me a sheet of paper and pen. I copied the information down, and I was tempted to grab my bookbag and run out the door, but I didn’t. I gave her back my schedule and headed to my first class.

On my way to Human Behavior, Dedrick (also a Social Work major) stopped me in the hall and gave me a hug. He told me that it looked like I’d lost weight. I told him I’d tried to, which in my mind, I have. The hug and the comment surprisingly made me feel better. Okay, so the comment would’ve made me feel better anyway, but the hug? It should’ve made me feel like I should claw off my skin since I hate to be touched. Maybe I was just in the mood to be hugged.

I love my HB teacher, so her class went by smoothly. After her class, I had to go down “the Hill” to my speech class. I headed down the steps, which killed my knees, and headed down the sidewalk to the crosswalk and to the path around one of the science buildings. This path is the easiest way to get to TG Parker, where my speech class was at. Well, there was yellow tape up and part of a retaining wall had partially collapsed. There was dirt everywhere. Most reasonable people would search for an alternate route, but since when have I been reasoable? I went over the yellow tape (it was too low to go under it) and went around the dirt. It wasn’t too bad, and when I reached the next bit of yellow tape, another student decided to “brave” the pathway.

After my “dangerous journey” to speech, I found out that Dedrick is in that class with me. I also found out that we had to fill out a special form for the teacher. On the form, she asked what were our goals for the class. What was my goal? I would like to be able to not pass out or have a panic attack. We also had to say how we thought we’d achieve the goal. I don’t remember my answer to that.

Since I was going to be picked up after Diverse Populations, I decided not to bring a lunch with me. I thought that I could get something from the snack machines. Well, I checked in TG Parker and all they had were drink machines, so I got a bottle of water. Then, I headed up to Bibb Graves because that building had snack machines last year. Well, apparently this year there are no snack machines or drink machines in BG. So, I walked back to my dorm and began to drink my hot water. I was thirsty, so somehow I managed to get the water down my throat. It was not a pleasant experience.

I dreaded Diverse Populations because of the teacher. Everyone else in the program loves him, but I don’t particularly like him. I don’t think he likes me either. (He was one of the two teachers who decided I shouldn’t be in the program.) He gave us our syllabus and told us that we’d do well in his class if we showed up every day. (I knew that from last year in his Social Welfare class.) While he was going over the syllabus, he went over a part about plagiarism. He made eye contact with me through that whole part of the syllabus. Apparently, he must think that I am prone to plagiarism, which I’m not. I constantly worry that I’m plagiarizing, so I give credit even when I have an original idea. So, I guess I have to be careful when I do my book review so that he won’t think I’m plagiarizing because I can’t argue with him. If you argue with him, then he’ll definitely take you to the university board and will recommend expulsion from the school. Now I have something new to be paranoid about. Great.

By the time my father picked me up, my bottle of water and my breakfast (sugar-free yogurt) had worn off, and I was seriously hungry. I didn’t want to make any stops on the way home. I needed to eat, and as soon as I got home, I headed for the kitchen and got out my sandwich. My dad reminded me not to eat too much, which I still ended up doing because my mind was telling me to keep eating. The icky-painful feeling in my stomach overpowered my mind and I quit.

I decided to write five new “poems” today. I know that they’re horrible, but I thought I’d share them anyway. They are All I See Is the Dark, Down On My Knees, Give Me Something, Look At Me, and Your Piece of Trash. I have about fifty poems in my room that I’ve thought about posting on here, but I’ve decided not to. Most of them were written during my seriously suicidal days, so they’re even darker than some of the dark ones I’ve written in the past.

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.

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