Tuesday August 27. 2001
I was telling someone this week that I have always had this thing with the first day of school. Every year, the night before I started school, I would vow that I would be a different person than I was the year before. I would wear the right clothes. I would get the right friends. I would snag myself a boyfriend. I would come up with clever comebacks for "fat bitch". I would be so cool and confident and laid back that no one would could even tell that it was me, the girl with glasses who wore weird clothes and tried her best to blend into the walls.
Needless to say, that never happened. As soon as I walked into the door that first day, no matter how worldy wise I thought I was or how much I learned over the summer, I got the sinking feeling that everything was going to be the same way it had been the year before. And of course, it always was. It only took a couple years of college and life in general for me to realize that what happened within the walls of Cedar Crest High School really didn't matter in the grand scope of my life.
This first day of school was nothing like the ones in my grade school education. Unlike last year, when I went to school a full week early, this year I woke up almost 40 minutes late. I had to take the fastest shower of my life, check email, watch Al Roker forecast the weather (somehow, my day is never complete otherwise), and leave early enough to snag a parking space in the tiny parking lot that serves Elkins Hall, where all my classes are.
Did I mention I have 8:30 classes five days a week this semester? I want to kill myself. I stumbled into the ceramics studio, and proceeded to have a pretty horrible first day of school. Not because of my classes, but because I had what I think was a low grade migraine headache the entire day. At first I thought it was a hunger headache, but even after a soda, a Rice Krispie treat and two Excedrin, I still felt horrible. Still, I ended up staying at school for almost 14 hours (which is a normal day), working on my tiled coffee table.
I think this semester is going to be hard. I am already scared to death by my ceramics classes, and I still have my metals classes to deal with, which are the most stressful, in my experience. Which is why I spent 14 hours at school the first day. At least I can say there's been no time lost.
As for my academics, I am being subjected to my first math class in four years or so (I managed to wiggle out of them the last couple years of high school), Stupid Art Students' Math. That's not the name of the class, but it might as well be.
I'm also looking forward to my Women's Studies class. The class is pretty big, and to my delight, there's a good amount of guys in the class. It's always interested to get a male perspective on feminism and women's issues. My Women's Studies course last semester had one guy in it, and he was understandably rather quiet in the face of all that estrogen. Such a pity.
So Kate emailed me last week and to my dismay (and hers, I'm sure), she took a job as an residential director at MICA (Maryland Institute College of Art) in Baltimore. My dreams of us hanging out every weekend will have to be put on hold, at least for now. But Baltimore is infinitely better than South Carolina, in terms of distance and time.
Kate also has a journal, which, though clogged with banner ads, has some really good writing. Kate is a very good writer, although she never seems to believe me when I tell her so. Once I get my domain bought and up and running, I'm going to give her a little space of her own. Kind of like a certain someone did for me, a year and a half ago.
One Year Ago:
"Occasionally one of the many cats who live in the bookshop will come up and give you a friendly rub. You can hear all the noises of the street below through the windows above the bookcases."
Two Years Ago:
"I skipped all the pep rallies (hid out in the chorus room and played the piano), didn't go to any dances or football games, and going to the prom was one of the biggest wastes of time and money I've ever had."