I know saying “I can’t wait for summer” is stating the obvious. I’m like the person who climbs the stairs and says, “I guess this is my exercise for the day”—something I hear/gag at too many times each day as I climb the stairs in my dorm. But honestly, I can’t wait for summer. The only interesting thing that’s happening in my classes is that I suspect one of my professors has the horn for a student. Their interactions are providing me with what my class discussions and slow social life don’t currently offer me: something interesting. Otherwise, school is a total drag. Here are the main reasons why:
1. My speech professor recently told me that since so many of my speeches have revolved around RuPaul, I can’t mention him anymore during presentations. He wants me to branch out more in my topics AS IF RuPaul isn’t one of the most important humans ever!!! What’s this professor’s damage!?
2. All the cute boys here are SUPER Christ-y. I’ve been taking cues from Samantha Jones and flirting with everyone, and I’m discovering that all my top cuties are real evangelical, which is a problem because it means that we have incompatible beliefs and because I don’t approve of foisting religion on others. Upon asking one dude what he does for fun, he started talking about Campus Crusade for Christ and, after asking me whether or not I was a Christian, tried to convince me to consider faith as an option and to come to a Wednesday meeting. These boys like talking about their callings, but I feel like they’re the type of straight dudes who may grow up to say things like: “My wife is always right, hyuck hyuck hyuck. When she asks me if she looks fat in her jeans, I always say no, hyuck hyuck hyuck. Men aren’t worthy of women, hyuck hyuck hyuck.” But then they will be super bad at genuinely loving the women they say are omnipotent and omniscient. This spring and summer will not likely yield any cute, Satan-loving boys, but the fall might, provided I am admitted to one of my transfer schools. (Thinking about that makes me nearly poop my pants in fear, which will maybe repel all the preachy boys.)
3. This past week, after taking my first puff of weed, I had a minor breakdown. I was convinced that I had somehow burned my throat and would have to ingest food and liquid through a tube for the rest of my life. I cried, walked rapidly all around our yard and house (to cool my throat off with a gentle breeze), and generally met any of my brother’s attempts to help me with hostility. Fifteen minutes later, after accepting a glass of milk and a cigarette, I apologized profusely and tearily. This prompted him to tell me: “You’re like a virus that enters someone’s body and is like, ‘Hi, uhh, sorry for being here, but I’m about to make you sick.’” Which he followed by saying, “But it’s fine. There are cool viruses.” My insecurity levels are out of control, and I need to work on not apologizing for my existence to everyone I talk to. However, I can’t progress with my personality until I get out of a place that gives me perma-bitchface, and until I rid myself of my anxiety over transferring and the fact that I feel stupid every day for coming here in the first place. ALSO, in order to get better at interacting with humans, you have to interact with humans, and I’m not doing too much of that currently.
You know that feeling you get when you’re sort of expecting a text from someone and keep on looking at your phone while you wait? I’m going to be feeling that until I not only get out of school, but hear back from the ones I applied to, which should be in the middle of May. Where is Carrie Bradshaw when you need her to rub your belly and tell you everything will be all right? (Answer: Shopping! Women, am I right? hyuck hyuck hyuck) ♦