(no subject)

[commotiocordis]

Later in the course, we're going to discuss clothing choice techniques. I'm overjoyed with excitement.

She (the teacher) had to explain the word "connotation". OMG.

She's nice to a fault. ("You can write your name on this. If you want.")

Okay, there are people talking. Please tell me that the intercom was left on and somebody on the other side's watching TV. I'm not that crazy, right?

We get to write notes on a sheet with words on it. Basically defining all these words (easy stuff like loneliness and introvert). And the first word's Freud. I thought I was fonging done with Freud.

When I cover my ears, I can't hear the voices. (They're singing country music now.) So it's not in my head. I think.

There are these two girls in the back just talking. All the time. Usually about how stupid this is (I, silently, must agree) but constantly. Shut up!

Mike is in the second class. Ugh.

So is Ian. Which sort of evens things out.

Mike is helping Raynisha tell her siblings' names. Shut up. He only knows one, but is prompting her. God.

Screw this. I'm writing fic.

Ian: "'Irish' is synonymous with 'awesome'."

The girl sitting closest to me, Liz, doesn't know what the word 'dwelling' means. She wrote next to the word on the note sheet as a definition: "a house, a family, a job".

And I just majorly ripped my index fingernail off trying to even out this jaggy bit. Hurts like a bitch.

And now I've got pen on my boob. I hate that. Perfectly good shirts, I ruin them all the time. And then of course, I licked my finger and tried to rub it off, so there's a wet spot on my shirt now. That is taking a really long time to dry. Thank something I've got hair long enough that I can throw it over my shoulder and cover the spot.

Just realized that I told my mom the wrong time to pick me up. I go "Noon" and she like "Not 12:30?" And I'm like "No. Noon". Of course, it ends at 12:30.

This class is purely common sense. "Where do you look to find a place to live?" Ads. One word. Done. Shut up. Not five minutes of "Those booklet things at stores." "Newspapers." "Word of mouth." Also, "What kinds of dwellings are there?" Hmm. House. Apartment. Condo. Box. Overpass. And a whole lot of other places. Whatever.

I hate people who put lotion on in class. Or file their nails. Go away. Nobody wants to see you do that. Would you enjoy it if I brushed my teeth in class? No! So stop.

Nobody wants to hear the story about how your sister bought an apartment, Mike. Shut up.

*sings* "I want out of here. I am bored to dea--th!" She's now telling us about this apartment she lived in in college. That's all this is. We look at a work on a piece of paper, start talking about a definition, and then go off on a wild tangent about housing (the current topic) and how dangerous this one place the teacher's mother's friend lived in. I. Don't. Give. A. Bloody. Frak.

Her clock doesn't work. At all. It's stuck at 9:30 (it's 11:23) and the second hand is just bouncing back and forth in place.

This is easily the stupidest frakking class I've ever taken.

I hate how they're always giving us schedules in school. Because we get like 3 a semester, just copies of the same thing. And one or two if you take summer courses. And they've got everything on them. First, middle, and last name (except missing the 'n' at the end of Kristen, as the school ran out of room for my middle name when they were enrolling me), address, birthday, home phone number, and social security number. You lose these things (like everyone does, as nobody thinks they're very important), can we say identity theft on a platter?