I'm not having a very good day today. Theres no good reason, nothing happened, or didn't happen. I even got to sleep in a little, but I guess no matter how up beat someone (me) is, every day can't be awesome. There's gonna be down days, and that's just the way the cards are dealt sometimes. I really wish I could go shopping. A little eyeshadow purchase would do me a world of good I suspect. And even though I'm not having a great day, even though I feel like soggy crap, I know that this too shall pass, it always does, and in all honesty, it's been such a long time that I've truly been in a bad mood, I gotta accept my down day with a little hint of gratitude. Imagine how exhausting it would be to hang out with someone who's always on, who's always chipper and frigging delightful. Like a cross between Robin Williams and Kenneth from 30 Rock. Ugggh.
So lets talk about something else. I survived my first week of classes, which is pretty awesome. I was most concerned about anatomy, but as it turns out, it's my favorite class so far. There may be things to complain about in the north, but the secondary schooling has blown my mind. There are 8 people in my class. If I were down south, it's much more likely that there would be 80 people in my class, if not more. There is defiantly something to be said for small classes. The instructors don't talk to us like children, they talk to us like the actually give a rats ass about how we are doing scholastically. It's quite a nice change.....a perfect example: I've decided to re-do my psychology course. The first time I did it, there was, I believe 1200 people in my class - three rooms with 400 students. The professor was on a screen, broadcast from a different building. I never actually met the man. Obviously, I'm going to achieve way more when the instructor speaks to me, knows my name, makes eye contact, and doesn't mind repeating things when I lag behind. Also, the whole text book scenario is amazing. Books cost $200 per semester for every student. I'm pretty sure my chemistry book alone is worth $200.
And it seems that whistling practise was suspended last night which was a real treat for me. I shall explain. Every. Single. Fucking. Night. A bunch of kids gather across the street from my building, and practise driving me up the wall with whistling. To their credit, they are getting much better, and their repertoire is much bigger then it used to be - they've progressed from the "you're sexy" whistle (you know which one I'm talking about, it's the same everywhere in the world) to bird sounds. Well, spawn of Satan bird sounds, but bird sounds never the less. And this, this whistling is a great improvement from what it used to be as well. They would run around "singing" (meaning shouting in unison) something that sounded very much like an Irish drinking song, and the last line (the only decipherable line) was always "fight like hell!" Try to imagine, if you will, a group of 15 ten years olds marching around Irish Drinking Songing (sort of like caroling). When I've had visitors, and they hear this singing and/or whistling, they always ask me why I don't tell them to shut up. The reasons are threefold: 1. I can't be bothered. Laziness, my yes. 2. At least they're singing and whistling, not doing drugs or beating up the place and 3. They are entertaining as hell. It could be way worse.
I'll put in another idiot segment tomorrow, but for now, I've got homework to do. Phospholipids, yes!
The Help
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