Oh, nerves.

My first day of work is tomorrow. I hope I don't royally botch things.


It was a terrible day for driving. There's road work going on everywhere, the cops were out so I was constantly fretting that I would do something wrong, traffic was extremely heavy, and I didn't actually know where I was going and Mom was doing a less than stellar job of navigating. "Oh, that's your turn. You need to be three lanes over, thirty seconds ago."

I picked up my school supplies today. Textbooks were about three-hundred, art supplies were a little over sixty, and I haven't picked up the photo materials because we've been instructed not to buy anything until after the first class.

I was sorting through my papers from last year and came across my creative nonfiction essays and remembered just how terribly much I hated the class, the teacher, and the other students in the class. Some of them were cool kids with loads of talent, but the absolute ignorance of some of them (especially in areas as basic as comma use) was absolutely appalling.

It didn't help my opinion that no one ever "got" anything I wrote about. Perhaps I should have given in and written about My First Kiss like everyone else (and I mean that - there were perhaps three exceptions to this in the whole class and I was one of them). Ignore that I've never even been kissed and that this is supposed to be a nonfiction class. It would have been easier than trying to make these people understand anything I wrote about. (But, you know, I wasn't asking them for a detailed explanation of what it feels like to be in love, so why did they perpetually ask me things like what "teleport" means, or what "pyres" and "scythes" are? ...It scares me that college students don't know teleportation, pyre, or scythe.)



I have a knot in my left shoulder that hurts terribly. Whenever I get this knot (it's rather reoccurring - apparently I focus my stress at that point), I am constantly swamped by mental images of growing claws and ripping apart my own joint (or bribing some fanged creature to bite the area though maybe Ravage would do it for free, ha. Where are those Decepticons when you need them to break things for you?). The grisly details might bother me more if it weren't for the one I get whenever my wrist starts acting up (that one is disgusting and far too vivid), but it does strike me as odd that I get these violent mental images of inflicting mass amounts of pain on myself whenever certain joints ache.


I also think this is just Bad Service Week, because it's popping up everywhere all of a sudden. It's distressing, really.