I had my Child Development Psychology class tonight.  Let's just say that my attempts to stay as quietly in the background as possible upon my return to higher learning have failed... miserably. 

I'm sitting there quietly taking notes while the professor is toiling away with the board and slides and videos.  We're all active and alert in this class because he told us from the beginning that if we participate and stay awake, he'll only keep us ninety minutes instead of the three hours the class is scheduled.  You really can't get a better deal.  And he's good at his job.  He knows his material. 

ANYWAY...  I must have been way into the whole taking notes thing... we're studying child development from the egg and sperm right on up, and tonight we were discussing influences during the prenatal stages of life.  What will affect this growth, influence that process...(blah blah blah... I learned this stuff in high school biology, already)... and suddenly all I hear is the phrase "... at this point genitalia and brain development is happening at the same time..."  Instantly I hear hysterical laughter! 

Oh my god!!!  It's coming from me! 

He realizes what he's said the second he hears my laughter, and he begins to laugh just as much!  In between sobs he says, "You're thinking equal development in one sex ... not so much, huh" and continues to laugh his ass off. 

Meanwhile, we're surrounded by a bunch of teenagers who have no idea what we're laughing at, and they're looking at us like we've just grown alien heads or something.  (They were still too busy giggling over the magnified image of sperm attacking an egg on the previous page) 

The rest of the class was spent with us both fighting back the urge to lose it again.  I can't imagine how hard it was for him to teach the complications of STIs on newborns while stifling hysterical laughter. 

He knows me by name now.  That's two out of four.  I'm sooo screwed.

Some sort of killer human virus destroyed my otherwise wonderful weekend.  And for the second weekend in a row I'd planned to go see the movie "UnderWorld" but didn't.  Sometimes life is a twisted little cruel game, isn't it. 

I should have studied this evening, but I didn't.  I'll regret that come that Stats test on Tuesday morning.  I'm fighting the urge to go shopping online tonight and blow large amounts of money... that I can't afford to blow.  Sometimes you just need to say "screw it" and have a little fun.  I'm not saying you should do that with your bill money or anything... just, you know. 

I did finally force my miserably sick self up long enough to day to run out and get food and a few other things I didn't need. (We won't discuss those things) But I still want to buy yarn or something...  I'm just nerdy like that sometimes. 

When I got home this evening I had a call from an old friend I met while living in Texas.  For a minute, it made me miss the place.  Unbelievable... but I did.  We had some crazy times down there.  (We won't be discussing those, either.  Shut UP, David)  I think it's mostly the "I don't give a damn" attitude I had while I was there.  Sometimes it sucks being a grown up. 

I bought some new fish while I was out tonight.  Not sure why I did that because I intend to move really soon which is just going to make moving the tank that much harder.  But I've been neglecting my poor little fish so much lately.  And I love my fish.  I even thought about giving away my tank at one point.  You knew I wouldn't.  Don't laugh.  It beats being obsessed with hamsters or something. 

I have so much I need to be doing tonight.  But part of me wants to just go to bed.  The part that's winning, actually... unless the other part decides to go shopping. 

Then, that part will win.

It's been a long hard week.  Classes all week... flooding in the area prevented travel for a day.  Now it's Thursday, might be my Friday. 

I have a doctor's appointment today.  I hate them.  I have stats class this morning.  I hate it.  But it's the only thing standing between me and a really great weekend.  So I'm just not going to worry about it.  I'll start worrying about it next week when I fail the first exam of the semester... the stats exam. 

But this weekend, I'm going house hunting and shopping and... and... I don't know what else I'll be doing, but I'm going to make sure it will be fun.  I'm going to the movies!  And I'm not going to cook... or clean... or worry about work or school until Sunday.  That's what I'll be doing. 

 In other news around my little blog world this week: 

AmericanGirl pretends she's just discovered she's weird... (we've known it for a bit now... it's what we love about her)

Jackal is forever humbling me with her writings.  That woman has talent. 

Pongo man made a snake... ewww... now I'll have bad dreams.  (What is the unbelievable fear of snakes called, anyway?) 

Over on The Goddess, O is having her version of a sexy dream.... it was a good one!  I just want to spice it up a bit for her... maybe take her out drinking before that guy wanders back into her sleep! 

Muskrat is as neglectful of his blog as David!  (write already!) 

I'm beginning to think Schmuck only posts after herbal breaks. 

IML is being all spunky... she's sooo cool when she's like that.  Makes me want to take her shopping and get our nails done or something.  Or maybe get her drunk.  (any reason to shop is a good one) 

David is lapsing on his blog again... already (lazy ass) 

There was a hit and run snowman incident over on Noble Jim's blog 

And Screwboy has finally stumbled back into the real world!  We're all so proud! 

I was just sitting here wondering... you all are real to me, but do you think we're adult versions of imaginary friends?  Mabye?:) 

It's nearly 1am, and I should be sleeping.  I could probably sleep.  Physical sleep, anyway.  The mental kind eludes me as usual. Tonight I'm frustrated.  I'm emotional.  I want to scream louder than I've ever screamed.  I want to curse... long drawn out blushing curses. 

I'm defensive.  No one's fault.  It's me.  I'm offended by the slightest thing.  I'm hurt and torn by sadness and anger.  I just can't tell you why. 

I actually talked with my mother about it today.  The fact that I can talk to my mother about anything at all still amazes me.  It wasn't always like this between us.  Some of  you have lived it with me, and I can see you shaking your head in disbelief as much as I sometimes still do.  Today I told her that I'm rushing my life away.  I always feel so desperate and rushed... hurried and panicked.  I always feel behind and lagging terribly even when I'm not... there's no reason to feel breathless all the time.  Even when I have everything caught up and nothing but down time in front of me...  I feel on the verge of a breakdown and like I'm a step behind. 

I know.  I know everyone feels that way in today's world.  I know that as a collective whole the human race has become more about what we can acheive than what we can cherish.  So I know this isn't anything new to anyone reading this.  But suddenly feeling this way all the time has made me angry.  I'm mad as hell all the time.  I'm snappy and sarcastic and easily rattled. 

For the past couple of days now, I've felt very belittled.  I'll be the first to admit that I'm pretty much of an average intelligence.  I have nothing sepctacular floating around between my ears.  And I'm ok with that.  But I'm not stupid.  I'm not ignorant.  I'm not the target for anyone's sympathies or pity.  Don't talk down to me.  Don't limit me.  I just hate when someone looks at me with the phrase "poor dear" floating above their head in one of those cartoon bubbles.  I have more in my life than most people will ever have. 

I make no apologies for who I am, where I am, what I've done, haven't done, or what I'm yet to become.  So I really hate when people make me feel like I should be apologizing for something they see as a shortcoming in my life.  Obviously there are things I could stand to learn more about... advance myself.  But that doesn't make me any less of a person than anyone else. 

Sometimes Jim (Willie) will laugh at me when something goes over my head, and we'll joke about his look and tone being the perverbial pat on the head for me. 

Or maybe the times when Bryan calls up talking 150mph about his latest project which is all technical all the time... splitting atoms or orbiting satellites or something... and I know he can tell when I'm saying "wow, really?" just because I have no clue what he's really saying. 

But those things are different.  I don't like being made to feel like I'm someone's project.  "Let me fix the little broken girl."  Fact is, I've been broken much longer than I've been whole.  And if I'm comfortable with that, everyone else can just get used to it or go away.  Each person's choice, I guess. 

I think it's starting to bother me that the things in my life other people see as negatives or faults are things I cling to and cherish and see as what makes me exactly who I am.  You can't love someone for who you think you can make them become.  It just doesn't work that way. 

I'm not sure why I'm even blogging this... most of the people making me feel like this don't even read my blog.  It's a good thing, too. 

Sometimes I just need to say it, and I've realized that when I have something to say I have to put it out somewhere that I'm certain someone will hear it.  Then I can let it go... let it ly away on my balloon and get on with my life.  I'm praying the string holds this one tight because I'm tired of feeling this way.

Social Sciences class tonight. I sat in front of Barbie and Ken and laughed silently at all their blonde ambitions.  How awesome to be so young and stupid.  They weren't a couple so to eavesdrop on the hunt was quite hilarious and also made me cringe with the fear that I might have ever acted that way... ever. 

The professor.  Everything you've ever fantasized a professor to be.  (Sorry, IML, but it's true)  A tiny genius of a man.  Suit jacket fitting him like a blanket, glasses on the end of this nose, belt cinched so tightly that his slacks bunched together in folds, frizzy hair with a beard that he subconsciously clinched with each new exclamation.  Eccentric and excitable... funny.... and no doubt going to work my butt off.  He has a passion for making people believe studying the human condition is just as important as studying to find a cure for cancer.  One class, and he's made a believer of me... must be a good teacher. 

I learned more about myself after class than I've learned in a really long time.  During a conversation I had on the way home, I realized something.  I'm scared to death.  I'm not afraid of what the future holds for me.  I'm afraid of what it might not hold.  And there really is no way of knowing.  We can plan, train, strive...  and I know that is repsonsible for some of what we acheive in life ... but in reality we can lay that plan out in front of the fates and what we're likely to hear is the sound of hysterical laughter. 

What I want from life is simple.  I want to realize my potential in every area of my personal existance.  I want to grow old.  I don't want to check out of the game early as I fear I may very well do.  I want to grow old with someone who loves me in all my insecurities and imperfections.  Someone who will argue with me and then snicker with the grandchildren when I stomp off to pout.  Yes I want grandchildren.  I want a porch swing.  I want a flower garden.  I want crisp Saturday mornings to find me making love to the man of my dreams and the afternoons to find me with dirt up to my elbows tending to blossoms that rival the brillance of the noonday sun.  Oh... and I want a big fat lap cat named Penelope that knocks over my houseplants during the night. 

And if the fates don't agree to this... I'll name the cat Ophelia. 

The Idiot Queen.

I'm such a typical woman.  I buy the magazines that make me hate the way I look, the way I dress, the money I make, my parenting skills... I do.  I convince myself that by not buying the fashion mags like Glamour or Vogue that I'm somehow sticking to healthier, real woman arenas with the likes of Good Housekeeping, Southern Living, RedBook, or First.  Wrong...  

Today was no different.  I was in the checkout line at the grocery store reading the headlines of all the tabloids just like everyone else when I saw this month's issue of First.  And right on the cover was the article title "New ways to beat Tiredness".  I grabbed it right up.  Then after getting it home, I glanced over it and saw the statement, "Cure the cellular irritation that attracts fat".  I've just been sitting here wondering if I can blame a "cellular irritation" for attracting pyschos, deadbeats, spazheads, and evil witch queens... ya think?  I mean, stranger things have been discovered, right?  What if there is a physical scientific reason I end up surrounded by idiots on a daily basis.  You can't really prove there isn't one.

Now, don't go thinking I mean anyone in particular because I have several really intelligent wonderful people in my life that I admire greatly.  But you know what I've noticed about them?  They attract idiots, too.  Imagine that...  Or maybe we're all idiots attracting each other.

I'm trying to vent and falling hopelessly short.  I'm tired and moody and anxious.  I began my day feeling somewhat excited... positive... with an agenda.  I'm ending it feeling rather like I've been kicked in the stomach.  I don't blame my day or anything in it.  I allow myself to get to these ridiculously painful places.  I'm a strong person.  I have to believe that I could stop it somehow.  But if I believe that, then I have to believe I'm purposely putting myself through all these little agonies.  WHO does that?!?!  I'll tell you who would do that... an idiot would do that. 

So really maybe I'm not attracting idiots at all... maybe I'm an idiot and the rest of the world is just a bunch of lemmings... cliff, anyone?

Morning coffee and Mo'Time...  and the woman makes up her mind. 

I could be doing a million other things every morning when I'm sitting here blogging about nothing, but I don't.  I think it has become a ritual for me... as much a part of my morning routine as taking a shower.   (I do still take showers on the mornings I don't blog.) 

Another day, another work week.  I can't decide if I'm happy, and if I'm not, what's going to make me happy.  I've decided to change some things in my life.  Not resolutions.  I never make resolutions.  That's just setting myself up for failure. 

I'm going back to school.  I'm buying a house.  I'm tired of dancing around issues that are easily swept to the back of my mind where I don't have to deal with them for months at a time.  These things are important to me.  Now obviously they'll take several months.  It's too late to hit Spring semester in school, and I haven't even started looking for a house.  But that's ok because I've made up my mind.  I "say" I'm going to do a lot of things, but I rarely actually settle myself to do them.  When I get to that point, I'm doing them.  Daddy always said I was the one child who could stay in denial forever, but when I made up my mind, it was too late for praying.  I'm not altogether sure he meant that as a compliment. 

But for now, it's off to work I go... another day, trying not to kill anyone.  If I can get through the day without calling my boss a skillet-licking bitch, we'll consider the hours a success.

Phone call with younger sister today:

Her:  ... so we're thirtysomethings now, you know.

Me:  We've been thirtysomethings for a few years now.

Her:  Yeah, but it's 2006.  I'm needing purpose.

Me: *trying to eat an orange slice without it dripping into the phone*  What kind of purpose?

Her:  *crunching something... I didn't ask*  You know.  When you're in your twenties, you're young, carefree.

Me:  I don't remember that.

Her:  Yes you do.  And when you're in your forties, you're settled, mature... have direction.

Me:  I don't think I'll be any more mature.

Her:  Yes you will.  But we're in our thirties.  It's a strange place in our lives.  Where should we be?

Me:  In therapy.

Her:  I hate you.

Me:  I know.

Her:  Happy New Year

Me:  Happy New Year, sis.  Just think.. next year we'll be even deeper into our thirties.. *laughing*

*CLICK*

Happy New Year!! 

Let's try not to screw this one up, shall we?:)