One Step Forward
So on the last weekend before my senior year began, I decided to be adventurous and display a bit of confidence by taking myself out on a date--typical dinner and a movie. I figured that it takes a bit of courage to go see a movie alone and lot of guts and poise to sit at a table alone and have dinner by yourself. This is precisely what I did.
Figuring if I was gonna do this, I'd better do it right, I put on a fairly dressy sundress, a bit of makeup, and hopped a bus to Southside. I stopped into the Cheesecake Factory and put my name down for a table for one. The hostess told me that'd be fine, but also that if I saw an open high table in the bar area, to go ahead and grab it, because they were full service. As it turns out, I decided to go shop around a bit and ended up being seated at an actual table in the back. For some reason, and I'm not quite sure why, I expected to be placed in a booth. I suppose my inner self was still a bit timid and thought a booth a safe place to hide and save myself the embarrassment of eating alone at 9pm in a decently upscale restaurant. However, I was seated at a four person table near the middle of the room. The hostess removed the other three place settings, and I was left alone to contemplate my order.
As it turns out, dinner on your own, in a very open space, isn't as bad as it may seem. The only awkward part was having nothing to do while I waited for the waitress to return with various things. If you ever venture out to dinner solo, I suggest bringing a book to read, which is sort of what I did. Thankfully, I had a few books on my ipod and I read a bit of Wurthering Heights while I waited. I'm sure I would've looked cooler with an e-reader or actual book, but by this point I was comfortable enough to not care. My only real concerns of the night were whether or not I was sitting up straight and the thought that people may think I'm eating too much if I consumed the entire basket of bread on my own. Not too bad, considering a few hours earlier I wasn't sure if I'd even make it this far.
I ordered a glass of wine (whatever kind of white zinfandel they had--it's my new addiction), the chicken medallions with mashed potatoes instead of rice, and a water. Of course, I ordered dessert (because the main point in going to Cheesecake Factory is to get cheesecake. I don't care who you are, that is the primary reason you go) and settled on the Reeces Peanut Butter Cup cheesecake, which wasn't on the menu (as the waitress informed and recommended to me). It was delicious.
My meal took about an hour, and by this time I was sort of in a hurry to get across the street to the theater, so I quickly asked for my check and some boxes and was off. Across the road I ventured, quite proud of myself, to see Inception, which was remarkably good. I used to hate Leonardo DiCaprio, primarily because of being forced to watch Titanic on VHS a million times, but I quite enjoy his current movies. I won't get into details about the movie, but it wasn't as psycho thriller as I had expected, though it most certainly did not disappoint. I wasn't as freaked out as I had expected to be (and was proud of that as well).
The only slight damper on my night came in the way of my failing to check the bus schedule before I left. This is something one must always do before they leave to go anywhere, just out of principle (it would suck to have to unexpectedly take a cab and not be monetarily prepared for such an event). Turns out the 75 doesn't run past midnight on a Saturday (why that is is beyond me. It makes absolutely no sense.) so I ended up walking the whole way home. This also made my proud, because it was yet another piece of evidence I could use against all the people who bitch at me for walking around/running late at night. I walked to whole ways home from the Southside Works to Shadyside and was not mugged, murdered, raped, or even starred at (for once). The only semi-dangerous thing that happened was that some asshole in a car decided to speed through the light while I was trying to cross the street.
So that was my solo date night. It seems so distant now with the week I've been having...
A Million Steps Back
This week has probably been the worst first week of class I've ever had ever. This year is shaping up to be just like sophomore year (which was the worst of my college career), only much more worse. (Oh joy.) Let's start with the rest of my weekend...
Sunday I decided to go shopping. I needed a few things from Target and wanted to look for some school/work clothes at TJMax and Marshalls. I found about $60 worth of tops that I loved; most were work shirts, and a few cheap movies I wanted and was all set to check out, having a great day so far, when I suddenly realize that I don't have my debit card. Of course, I freaked out, though I wasn't embarrassed at all (upon reflecting on the checkout mishap, I realized normally I would've turned red when I couldn't find my card but didn't). Thankfully, the lady at the register understood and allowed me to put the clothes on hold, with the assumption I would come back and get them the next day. So I called my mom and freaked out. She assured me it was probably somewhere in my room, possibly in the purse thing I took with me on my solo date, but it wasn't, so I had to call and report it lost. Yay no debit card for a while. (Luckily my one roommate paid me in cash for the bills, so I had about $250 of accessible money.) So Monday before class (my first class wasn't until like 1pm), I went to the waterfront and bought only the work shirts, which amounted to around $40.
And now, my mid-schooling/career decision crisis...
It turned out that this week I absolutely, 110% had to make a concrete decision about my future, ie what I want to teach. It was a toss up between Elementary and secondary English. My entire semester's schedule hinged on this decision. At the time, I was all set up for Elementary. At Monday's end I had even been to my first ed class, Foundations of Special Education (with a kind of cute prof. More on this later). However, I was having serious doubts about elementary. The more I thought about it (and the more I called my mom to talk myself through it), the more and more I felt like I should go with English. It just made more sense to me. I did love the kids at summer camp, but could I really handle them for 8 hours a day for 180 days? I wasn't so sure about that... I don't think I had many classes, if more than just SpecEd, on Monday, so that day passed rather uneventfully (at least as far as I can remember. Oh wait no, I had Russian Fairy Tales too. Dropped that. It sucked.). I had a stress/hunger headache, of course, but that was sort of expected (more on this later as well).
The guy teaching the SpecEd class was on crutches but kinda of cute. I asked him a question that began with "I'm gonna try not to complicate your life" and after answering my question, he replied with "and you won't complicate my life." He got my name right and everything. I creeped him on facebook after class and it turns out he lives literally a street above me and 4 blocks into Shadyside. He's single and according to his myspace link, he's 29 (yes, I'm a creeper. Don't care.). I was trying to take his class at all costs, but it's part of the Eng grad program, and if I take it now, I'll just have to take a random 3 credits during grad. Sadly, I dropped it. Currently debating if it's weird if I send him a friend request on facebook... He probably doesn't remember me. (And why should he? He had me in class for like an hour and a half haha). So yeah, love lost. :( haha
Tuesday was different, I suppose. I was trying to get into a Mythologies in the Ancient World class to fulfill my last IFC course so I sat in on a section that fit my schedule. The class seemed ok, the prof was a bit too weird for me (crazy hair, soft spoken, obviously could've been a philosophy prof but wasn't smart enough). My history class was next, and oh my god did I hate that professor. He was so dull and boring I would've killed myself if I had to keep that class. It seemed like it'd be an easy enough course, but the guy made absolutely no sense. (I took him because his ratemyprof pic was of him in a wetsuit and he looked cool. Aaron also said he was a pretty cool prof.) There was a second section of the same history class taught by the prof I didn't pick at first because ratemyprof said he was hard and too intense. I am in love with this man. Literally, he had me in awe the entire class, and all he was doing was presenting an argument as to why we should take this class. (He later told me, today actually, that he was going to let me add the class anyway because I seemed so engaged on the first day. That was all his doing. And I loved it.) This man, Rob Ruck, could seriously inspire me to teach history, he's that ridiculously good at what he does. I never hated history in high school; I actually sort of liked it; but my Western Civ 2 class at Pitt made me hate the subject. My Soviet Russia class wasn't much better, although the prof was def more engaging. I will love this course. He asks all the questions I've always wanted to know about history: how if affects us now, the economic, political, and social reasons for why things happened, etc. He is brilliant and this is the one course that I'm legitimately excited to take. He didn't even make us take notes today--said he'd prefer if we just listen and absorbed what the main points of the course. He is awesome. End of story.
So Tuesday ended with me frantically using my ipod to check to see if a seat in his class opened up. (One finally did around 1030 last night and I was the most excited I've ever been about adding a class.) I may have had another class, but don't really remember.
Actually, Tuesday also consisted of me searching for classes to add to my schedule because, I believe it was Tuesday anyway, I woke up that day with a good feeling about English ed; I think I may have had a dream (it felt like I did) in which I had a premonition about teaching secondary English. It just felt like the best choice for me. The more I hashed it out (over many phone calls to my mom and Cassie) the more it made sense: I've always been good at English; in fact I've often excelled in the subject in high school. My papers in college have always received good grades, etc. My main thing that got me though was the relation to students aspect of teaching. I can related to little kids if I have to, but I prefer to have a conversation about a topic with someone who gets it. As I've frequently put it this week, I want to teach someone how to write a good essay, not how to spell the word 'essay.'
So Tuesday consisted of a revelation and was followed by my attempt to completely redo my schedule. This happened often between Tuesday and Wednesday night, adding and dropping a half dozen classes. Tuesday and Wednesday involved me getting special permission numbers, emails, etc in order to get the classes I needed to get half of my Eng prereqs done. Tuesday also ended with another headache.
Wednesday was a bit less of a disaster, though still very stressful and resulted in another small career freak out. (Ok, so I guess it wasn't less disastrous at all.) I sat in on an Intro Shakespeare class and the prof, although nice, seemed too boring for my short in-class attention span. The plays we were reading I had never heard of and the class just generally seemed unfun, which I don't handle too well. So, for some crazy reason, I decided to get permission to join the Intro Shakespeare course for Honors students. This added more coursework than the other intro class would've entailed, but it's being taught by Prof. David Brumble, who is pretty cool. Aaron talked me into taking him for Bible Lit last semester and, although his quizzes and tests were a bit challenging, I did quite enjoy the class and got a B or B- in it. I usually can handle the work if I like the prof and understand why the workload is so heavy and/or complex.
Also on Wednesday, I had my first Early Field Experience for Secondary Education class. I had added this about an hour before it started because I was denied permission to take the comm grad student Teaching Practicum and wanted secondary experience. (There was an Inquiry to Secondary English Education course but it would've required me to drop 2 of the courses I needed for the actual Eng prereqs. I plan on taking that course spring semester.) That prof got me semi freaked out during class. She said that secondary teachers knew they wanted to teach since around 6th grade and that Elementary teachers didn't figure out they wanted to teach until later in life. I was very worried about this, because I don't remember wanting to teach when I was younger (I might have; my memory is terrible; but it obviously hasn't been my lifetime passion). She also mentioned that most secondary teachers are very focused on content and teaching the material, that they don't care much or pay much attention to the students. I was shocked by this because, in my mind, I always believed that the students come first. I would probably be guilty of caring more about students than about content. But eventually I calmed myself down enough to realized that what she says doesn't matter.
I also bought my books on Wednesday, which totaled around $300. I like Brumble as a prof, but damn him for making us always lug around large, heavy books to every class. I'm pretty sure the complete works of Shakespeare, hardback, that he has us carrying, weighs at least 8-10 pounds... That's murder to your back and chest when you're biking with a messenger bag. (I may have to purchase that backpack for Tuesday/Thursday classes because of that damn book.) I have more books than can fit on my desk bookshelf (freaking lit classes). The kid at Campus Bookstore commented on my large stack with a "lots of lit this semester?" remark. Ahh well. I suppose it's part of the territory now. Wednesday night consisted of me freaking out over readings I had to do. 75 pages total that needed to be done before 930am (my intro psych ed class) and between 11 and 12. That sort of happened, not really though. Turns out I finished the readings I absolutely needed to finish though. (Hist and Shakspr were lenient with not having them done yet.)
I wanted to murder Cassie Wednesday night. I was still in Oakland doing some of my reading when she called to ask if I could run her over one of my old phones because hers was broken. I was already an emotional mess because I had gotten my period that morning, so the fact that she was asking me to sacrafice an hour of my reading time really set me off. I couldn't leave her without an alarm clock though, so I biked home, grabbed my phone, and caught a bus to Oakland then transferred to one going downtown. All the while fighting back tears of frustration. I eventually got home and tried to finish up some of my readings. I fell asleep above my covers with my History book next to me, light and tv still on in fear that I would oversleep my morning class. Woke up at 430 then again around 730. Not terribly tired, but could've been more rested.
Thursday was a bit better class-wise, a bit worse emotionally. I made it to Intro Ed Psych, and the prof is freaking awesome. He's so legit and knows his stuff and just so much fun it's awesome. I'd like to be able to teach my hs kids like he teaches us. Next up, I had 19th C Brit Lit, followed by History, then Intro Shakspr. After Shakespeare, which was awesome as well (cute boy in the class too), I went to a computer lab to work on the paper for that class which is due Tuesday. I hadn't really understood the play (having read over most of it quickly) so I used spark notes to get the gist of it. After restarting the paper for the third time, I think I was decently on topic with what Brumble wanted (though I really have no idea). That was done around 4pm. From the computer lab, I called Cassie to ask if I could use her debit or credit card to purchase a $50 cheaper version of my Shakespeare book. She said yes, so hopefully it gets here by Tuesday (if not, maybe I'll have to ask the cute boy to share his with me :) [even though he doesn't sit by me]). I got some Taiwan Cafe for dinner, which thankfully leaked into the plastic bag and not on my Shakespeare book (I'm hoping to return it for full price to the book store tomorrow). Also had a headache today. Yay fun.
Speaking of the headaches...
Bad Habits
The bad habits I developed sophomore year have resurfaced. Ever since I stopped going to counseling, things have been getting much worse than they ever have been. I'm not sure if I even want to go back to counseling any more (though I probably should) because I don't feel like I have a reason to. Before, Aaron was my reason. He wanted me to go, wanted me to get better, so we could have a functional relationship. Now that he's gone, I don't really see the point; no one else cares.
The headaches, much like during sophomore year, are probably a result from my improper eating. I've been having a small breakfast, if any, skipping lunch, and eating a larger late dinner. Not cool. I've also been sleeping a bit less than I usually do during the school year, but that's probably because the exhaustion hasn't caught up to me yet.
___
So there we go. My shitty week. The beginning of my 17credit semester. And the first week of the next two hellish years of my life. I was kind of upset the other day because I realized how unfair life is. Aaron got to have a significant other (me) to help him with his lessons, rub his head/neck while he was planning them so as to keep his stress level down, and had someone to talk to about his kids and his day. I have absolutely none of that. Not only do I not have a significant other to share that with, I don't even have a friend to talk about it with.
I don't think people realize how much it completely sucks to be absolutely alone. There is no one with whom I can discuss my day, face to face, and get a decent response from. I specify that so because I could probably talk to Cassie about it face to face, but she wouldn't respond much, if at all. Seriously, I've been joking with myself about joining a sorority just so I can have a large group of people who at the very least pretend to like me. I can go out to dinner by myself but can't make friends. I'm so goddamn lame.
But at the moment, I'm too tired to be depressed. (I had this big long rant planned out about being alone earlier, but the depression has been replaced with exhaustion, so I shall sleep.
Until another day, goodnight all.
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