-background music. Sometimes guitar music makes me weep for NO REASON.
-amount of sleep the previous night. Less than 6 hours and you don't know what will happen next.
-the dreams I had during that sleep. Beautiful boyfriend? Good day. Dead sister? Bad day.
-food--partly dependent on the time of day it's eaten, who it's eaten with, and how much is eaten. Wilted salad at lunchtime, bad. Fifty-six pumpkin muffies with hallmates at 10 pm....sickeningly good.
-coffee and the time of day I drink it. Morning--perfect pick-up. Test time-AaAaAhHhH!.!.!.! mY pEnCiL wOn'T dO wHaT i WaNt WhAt'S wRoNg WiTh Me?!?!
-weather. Fog for more than six hours is like God telling me it's a day to weep.
-how many people I interact with. Just my roommate? I'm a tragic social outcast. Someone different every ten minutes? Dude, I'm so popular.
-then there are actual events that take place, those things that are supposed to affect your mood. Those are actually the least important, unless someone is dying.
Word of the day: Friday. It's. About. Time.
I had five tests over five consecutive days, as well as two papers and half a project. Basically, I'm reaching a state of scholastic apathy. A? B? D? Whatever. I just want to be done.
My mom is so cute. Over our last few phone conversations, she's given detailed war stories of her encounters with skunks, my dog Missy, skunks + Missy, and how bad the garage smells now.
The new Fritz is beginning to absorb its freshmen--finally. On Day of Prayer last week, eight Fritzers went to Rock City and had a breakfast picnic in the woods. It was fabulous.
Told you. The freshmen are AWESOME. Oh wait, one of those is me...
Speaking of freshmen and possible future freshmen, preview weekend was last weekend. The Fritz is very welcoming of its previewers.
Actually, all of those were written by me. Someone else erased them. I'm not sure why.
Sometimes I accidentally refer to The Fritz like it's a cult.
The Phantom of the Opera is a lot creepier movie than I remember it being. Sorry Christine, but a stalker man in a dank undergound lair with your mannequin in a wedding dress is NOT attractive, even if he is Gerard Butler.
This Sunday at church, I sat next to a couple I knew and held their baby as the mom went up to sing. When it was meet-and-greet time, I turned to shake hands with a lady behind me and found that she was really interested in MY baby. Uhhh....
I said "thank you" to a Korean War veteran wearing spiffy red-white-and-blue suspenders in Walmart the other day and he lit up. It was great.
Principles in Sociology is by far my most interesting class this semester. Yesterday, I did a stalking project with a partner for class. It was called a "symbolic interaction" assignment, but, let's be honest, it was flat-out stalking. We tried to creep on some folks in Chik-fil-a, but that's actually harder than it sounds, so we went to the mall and followed a mom and three girls into Aeropostle--or maybe it was Abercrombie. Anyway, these girls were 6-8 years old, and the smallest one was a total whiner who ballet danced all the way to the store. The oldest one was a stick-in-the-mud and the middle girl was the youngest girl's friend, so she wasn't terribly interesting. The mom dressed like a sixteen-year-old and was about ready to sleep on the next available mall bench. The project says we have to figure out the hopes and dreams of these people. My educated guesses:
The mom is terribly depressed about not making it as America's next top model, but wants to make sure that her daughters do. She also wants a really long vacation. She entertains thoughts of leaving her youngest behind in a mall dressing room and running away to Hollywood to be an actress.
The youngest wants to be a ballet dancer/actress/model and entertains thoughts of leaving her mother behind in a dressing room to run away to Hollywood.
The best friend wants to do the exact same thing.
The oldest girl feels that her dreams are being suppressed, and one day she is going to wake up and realize that she has enormous talent in the field of singing and songwriting. She, of the four, will make it stardom on the wings of her musical abilities and her sad guitar songs will one day make me weep my eyes out on a foggy day when I have three girls of my own and have just eaten fifteen pumpkin muffies for dinner.
I began tutoring a kindergartner this week, and it's going to be more challenging than I expected. He needs to learn his letters---but they won't stick for anything. Basically, if I can help this kid out, I can do anything when I'm a teacher.
Diary of a Wimpy Kid is the funniest book I've ever read.
I saw a founders boy in white shorts and fuzzy Ugg boots. I was a little creeped out.
God's teaching me about forgiveness this week. It's kind of a hard lesson to learn, because it's not one of those instantaneous lessons (who am I kidding? How many of God's lessons are instantaneous?). Forgiveness is a heart change--not just a feeling. It's weird, needing to learn to forgive someone I thought I was close to, who I love. I just pray that, rather than being angry over getting shut out of her life, I remember that I love her. And I pray that she realizes it too.
Song of the day:
One Upon a December from Anastasia.
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