You Traitor. and more ramblings re: senior year.

I only have two courses left to complete the requirements for  my bachelor's degree. Holla. My inner nerd decided to sign up for some classes "for fun" curses, former Cheryl. curses. I am a Psychology major, but I started out as an Environmental Science major (that change was a funnnn party barrel of laughs and giggles). I decided that I was missing EnviSci. So natch, I registered for a graduate-level environmental class. Smooth move there, smartypants. Tonight we went around the room and introduced ourselves. While all of those fine grad students went into detail about their fancy specialties, I  had the pleasure of revealing that not only am I a measly undergrad but I'm a heathen psych major. Pretty sure I threw in something about  having taken "a bunch of environmental classes." Easy there, killer. your desperation is showing. I could feel their judge-y thoughts piercing my soul. Judge away, peers. Judge. Away. Why are such introductions commonplace in so many classes here? I would much prefer an ice-breaker that levels the playing field a little more. Maybe they could ask about our favorite flavor of muffin. That's my go-to ice-breaker. Apparently I end up in a lot of situations that require ice breakers. This is probably telling about my social life. Anywhooo. I always alwaysalways end up stammering through introducing myself. My mind pretty much decides to up and take a trip to a nice tropical island, leaving the rest of me to cope with my present sitch. Thanks a bundle. We'll chalk that one up to "introversion". My fave excuse. which lots of people are claiming as of late. back off, players. 

Moving right along.

For two of my classes I have weekly assignments due on Sunday evenings. No. Sometimes I hate the internet. Only sometimes.

You might think that sixteen-plus years into this nice academia journey, I might not get first-day-of-school jitters. You would be wrong. That is all I am going to type about that matter.

Currently having a good chuckle over the fact that I brought leisure reading back to school with me. You're a funny one, Cheryl. Like you'll have time for that. Obviously, any and all free time will be spent surfing the interwebs and shooting the breeze with the friendlings.

On the never not anxiety-inducing topic of What Are You Going To Do With The Rest Of Your Life, I have some new developments. Namely, my go-to response to the nosey inquiring souls. It consists of only slightly manic laughter. Ihavenofreakingclue. Then, the ones who really care follow up with my faaavorite question. "If you could do anything what would you do?" Heh. Heh.Tight-lipped smile. Ihavenoidea.  "No, but really." "Nobutreally I have no clue." Pinky-promise I'm not a terrible person for not having dreams. Crazy cat lady would be an ambitious one at this point. Mostly due to the allergy factor. To the cats, not the crazy, in case that wasn't crystal clear. Fear not (we all know you were worried), I have not given up all hope. If you need me, I'll be over in the corner, breathing into a paper bag.

Clearly the severity level of my current problems is maxing out. Try to hold back your eye-rolls.