So let me just tell you about my day. I'm sooo tired right now but it's now or never.

I woke up to Isis. She pushes open my door in the morning and says "hi" ever so softly and it pulls my consciousness to the surface immediately. Ahem. One wonders how she pushes open my door since it's shut and locked. I'm not joking, she keeps pushing it open - she's done it like four different mornings. Only in the mornings. One morning I got up directly after and even though the door was open the door was still locked.

It's not entirely difficult to believe. So I didn't close my door all the way. Except, every time I casually close the door and then try to pull it open without unlocking it or turning the knob, it doesn't work. Even if I close my door in everyday dynamic and then suddenly think later on - here's an opportunity to see if I don't close it all the way when I'm not thinking about it. But it still doesn't open. I mean, really. Mornings only?

I don't mind that she wakes me up. I like it. I often wonder if I should leave my door slightly ajar but do I need to? She's Isis (the Egyptian Goddess) - she can open a door by herself...

She's so sweet. My heart overflows.

Which brings me to school. Because I had Modern Fiction first and that's with my English professor from last semester. Love her as well. She is simply kind. You wouldn't believe how kind she is. She's not annoyingly kind, like the people with such naivety and innocence that you just can't stand them. She's very keen - she has to be, she studies the underlying themes of modern fiction! But she's just so friendly.

And the first thing she asked me after class was how Isis was doing. Which is really sweet because, you know, Isis isn't even my daughter. But she knows how much Isis means to me. I did my poem last semester on her and Amelia and I talked about her occasionally. I told her Isis was having her nap.

I make a fool of myself when people are kind to me. I know how to say "thank you" and "your welcome" and by the by, Isis knows how to say Thank you too and it's very cute. :) But once you get past the pleasantries and you get into sincere kindness, it's like I have no social skills. I think it's that I want to respond with equal kindness but, for instance, at the Christmas party, a friend of Amelia's asked me if I needed help. You should have seen the look on my face as I thought about it. I couldn't just say No, thank you. I couldn't just say, Yes, here you go. It's like my mind was searching for an alternative sincere kind answer to give her and I was like duhhhhhhhhhhh.

Technically speaking, I was going to suggest she cut the second pizza but as I looked down I realized that I had the only pizza cutter working on the first pizza so she couldn't actually help me. And I looked down at it for a few seconds too long and she noticed and said something about not having to help me if I didn't need it. You'd think it would be enough to convince me that she is ready and willing to help if I need it but she has to convince me that it's not a big deal, I won't hurt her feelings if I don't need help.

Awkward.

It's the same with my teacher, I found. I'm sooo not articulate. I'm so used to keeping all of my articulate, thoughtful - eh, thoughts kept (oh what a redundant sentence) up in my head that when someone is actually interested, particularly about me, I come up blank. I'm used to having people ask me stupid, every day questions but when it's with my professors it isn't as trivial and mundane.

I think it comes from the fact that they talk to me because they admire me and respect me for the work I give them. My English teacher can see that I excel in English. And my Philosophy teacher can see that I have a capability to understand the nature of philosophy, the argumentative, logical nature.

I may be taking a liberty here. It's not that they chat with me purely because I'm a good student. But I know that the praise and the warmth comes because I have drawn their attention to me since I'm a good student.

And then I feel excepted. And it makes me want to be generous because I like it when others can see the good qualities that I can see in myself. I grow up in a household that seems to concentrate on the negative - where I'm concerned. I would say I'm the black sheep but that really doesn't fit at all. You could say I'm a scapegoat but it's not necessarily that they need someone to blame for their problems, it's just that I'm the one who always does something wrong in the house. I'm the one in the midst of 98% of all the conflict. etc etc.

So I'm talking to my teacher. And I feel that the words I'm saying that are sincere kindness are just... what's that word? Well let's just say that I'm trying too hard. It doesn't comes naturally. Arguing comes naturally damnet. Conflict comes naturally.

It's not that I can't get along with people, as I said, I just don't have good social skills when it's concerned, it becomes awkward. Because sincere kindness is so rare, I'm sometimes confused about how I'm supposed to express my own kindness in response.

I tried my best. I can't say that she saw it as an awkward situation. She might have senses my awkwardness. Like my Creative Writing teacher had a couple awkward moments today... It's something about the pauses. It's like when you don't understand and you say, What? You've taken away the awkwardness. If you do understand then there obviously isn't an awkwardness. When you fill the silence with "um" as you're pausing to find the answer, there isn't an awkwardness. But when there's pure silence - it's torture.

It's like the screeching of nails down a chalkboard by way of social skills. It's just simple evidence that there is a hindrance to two people's ability to converse smoothly. And it's, in my opinion, awkward.

It wouldn't be so bad if I could just find the words to fucking use. Like she pointed out the book I was holding, "Oh! P.G. Wodehouse!" And it wasn't really a question or anything so I couldn't give her an answer but I had to say something. I guess I try too hard to have a unique answer. I probably feel that the only way to continue a conversation is to say something substantial.

I don't want these people to feel that this is just a lame attempt at small talk out of politeness. I talk to people all the time and I don't really enjoy it. I did have a good conversation with my other English teacher. I may have said too much but I at least had articulate things to say :p! They were all about Amelia hahaha.

But anyway, the point is, I try to put an effort into the conversation to sustain it at the level it's at. When my teachers come and take an interest in me, I don't want to give them the standard "Yeah" or "I don't know". I want to thank them for their interest by sharing myself with them. Why be rude and close yourself off when someone is trying to make an effort to get to know you. And as I said, not just getting to know you in a "small talk" way. "What kind of music do you like" GAHHHH!!

So this P.G. Wodehouse thing... I paused, and I think it's a good time to note that I can't make eye contact worth shit. I'm just, like a dog. You know how dog's can't make eye contact with you no matter how sternly you say, "Zues, look me in the eye and listen to what I tell you, Don't Get Into The Garbage!" He'll just do anything to avoid your gaze.

I look at people and then I look away. And I feel so dumb. What the hell is so fascinating out the window????????????????

I first noticed it with Anton when I used to babysit. I liked Angela better, she was always fishing around for stuff or cleaning the counter or putting on her shoes and then talked and laughed but didn't make eye contact. I try to imagine what it would be like to actually finish my whole statement looking them directly in the eye.... I think it would be extremely weird.

By the by, I can totally stare in someone's eyes when I'm arguing. And my mom says that I'M weird because I only look at one eye with my two eyes. Most people look back and forth to both eyes because they can't concentrate on both at the same time. I just pick one and stick with it so that my eyes aren't spazzing. I find it extremely annoying. My mom does it like mad and I hate it when actresses and actors do it.

I don't know, sometimes I have odd inconsistencies but it's fair to say that when it's a situation that calls for aggressiveness, I'll fill my role as a strong and powerful person. But when it comes to being nice.... ugh... there's no aggressiveness in being nice. I think that being nice and respectful to someone is like saying "we're equal." That's obviously not going to be my strength as far as social skills are concerned. I just don't have a lot of practice with that shit. I've been looking down on people for too long!

So, again, back to this pausing of P.G. Wodehouse. I look out the window. And then I say, almost like this is a REALLY thoughtful thing to get out and I'm struggling to say it the right way and I spit out "he's really... haaappy."

What? P.G. Wodehouse, happy?? YEAH HE'S HAPPY! That's just such a cliche word. And cliche, by definition, means that the word has become trite or it has lost its impact due to overuse. Saying that P.G. Wodehouse is happy is basically saying nothing at all. And the tone in my voice as I said it, it wasn't casual, it was like "happy" was just this keen and satisfactory descriptive word, that represented exactly what P.G. Wodehouse means to me.

It was wrong. That is not what P.G. Wodehouse means to me.

I corrected it with a few other words (such as lighthearted - which truly is the ultimate word to describe P.G. Wodehouse) as I clarified but it's hard to take away from such a stupid moment.

Not that I expect my teacher to judge me and hate me. She's kind, remember. I don't say this to torture myself so much as I say it to make a statement that this is a behavior that I have which I don't agree with and wish to improve in the future. I want to be able to make eye contact damnet! And I want to be able to be open and friendly with people, I want to be able to return the openness and friendliness.

And I'm so articulaaaaaaaaaaaate! Why, when I talk to her do I have to say dumb things? *sigh*. I guess I ask myself What comes next or What is she looking for... you know? Like I put pressure on myself to come up with the answer I think I should have and then it sounds unnatural. But if I didn't try to do that, would I have an answer at all or would I just nod and smile and makes them feel rejected for trying to actually converse with me?

That's the thing, it's unnatural for me to share myself, to open myself up. I'm so used to being hostile on the outside and then carefree on the inside. Now I have to expand and be carefree on the outside. My high school teachers used to pull me aside after class and tell me how beautiful and intelligent I was. But I knew they expected me to be a bratty teenager so I didn't have to give them anything and I didn't have to feel bad about not giving them anything.

I'm not a bratty teenager anymore and when my professors pull me after class to praise me I'm going to thank them for their appreciation instead of reject it. I just have to learn how to do that in a natural manner.

Her kindness just... gets to me. It just bypasses everything and gets to the root of ME. Like when she talks to me and all walls are seemingly invisible because there is such openness and trust. It's not necessarily that she is telling me all about her life. My professors tend to talk to me and then mention their kids because their kids have relatable lives to mine... not the professors. But, still, she bypasses the levels that I have social skills on and I'm just not articulate in such a raw way.

Humph.

So I guess I can move on to describing the rest of my day. That probably took an hour to type..

Let's see, I have a bunch of novels to read for Modern Fiction. Then I have an hour in between classes, although today I had two hours cause we got out early since we were only discussing the course objectives and the like. So I cruised the library for more books to put on my massive list. Plus, it's quiet up there and often private and I like that.

Then I had my Eastern Philosophy class. Teo. I like it the first three teachers didn't have to call out my name when they went through the attendance. They'd say, "Sarah Thomas? ----- Here" "Melissa is here." And they all made a lot of eye contact with me. Which doesn't necessarily mean that they made eye contact with me simply because they knew me, but there was a look in their eye that I felt said that they knew that I understood them. Almost like an inside joke without the humor. Because they were explaining their new classes but I had already experienced their ways.

Plus, I would bet that when it's your first day with a gigantic new class, you enjoy the familiar faces. It probably helps it seem less intimidating. And may I say that my classes aren't gigantic because I'm in Community College but you know what I mean. It's probably nice for them to be able to say hello to students they already know and establish a comfortability. Not that they especially need it but I know that teachers get nervous, they've admitted to it before.

Teo didn't look up, like, at all. As he was speaking. Kind of reminds me of me. :) Except I don't look down. I look off to the side. In any case, there are a bunch of guys sort of behind me as well as to the side of me who laugh a lot. It's that kind of laugh that says that they are uncomfortable. And it's the kind of discomfort that comes from identifying with something they are probably somewhat ashamed of, if that's a good word to use.

Like when Teo said that there were a few more students due to come and usually these students tend to be students that have forgotten they'd signed up or were still out looking for the classroom. *laugh out loud* Which is more or less saying that THEY are the kind of guys who would be out still looking for a classroom and they're uncomfortable about that fact so to hide the discomfort they cover it over with a false easy-going-ness, through their laughter.

It's annoying. Plus, they laugh at the teacher. And it's a high school student laugh. I also think that it says that they are uncomfortable with themselves. Because when you pick at other people's flaws it's essentially saying that you don't accept a flawed person, and since everybody has flaws, it's basically saying that you don't accept your own flaws.

Someone who is comfortable with themselves, does not feel embarrassed or uncomfortable when someone makes a mistake. You accept others after you've accepted yourself. We've already established that I do not fully accept myself. Otherwise, I would not know the meaning of Awkward. However, I do, I'm sorry to say.

So I hope those guys stop laughing. I don't like them laughing at the teacher as if he's... stupid or weird and deserves to be made fun of because of it. Because it's simply not true. I thought it was cute though because Teo was saying really random things. He told us that he's Chinese but that his name isn't the standard Chinese because it comes from a rarer form of Mandarin (I think that's what he said) and anyway he said that the name Juang or some form of that name in ummm one of those languages was actually the equivalent of Teo.

And I knew that some people were probably uninterested to hear these random things but I thought they were honest to God interesting to know! I'm fancying these little facts lately. From Guns, Germs and Steele to Life of Pi... I'm picking up the most amazing tidbits. Like if you fire a gun next to a sloth they really won't move a muscle, they more or less can't hear it. They have very selective hearing.

So after that class I had to wait two more hours. I read a story about an autistic child. It was weird because he was intelligent but emotionally simple. So, he would be going on about (it was in the first person of the 15 yr old autistic child) math and science in a complex and thorough fashion. But when he spoke of himself and how he felt it was very simple, I honestly thought it was a seven year old speaking because I didn't know he had autism till he said he was 15 to another character and I was like Woah, something is amiss here...

So because his emotions were so simple, it almost felt like I was in slow motion. That reality was in slow motion. And as I walked to my next class, I still felt kind of slow and I had to speed back up until I was my old self. I mean, that kid will never speak as complexly as I've spoken in this entry, no matter how old he gets. At least not while he has autism.

I was glad to finish the book because I was tired of being in his reality. It was impossible, to cope with people and if you think I've got bad social skills..... Okay, so truth be told, I find it uncomfortable to hug my parents too. But I think the difference is that my discomfort does not hinder my ability to function. If my parents hugged me... ahem, I would let them. I wouldn't hug them back, cause we just don't do that. Maybe my dad. I can't remember the last time I hugged my mom. But at least I don't scream.

Not to put autism down, cause obviously I don't have it and can't be compared to someone who does. But in any case, it was an ease off the stress to come back to my reality. Where my emotions function.

So then I had Western Civilization. Hmm. I meant to say that my Modern Fiction classroom is in a classroom I've been waiting to have a class in. Because it's at the end of the building the whole "back wall" is windows. As well as the side wall that has windows, just like all the other classrooms. But they only have one wall. This makes it a lot more airy and nice and as I walk past it from the outside I keep wondering when I'll get a chance to be in there. All my classes except Creative Writing are lined up in a row. The first four classrooms in that hall. I've had two of them numerous times but not all four at the same time.

It was interesting to see Botsford in a new setting. I got to know him as he related to the other setting and this setting just does not fit him at all. I wish he didn't have such a short fuse. He doesn't get outwardly angry. It's this silent anger that shows on his expression and it's very... discomforting. He hasn't given it to me but it would make me squirm if he did. It's hard to explain and I have to say I'm running out of time because my wrist is cramping up ow ow ow.

So he was also one to make eye contact and give me that knowing look.

Then I had to wait another two hours for Creative Writing.

Ahah...

Since that was the most recent, it's really the one I most wanted to talk about. It's in a room that I told myself I never wanted to have class in, as I walked past it. But C'est la vie. It's cozy and it suits what we do. It's like as big as the standard kitchen. Kitchens are usually pretty small as far as floorspace goes because you really only need counter space and cabinet space and fridge space, not room for a table or a couch or whatever.

In any case, my teacher was familiar but I couldn't place it till she said she was the Academic Dean. mmhmm. We had her substitute last semester on the first day of English, or the second actually. The first day was with a teacher I really liked but probably won't ever have, I believe she teaches English as well, I hear her name mentioned by other teachers all the time. I didn't like her, if you referred to me describing her last semester I said she was pretty much a blundering idiot.

But that's okay. She's better in her own subject. Even though it's English it's writing, not literature. It's how to write literature, instead of interpret what's already written. So I felt very anxious. Having a class specifically for my writing is like putting it in the spotlight. I've always had classes where I turned in my papers thinking, that my writing wasn't the main course but it was a rare delicacy to be enjoyed by the teacher. Something I was proud of.

Now, I get to be critiqued. Even if my writing sucked previously, which I often believed to be untrue, there was no reason to really comment because that wasn't the point of the course. Not everybody has an artistic, articulate way to write. Only those who do, take the class I'm in now. Or perhaps those that wish to learn.

So now I know that my writing is expected to be WRITING. Authorship. It's supposed to be entertaining. It's supposed to appeal to an audience. Damnet.

And it's not that I don't have confidence because I really do. It's just that, as I wasn't writing at the time, there was a sort of anticipation for the expectation to write... and me, just simply not knowing what in Heaven's name was going to come out.

I tried to imagine, without having any prompting from the teacher on subjects or whatnot, what kinds of random things I could write about and I felt so blank. If I were to write a short story, what the hell would I write about?

AND THEN, I thought of it. MY DREAMS. Okay, maybe the teacher said something or other about dreams and it made me remember how I write down so many of my dreams and I always tell myself that this could be a good idea for a story. It's not that my dream needed to be the story. It's that I need something I can expand. And my dreams are so original and extremely creative and random. Stuff I would never consciously come up with. And I felt so safe after that. I can write when I have a direction. Writing comes easily, it's only ever the direction that one needs to worry about.

Also, before I thought of my dreams, I told myself that I could write about myself. I mean, it would appear fiction but it would be based on my life. You think it sounds boring but I found from writing in livejournal that I could always make my stories of what happened that day, amusing and entertaining. At least in my opinion. And as I said, I can expand on my own life to make it entertaining, if I have a direction in the first place, which would clearly be something that had origin with my reality. I've had a lot of experience reading memoirs so I know how to take a personal story and give it that style and attitude that draws people in, even though sometimes what you're actually doing in the story is rather mundane.

I used to be so... willing to write fiction. In second grade especially I was full of fascinating ideas for new stories. But I didn't write any fiction when I was with Mike. No poems and whatnot. Just my journal and my analytical mind and after we broke up I was all about analyzing, to cope with what I was going through I needed it. And then I brought about my book and I sort of let fiction go for the sake of writing about psychology and philosophical perspectives.

The only person I want to mention is Tim. He's from my school. Can't remember if he's in the grade above me or what. He's hot. But the interesting thing is that, his smile was so familiar. And not because he's Tim. It reminded me of someone else. And then he smiled again but this time from his profile sort of... and it came to me, he's doubly hot because he looks totally like Dave Dingman. His eyes, his nose and his smile, in other words his teeth... look so much like the charming Dave. Only, I'm tired of Dave's angular face. It bespeaks his sharp personality. I like Dave but I know that he has characteristics that class with me, that are sharp and difficult to work with.

Tim has a kinder face. His features aren't as sharp and you know that he's pleasanter and easier to get along with. His hair is much different and he wears a hat too, he has a more relaxed manner. Dave's expressions sort of bespeak pain. Like he's trying to be tough and act like nothing is wrong and he's a normal guy, but there's shit behind the mask that he's dealing with, that troubles him. And it makes him angry and difficult to work with.

I don't know Tim at all. Never said a word to him. But I did see him look at my shoes today. That's the first time I've ever taken notice of him looking at me.

I only mention him because I thought it was funny how I was looking at him thinking how gorgeous he was only to realize that exactly what I thought was gorgeous about him was what reminded me of Dave.. But I honestly think I prefer Tim's looks.

BLAHHHHHHHH my wrist is aching so badly.

It's early but I think I'm going to get some tea. I hope Isis wakes me up in the morning I have all day to play with her. No time today cause I was gone the whole time, and usually when the classes are completed until the normal time they're back to back so I can't come home in between. But I don't have school on Weds. I got back on Thursday for another round of today minus the Creative Writing. And then I have a Child Adolescence class next Monday evening. With another teacher I'm familiar with. Though he has great social skills and I feel that he's so outgoing he isn't really dependent on making a bond with one student. He's more blase about the fact that I was in his class before. He doesn't really notice me in particular. Even though, MAN, I have like the same favorite color as him and the same favorite cartoon character as him and all these similarities. Plus, psychology, duh. It's weird. We do not have like personalities.

Okay. rest for my wrist.