I MIGHT like classical music? Ha! How about definetely?
For a few weeks now, Dr. Perez (my Message of New Testament teacher) has been making fun of me for my coffee.
“What’s that stuff?” he asks. (He’s from New York, so you can read that with a think New York accent.)
“It’s chocolate raspberry,” I say. (I don’t really have that much of any kind of accent.)
“Why do you want to put that fruity stuff in there? That’s not coffee!” And la la la…Don’t worry, he was jokingly making fun of my coffee preference, but he actually really doesn’t like “fruity coffee”. So, I decided I was going to change his mind.
I asked him a few days ago how he took his coffee. Cream and sugar, he smiled. Was I going to get him coffee? Yes, I was. Fruity coffee. He puts on his fake mad face. He doesn’t want any of tht fruity stuff! But I was going to get it anyways, and he was going to like it! I was determined.
So, this morning I got my usual–my spiffy star-cup fillesd with chocolate raspberry from Pura Vida (absolutely the best coffee ever) and I also got a small cup for him. I put what I thought was the right amount of cream and sugar and set off for my class.
As I walked in, I decided to set my stuff down in the back of the classroom where I always sit, seeing as the articles in my hands were in rather precarious positions.
As I walk to the back, this girl laughed. “Erin, do you really need that much coffee?”
(I feel so bad, dearest reader of mine; I have no idea who she is or how she knows my name.)
Anyways, I laughed and said yes, actually, but the smaller cup was for Dr. Perez. So I walked back up to the front, handed him the cup and told him to please keep his reaction to himself.
Which, of course he didn’t.
The class was still a few minutes from starting, but there were several students already in the classroom watching as he took a sip, smiled, said I was right, it was good, then proceeded to go out the door and pretended to vomit…
I reminded him that I had asked him to keep his reaction to himself.
He told me he was going to drink the whole thing, and I told him right back that he didn’t have to drink it if he didn’t like it. I felt slightly miffed as he would carry the cup around as he lectured, take a sip and then make this horrible face, then laugh and say to me that he really did think it was good. Then he would make this “yeah right” face and wink to the people closest to him. I could only sigh.
Well anyways. The class finally ended, which really isn’t a “finally” matter, because I really enjoy that class. (It’s probably my favorite.) I went up front to ask him a question about one of his “mini-sermons” he always gives, and as I walked out, he thanked me for the coffee, and admitted that it really was quite good. I just smiled; I told you so.
I don’t know if I should take French, or Nonfiction Writing, or both.
I’m crazy about languages, so I don’t really have a good reason to take French other than I just want to learn it.
I’m thinking about a minor in Writing, and Non-fic Writing is one of the classes that’s required. Plus, I went and talked to Dr. Coulter yesterday to have him describe the course to me, and it sounded like it would be right up my alley, so to speak. But, I really want to take French!
I could take both, and that would give me seventeen hours for the semester. But, I’m going to have to get a real job next semester, and I don’t want to be run ragged. But, I have fifteen hours this semester and I only work five hours a week, and I have alot of time that I really just waste.
I’ll think I’ll sign up for both, and see what happens.
I’m rather proud of myself; I went shopping last night with Jess, Maria, and Nadine, but I didn’t spend any money! Oh, what a good girl I am, but now I’m sort of depressed. I really wanted something new. We went to Barnes and Noble’s, too, and I found two books I want, but I didn’t get them, either! What’s wrong with me? I’ve never been so frugal before! It’s a good thing but it is, in a way, distressing at the same time. I don’t know why. Sort of like Tiffany’s step-father’s aunt, who had very bad teeth all of her life. When she finally got her teeth fixed she was so distressed because she could no longer perceive the image in the mirror as herself; it was someone else. Then, she went crazy.
I hope it’s not like that.
As soon as I do laundry, I’m going to go through my clothes, pick the few things that I actually like to wear, and give all the rest to Goodwill. I mean, really! I have so much clothes, and here I am talking about wanting to buy more! But seventy-five percent of the things in my closet/dresser I don’t even ever wear! Really, truly, that’s ridiculous. And I call everyone else with a ridiculous amount of clothes…Join me! Get rid of them! Other people may need them more than you.
Oh, my goodness. On to Spanish!
I don’t know what song this is…it’s on one of Jess’ burned cd’s. But it makes me want to drive through the country at sunset.
On a sort of funny note, speaking of naming cd’s, Katrina. Jess has a cd in her car that cracks me up every time I see it; it’s called Lower Standards. As for me, I always name the cd whatever I’m doing at the time, or whatever is dominating my thoughts. For example, one is called Death Mix because my cousin (actually, father’s cousin) Charles had just died, and now the songs are forever branded in my memory as “his” songs. Other self-explanatory titles are: Early Morning Workout; Conoco Night; Going Home. Our most recent compilation is lovingly named Stupid Doctors, Caramel Pie. There’s a sort of long-ish story behind that one, a story I believe you can find at LookitsJeska’s page.
Seldom have I been so annoyed with someone in authority over me, and not in some time have I been spoken to in such a patronizing way.
He’s really quite lucky that I have no skill in quick and nasty comebacks, or he really would have gotten an earful. There’s something about waiting for four hours (six in Jess’ case) to hear a doctor say that your friend is exaggerating her condition that can really just bring out the worst in you.
Death, I say! Death!
No matter. As we had already read all of the magazines in Exam room 6, we began to sing songs by the Vines, not too loudly, but just enough that people walking past would get a kick out of it. And, since we didn’t know all of the words…it went a little bit like this:
I’m tired of feeling sick and useless…
Then..um..la la la don’t know the words…
gluing my eyes together, (simultaneously) Jess: again…Erin: giiiiirl…
Might be the right escape…
AAAHHHHHH (x5….or 6…)
Anyways. If you know the song “Country Yard” by the Vines, then you will be able to truly appreciate how much we butchered it. I only wish you could have been there to hear it.
I’m trying to get up the courage to write a Sestina; a really interesting sort of poem. Since my desire to write has returned for the week or so, I figure I might as well take advantage of it.
Jess tells me this song is by Coldplay and it is called “Clocks”. Yes, dear reader, I like it quite a bit.
Yes, now I’ve done it to myself. Now I’m listening to Walking on Air and there goes that weird feeling.
I wish I could describe the picture in my head to you, but I’m afraid it can’t be put into words.
I’m not even sure if this is the correct album for the song. Forgive me if I’m wrong. I actually came into possession of the CD that has the song on it in a strange way. I’m so strange in general, I think. What fun!
But besides…the story. I work at a skating rink when I’m at home; I’ve worked there for nearly four years. When I returned from my travels last winter and spring I started my job back up in mid-May. I remember my first night back on the job, there was a burned cd on the counter next to the dj stand-thingy, called “angry mellow groove”. Upon asking I discovered that it belonged to one high-school senior who had attended a private party not too long ago, asked to have a song played off of that cd, and then forgot it. Well, needless to say I was quite curious of the contents of the cd, what with the title and all.
Well, the months wore on, and my last night before I started packing for school, one of my co-workers asked if I wanted the cd. She knew I really liked instrumental music, and she was pretty certain that the whole cd consisted of that. Overjoyed, I immediately accepted. I mean, the guy wasn’t coming back for it anytime soon.
Well, she was wrong. There’s actually maybe…hmm…three instrumental songs? But it’s alright. The cd consists mostly of King Crimson and obscure Bowie songs…really quite odd ones. At least, more odd than normal. The whole cd is strange, to say the least. I only like five songs on it, maybe six. But the really interesting thing is, even though I’ve never met him, don’t even know what he looks like, I’d just love to meet whoever made this cd, and…well, I don’t know…hang out. Ha! And I’d say,
“Hey. Great CD.”