Jan

27

First day

Yesterday was my first day of class, and even if I hadn’t been anticipating the date for several weeks in a row I would have KNOWN it was the first day of class by the enormous zit that appeared on my face less than 24 hours beforehand. It’s like my body sensed the proximity of being in a classroom environment and served up a comforting physical attribute that would help me fit right in! Ha ha ha THANKS HORMONES FOR ALL THAT YOU DO.

I was all fretful ahead of time about various stupid things, because that’s just how I roll (in a useless little circle, that is, while bristling with paranoia over unlikely events), and I was particularly worried about not being able to find the classroom. It’s true I am cursed with a comically terrible sense of direction and have been known to get lost in a restaurant while returning from the restroom, but this fear transcended normal levels of concern and took up giant acres of my brain-space yesterday until I was basically just sitting at my office desk, my foot hammering off nervous energy on the floor Riverdance-style, eyes unfocused, while I entertained a rich and terrifying fantasy of wandering the halls for hours in search of the elusive C-164 room, before eventually arriving halfway through the class, creaking open the door and attracting the hostile stare of every student within while the teacher barked at me to find a seat, which I wouldn’t be able to do because they were all taken, and also for some reason I am naked, OH MY GOD.

So ANYWAY, naturally I found the class in about two seconds and took my seat (in the front row! Nerrrrrrrrd) and surreptitiously peeked at my fellow students and tried to determine if I was in fact the oldest person in the room. (Answer: maybe the second oldest, but I had cute shoes on so I win over the slovenly sweatpants-wearing 19-year-olds, right? Why isn’t there a Twibbon for these poor young people, outfitted in what amounts to a droopy Snuggie with random words emblazoned across their poop-holes and their personal body parts threatening to emerge? #PRAYERS4URASSCRACK).

The first hour or so was a little tedious as the teacher felt compelled to go over the syllabus line by line, while I twitched with irritation over people raising their hands to ask things like how do you log into the distance learning portal (apparently I have become the sort of person who cannot understand being unprepared for class, and between that and the front-row seat choice I DON’T EVEN KNOW ME ANYMORE) and what was the bare minimum for participating in the online discussions (it’s like these people don’t even know the joy of arguing on the internet!), but once the actual lecture got underway, I—well, I really enjoyed it.

I mean, it’s sociology, not really a subject I’m personally super excited about, but it was a good lecture and I got a weird kick out of madly taking notes, and I just . . . I don’t know, it just felt good to be there. Doing something so different from what I usually do, taking that first little step. It was awesome, really. And I still got home in plenty of time to play with the kids and put them to bed, how about that?

Here’s to new experiences, new challenges, and new knowledge! Let us not speak of the new tuition bills.

69 Comments 

Jan

26

In the membrane

I was grouchy and short-tempered again last night, totally fed up with the kids and their favorite new activity that consists of running around shrieking until someone sustains a head injury, and while at least I wasn’t outwardly behaving like a goddamned harpy I could actually feel my brain shearing away from the confines of my skull, apparently attempting to escape out a nostril or ear-hole before lurching, grey and gelatinous, towards the microwave in order to self-immolate.

What is my problem, I kept wondering. I mean, sure, home life is chaotic lately, and it sucks that we can’t go outside to blow off energy, but have I just up and lost every single coping skill I was once in possession of? I’ve been exercising, I’ve been eating well, so why do I all of a sudden feel like I’m clinging to the last shreds of my personal sanity? What’s with this unfamiliar black cloud hanging over my head and the pervasive feeling of doom? Why am I so convinced everything would be a thousand times better if only I mixed salt, butter, sugar, and flour in a bowl and ate it until my pants ruptured? What . . . what’s my . . . oh.

Oh, RIGHT.

You know, I never used to have problems like this during my . . . Special Lady Time. There was the requisite puffiness, snackiness, and maybe the occasional surprise weepies attack during a sappy commercial (damn you, Gerber, and your emotionally manipulative “Anything For Baby” campaign), but I don’t remember feeling like there was a weeklong hormonal Whack-a-Mole game where my mental stability used to be.

I’m vaguely wondering if Teh Crazy might be a side effect of the Mirena, although I’ve had it for two years with no ill effects. Well, except for the first few months, and all I’ll say about that is IF you get a Mirena right after birth—or in my case, as part of the surgical hoedown that is a C-section—your uterus will shrink afterwards, which will lead you to the shocking discovery that your Mirena has STRINGS, and I’m not talking about soft strings, I’m talking about something more like fishing wire, and these strings will need to be repeatedly trimmed while they are in your personal body, unless of course you LIKE having fishing wire in your Girl Parts.

Or maybe I’m just getting older and my brain is more susceptible to fluctuating chemical imbalances. Or maybe parenthood is enough to drive anyone out of their freaking skull now and then. Or maybe this is why you can buy those tubs of pre-made cookie dough, so you can apply medicinally as needed.

104 Comments 

← Previous Page — Next Page →