Looooooooong exhaaaaaaaale. Hi, guys. It's been an exciting day for schoolwork.* I woke up early in order to finish a story for my writing class, for which I was so prepared that I didn't even have a concept until I was halfway into the second page. The finished product is certainly no masterpiece, but it doesn't appear to be a total disaster. Either way, I'm incredibly nervous, waiting to hear my (hot, British) professor's thoughts regarding my work. He has a sort of no-nonsense facial demeanor, making it very apparent when he approves or disapproves of something, and I don't know if my annoyingly fragile ego can handle too much negative criticism. So far, by the grace of God, he's seemed impressed with the points I make in class, and it's a top priority of mine to stay liked. Perhaps I have issues.
Oh. No, actually. I know I have issues.
A lesser-known fact about me is that, for the apparently laid-back exterior I work so hard to maintain, I'm actually quite the nervous wreck when it comes to those things I deem important. I constantly stare at the digital clock in my car, as if arriving to an unimportant appointment two minutes late will have me drawn and quartered. I've taken ibuprofen before Algebra tests to calm my psychosomatic headaches. I've had dreams haunted by misplaced commas. Before I owned a laptop, I actually got out of bed on more than one occasion, maneuvered my way through the dark downstairs to the computer, and squinted my half-sleeping eyes open in order to check for an imagined punctuation error on a blog post or video description. I know that people get nervous from time to time, and I don't consider myself a particularly nervous person in most regards (public speaking doesn't faze me, and I'm fairly competent at making new friends), but when I feel the pressure to prove my adequacy or responsibility or talent, I slip into a borderline anxiety disorder.
The reason I tell you this is because, today, as I reached for my freshly printed short story to hand in, all the color flushed immediately from my face. Out of habit from producing too many MLA-formatted essays, I'd accidentally underlined the title. Underlined! Short story titles go inside quotation marks. I came out of the womb knowing that! Now I was going to look like one of those ordinary people who don't know to put short story titles in quotation marks. Or worse-- what if everyone else in the class remembered to use quotation marks, and I was the lazy girl who just didn't find things like punctuation important? What if the professor took one look at my story and thought, This is disgusting. Why would I even bother reading such a haphazard, underlined mess?
I ended up penciling in a set of ugly quotes around the underlining, and breathed only once I saw that another girl had forgotten to even bring her story to class. A few minutes after this episode, I realized that it seemed a little silly... and upon my reflection now, it all seems completely ludicrous and deranged. NOBODY CARES. Billboards are made with major grammatical errors. One typo on one college paper doesn't matter at ALL. Why do I get so worked up about such frivolity? Seriously. I'm almost making myself anxious by thinking about my nonsensical anxiety.
Anyway, I ended the day by meeting with half the people I was assigned to work with on a group project for Health (we were unable to contact the other members, because, go figure, that's how group projects always are), just to find out that the "credible" sources they'd found on our topic included what looked like an Angelfire site from the mid-nineties, complete with bright green Times New Roman on a dark purple background. Unwilling to look for polite ways to refrain from strangling strangers, I just sighed and offered to redo the whole project by myself, free of charge. Obviously, they took me up on it, and I spent the rest of my evening manipulating Wikipedia facts to appear researched. High-five!
So. Yeah. I'm sorry-- I didn't intend to be a Debbie Downer tonight. I apologize. To make it up to you, let's communally make fun of a young Mandy Moore. Blog readers, I'm cravin' for you. I'm missin' you like can-day-ay-ay-ay.
Chipotle burritos this year: 13
Nail color: "Green with Envy," ORLY
*"An exciting day for schoolwork." I'm Hermi'ne Granger. And... you are?