To those of you giving birth this day… it’s your day… laboring next to an American flag is preferrable today, but if one isn’t available, a bedpan will do. As for the rest of us, we’ll have to make due on this holiday not for us… change a diaper or something in memorium. If anyone needs me, I’ll be curled up in the fetal position in the corner with my blanky and a binky.
Meanwhile, I mentioned briefly last week that fall semester started. I had signed up for my classes, purchased all of my books, and was sitting in a pool of anxiety and dread at the thought of having to take a regular daytime class 3 days a week at my geezerly age of mid-30s. It’s not geezerly to everyone, I realize, but if you be between the ages of 18 and 22, I might as well be taking my dentures out and walking around in adult diapers in my mid-30s. I got up Monday morning early and I drug my aspercreme to that class. Parking was horrendous on the first day and then I passed a dude wearing a pink bunny suit… which nearly made me sprint on back to my vehicle… you seen me sprint lately!? I didn’t think so. I made it to the classroom and settled into the back corner… the favorite of all introverted anti-socialites. Hi Hermit Gertrude! The professor knows me well. I had her for Spanish both semesters last year, and I was basically the only student in the Logan classroom amidst 12 TVs from cities all over the state. She is a sweet lady, but I’m pretty sure I’m older than her by a couple of years as well. Hi… I’m apparently obsessed with my age.
There were about 30 or so students in that classroom and I was desperately looking around trying to find my fellow geezer compadres… who were not there! The class consisted of us introducing ourselves to each other in Spanish in pairs of two, rotating out every couple of minutes. I hated every minute of it. When I’m shoved into making small talk with new people, I freeze and my brain gets all jumbled and it’s hard for me to get the right words to fit into the right sentence… and that’s when I’m introducing myself in English… my Spanish was rusty after having not touched a book for 4 months, so I mostly sat there and spoke awkward Spanglish… the language of the anxiety sufferers! Everyone introduced them to me as being 20… I swear to you… every last one of them was 19 or 20… and so for every introduction I just said “muy vieja” (very old) for my age… that is when I could remember those words in my anxiety-seized brain. One kid actually told me that because I was old, I’d have more world experience and could guide my compadres through the class. Please shut thy mouth young fry. When the class was over, I had made up my mind that I wasn’t ever coming back. And when I make up my mind (which is rarely as I’m the wishy washy queen), it’s a hard sell for me to change it.
That night, I dropped the class and had to absorb the cost of the book since I had signed in using the access code and now no one else could use it. Wimpmeister Whitney at your service…
Now, the rose-colored glasses part. I honestly considered not finding another to replace the Spanish class… which would have messed up my graduation plan drastically and I’d have to attend at least a year more than I would have had I stayed in. I have a handfull of semesters left before I can graduate and in my major I need at least 4 to 5 semesters of a foreign language. I have 2 semesters of Spanish and if I were to switch to another language, I’d be looking at 3 more semesters of the other language, instead of 4 semesters of Spanish. I bucked up and signed up for Italian, which is taught online, went up to the bookstore the next day and bought the book. Honestly, as wimpy as it seems, I feel 10 times better about my decision now that it is done and over with. Languages are hard for me to learn anyway, and I might as well make it as comfortable on myself as possible. There are other things I can conquer the introvert issues with… and not be looked at as Grandma Whitney.
The other class is a requirement for one of the goals in my major, History of Jazz music, which is totally up my alley. I love me some Jazz and it will be interesting to learn the history of it. No wimping out there.
Here’s some angry BoBo Bourneo for your viewing pleasure. He was pretty pissed when I told him about the class too!