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I liked my outfit. Black dress, leggings, brown boots, brown long necklace, hair curly, brown eyeshadow.
I couldn’t stop cuddling my baby niece and she didn’t want me to go, so I was late to Revolution but not too late.
I walked into class with the poster that I made, and everyone in the class explained how much they liked it before I could even say anything. Then I said, “Oh, I made a poster!” Haha, it was cool. My professor goes, “That’s real nice! Girl you got an A for the day, here you want a muffin or a doughnut?” Seriously, that class is so cool. I feel like I’m a part of something in that class. He handed back tests and I didn’t take it. So I go, “Is that worth a lot? Because I didn’t take it…” He goes, “Hmm, we’ll talk. :P” So this girl goes, “Don’t make her anxious!” My professor goes, “SHE IS OUR SINGER DO YOU THINK I WANT TO MAKE HER ANXIOUS? SHE’S OUR SINGER, WE NEED HER.” It was way funny. He let class out early, but I stayed to chat with the professor, this girl, and three guys. We were basically setting up a plan for the class and what we’re going to do, so apparently now we are the “leaders” who need to speak to the class one at a time to explain what’s going on.
After I was talking to them in the hallway still, but then my dear friend Dan came up and we walked away to chat… who by the way has never seen The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, or Sixteen candles, so I don’t know, he might be an alien :P
Then I went to English. We had this poet come to read to us and stuff today. I was expecting him to be cool. To be honest, I did enjoy the first few poems of his, especially his love one. I’m a sucker for love ones. He kept asking for questions, but wasn’t really getting any. So the love one was about soup, and eating it with the girl he liked, looking at her lips and wondering how they tasted. So I asked, “Were you really eating soup as you wrote that?” He goes, “I have a question for you.” I go, “Okay…” He says, “Does it matter?” What an asshole. Seriously, I lost all respect for him right then. I said, “No. It doesn’t. I was just curious as to whether it was your imagination, relating two things that you love.” He goes, “If a poem hits you, it doesn’t matter what they did or didn’t do, or who even wrote it” and basically went on a rant. No, if a poem hits you, you want to explore. You want to know if the writer is similar to you in the sense that they create, even if things don’t happen, the scenarios are there, or maybe they did and that’s beautiful. He could have said that the beauty was in the mystery without being a jerk. I didn’t ask him anything else after that. After, I told my English professor, “I thought he was going to bite my head off when I asked him that question about soup. My god…” He goes, “I KNOW! That was too much..” and started laughing. I was like, “Totally not funny! I was like, sorry? Didn’t mean to touch a sore spot, just curious.” Sometimes I want my professor to tell me things, but I don’t want to ask. Like, did you really like him? Did it bother you that he thought the person that thought Birches by Robert Frost was about masturbation was an idiot? Did he bother you as much as he bothered me? Everyone was baffled to find out he wrote poetry. He said he assumed everyone googled him. I googled. I knew. But I pretended I didn’t know he was published because I didn’t want to be a creep. If anyone deserves to go around speaking to classes about their poetry, it’s him. Not whatever-his-name-is who is touchy about soup.
After I hung out with my friend Kristi, went to the store twice, played with my nieces again, then went to my friend Alyssa’s for a little birthday party thing. It was funny.
Except now I’m feeling sick, and I can’t feel sick because I have to sing for high schoolers on Tuesday. We have the day off, but I have to come in for Revolution and sing, and then do a flash mob. The things I do for that class. Just hoping that medicine, and orange juice will fix this cold coming on. Please God, I just got rid of one. A BAD one. But overall, today was nice. I like nice days.