Manic Monday

Today, something strange happened to me. I woke up, and went to class. Yes, this is a terribly strange thing for a college student to do in itself, so I'm told, but the the strange thing wasn't the class; it was the realization I had on the way there. Finally, and almost climactically, this is the last class of my undergraduate studies. Even harder to fathom: this is my last class at Kent State University. I've come to love the university that I so adamately rebelled against. Now that my time here is over, it's hard to imagine there was ever a period in my life that I didn't want to be a KSU student.

I also realized that I'm getting old. I know what I want to do with my life, and I know which paths I want to take to get there. Add to that the fact that I'm older than most of those graduating with me (in fact I'm older than the grad student who I answered to in the psych lab), and you have one bounafide old fart sitting at this keyboard. But... when did that happen? I don't remember growing up. Hell, last week I was getting a kick out of turning Jesus into a pirate.. ok, so maybe I'm getting old, but there's nothing that says I have to act mature until I'm good and ready. But seriously, I wonder where the first half of my twenty-somethings went.

As for the class, it was two hours of hell on earth. I long ago gave up my catholic religion, when my parents decided it was time for me to do so (I was only five or six when they relocated to a presbyterian church) however this class could very well restore my beliefs of purgatory, for therin I have seen it. It's just a stupid Italian class! Foreign languages have always been a strong point for me. President of the French club in high school, I also took latin and spanish, and picked up quite a bit of Japanese and ASL along the way. It always seemed to come naturally to me. So wtf is up with this class?? Why is it so hard?? One reason: The gatekeeper of purgatory- satan herself... Rosa Comisso. Professoressa Comisso scares the shit out of me. I get so nervous in class that when I speak, the French and Spanish come flying out of my mouth rather than the intended Italian. I mispronounce, I mix up tenses, I (gasp!) conjugate irregular verbs regularly! When she calls on me I just become a mess with anxiety. She has this way of making me feel stupid when everyone else gets it (even when I know, no one else understands). I wish I knew how to calm my stress levels when I'm around her, because I know that I'd do better in the class. Maybe I should try less caffienne. I'll have to think of something, because I have a quiz tomorrow that I need to get through without having a nervous breakdown.

C'est la vie... ummm I mean Che este la vita! (damn French, leave my brain!)