More Worries

I am a worrier. I worry about everything, including the stupid things that no one else really care about. I'm also an idiot, but I wrote enough about that in my last entry. Apparently people can tell by reading, because someone posted a link in her comment to an online dating site. do I really sound like that much of a dork?

Anyway, back to worrying. Like I said, I worry about everything. The weather, or more accurately driving in it--I HATE snow, and everyone's been saying that this winter is going to be horrible. I'm worried about it, but not too much--I live here on campus, so I really don't have to go out in it. And yet, stupidly, I'm still worried about it. Everyone tells me I worry too much, and I know I do--but this time, I think I have a good reason.

Why? Because I'm an idiot. I've been in school forever, and it seems--seemed--like it would never end. I've been planning for years to get my bachelors and then get my masters right after. I didn't think about deadlines and when things are due. Well, apparently I should have. I took a look at my masters application tonight, and the deadline is October 15. Oops. For some reason I had it in my head that the application was due October 25, which is a full week and a half after that. So now I'm scrambling to get everything in, and--you guessed it--I'm worried about whether I'll ever be accepted.

I don't like not knowing. I've worked hard for what I've gotten, but I've been planning to get into this masters degree program. What if I don't? What will I do? I'll have my bachelors degree, sure--but in English. Not in education. What can I do with my English degree, especially around here?

I don't know, really, if it's even getting in the most that scares me, although I am mega-worried about it. It's what happens after that I'm worried about. The real world--a real job, moving out of my home...being an adult. Something I've always worked towards, but now that I can sort of see the end of the road it terrifies me.

Great. Another thing to worry about.

The Big Boob on Campus

I am a gigantic boob. A Big Boob. That is my discovery for the day. It hit me today what a major dork I really am. My whole life has come together--moments here and there, to make me the boob I am today.

One piece of evidence in my boobdom is my use of the word boob in the first place. What kind of person says that? That's right, folks--a dork like me. I also do dorky things, and I actually caught myself talking to myself earlier, and laughing about it.

Is a dork an easy thing to categorize? In my high school there were three classes of people--the cool people (athletes, a popularity contest actually), the nerds/dorks (theater people) and the in-betweens, those who weren't popular per se and those who weren't complete dorks. I always thought I was one of the in-betweens until today.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you start remembering stupid incidents? For instance--I like to sing. I especially like to in the car, when no one is around me and I can sing as loud as I want to. There have been numerous instances when I've been caught singing in the car. Two stand out in particular. Once, I was singing while waiting at a light. The window was open a crack and I was singing along to the radio. Well, a car pulled up next to me with people in it. I didn't even think about it, but apparently they heard me singing. My eyes wandered over to them, and this one guy had his mouth dropped open...eyes wide...then he burst into laughter, gave me the finger and they sped away. Well, I figured they had bad taste. It happened again when I did the same exact thing, but this time an old lady just smiled and drove away. I thought I had a fan.

Just so you know, this story isn't pointless. It actually is evidence to something that happened to me today, which is another part of being a dork. Dorks think that they are good at something, when in reality...they're not.

I was singing in the shower this morning. I was in a good mood--I'd gotten to sleep in, had breakfast, and was just relaxed, thinking about how not to do my homework due tomorrow. Then my mom rushed in. She scared me half to death, and I clutched the shower curtain staring at her like she was a crazy person. Her hand was pressed to her heart, and she asked me where Garth was. (Garth is our dog, a little black mixture stray that we took in. He is named Garth courtesy of my mom, who was obsessed with Garth Brooks at the time.) Anyway, I said I didn't know. She said she heard him crying and throwing up. She left, and I resumed singing. Well, she runs in again. Turns out...it was me. I was crying and throwing up. Well, singing, but I guess it does sound like crying and throwing up.

So, those people in the car didn't have bad taste. They were being honest--I am a horrible singer. It's not going to stop me from singing in the car, but now whenever I come to a stop light my mouth will close and not open until there are no cars near me.

More evidence of my geekdom? My choice of music. I love all kinds of music--jazz, rock, country, everything but heavy metal. After the singing incident I needed to be upbeat. So I chose...Disney music. Have you ever really listened to "The Little Mermaid"'s "Under the Sea"? I did--about three times. It's so uplifting. I love the accent of that little lobster, and I realized sadly that I know the song by heart.

What a dork. The dorkier, more boobier thing is that I bought the Disney classic 6-cd set on my recent vacation. There's all kinds of movie music going on there. I bought the set actually for my nephew, but I saw a song or two on there I liked and started to listen to it. Now...I think I'm going to burn the CD's before he gets them.

I just keep thinking of all the dorky things I've done. I've changed a lot since even last year, but deep down I'm still a boob at heart. And I'm fine with it. I like who I am now. There are things I will always want to change, but I'm content with me. I guess that's another trait of being a dork--you're happy being a dork. I am finally content being a dork. It just took me too long to realize it.

I could go on and give more evidence as to how dorky I really am, but I have to get some sleep tonight. Maybe I'll tell more in upcoming entries when I really should be doing my homework. I'm always complaining about my homework in these entries, and I'm not going to break the trend and stop now. Anybody up for some fun british gothic novel-from-the-1700's reading? Yeah, I know--me, neither.

This entry--what a dorky thing to do. What a dorky way to end it!

My second ticket

I cannot even believe what happened to me today. I kinda knew it was coming, but another part of me said no way. I--the most careful and paranoid girl with stuff like this--got a parking ticket. Not because I was parked in the wrong place, or because I parked in a handicap spot, but because I did not have the correct parking decal for my lot. One tiny triangular sticker that allows me to park my vehicle on this lovely campus.

You know what irritates me the most? Not the fact that the university police--who are oh so useful in ticketing people, as with a girl who got a parking ticket while being parked in the university police parking lot, ironically while she was inside in the police station getting a ticket--she was lucky enough to get out of hers. Not the fact that I'm mad at myself for thinking that they wouldn't enforce the parking for two weeks, like last fall. I'm mad at the exact time they started enforcing the parking rules.

My ticket is very helpful in telling me exactly what I did wrong. It was placed under my windshield wipers so it wouldn't blow away, and thoughtfully turned so that the amount of my payment is facing into the car. That way peepers won't know what I did wrong, as if the big bold black letters on the back saying "parking violation" weren't enough of a clue. I owe $15 dollars for not having enough time to go to the uni. police due to work and classes, and the fact that they're only open from 8-4, which are horrible hours for a busy college student.

The ticket also says the time I was ticketed, which is the part that makes me mad. Apparently they started enforcing parking on the sixth, which was yesterday. The time my ticket was written? 2:45--AM. AM!!!!! Instead of patrolling the grounds to make sure everything was okay, our helpful policeman was placing tickets on windshields to ensure that my money, which I have a severe lack thereof, would go to the college.

The oh so helpful police station office was closed Monday due to the holiday, and even if I had gotten my decal--WAY!!!!! too expensive, even for the cheap, far-away parking lot--yesterday, I still would have had the ticket b/c it came to my beautiful car at 2:45 AM. AM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Does anybody else see something wrong with this picture? Or is it just me?

Like a lot of things, it probably is just me, so please forgive me for my rant. I'm just mad I owe $15 that I don't have because I wasn't able to get a parking decal in time. I would drown my sorrows in Oreos--forget my human nutrition class!!!--but unfortunately my money now has to go to the lovely university police station. I would write an angry letter, but I'd probably just be laughed at and posted on the wall (my letter, not me) as an encouragement thing.

I know I'm being horrible--I promise I'm not usually like this. It's just--am. AM!!! Not even normal human hours, but the wee, wee hours of the morning when there's no chance I'd be awake. I need to breathe and start my homework, and tomorrow pay that stupid ticket. I've only had one ticket before, and that was because one of my license plates fell off of my car, and I didn't know it until I was pulled over in Dekalb. Dekalb--population 53. Of all the hick towns around here, I get pulled over in one that if you drive through it and blink you've missed the town. That's another long, LONG story, though...I'll spare you the gruesome details.

Anybody wanna lend me $15? I promise it's for a good cause...