Into the Fire

Back at school.

It's a little weird, i have to get use to the rountine all over again, and the noises. My fridge that is way too loud, and the garbage truck the wakes me up in the morning. But other than that, i am pretty glad to be back.

No more Dial-up, brother yelling at me to use the phone, trying to post comments but incoming calls cutting me off in mid sentence,brother friends coming over, and more. Oh it's good to be back, i have some catching up(reading and commenting wise) to do in blog world.

As soon as my mom and brother left, i assumed i was going to clean my room, but half way through that i got a massive headache, my ear was kind of hurting, and i passed out into la la land, waking up 5 hours later. What can i say. My room is in a total state of my messiness.

Classes start monday, though i went book shopping today, spending a whopping 300 bucks on books that i most likely will not use. Of all the classes that i am taking this semester surprisingly enough the one i am kind of worried about is "Themes British Writing". I have one more English requirement to fill so i figured "hey why not take my last one this semester", then i remembered how much i disliked Shakespeare and Dickens, and have never read Pride and Prejudice, but can only imagine how many nights i will fall asleep with it by my side.

I love everything British. I want to go Britain for a semester abroad, i wanted to move there when i was younger. I love The Office, Blackadder, Mr. Bean, Coupling. Love British bands, and don't even get me started on the movies. 28 days later, Shaun of the dead, Monty Python, Billy Elliot i could go on and on. The accents, the boys, the fashion, i love all of it. But when it comes to having to read a book by Charles Dickens, i get a little teary and wish i was watching paint dry then reading a book by him.

In the 8th grade i was in Honors English, and we read Charles Dickens, and Shakespeare. Worst time of my life. I don't know what it is, but with all the British love that i have, i cannot get into Dickens or Shakespeare. They bore me. I mean bore me. I mean I love Hemingway, Plath, Steinbeck, Rand and respect the stuff written a long time ago but those two i just can't get into. We almost had a revolt against Dickens in the 12th grade, after reading a Tale of Two Cities. I don't think i can look at Romeo and Juliet again, i may just throw it out the window.

What's more horrible is that the professor may be a total jerk. The website Ratemyprofessor isn't really a reliable source, you only get comments from people who A) did really well B) really bad, but you still like to see a smiley face by your prospective professors name to ease your worries. Not my professor. A big old sad face, that made me cringe. So i'm at least going to go to his first class, to see if it is bearable. If not, Women Studies, here i come.

With the first day of class approaching i'm actually a little nervous. I mean i think i may be one of 15 students in a 200 person dorm that has arrived yet for the new semester, which means it is pretty quiet in this usually noisy dorm. The campus is pretty empty, aside from seeing a bunch of professors walking around. So school hasn't really started, clubs haven't reopened, haven't seen familar faces, the grind hasn't started yet.

I wrote about my first day of Kindergarten when i met my first best friend. My mom didn't even have to assure me that i was going to be okay, because i marched in there not afraid of what school had to offer me. Sometimes i wish i had that same kind of attitude, instead of the "i hope the people and professor are nice" nerves.

Marie says i have a fear of failing. But i mean who doesn't. I mean i don't fear failing all my classes or anything, but it's just more that i fear not reaching the potential i know i can reach And i guess thats where the nerves come in, that my best won't be enough, and that i will always come up a little short. So i'm going to think positively, and work hard at succeeding, and ask questions when i need help, i don't do that often.

As we were driving to school, my mom brought up the "coffee dude". Surprisingly enough i haven't really thought about the whole thing that much. I mean after the initial "why the hell does he want to have coffee with me" freak out, i figured, if i want to go i'll go, but if i don't want to go, i'm not. I mean sure it would be my first "solo" in the going to get coffee deal, with someone who wasn't a friend, but i don't see the big deal of me going, just so i can be like " i had coffee with some dude". when i told my mom, that i wasn't really sure if i wanted to go or not, she seemed aggravated with me. Like "why they hell" wouldn't i go. And i don't really know.

I'd rather leave things up to chance for awhile, i would feel like i am doing things because i had too, and not because i wanted to. But i'll see.

If i had to predict what this semester had in store for me, it would be testing my will of putting my "hand into the fire". Of taking those small little steps that get me out of something i am not comfortable with. Of proving that i have the ability of testing new waters and not being afraid, or at least not letting anyone know that i am afraid. Sometimes you have to put your hands into the fire, to try something new so you see the strength you have in yourself, that have the ability to push yourself beyond the limit you thought possible.

"Come on, come on
Put your hands into the fire
Explain, explain
As I turn and meet the power
This time, This time
Turning white and senses dire
Pull up, pull up
From one extreme to another
From the summer to the spring
From the mountain to the air
From Samaritan to sin
And it’s waiting on the end"
-thirteen senses-