Maybe you like this blog. Maybe if you like this blog, you should let me know. Maybe if you let me know you like this blog, then I would consequently post more entries. Maybe I should post more entries and you can do whatever the heck you want. I decided that I am here to stay, and if you, reader, happen not to like my posts, you'll just have to get over it.
Of course, you DO like this blog. I know; how could you resist the temptation to read over my old entries, time and time again, waiting for another post with breathless anticipation?
I'm not really that conceited, people...or so I say.
Anyway, I'm going to start off today talking about dreams. I had a dream the other night, one which I will not describe here because, honestly, it's pretty embarrassing. The point is, this dream made me question a couple things about my lifestyle. It's funny, you know, how something totally random can happen in a dream, and it can change the way you look at your life?
Maybe that hasn't happened to you. But not for the first time, a dream made me rethink a really big part of my life, mostly rethink a certain relationship with a certain person. Not in a bad way; no, not really a question as to whether I had been making the right decisions, but rather it made me wonder, 'what if?' What if things were different?
Now, you can't pretend you've NEVER wondered that same thing about your life! Everyone has, whether they're willing to admit it or not.
I'm looking now at what that dream made me consider, and it all seems sort of stupid (for lack of a better adjective). I mean, it was JUST a dream.
But that's the thing...aren't dreams actually our subconsciousnesses telling us things, about how we're truly feeling? That's what they tell you. Who's they? Oh, I don't know. But my friend Megan's an expert on this sort of stuff, or else has read a lot about dreams from the Internet. So I took a leaf out of her book and actually researched the topic, to find that the whole subconscious thing might just be a crock of crap.
Seriously, if you dreamed, say, you were naked in public, that's supposed to mean you're INSECURE? I'm not saying that's what I dreamed, because it's NOT. But still. And if you dream of falling, you're afraid? Pretty much any dream event can be skewed/misconstrued as ANYTHING, if you put your mind to it.
Okay, that wasn't very interesting. Moving on.
I leave for my Italian vacation on Friday (which, yes, sadly means I won't be able to post between then and the 'nother next Saturday or Sunday ).
I'm actually really nervous. No, not because of the plane ride, though I won't pretend I'm totally jazzed about flying over the Atlantic Ocean.
I just KNOW I'm going to forget something important.
Even though I made a list.
And am checking everything off as I drop it into a suitcase.
What if I lose my checked bag and have no clothes for three days? What if my passport gets stolen? What if a gypsy steals my check card????
I've got qualms, needless to say. Eh, you don't want to listen to me worry about crap.
Emma is no longer a part of my life, but there are a couple new witches I've been dying to rant about.
First: we'll call her Jordan. Sophomore, on the team with me, in my Latin (Latin 4! How can she be a sophomore and in Latin 4??) class. Arrogant annoying little witch. Actually, she's taller than I am. Not that I care. Routine conversation with her in class:
J: Hey Christine, what does the word 'pallere' mean in English?
C: It's an infinitive of 'palleo', meaning 'to pale, or to be anxious'.
And she doesn't thank me... Ten seconds later:
J: Hey Christine, what does the word 'hodie' mean?
C: Um, 'today'.
J: Oh, riiiiight. I knew that!
Lather, rinse, repeat. That's how it usually goes. So after about the fifth word I've told her, I usually tell myself, "Okay, the next time she asks, say, "Hey Jordan, there are some Latin-English dictionaries right in the corner; why don't you go GET ONE?" or maybe, "Hey Jordan, looky there! There's a textbook sitting right in front of your face on your desk! Guess what? You could open it and use the glossary in the back just like the freakin' rest of us instead of asking me for the freakin' definition for every freakin' word!!!!"
And of course, the phrase 'hey, Jordan' must be said in the same witchy/girly tones as she uses when saying 'hey Christine'. Because that's how the world works.
We were at a tournament once, and we were having break time, and she was sitting next to me and eyed the hershey bar I just bought...
J: (holding a Twix she had bitten off of) Hey Christine, I want a square of your hershey bar. I'll give you a bite of this Twix.
For the record, I am a bit of a germophobe. Therefore, I didn't want a Twix she had BITTEN OFF OF.
C: Um. No.
J: *scoffs* Fine. Just see if I ever let you copy my answers in Latin class again.
And then I felt bad because I'm actually usually much nicer than just flat out refusing people. So I gave her a square and bade her keep her half-eaten germ-infested Twix to herself. I mean, like I said in a previous blog, I don't want to chance getting that Staph infection. And she's not exactly the straightest-laced girl in the school...catch my drift?
I really shouldn't let her bother me that much. It just shows such weakness. I always try to find the right moment for biting back, but it never seems to present itself. Maybe it's a sign that God just doesn't want me to do it? To be mean and stuff? Well, I know He doesn't.
I'll talk about the other witch another time. I need to pack stuff for my trip, go to a meeting about my trip tonight, write a formal lab for physics, do physics problems, mentally prepare for the National Latin Exam tomorrow morning, and basically get a handle on all the other crap like scholarship applications which have been piling up on my desk for the past couple months.
Of course, I'd rather say Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, or Happy Winter Solstice, or Happy Kwanzaa, or Happy [insert the holiday you celebrate here]. Unfortunately, society demands that I be politically correct and address everyone generically. Sorry if I left out a very important holiday which you celebrate...I really didn't mean to. Call me mean, call me ignorant, just don't call me inconsiderate. I am trying.