Room

So I woke up at 8 am this morning and walked in the rain without an umbrella only to discover that the pilates instructor was unavailable to teach. "So why are -you- taking Pilates?" random girl asked the only guy in the class, batting her eyelashes like she could force them generate electric currents. Too bad shooting sparks would make her look like the Emperor from Star Wars. And hitting on a guy in a pilates class? Come on now. This is pilates. I discovered an umbrella in my bag on the way home, but by then it had stopped raining.

Now I'm awake and don't have another class until noon. I could've stayed at the gym, but I didn't have shorts or an iPod, and I was too pissy. That word seems to describe me far too much lately. Pissy. I have reasons, but none of them are particularly good. Hate, Love, and Defective Toaster Ovens.

I discovered yesterday that it is indeed possible for the design of a room to affect ones sense of self-worth. I have a seminar on the 4th floor of Weibolt, one of the older Gothic buildings on campus that is difficult to navigate from the second you push instead of pull the door from the wrong side. Luckily 408 was right at the top of the only staircase I could find. But it did not look like a classroom. Dark wood paneling from floor to ceiling, a gigantic stone fireplace, portraits of some old dead dude. Animals and men with shields frolicking in the plaster between the light fixtures. The chalkboard was hidden behind the paneling and my professor had to stand on a chair to reach it. Walking into this room, I instantly felt incredibly stupid. I wondered what a retarded twelve year old would feel like sitting through one of Professor Tsiang's economics lectures and wished for a plastic desk from High School.

Luckily I accepted my own idiocy -before- Barbara Barnett walked in and passed out an impossible reading list, else the shock of discovering that I am indeed going to die of incompetence this quarter might have found me sitting cross-legged on the floor singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider. Shoot me now.

But. It is good to be back at school. I missed people. The personality quiz said I was a two, which means I worry too much about my friends' well-being, but I'm not sure that's true (sorry guys). But then, it also said that I tend to feel much less compassionate than I actually am, so maybe I'm wrong.