I start my fourth year of Community College on Monday – I haven’t completed three full years, I’ve just been enrolled at the school at different points throughout the last three years, and during that time have accumulated enough credits to almost be considered a sophomore. I’ve learned a lot from my time at Community College, most notably that everything I’ve learned will be of absolutely no value to my life. Perhaps it’s my fault for not paying attention in Psychology class and instead trying to figure out if the nerdy girl wearing glasses in the front has a throng on. I don’t really do that. I actually spend most of my time writing down bad ideas for TV shows and movies and the rest of my time regretting my poor life decisions. But this year will be different (you say that every year) and I never mean it, and I still don’t mean it this year, but I feel I should say it. I do have two classes I’m looking forward to, and one that I’m nervous about.
One of the classes I’m excited about is US History. I’m taking it with a teacher I’ve had three times before and who must like me because the last two classes I’ve had with him he gave me A’s even though I didn’t deserve them. I like the class because the grade is mostly based on tests and I excel at tests for some weird reason. Perhaps it’s because I’m good at studying, or perhaps it’s because I have a copy of the answer key? I suppose we’ll never know. I am looking forward to learning about my country’s history. I know surprisingly little about it. Sure I know that the US is between Canada and Mexico, but that’s more geography and I’m not even sure which one is to the North of us. My guess is Canada because it’s colder up there, but then again maybe that’s what the evil whether channel wants us to think. But honestly I should have no trouble getting an A in this class as long as I’m willing to work hard. But even more honestly I’m probably not willing to work hard.
I’m also excited about the Creative Writing class I’m taking. I’m taking it with a teacher I’ve had twice before, once as a writing teacher and once as a philosophy teacher. Last term in Philosophy he gave me an A even though I clearly didn’t deserve it and was confused as hell and just pulling shit out of my ass on every test and paper. As you probably know I love writing as much as Paris Hilton loves penis (hey, low blow) I don’t care, I gave that bitch the benefit of the doubt for so many years and time after time she’s proved me wrong. As you also know I’m not very well at writing (you mean good) no, the teachers say to use well. I’ve always done remarkably bad in writing classes. I’m very bad at grammar and my spelling is ghastly, but the thing that fuck’s me over most is my unwillingness to do things the way the teacher wants me to. I’ve had teachers in the past that didn’t approve of my using profanity in papers, and frankly I didn’t give a fuck what they thought. I also don’t give my papers the best names. Luckily I didn’t go with this title for my paper in defense of gay marriage, but I wish I had: ‘Gay Fags and the Retarded Fuckers Who Hate Them’. I just felt America wasn’t ready for that title yet.
My third and final class is a public speaking class. This class kind of scares the crap out of me. I’m a pretty shy person, and when I’m around a lot of people I get nervous, and when I get nervous I often have trouble expressing my thoughts, which leads to me looking stupid and trying to sneak off to the bathroom before anybody notices I’ve wet myself. My main motivation for taking this class comes from my plans to do something in the future that I’m not really willing to admit publically in fear of being made fun of and balking out of it – yes, I know I don’t need to use the word ‘balking’ but it came to my head and I decided to use it. Anyway I’m hoping that this class will give me a little more self confidence making me less shy, or that the class will destroy what’s left of my battered ego finally giving me apt reason to kill myself (suicide isn’t funny) if I did it I would make it funny. I’d hang myself with my pants down and a note covering my penis that says, “If found dead please pull my pants up so my mother doesn’t find me like this. If you are my mother I’m sorry for shaming you. Thanks. Go Blazers!” (That’s not funny at all. And the fact that you have your suicide planned is a little scary.) Hmm, hopefully that creative writing class will help me come up with a better way to commit suicide. Not that I’d ever plan to use it. I just need it in my back pocket in case my life ever goes in the shitter. (You tend to end your blogs in a macabre way) I have no idea what that word means. (And your life is already in the shitter) yeah, but it hasn’t been flushed down yet.