The Place Where Happiness Turns to Sand

Ugh. It's too damn hot. It's so hot I don't even care that the warm weather means plenty of ladies walking around in little to no clothing. It's like mother nature is taunting me.


I've hit something of a snag in my script. I might just have had a brilliant idea - which happens to me ever so rarely - but proper execution of said potentially brilliant idea would involve scrapping large sections of existing text in order to properly set up said maybe, could be, sorta brilliant idea. It would mean, basically, starting over. Again.


And, yes, I'm just crazy enough to do it. Viva la Frenzy!


Also, class is already kicking my ass. I've finally obtained both a book (After convincing the bookstore staff that, yes, they did call me and, yes, I did reserve a book and, yes, they did ask me to come pick it up, no, I'm not making this up, and yes, that book right there. That one right behind you on that shelf. The one with my name and phone number on the slip. Yes, I am strangling you now.) and proof that I've paid my tuition in full. So, I'm all set. It is just so dreadfully boring. I'm now convinced my teacher's accent is more midwestern than southern in flavor but something further than the rust belt I'm from. Maybe the southern tip of Illinois or something where just the cadence is just a bit off from what I'm used to. But, whatever, it's the way he drones on and on, mentioning every little thing he's doing like the world's most apathetic tour guide. "And then we carry the one here by going like so and that gives us this quotient which we'll delineate thusly giving us the correct answer, if I had remembered to include the negative sign at the beginning of course and we're going back to fix that now." And I'm slamming my head against the desk in frustration. Get on with it!

Of course, this might have something to do with the creepy realization that I'm the oldest person in the class. Apparently summer courses are popular with kids who are going to be attending school in the fall as well as people who're struggling with their grades at full time classes. I don't feel that old normally. But listening to the chatter and gossip of a pack of 18~20 years olds sure does the trick.

For instance, I noticed that no one wears a watch. When I was in school, when I was growing up, at least a few people had watches on their wrists. Now? Everyone uses their cellphone. Myself included.

I'm freaking old, I'm telling you.