Blame it on math class
Blame it on math class
Blame it on math class

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Just feeling funky, eh.

The whole things in yesterday's entry was never resolved. The abusive note-sending continues, and I am continually amused. This is so immature it's actually funny.

Sarah and I were discussing telekinesis during Biology, and how we're both going to college this summer.

(When I say "college", I mean that we take college courses in the summer that count for not only high school credit towards graduation, but college credit as well which can be transferred to our college of choice, Columbia, in the not-so-distant future.)

So far, I'm only taking some law class thing and Algebra II. But then I discovered my father's book on Parapsychology.

Parapsychology is the study is the paranormal and mixes it with psychology, explaining hoaxes and basically just giving you a pessimistic outlook on look. But I uncovered the book, blew off the dust, and read it ALL in an entire night. And I wanted more. MORE MORE MORE.

So I enquired at LSU-New Orleans as to whether I could take that course this summer, and I explained that I would have an internship at a law firm so I would need to be taking it in the evenings or at night.

"Of course," the receptionist said. "Just don't giggle or anything if they show pictures of naked people."

Sure. No problem. Anatomy does not astound me any longer. That's what public school culture shock does to you, dude.

So hell yes, I have a full summer. And I plan to also do a show, like I have every other year of my life. When? Well, I haven't figured that out yet. I'll find time. I'll commute like a whore in demand. I'll flash that birdie like nobody's business.

In the words of brilliant people, "I am woman hear me grunt."

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!