Mortification Is

Let us recap the almost-finished first week of school. I like to call it, Mortification Is:

So, let's play!

Mortification is somehow managing, though I left my room at an on-schedule time, to be late to every first class. Except for Ecology, but only because Monte had the schedule a little mixed up. So, that doesn't even count.

Mortification is getting into LR less than a minute before class starts and realizing that I forgot the paper that had the classroom number on it. So walking aimlessly and staring into the classroom windows looking for familiar faces, that is, except for the one in the far corner that I forgot about... then doing the same on the second floor. Then scurrying to the library to log onto WebAdvisor (after having to boot up a computer and sign in). Then getting the classroom number -- 103, I believe -- and realizing that it was that corner room I forgot about. How precious.

Mortification is hitting your head on the bottom bunkbed while Ruth watches on.

Mortification is putting on my princess backpack, new Nalgene in the pocket and flinging it from the pocket across the room... at the person you don't know but who the professor has, coincidentally, paired with you as your presentation partner. Then trying to joke and saying, "Sorry I missed," but he only stares at you and walks off. Then thinking about the assured awkwardness to come. Precious.

Mortification is randomly sitting next to someone in Philosophy thinking they aren't going to talk creepily to themselves periodically through the next hour. And then realizing I assumed wrong. And then vowing to get there early next time in order to find a different seat.

Mortification is throwing my arms open to hug someone whom I see from a distance, assuming it's a friend, and then, upon closer inspection, finding out that she's a stranger.

Mortification is asking at the dorm meeting if we can, like fish, have snails in little aquariums. Everyone assumes it's a joke to the No Pet Policy, when I really just wanted a snail.

Mortification is going into your chorale audition, having the first part be totally chill, and then having to show your teacher whom you had for a good solid four hours a week (both semesters) that I'm still abysmal at sight reading. But then he tries and tries to get you to succeed at it and you still don't and he just gives you a look that says, Enough, enough. Dear God.

Mortification is putting ranch dressing on my plate for french fries and, while it looks like I put the ladle properly back into the bowl, it actually falls out and splatters ranch down the leg of an unsuspecting Redding resident and it squishes (with an ever-so-lovely sound) into her sandals.

Mortification is getting a, like, sixty page syllabus.

Mortification is realizing that there is probably more I forgot, much more, and it's only the first week of school.

Oh, dear.

Toodle Pip.