Yeah, they’re gonna revoke my adult privileges soon.

I’ve really got to watch Zootopia again.  I’ve become one of those people who ships characters together.  Just because OMG I love those two together.  I’m also writing a fanfiction about a minor character (no it’s not slash, lol) while in the meantime I’ve got two papers due on Tuesday.

*gibberish intensifies*

I think four classes in a semester might be too much for me.  I should go back down to three.  Three was good.  I afraid for my grades and I feel like a fraud for getting anything better than a D.  Which I keep doing and I don’t know how.  I’ve gotten a lot of B’s, actually, when really I should be failing everything.

Maybe that’s why I felt so weird about that honors society.  Yeah, I got an email from someone in the classics department about my “accomplishments” which were basically maintaining a high grade point average.  A normal person would have been totally stoked about this, but I rolled my eyes and ignored it and finally had to have my Midieval Latin professor talk me into doing it.  So hooray, on April nineteenth (assuming my membership dues go through) I will be initiated into a…a thing.  That thing might get me into other things.  Those things might lead to things that I don’t find entirely boring.

My Women in Amer. Lit professor meanwhile has put me on the trail of school publications.  I don’t get it, though.  Am I really the kind of person who gets involved with school activities?  Do I really want to associate myself with the University of Tennessee as more than just a student?  Do I want to show people my resume and have them aske me, “Tennessee…isn’t that the state with a statue of Nathan Bedford Forrest in the state capitol?”

But it’s not just that I’m embarrassed about living in an appallingly racist area, is it?  I’ve never liked getting involved with stuff.  I don’t like filling out forms that have space for my name and phone number.  Or my name.  Or having a name.  I just wanna live in the forest and eat bugs.  I wanna be a shapeshifter.  I say I’m a wolf, but I could be a fox sometimes or even a bunny.  Why would anybody always want to be the same shape all the time?  I could be anything.  I could be anyone.  I could fly away from here, a wolf with wings because to hell with birds.  I could build my fantasy world without interference.  I could read all of the books I wanted to and none of the ones I didn’t.  I could be free from all the encumbrances of the past and present.  All the time-wasting and stressing and wishing that everyone around me would just go away for five minutes or at least cuddle with me if they must insist on being around me. Except ew, not those people, they should just go away no matter what.

I don’t know what I am sometimes.

Because I have this weird hunger for human contact but everyone I meet face-to-face eventually turns out to be not good.  So what’s the point.

Bluh, I need to stop rambling.

I wonder if I should go see the new Jungle Book movie.

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One Response to gibberish

  1. Bah. Being a human is too full of nonsense, for sure…
    Nothing wrong with joining human groups though. At least to try them out, since one can always leave later.

    I haven’t thought about it in a good while, but I do get the bit about not liking to share your name and info. I have a notion that myths and folk tales were onto something in those situations where knowledge of a being’s true name would give you power over it. Except that these days you can substitute all kinds of personal info–phone number, SSN, birth date, bank info, etc–and still have that unfair power over another. It’s an ugly idea.

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