Which really just means that we should have coffee sometime. Or I'll have coffee and you can have water or juice or something and we can talk outside of the arenas of Kmart and "Friday night."

That said, the first day of the semester started off with a bang when I went to the dentist and found out that I don't have any fucking cavities. Damn straight bitch! Actually, I was really surprised because one tooth in particular had been bothering me for awhile. But my dentist thinks that my delicate little mouth can't handle all the fancy whitening/tarter-control/breath-freshening and other such chemical nonsense that is all the rage in toothpaste market. So he gave me some bland-looking tube of toothpaste jam-packed with prescription strength flouride that is supposed to get rid of the sensitivity and then told me to switch back to a more basic toothpaste afterwards. I didn't even get a lecture about flossing. I can handle that. I am even inspired right now to actually make an appointment for another cleaning in six months rather than just waiting until something starts to hurt again.

So after all of that sterile, minty goodness I went to my first class which is my practicum class for tutoring. I didn't know what to expect with this class, but I think it's going to be really good-- not boring, but not overwhelming and both of our professors are hilarious and really sweet. Of course, since this is a class comprised of a "chosen few" I felt like everyone thought they were their own natural phenomenon which was a little off-putting, but that's something I always sense in classes like this and it's something I always get over. Mind you, I only feel this way because I want to think that I am my own natural phenomenon. Writers are pretentious. Case in point: It's pretty fucking pretentious for me to label myself a writer, but I still did it, didn't I? Regardless . . .

After that was two hours of wasting time followed by English 211 (early Brit lit) which seems like it's going to be a lot of work with not a lot of payoff. The ventilation also seems to be really poor in the room. Whatever. The only redeeming part of this class that I can see thus far is that I have it with Ruby. I anticipate that this will be a great semester of bonding for the two of us and I am really looking forward to it. I am also really worried that I am going to annoy the hell out of her. We'll see.

211 was followed by a chance meeting with Megan (who was disturbingly jumped by some idiot from her past in the hall) where we discussed our academic goals. It was great (I thought so, at least) because seeing Megan and having class with Ruby was comforting, but it didn't seem like high school at all. We've finally all grown up in my mind.

On the subject of my girls . . . I vote for moving our typical Friday night activities to Thursday night since Megan and I both get done with class at the same time and won't have to work those nights. And Ruby would probably be able to come more often since it wouldn't conflict with her time with Ben. And I don't have to get up at the ass-crack of dawn the next day which is a big plus for me. Anyway.

At 5:00 it was time for my Philosophy class which is the one that I've been looking forward to the most because I like the professor (I had her for my first philosophy class and she is my advisor now) and because it's all on 19th and 20th century philosophy, which is just interesting. And I still think that it will be a good class, but I'm also feeling a lot of pressure because, for whatever reason, I feel like I have something to prove in that class. I think it's because this is one of the first classes that is really going to pose a challenge to me, and since I kind of feel like I skated through high school and my first year of college on good luck, part of me doubts my intellect and what I am really capable of. So I think that if I don't do well in this class, I am just going to feel like an idiot and like my perception of myself as being an intelligent person is just a farce. Chad is also in the class which is kind of daunting, because if there's anything I fear more than making an ass of myself, it's making an ass of myself in front of someone that I actually respect.

After that, I came home and went running . . . for the third day in a row. Yeah, stick that in your panties and sit on it for awhile. I don't think that unless you know me-- or maybe, even, unless you're in my head-- you can appreciate what that really means. I have never carried out any sort of serious exercise routine/physical activity for three days in a row unless absolutely mandatory, and then I participated at an absolute minimum. But I realized that one of the biggest complaints I have about myself is that I'm lazy, the remedy to which lies completely in my power, and I figure that the remedy is easier applied at the tender, impressionable age of 19 rather than, say, 45. I also realized that I would look really good as a size 10 (although I'd totally settle for an 8), that I would look really bad a decade from now as a size 20, and that since I hate doctors, I should probably do my best to minimize my chances of disease. Granted, I'm running laughably short distances at this point, but I feel it's excusable since I am a text-book example of unfit. This also involves a lot of goal-setting (as does everything in my life), so hopefully there will soon come a point when the distances I'm running aren't so shabby. I'll get there . . . eventually. For now, my ass just really hurts.

I just noticed a nasty little scab on Zane's penis. That's not good. And as I did what any good dog-mom would do and conducted a mini investigation of the wound I found what I think might be a lump, although I don't know what a nuetered dog's penis is supposed to look/feel like. Now after laying for hours upon end on his back spread eagle, he's decided to protect his modesty and he won't let me get a good look.

That's all I need-- a dog with genital herpes and prostrate cancer.

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