Blog Every Day August: 8/13

There are lots of things to talk about today, so hold on to your trousers! Unless you aren't wearing trousers. In which case, I can't really blame you.

Our story properly starts at three this morning or, more precisely, the time that I managed to talk myself into the state of sleep. It is at times like this that I realize putting a smartphone in my hands may have been the death of me--so much shiny! So much to read and do and play and look at, all from my bed at two in the morning! Quickly, before I forget, do any of you only sleep in one position? I have always tossed and turned, so when the inevitable question arises (why is this question asked so often?!) I have no clue what "position" I sleep in. I really don't favor any one for more than half an hour or so. Upon waking my blankets look a bit like a tornado struck. You really need to know this. Yes.

Anyway, I awoke at the beautiful hour of 7:15 (probably the earliest I've woken up all summer) and showered. I only ever bother blow-drying my hair when absolutely necessary, as it is just too much of a hassle and I actually quite like the way my hair looks when it does its own thing. If it starts to annoy me it is relegated to a ponytail. The end. But today school pictures were a definite event and it seemed like a good idea for my hair to be dry for this, so my mother dried my hair for me and cautioned me into some concealer. I am quite inept at these kinds of things. My mom still has to fix my eyebrows for me so I don't kill them. Hey, though: I know how to put mascara on! Also, I really dislike makeup. I hate it. It feels funny and I like my face better without it, which is really just as well. This has been a thoroughly interesting paragraph. I swear.

At ten 'til nine I was deposited in front of ye old high school. I had to inquire at the front desk as to the whereabouts of the magical senior orientation of doom and quickly made my way to the library. The doors weren't open yet and my fellow enthusiastic (see: apathetic) senior humans were mingling nearby. No one protested when I situated myself directly next to the door, thus making me the first participant in each and every station. I felt like such a cool kid.

Once the doors opened and I was ushered in (first, suckers!), I found myself at a table of doom. I gave my name and was located in a packet of papers. "You have still The Scarlet Letter out," said the shuffler of papers. "Do you have it?" I explained that no, I didn't have it, as I had indeed turned it in last year. Would I have to pay the fee anyway? Once we cleared up the name of my English teacher the process became instantly less high and mighty--it was easy to believe he may have lost or mislaid it and they would speak to him in regard to it. I passed on to the next station. (Also notable is the fact that I got a threatening notice for this book at the end of the school year stating that they wouldn't release my report card to me until I paid the fee. Would you guess what was also in the mail that day? My report card. Schools can be so manipulating, eh?)

At the next table I was given my tentative schedule and asked to check it. It didn't include any of my work periods, which I figured might happen, so I inquired about it. I needed to speak to the librarian to work out what periods she would like to have me; then they could fit them in. "Just go through the other stations," my godsend of a counselor told me. "Then you can talk to [librarian] and we can work it out." And so I did. The next station, just across the room, was school portraits. I handed in my order, sat in the appropriate place and contorted myself into the required position as the photographer got her lights to working. Oh, and also she told me to fix my hair. I'm sure that is going to be the best picture ever. No matter. Following this I had my school ID made. I can only hope my deer-in-the-headlights ID photo is not a suggestion of what is to come in the previous regard.

Then: textbooks. This was in the first hallway rather than the library, so I toddled over there only to realize that I couldn't very well pick up my books if I didn't know what classes I was taking. With that thought I returned to the library where I had a thoroughly fascinating conversation with the Shuffler Of Papers. "I told you," she said with a fierce glint in her eye, "that you couldn't come back until you turned in your book." I was baffled and spent the next three minutes calmly explaining to her what she had told me. Once she understood she was very apologetic--that glint in her eye had been The Real Deal. I can only imagine how many students try to get away with not turning in their books, so I guess I understand, and I was gracious about it. I've found that remaining calm and slowly explaining your viewpoint does wonders. It saves a lot of panic time.

Having been cleared to proceed from there, I crossed over to the ID station and waited through a few more IDs to speak with the lady making them. She works in the library, also, though I can't honestly say I know what her title is. She may very well be another librarian, but I'm not sure. I've spoken to her on several occasions when I was procrastinating over returning a book. Once it was my turn again I explained my situation. "I'm going to be working here in the library this year," I said, "but I have to work out what periods this will be and I'm not quite sure who to go to." She told me that I'd have to see the head librarian, who I've spoken of here before, but there was no certainty when she would return. "It may be ten or ten thirty, but I really couldn't say. You're free to sit on the couch and wait if you can, though." This was fine by me, so I told her that'd be no problem and situated myself on a couch across the room. It really wasn't a bother; I had a book with me and was of the thought that this stuff might take a while anyway.

It was about thirty minutes later the librarian arrived. Let me just say: I really like the librarian. I can't say I know her very well yet, but she has always been very friendly and down to earth with me. When I interviewed it was "almost" as if we were just having a nice chat and she seems genuinely excited at the prospect of me working there. While not all aspects of the venture have been ironed out immediately, she reassures me that it will be worked out and the kinks aren't going to be a big deal. I can't tell you how much of a relief all of this is. Sure, I'm still panicked, but were it anyone else... this panic would be amplified so many times. We looked at my schedule for a moment and then made our way over to the counselors' table again, where she clarified when she would like me to work during the school day (afternoons are another game entirely, and one even they aren't certain of yet). With this clarified, another counselor sat down with my schedule and I and got down to business.

After choosing one elective to keep (Psychology/Sociology), he placed work periods and Work Co-Op in the now available spots, checking once with the librarian to see where she'd prefer me. My schedule is now covered in red ink pen. Hopefully everything will transfer correctly. Fingers crossed? With this finished I bid the librarian a final goodbye and made my way back to the textbook room in the first hallway.

Collecting my books (Psychology and Economics), I then stood at the locker assignment table for about fifteen minutes. The person working the table happened to be AWOL, but here's the thing: I had time. If need-be, I could stay until 12:30. There was no reason to blow this off, as otherwise I would have to get this done when school started and that would just cause me more stress. I will stress about anything. Really. Often it isn't even related to me, which is where it truly gets complicated. So I just stood there until the woman signing out books took pity on me and came over to help me. It really only involved signing a piece of paper and being handed a card with a combination on it. This year my locker is a) in the first hallway and b) a top locker. Score! Maybe I will actually use it this time.

And with this, I was finished. My mother was busy for a while longer, so I attempted to hang out on a bench in front of the school. With my luck, however, I found myself attacked by hordes of ants and one very huge oh my goodness save me spider. I have to say, I am getting much better about bugs of late. I haven't screamed in their presence in quite some time, which is definite progress. I quickly relocated, sitting criss cross apple sauce on a safer looking bench, and soon my mother arrived to rescue me. I cannot drive. I am terrified of driving. If I had my druthers I would never learn to drive, but I see the necessity and have my learner's permit for the moment. We returned home, where she decided to fix my eyebrows for me. I would complain, but they look a lot better now. My eyebrows are a constant, wonky torment. But hey, I have hair, and I'm sure you find this utterly fascinating.

Then we drove into San Antonio to see my counselor, which went well. There are two locations, the first of which I prefer, but I haven't been able to go there for a while. I'm much more comfortable in the first location, which is where we were today. I suppose you don't need to know this, but really: you don't need to know any of this. This is really for my benefit, though I do appreciate your presence here. I want to be transparent, so I am. Following this outing we ate food at Panda Express. I am not very enthusiastic about Chinese food, but my brethren really like it and I can handle it every once in a while. In the same area was an Office Depot, which we visited afterwards.

Weird event: walking from our car to Office Depot I swear I saw this guy from my school in the window of an AT&T. Appropriately for him, he was embracing a girl in the corner of the store, thus making him visible through the window. I do try to be charitable about people, but he was in my theatre class last year and I was once forced into a group with him for a few days until I managed to wriggle out of it. During this time I learned more than I would ever care to know on the fantastic topic of a girl he fingered in a bus and the naked pictures they sent one another. Ick, ick, ick. This event also spurred a lovely Facebook drama at the time. I posted something about it one particularly exasperating class period on the topic of his bus activities and a woman I know from church berated me for my vulgarity. It went something like "Katherine, I am ashamed of you! What would your mother think?" Never mind the idea of context. The whole thing was rather stupid, as I can say quite truthfully that I have one of the cleanest mouths I am acquainted with (...). Context, context, context. Several friends (including my mother) rushed to defend me, but it turned into "well why did you post it, then?" and it was all rather tiring and I felt insulted on my part. But anyway, I saw this guy in the window and found it an odd occurrence. On the way out of Office Depot I spotted him in the same place, and I'm pretty certain it was him. Sure, this is the closest city to our small town, but it is also one of the largest cities in America. So that was that.

Returning home, my five hours of sleep started to whine at me for company. I got back in bed to "rest" and ended up sleeping for two hours. I woke up thinking it was Saturday already. Which it will be in two minutes. I must post this! Your stamina really is amazing. This has been a whole slew of rambling.