Monday morning blatherings With UPDATES!!

My first class starts in an hour. I need to go find a parking space pretty soon. I'm not looking forward to this class. Thankfully it only meets two hours a week. It's something about "Wellness" and involves some kind of healthy lifestyle instruction. I think. Lame. Important, maybe, but lame. I've already had this class, actually, but they call it something different here, so the prior credits didn't articulate. Blah blah blah.

This afternoon I have The Really Hard Class, Part II. I can't remember what it's called, but it is the research method stuff with math added. Statistics. Or as my dad says, Sadistics. I did pretty well in the statistics math course I took last summer, and that was a prerequisite for this class. I'm going to pretend that it will be fine. I have never had this professor before, and was nervous about being in her class, but I've sense heard that she's quite a good instructor and I have nothing to fear. I'm gonna go with that until I learn otherwise.

My knuckle is doing much better. It looks kinda gnarly* but is healing well.

Superman came home yesterday. I think I told you that he was out of town over the weekend. It's good to have him back. It's good to snuggle under the covers with him. In related news, I'm loving this cold weather. It makes snuggling so much more comfortable.

Alright, time to go engage academia. Wish me luck.

*I love the word "gnarly." It's so visceral.

UPDATE: So I went to my first class today. All is good. It's a big class. I don't like that much, being the introvert that I am. I got a seat in the back. I'll be OK.

I got there a little early and went to see the instructor. I've heard good things about her. I talked to her about my need for and fear of exercise. There are some possibilities. What I can do, if I'm ready and willing, is to get a log sheet from her, the kind she uses in her "activity" classes, and do my own walking thing, or whatever seems appropriate. I could swim, I suppose. That's kinda nice because I get to float and feel somewhat weightless. As big a whale as I am it's rare for me to feel weightless, you know? Anyhow, I could do my own thing, keeping a log, and check in with her a couple of times a week. I'd be accountable to her, but it'd be a private, off the books thing.

She also teaches a walk/jog class that would be good for me. It's a 2 hour course, meets twice a week, but it interferes with another class I'm taking so that won't work. I don't need the credit, per se, I just need the exercise. This wellness course I'm taking discusses motivation and other healthy lifestyle kinda stuff.

I am afraid. Don't know what scares me so. I suspect there is more than one cause of this fear. I should talk it out. I suppose I could write it all out here, but I don't know if I want to do that. For one thing it would be ugly, boring, and whiny. Who wants to read that crap? I dunno. I'll ponder the issue for a while, see what happens. Stay tuned. You never know what sort of craziness will show up in this space.

Hey, my Mon-Wed afternoon class has a textbook that is optional! In the syllabus the prof says the book might be useful for additional understanding, but is not required. Hells no, I ain't buying it! I looked for it in the bookstore last week, and they don't even carry it. Can order it if I want it, but they don't have it in stock. How cool is that? I did have to buy a statistical program for my 'puter. It's a student edition of SPSS and cost $100. The bitch of it is that it is only valid for 13 months. I guess the full edition costs many times more than $100. Eh. It's a program for statistical analysis in the social sciences. Are you asleep yet?

Yada yada... I know this is boring. I need to write. There's something bothering me, but I'm not sure what it is. (Sound familiar, Tobey?) The exercise thing sparked some panic. The previously mentioned gender identity discomfort is stewing. I feel emotionally vulnerable. I have been on the verge of tears for a few days. I started leaking (tears) during the visit with Sproing yesterday, actually. So the whole emotionally-disturbed-children thing might be part of the mess.

Oh, Superman brought home a book from the conference. It was a freebee even. It's titled The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout, Ph.D. On the cover it says "1 in 25 ordinary Americans secretly has no conscience and can do anything at all without feeling guilty. Who is the devil you know?" This book is currently adding to the clutter on my desk and my general sense of anxiety. The thing is, the sociopath is living under my roof, not next door. I speak of Diva. She seems so sweet sometimes, but in reality she's a sneaky little bitch who will turn on you in a minute if it suits her purposes. It sounds horrible for a mother to say that about her child. But who better than the parents really know the child? I know this child. She scares me. Superman talked about her with some of his new friends at the conference this weekend. Every one of them said "Why is she not institutionalized? Why is she still living at home with you?" We don't really have a good answer to that question.

I'm off to do some errands and other miscellaneous useful things before my next class starts. TTFN.