Caffeine Is Bad For Me

I just want you to know that I read your post and lol'd. For serious. For whatever reason, I'm in a pretty good mood today. Or maybe it's just a slap happy mood.

Don't sweat your permit picture. You don't have to show it to anyone. Not even me. The only time you conceivably would have to show it to someone would be if 1) you got pulled over, or 2)you're traveling and they demand some form of picture identification and you happen to not have your passport on hand. Neither of these things is likely to happen, so don't worry about it. My permit and first license pictures were both horrible. I finally got the hang of it by the time I got my intermediate license, so it's okay. Or maybe not, because I renewed my passport around that time, and I seriously look like I'm about to be sick.

tl;dr - don't sweat your permit picture.

I feel bad because the guy sitting on the computer next to me in the WC is really good at typing. He's got the home row thing all down, and here I am hen picking my way around this blog post in an ungainly fashion. It doesn't help that he's obediently writing a paper while I'm just having fun over here, giggling at you talking about people all around you getting shot.

It's okay that you don't like needles. At least it is now. Later on you'll have to deal with them a lot more often, so I suggest you do away with your fear as soon as possible. They're not all bad, even the gigantic ones that they shove into your arm when you give blood (that thing is like a bamboo shoot, friggin HUGE).

Last night I had Creative Writing. The thing was, I had a four-hour wait between Western Civ and Creative Writing where I didn't have anything to do (except watch 24, don't hate). I contemplated going to Mor Mor's and coming back, but gas is getting really expensive so I didn't. So there I was, sitting in front of my laptop in a dim hallway, beginning to nod off, so I decided to go get some Mountain Dew to wake me up (critiquing poems is no fun when all you want to do is sleep). MISTAKE. I hardly drink Mountain Dew, and never past lunchtime, so I wasn't prepared for the resulting tragedy. My hands started shaking. I got dizzy. I couldn't keep still. And when we're talking about the metaphor of fog in poetry, none of these things are beneficial. I hope no one noticed that I wasn't very forthcoming with helpful feedback.

I was devastated when Beaver turned out to be the villain. He was one of my favorite characters for a long time.

-Amy

P.S. I have to write a paper, three sources, 625 words, that can be about anything pertaining to the art and skill of asking great questions. I want to make it something interesting in order to spice the class up for myself a little bit (we watched the same scene of Dead Poets Society THREE TIMES in class just so the teacher could illustrate a point). I would like ideas from you! Should I write a narrative paper about a troubled couple with communication problems? Methods to mend a friendship with an erstwhile companion? Committing identity theft? (like that episode of Psych about the leprechaun and his wife asking people obscure questions so they could get past security precautions?) Any ideas you could shoot my way would be appreciated. I have all spring break to work on it, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem.

P.P.S. SPRING BREAK. Yeah.