insert title here (lazy title cop-out)

I am sitting in the Whipple computer lab next to Dan, and I'm not getting anything done. This may or may not be because I am sitting next to Dan. In my notebook, I've started to write a nice essay about my betta fish: Glorfindel, Eowyn, Lorelai, Valanice, and Feanor. It's really a nice, descriptive sort of essay, and I'm trying to figure out some way to construe my experiences with the fish as a learning experience. The essay I have to write for creative nonfiction has to be about learning something, but I think that the something is supposed to be a skill. Is taking care of incredibly low-maintenance fish a skill?

Dan is stupid; he gave me a kiss because I just typed, "Dan is looking at bear teeth. Only losers look at bear teeth."

Last night I bought twenty dollars worth of books at Barnes and Noble. Dan just leaned over to look at what I was typing because he thought it might be about him. Stoopid self-centered Dan. I now have a new set of The Lord of the Rings, a small book of selections from Ovid, and a freakin' huge book about Roman provinces. If I can get ahold of them, I'm thinking of buying two books in Esperanto: Bestofarmo and La Kunularo de la Ringo, known in English as Animal Farm and The Lord of the Rings. I don't think I have TOO many copies of The Lord of the Rings yet.

the path of knowledge

I'm on stupidly easy Windows XP task number 17 out of 53. So far I've suffered the tutorials on how to use the mouse pointer, scroll by clicking the arrow, scroll by dragging the scroll bar, click, right click, double click, click the start menu, log off windows, log back into windows, switch users, turn off the computer, view a screen tip, open the control panel, select text, and insert a letter into *gasp* the very middle of a word. It's taken me 25 minutes to watch a video, practice, and then "apply" each of these stupidly easy Windows XP tasks. Sadly, I have to do them because the professor can tell if I don't.

At the rate this program goes, someone who isn't already familiar with all this stuff would probably take a few years to become An Ultra-super Window-opening, Right-clicking Wiz. Someday when I am old and someone asks if there is anything I regret, I will answer with an air of sadness that I regret the SAM 2003 Microsoft Office Training. I will lament the time spend needlessly right-clicking and scrolling, for my life could have had so much more meaning if only I had used the time to pick fuzzies off my robe or read my thesaurus cover to cover.

a noble undertaking

"Ponebam, ponebas, ponebat, ponebamus, ponebatis, ponebant." I sat on the couch conjugating in the imperfect tense the latin verb "to place." American Idol was on because Greg and I both hated the show, but had never actually seen it. Mom came in and instead of asking me why I had just spent nearly an hour watching a television show I didn't like, asked me why I was wasting my time learning Latin when the semester had just started and I surely had more important things to do.

Whoa.

She found the worth of Latin questionable, but said nothing about American Idol?

Why would you waste time learning a dead language? You have better things to do. Latin is useless. But not Why would you waste time watching a show you hate? Why would you watch a show with singers belting out songs you don't like, a show which likely has made it this far due only to the arse in the black tee and his snarky, repetitive observations?

When I learn Latin, I will have the power to invent new words. This is all the reason I need.

of necessary evils

Sometimes I forget what an emotional person I am, and how prone I am (used to be?) to changing moods. My flaws have become an irritation rather than the cause of mental anguish. I can now shrug off others' bad opinions of me, or stray comments that at one point would have sent me crying. I've even learned when to say "screw you," if not to someone's face, then at least in acknowledgement that their opinion doesn't matter. Thank you, Dan, for that. Hardened, but not desensitized, I can choose when something should matter to me, and when it shouldn't. Any tears I have can be saved for real sadness instead of pathetic whining, though I still worry too much. In general, I've grown happier.

Earlier this week, I knew very well that this wouldn't be a good morning. Waking early is not a Kristin-compatible activity, particularly not when said waking early is done in order to go to the gynecologist.

Tired and a bit jittery, I spent the car ride to Attleboro in nervous anticipation of what promised to be a fairly uncomfortable appointment. Doctors' offices are something I could do without. The silence, the sterility, the instruments... all combine to form an experience I absolutely loathe. I've learned to live with the routine dentist and eye doctor appointments, but this hate of doctors' offices compounded with my fear of this particular office, and I ended up so nervous that I could barely sleep last night.

As it turned out, my fear was disproportionate to the actual experience. Yet after it was over there was something about it, something not entirely palpable, that left me feeling like I needed to cry. I held it in during the hour drive home, rubbing my eyes and complaining of dryness, but in my room, just now, I've broken down.

Was it the enviroment or the instruments? Being told I need to exercise more? Being nervous and tired? The bloodwork and the ultrasound I have scheduled for next week? The impersonal manner of talking about very personal subjects?

What it was, I don't know. But I now remember all the mood swings I used to have, and all the crying I used to do over... what?