My professor likes to call me out in class all of the damn time. This totally pisses me off because I am one.. Not a child.. And B. I don’t like for people to call me out. No tolerance for that shit at all. I think it delights people who are in psychology to bait people then drag their ass on some merry route of their design. But damn. Professional courtesy right? Plus I am not even sure he is actually in psychology. His discipline might be something perfectly useless like anthropology or sociology. I don’t care how many anthropologists or sociologists I offend when I say their field of study is worthless. When you get a B.A. in EITHER one of those fields your career trajectory is waiting tables at the Cheesecake Factory. Not that psychology is any better. But when you are waiting said tables at least you can use Jedi Mind tricks on the customers to garner better tips. Anyway. This jackass teacher. I am sure at one time he was at the top of the food chain because even now he is MILDLY handsome. I stress mildly. But you can only go so far on fading looks. So don’t work out midlife aggression on your class and especially not me. I grew up overseas and my command of the metaphysical is outstanding. He might wake up one morning and begin the worst month of his life. Best part of all this is I would not feel guilty. Don’t call me out in class. After all. The only C I got in grad school was in Ethics. That speaks volumes. Vent concluded.

Out of all my friends, I belive I have the best self esteem. This comes directly and solely from my parents. The majority of my childhood I lived in situations where I was the only. The only American, the only minority, the only girl…. My Mom never wanted me to feel less than or substandard. In her efforts to combat the enviable feeling of being different, she gave me a superiority complex. I believe I can do anything better than damn near anybody. This has carried me into adulthood. It makes me an avid competitor and definitely not a sore looser. If I take a loss, it is only temporary and with better preparation I will be vindicated next time. Perhaps it is because of this attitude things don’t get me down. I just plot and plan my way into success. Anyway.. So. The self esteem body blow of late. I have an extremely close friend who for some reason has kryptonite that works against me. Whenever he is around I feel less intelligent, witty, and sexy which to me is like my personality has been hijacked and replaced with an alien’s persona. For years I have tried to combat his resistance to me in all sorts of subtle ways and even some overt and mildly crazy ways. I am not above being crazy if it gets the results I am after. To see this guy, one would think why sweat him? He is just an ordinary guy. I think that is the crux of the issue. He is an average person. Wonderfully basic. He even describes himself as simple and basic in his tastes. Well.. If you like simplicity then surely you would enjoy lots of fanfare and extra right? WRONG! I don’t believe that every man needs to pine after me, but damn! When I turn on the charm it better work! Rejection something I am fairly unfamiliar with. So I suppose when it happens it just rocks my world. Right now.. World rocked. I can’t seem to shake the feeling of mediocrity or averageness. Both of these emotions are foreign to my sense of self. All I can say about this is.. Back to the drawing board. I am scheduled to see him in a few months and this time game on. After all.. I cannot loose.
The Super Bowl is such a big deal for most Americans. I feel like a kid that didn’t get the joke. It is so completely unimportant to me that I didn’t even watch it. Although I was present and accounted for at a Super Bowl Bash, I by no means viewed a second of the game. Somehow I turned into the babysitter for all of the parents who were otherwise occupied by the festivities. Only I can play basketball in 6 inch stiletto heels, then follow it up with a tennis match on the Wii. While the Cardinals and the Steelers battled it out on the field, I was kickin ass at Uno. Who cares if my age is divisible by the kids? I am teaching them a life lesson. You are not handed a victory you have to earn it. Oh. And I also taught them adults are not above peeking at your cards in order to change the color to red or prepare themselves for a draw 4! Then the little devils got me to watch a scary movie with them. So while the parents were in the “Man Den” I was upstairs in a pink palace screaming my head off as horrible monsters were devouring people like chicken wings downstairs. All in all I had the best time last night. I wasn’t forced to watch football. CHECK. I was entertained. CHECK. And I taught a gaggle of little girls that people with thick ankles are peasants. CHECK CHECK CHECK!