Life in My Big-Girl Apartment

Pretty Kitchen 

I'm back at Belmont! I've been quite busy. Move-in day was the 22nd, class started yesterday. So far, I'm really enjoying living in an apartment vs. a dorm. First off, I have a kitchen (actually that's kind of a blessing and a curse, cause since I don't have a meal plan, I have to learn how to cook.) I have 3 roommates: Kristin, Brittany, and Nina, and we each have our own rooms, so I can be in my underwear for about 40% of the day and let my alarm ring for 10 minutes without disturbing anyone. Also, we have a washer/dryer in our apartment, so we don't need to lug our clothes to another building. We live on the 4th floor, so we have a little bit of a climb, but it's no big deal.  All of the roommates get along well. Kristin is adjusting to Nina's and my weird behavior (making weird noises, replying to sexual innuendos with a chuckle and "that's what she said," and affectionately calling one another "poopy." I missed my best friend.) My plan was to slowly ease her into our weirdness, but Nina agreed to no such plan. Hopefully she doesn't grow to resent us too quickly. 

Pretty Living Room

Aside from the beautiful apartment with the beautiful view, my classes are going well. I've only been to each class once, so they haven't really had much time to be anything other than mundane. I had Historical Documentary Filmmaking today, which I'm rather excited about. A few familiar faces: a girl who(m?) I've known to be very severe when it comes to prepositions, specifically their roles in sentence structure, and a boy from my sociology class who has a name like "Daniel" or "David" but, for whatever reason, prefers to be called "Chaz." Other classes are pretty similar. A lot of douchey frat-bro types in my New Testament class, an unfortunate way of making an already uncomfortable class that much more unbearable. I'll be spending the whole 50 minutes praying that they all get chlamydia or testicular cancer so that they feel ashamed of their penises and no longer feel the need to talk about them all the time. I think Media Ethics will be rather stimulating, as the first class involved a lot of discussion. Anytime I get to be obnoxious and state my opinions as if they were facts I tend to have a good time. 

As for campus life, things seem to be pretty normal. I re-established my status as loser when my dress got stuck in the bottom of my back pack (partially) exposing my ass-area. I didn't realize it until I'd already walked across campus and into the apartment complex. I went to Bongo Java today and observed the wide-eyed hipster new-comers soaking in the indie-snob coffee shop in all it's smokey, tattooed glory. It's like the mothership has called them home. 

You know what I've noticed/been told that I'm really bad at? Flirting. I'm not a good flirt. A guy that I like is much more likely to think that I don't care for him or that I'm just a weirdo before he ever believes that I actually have feelings for him. The whole ordeal stresses me out. 

What am I suppose to talk to him about? How can I even talk to him while we're in class? Am I just supposed to turn around and give him flirty looks? How does one look "flirty" without being scary? When I finally figure out something to say that isn't completely ridiculous, how do I make it come off as flirting and not sexual aggressiveness? What if what I intend to be flirty comes off as creepy? How do I bounce back from that? What if I turn around to talk to him and I fall out of my chair, or I let out a big fart? Maybe I shouldn't have had grilled cheese for lunch. Would he buy it if I blamed it on someone else? What if he becomes aware of my lactose-intolerance and finds it repulsive? 

By the time this all runs through my head, I get myself too scared and I end up talking to him like he's no one special. Even when I plan ahead of time, going through all the possible scenarios, it never pans out like I want it to. I think maybe I'm trying too hard and thinking about it too much. If only he knew me better, he'd know. The reason I look nauseous whenever you talk to me and why I can't look you in the eyes is that I like you. You know how sometimes, when we do talk, I'll touch your arm or your knee just for a second? Yeah. That's because I like you.  I wish he knew that. I wish it was that easy and I didn't have to change anything and I could be awkward and unusually shy for the rest of my life and not end up alone. Crap.