I figured he was going to reprimand me for being late every day. (I'm late every day. I have nine hours of commitment a week, and I can't even make it to them on time. I'm fairly consistently late for every one of my classes. Especially his.) Instead, he asked me my major and my year. He said he was looking for research assistants over the summer. He asked if I was going to be in Gainesville. I'm not planning on being in Gainesville, but my plans are kind of up in the air. I told him that. He said he'd look over the paper I'd just turned in and get a feel for my writing skills, and we could talk later. Shit. Please don't judge me by that paper. I'm a good writer. That paper does not reflect it. After class I was thinking, But I didn't think I was going to be judged on that paper... Then I was thinking, Why not? Why didn't I expect that one of five or six total assignments would reflect my intelligence? I used to be concerned about the content and style of the work I turned in because it was a reflection on me. It was more than getting an A in the class. Maybe that was back when teachers knew my name. Well, this teacher knows my name, and now he knows that I'm a bad writer. I don't even want to be his research assistant over the summer. Why am I so concerned that he think I'm smart?
I noticed something yesterday that I didn't realize until it came out of my mouth. I hope this is a phase, but I don't want anybody touching me lately. I've always been a very big fan of most physical touch. Pats on the back. Hugs. Piggy Back rides. Recently, however, I don't want to touch people. And I don't want them touching me. It's very strange. I don't like it. I like myself as a touch-y person.
I'm changing faster than I can keep up with. For better or worse.