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Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Said the Cat

Between political fanatics, living with aunt A and uncle A, having talked to MrInteresting and... you know, everything? I've decided I feel a lot like Alice. Everyone's mad here. Myself included. Or I wouldn't have come here. That's what the Cheshire cat would argue, at any rate.

Here I am, sitting on a chair, waiting for aunt A to come pick me up. It's all good. Except a guy comes by and starts by "I'm not trying to be a creep or anything" to let me know that people behind me were staring at my butt crack peeking above my pants (which aren't that outrageously low, but  you know). And my first response wasn't "Thanks for letting me know" but "Sorry!" because now I'm sorry for everything. It's the default answer. 

Further proof of my madness lies in the fact that I meant to write SmTn an e-mail in full Lewis Carroll glory and I actually want it to have accurate references to the books while narrating my story as if it were Alice's.


For what it's worth, a girl from the chemistry class who asked me to help her get the instructor to push a deadline may study with me for the next test (which she  needs more than I do but I could use the company... and she seems sane enough... for now...). 

In more true Alice style I was probably right wanting to run the hell away from MrInteresting when he first approached me. But I thought it was down to him being too nice with the compliments and really there's a lot more than compliments to worry about. I give myself some fairly good advice (at least as far as first impressions go) and then very rarely follow it.

On another note, I did spend a lot of my time during statistics class trying not to fall asleep and writing a never-to-be-sent letter to LesMisGuy, asking what's going on in his life. I had La Marseillaise stuck in my head the day before yesterday. Or yesterday. I can't remember anymore. Bear in mind, I'm mad.

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