Ask Me Anything About Human Sexuality. (That's the class I talk about.)

I feel like posting, but I don't know what to write about. This will most likely be a summary of my day.

I woke up around 8:40. Usually it takes me ten or so minutes after I wake up to actually get up--out of bed and changed or whatever. Literally ten minutes or more. So by the time I was preparing to go to class, it was already 8:55 or so, and as a result, I skipped breakfast.

Then I drove to school and whatnot. Confession: I like head-banging in my car and singing/humming/screaming to music. I'm afraid of getting whip-lash one day.

Anyway, I got to school pretty early. I've been late a lot this semester. In fact, I think I'm an absence or two away having my grade lowered. You see, every three instances of arriving late counts as an absence, and because we must sign in at the start of class, if you arrive anytime after 9:45 you're considered late. You get five or six absences before you're dropped a full letter grade. That's why I've been getting to class earlier: I don't want my grade lowered in the last two weeks of school.

I think it's funny that it's already been three years since I graduated high school. Where did all the time go? I still feel like my eighteen-year-old self; I'm still living two years in the past. Well, not exactly. I am changed, that's self-evident. I'm less edgy, not so anxious; I'm not trying to please everyone as much.

What I need is experience. Experience can teach us anything. It's like mental puberty, you know? What's so strange about puberty is that the human body becomes mature and ready for procreation, but the mind is still inexperienced. Which is why it's sad when teenage girls become pregnant: they don't know how much experience they're missing, and how their lives will change.

I've had a good friend since elementary school who is a smart, athletic, funny, charming, ruggedly handsome guy. Unfortunately, he got his girlfriend--his first legitimate girlfriend--pregnant during senior year. Two years later, they were married. And all this time, I think it's a damn shame that those two radically altered their lives in only an instant. Who am I to judge their lives now if they're doing what they want? Regardless, what I mean is, we're not the people at age 15 that we'll be at age 20 or 28 or 35 or 87--nor should we be. If we get out into the world, we'll see life for what it is through our own eyes--whatever that may mean to us. And hopefully, after we've seen all the heartache and personal struggles, and had some of our own, then, if we're lucky, we'll become better people for the world.

Why do all my posts have to have a moral? I'm so goddam didactic, like medieval literature.