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2004-12-21 - 10:34 p.m.

I went to sign up for some classes the other day. I wanted to try some different stuff and now its official. Different stuff is on the menu for the near future. It wasn't easy, not for me. I showed up on the community college campus in my little white car, digging my punk rock with my little folder of college related information. I parked in the lot and went inside the building, past the couple of raspy voiced middle aged smoking ladies hunched up in the cold talking about whatever depressing stuff their lives are made of. There were a lot of classrooms and even a couple people walking around, but no clear place to sign up for classes. I did a cicuit of the building and started feeling all anxious like I get sometimes, holding my folder in one hand, my checkbook in my left pocket, starting to feel dumb. Is this something I'm just supposed to mail in? I don't even know what I want to take for sure yet. A couple people give me funny looks, looks I interperet as "Who the fuck are you?" I walk back out to my car feeling like I want to cry. Just chill, I think, you came all the way here, a forty-five minute drive, you can at least check another building. So I get back in the car, ignite the magic robot horse thingy with its magical key and unpause the punk rock as I head to the next building. The building said "Student Center". Hey that sounds like a place I might go if I want to be a student, I thought. The behind the desk type lady, (I have a long and terrible history with behind the desk ladies) Told me I had gone to the wrong place, I needed to go to a different, third building. And then she took out a map and highlighted where I needed to go in yellow. There are like three buildings on this campus, all of them within sight of each other, I've been to two allready and she's drawing me a goddamn map to the third when an "over thataway" would suffice. I guess being under a gigantic sign saying "INFORMATION" makes her feel like she has to provide some. I go back out to the car and drive to the third building, pitching the supid lady's map out the window, because not unlike Kid Rock, I just don't give a fuck. At this building the desk ladies are nicer which is nice, but they tell me I actually need to go back to the student center, on the second floor. Or I could try the admissions in this third building, but they really only help people who've never been to college before, and are total bitches, because they act like I'm crazy or somehting when I say I'm not in a degree program and don't want to be necessarily and I just want to take a couple of classes and they say "You should just sign up with the front desk ladies. It sounds like you allready know what you want to take." Well I have an idea what I want to take but it's not concrete and what I really want is for someone to give a shit and not send me to someone else so I can not feel like a retard for two seconds. At this point I am really about to give up, really wanted to cry to the punk rock for forty five minutes back home, and a younger andy might have. But a newer, improveder Andy, an I love Andy Andy, said WWAWKD, and the answer was not cry and run away, so back to the Student center I went, throwing the "INFORMATION" desk lady the breifest of scornful smirks as I headed for the door which read "second floor". After circling this floor a couple times, with a lot more people giving me those possible imagined "who the fuck are you?" looks, I realized I had started at the correct door and that the helpful person I needed was inside talking to some girl. SO I went in and he was friendly and helped me out and didn't make me feel like a crazy or a not belong. I found a couple classes I thought looked new and possibly exciting, (c++ programming and World Civilizations) and I went back to the nice lady desk and gave them a shitload of money and they gave me a receipt and a schedule. An academic is me. So I celebrated by buying myself a brand new dance pad and a sandwich and a root beer. And under the cap of the root beer it said this: "Fear creates danger and courage dispels it" And I said "Fuck you root beer you're not smarter than me." Then it started snowing and being all bleak, so I got back in the little white car and drove back home, the little wisps of snow swirling around the pavement and under me sitting in the driver seat and kind of smiling full of sandwich and the punk rock and the dance pad and the one sheet thicker college folder.

I think it will be fun. I've got a good not bad feeling when I think about it. I suppose not everyone had these weird little personal crises when they try to do stuff, but heck, maybe they do. I can't be as alone as I often think. Okay, finished with anecdote, doing something else now. cheers.

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