This is me in 1992 on my very first day of school ever. Mom was in the hospital because Scottie had just been born, so Dad took me to my first day. I look excited here, but once we got to the classroom I certainly wasn't. Believe it or not, I was a shy little tot. I did not like being around people I didn't know. I think I was scarred a bit from strangers touching my hair without permission.
This is me on my last first day of school. No pink jacket or purple socks, but I wore my hair on the side for old times' sake.
I now have curly hair, I'm no longer averse to meeting strangers, and I no longer wear such killer shorts (pretty sure they wouldn't pass honor code) but other than that, I'm basically the same person in a taller body.
School started a week ago Monday. It's fine. I'm already ready to be done with it. This is the longest I have stayed at school in Provo without making a major life decision and moving away for a semester, so I'm a little restless. It'll be a busy semester, akin to last school year, but whatever.
I'm sick and missing classes and work as of today. I think I ate something awful last night and it's making me suffer. I want to eat but nothing sounds good, and it makes me nauseous just to think about eating. I already puked up the orange I ate for breakfast. Actually, and orange sounds kind of yummy. I'm not one to negatively associate food with certain experiences. The closest I've come to doing that resulted in me not craving spaghetti for a year or so. Ironically, last night I had planned to make spaghetti for dinner, but for convenience sake ate something out of a can. That was a bad idea, apparently.
Time to put on a semi-happy face when the roommates get home or I'll get smothered. They like to kill with kindness. Oh, the trials of being loved and cared for by awesome friends!
