Crying.

I hate sad posts.

I hate depressing posts.

I tend to stop blogging when things aren't happy because I don't really want to dwell on them.

But today is a special case (because it has a (semi) happy ending).

I woke up this morning. Then I went to class. Debate class. It's a part of my western civilization class. It's kind of silly, but in general it's not too bad. We discuss things like "Which had a bigger economic impact, AIDS or the Plague." Yeah. Duh. We sit in these groups and come up with questions for other groups. Here's where it goes sour.

I suggested a question. Some one else said something, and the next thing I know:

I'm crying. Yes. I'm sitting a group with three 20 year old guys, and I'm crying. Why am I crying? Because... I don't know. I can't even explain why I'm crying. Should I say "One day you'll understand." or "Wait till you get married."? Nope, you probably won't understand then either. I spend so much of Sunday crying that social interaction is causing me just enough stress to make me cry. Oh dear.

So, I did manage to get out the words "Failed a few midterms" and "really it's nothing" before one of the afore mentioned 20 something year olds offered me a handkerchief.

What?

Yeah, that zip sound that happens in movies. That happens in my life. It was sweet, but I had to politely decline. Really, he had probably used it to wipe his nose on... or maybe he carries it around to offer to crying married women. Who knows?! I did manage to make it through the rest of my 50 minute class without crying. Yes!

The people, they look like ants, marching

back and forth, where are they going?

Where have they been?

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. I finished my project for my class that I had failed the test in. Then spent a good while trying to convince myself that I should go. Cause, ya know, skipping doesn't usually help your grade.

So, I went to class. And I got my test back. It was one page long. I cried. I hyperventilated. I already know what grade I'd gotten. Why was I crying again? I excused myself to the bathroom. Then I sat down. I took slow, deep breaths.

I wasn't going to be able to talk her. Just thinking about this was making me upset. So, I wrote it down. I went through each of her response, and wrote down why I thought that my response was correct. English is such an ambiguous language. Lame. I think I cried during this part too. I guess confrontation causes me stress.

In class we talked about independent learning.

She just gave us a bunch of bottles of stuff and some almonds.

Yeah... this is what we came up with!

It all worked out in the end. I ended up explaining two of them, which she had read differently than I had intended, and she said I could do the other questions again for half credit. So, instead of getting an 8/15, I now have a 13/15. We also had a good chat about the value of grades, and that she knows I work hard, and that as long as I keep participating and turning in my homework, there's no way I will get below an A. Awesome. Could you have told me that on Saturday, when you sent out the "test grades." Yup, muchly appreciated. Then I wouldn't have eaten all of this:

Ok... I didn't actually eat all of that today. And it had nothing to do with Language Development, or classes. Well, it did have to do with classes, but in a round-a-bout kind of way.

I was going to watch a movie. I needed to watch the movie so I could pick an element of Judaism to write about, that was present in the movie. I didn't see any religion. I missed it. I watched the whole thing. We talked about it. Yeah... he's Jewish... but... umm... not so much? I can't write about it. Even I can't BS two pages about nothing! So, thankfully there is another option and I will write about the other movie.

Life is Beautiful. That's the name of the movie. It came out in 1998. It is probably one of the sweetest, most sad movies I have ever seen in my entire life. I ate ice cream. I cuddled the dog. I hid my eyes. I plugged my ears. Then I cried. The main character, a Jewish Italian during the holocaust, is in the camp with his son, whom he hides from the Germans to keep alive. He makes it into this big game of points and hide and go seek, and then....

I can't talk about movies. Go look it up if you want to know. Some people like to know what's happening, and other don't. I must know. Everything. I hate surprises. Yuck.

Any way, I cried. I started to tear up, and B-man looked at me. I cried.

"Don't laugh at me?!"

"I'm trying not to cry too!"

Yup, those were his exact words. So it's not that I'm a crazy-crying lady, oh thank goodness.

My two favorite...men?

And I guess that is where I must end. I am so thankful to the people who have supported me through this miniature meltdown of mine. I don't know what came over me, but it was awful. I should be returning to full health soon, but beware, because I still might cry.

My poor husband. It's not even "that time" and I'm acting like a lunatic!