So, I'm standing there in my botany class, being my usual witty self, well I wasn't trying to be witty, I was just making small-talk, when the TA I was talking to started to get that look that I know so well. You know the look, the furtive and desperate look that comes over you when you are cornered by someone who is so amazingly dull that you can't actually break away because you are trapped in some sort of lameness gravity well. I tend to have this look a lot because I am famous for attracting the conversations of the socially inept, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, if you do manage to escape, the next person that you converse with suddenly becomes some sort of asylum that even Twisted Sister couldn't scare you from... well, Rachel did scamper away from me awfully quickly, and then very rapidly engaged another student in a meaningful conversation I wasn't able to hear. She also kept furtively glancing in my direction.
I honestly didn't think that mentioning the amazing crop of galium [it's that weed that sticks to everything and seems to be EVERYWHERE this year] that's covering the world, but most notably my yard, was such a hideous sin. I mean, it's a botany class, for criminy's sake. A botany class where we go out and look at plants growing in the wild, notable among these being galium.
But that's not the point I wanted to address. Is it possible that I'm not nearly as amusing and cute as I always thought I was? I like to think of myself as being endearing and charming, and maybe I am for now. But what about when I'm 30? Will the endearing become annoying and the charming be immature and pathetic? That's just a little more than two years away, and I really don't want to have to grow up and be normal. I've always prided myself on being 'Peter Pan trapped in Tinkerbell's body'.
Oh well.
So, next week I don't talk to Rachel about the thistles and sedum growing in my yard. I think I will manage to survive somehow.
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