Argyle Socks

How my heart melts at the sight of any remnant of the 50's.

frilly aprons
high-waisted skirts
sweater vests
poky glasses
and especially, oh especially argyle socks.

Help! I'm a senior citizen trapped in a youth's body! It is no I wonder I cannot relate to rock concerts, explicit language, teenage antics.... in general. It is no wonder I best relate in knitting group.

It is becoming a nuisance how many corny jokes I laugh at in class.

teacher "jokes"--

"I'll cut off your left hand if you use the semicolon!" ...student response(w/ said punctuation)..."it is so brazen* of you to use the semicolon when I instructed you not to!"

slip of words--

"snow-man arguments"

intentional jokes--

"Why won't the crab share?........Because he's too shellfish!"


Fits of hysteric giggles erupt in the front row. Oh no....


*Brazen-marked by flagrant and insolent audacity
( thank you dictionary.com)

No artsy or awe-inspiring pictures for now.
Only Copepods.


The past several months have whirled past us in a cloud of graphite and lined paper. They've left us with a few more wrinkles under our eyes and on our foreheads. They've also brought triumph over anxiety and social depravity. We've filled our heads with many new things and have overall begun to think critically again. Begun. Professors have a wittiness that livens boring subjects like no home school comic ever could. (Sorry Ace, Christy, Pudge, Racer) I find her myself stifling hysteric giggles in a room of silent,tired, and otherwise uninterested eighteen-year-olds.
I like this new me. She rarely throws herself pity parties. She is too quickly moving forward to glance back. She makes friends and speaks up in class. She is balancing college work or at least giving it her best shot. Talking in the third person singular about yourself makes it seem a whole lot less egotistical. It is very freeing to take an outside look at yourself and rain compliments upon your head below.
When I understand concepts in school I find myself flashing back to the times that led to this understanding. In calculus class, all I can think about is Mr. Pinchot and Mrs. Phillips. The techniques I learned then in 5th grade math are ever comforting. I am so perplexed at what my life has become for me. The transition between this 5th grade and college was so sudden!I said I rarely throw pity parties. rarely. occasionally. Yet I cannot help missing childhood when I have these types of memories. It has become a persistent and subconscious goal to find a swing set. Rise, fall, and remember-- remember once more so I can finally forget.