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| What sort of person would you be to make homeschooling illegal? I mean, really, unless the person doing the homeschooling isn't actually teaching anything, it makes no sense. I mean, seriously, what?
I was homeschooled through 8th grade, and trust me, I'm better for it. I have a good relationship with my parents. Honestly, I sometimes think public school was worse for me than homeschooling ever would have been. If you think homeschooling should be illegal, you're probably ignorant. And a butthead.
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| I have to be at work in like, half an hour. Which technically means I need to get going in like, less than ten minutes because I have to scrape the ice off my car. Which essentially translates, obviously, to pure joy.
I don't know, but within the last week I have started to hate my job. Which is odd, because I really only work weekends, so it's more of the idea of my job?
I don't, however, like to dread my job. It's inconvenient.
Also, if I didn't have work, I could have stayed out later last night; this is a much longer story that I'll have to edit to tell, but a bunch of us from studio managed to go out with the visiting artist.
Who happened to be Jules de Balincourt. EXCITING? YES, I KNOW. TOO BAD HE WAS PRETTY MUCH OBSESSED WITH ASHLEY ALL NIGHT.
11:56 - I guess the whole thing was fun, even though, honestly, I have a tendency to be overstimulated and lose my ability to produce coherent thoughts at the same rate as everyone around me, as well as, you know, generally forget how to talk. Which rules. It's funny though, my literature class had been canceled, so I went to the painting building pretty much just in time to see Katie and Whitney showing him our studios.
(Actually, it's funny. The girl who is supposed to put up notifications if a class is canceled was sick, so we just hung out in the classroom for twenty minutes - and before my phone died, Ayla had made some comment about "SEEING JULES DE BALINCOURT". I was all, pardon? How did this occur? And it turned out that the guy walking around with one of the junior/senior instructors was him, and not someone's attractive dad like I sort of originally thought. So I told Whitney, and she told Katie, and Katie asked him if that's who he was when he was outside smoking a cigarette.)
We tried to show off the Nelson and the Kemper (there are art museums on two sides of our campus, guys), but because we got a fifth-of-an-inch of snow, and this city is essentially unable to cope with any sudden change in weather, they'd closed early. So he got to see our glorious campus instead. It was nice to get to show off the school, but we all kept acting really awkward and running out of things to say, because, seriously? Us being art kids, we were sort of a little bit starstruck. Then, after his presentation, we (a.k.a., a third of our studio and our instructor) went out with him. Ashley and I went back to school at two, the rest of them stayed out until, like, four, and Jules did critiques in the morning with what I can imagine was a little bit of a hangover.
Today, Lottie and I got middle-eastern food.
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| It's been forever since I last updated, but - -
IT'S SO COLD. AND IT SNOWS TOO MUCH. WAH.
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| Hooray! My car was broken into!
They smashed my passenger side window completely in, stole my sunglasses, my shitty radio, and, as far as I can tell, my insurance information! Hooray again!
I have tinted windows, so they pretty much had to be trying really hard to see in - and other than the aforementioned radio, there was nothing that was actually worth any money sitting out. Laundry detergent! A Nalgene bottle! What riches!
And to make things really difficult, the dude at central control wouldn't, for some reason, let me file a report over the phone, even though that's the number that they gave me to call. He's like, Call nine-one-one so they can send a car out to look for evidence!
What evidence? I live within walking distance of Troost, and one of thousands of people in the area decided that they wanted to break into my car. It's not like the police will actually look for the person that did it, because unless my car was stolen, they have never shown any evidence of caring about this sort of thing.
I just want to file a report, guy. Can we not make this a bigger ordeal than it already is? Seriously. I mean, I'm an hour late for work at this point.
Talked to the guy. Got my police report number. Best day of my life.
1:24 - I am officially five hours late for work, but they vacuumed the glass out of my car and replaced the window while I sat in the awkward waiting area and read GQ and a two-year-old copy of Travel and Leisure. Good stuff.
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| I hid all of my entries. Spooky.
Actually, that means I'm going to actually update sometime over the next few hours, I just didn't want the deal to keep acting like I was brand-new.
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