So I am now officially back in school, barring problems with validating (something involving the all-important concept of tuition. Sigh...)
I got to the Bronx after a particularly trying day - it seemed as if a multitude of deadlines for a multitude of items were all converging down to a time period of about three hours, which forced me to multi-multi-multitask just to get out of the house in time to eat lunch. The only break I caught was when the realty agent failed to get in touch with the person whose home we had been scheduled to see, freeing me up for a crticial half-hour. I scarfed down lunch and made it in time to stroll into the first class about 5 mintues before it was due to begin.
The classes themselves went OK, and that was even without the smoking HOT chick who is in both of them. The feeling of being in school is reassuring and dreadful at the same time - (I mean dreadful in the literal sense of the word, full of dread). A lot of the same feeling I had last year is there once again, and with my knowledge of what was to come - that half-semester at El Puente - I have a hard time not taking the similarity of feeling as a sign that I not bound for a similar experience all over again. I am not sure whether every teacher feels this impending doom that I am feeling, but I would sure love to know for sure.
A sidebar. That chick in class I mentioned above -- name of Tamara, deeply tanned skin, possibly Dominican, wearing a black, midriff-bearing tube top and a white peasant skirt, and did I mention the high-heeled sandals, or that she constantly adjusted her boobs in class, for God's sake? - sorry, got carried away for a moment - promises to provide some serious eye candy...dammit, where were teachers who looked like that when I was in junior high? It's not fair, man....
