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On the very last day of school, something happy happened. Just thinking about it now makes me get a serious case of the warm fuzzies. Being the insanely selfish individual I am, I shall now recount what happened.

During the last comms class of the semester, as he was handing out the final and everyone was putting their papers away, Mr. Carrion made a passing mention how:

"Out of all the people who doodle on their notes, Zephronias's are the best I've seen. Seriously, she must be really bored in class, because it looks like a lot of time goes into them."

I wanted to say, "No! Your class isn't boring! I love your class!"

Because I did love that class. It was the only interesting class I had that day, and was followed by Astronomy and Art History. His class started me off on a happy note. His class was pretty much the only reason I got out of bed in the morning on those days.

Instead, because I can't freaking talk to people on the fly, I sputtered a bit, received my final, turned kind of a red color and took the test.

I ran out of the room when I finished. He said "Have a nice holiday" and I didn't do anything but nod and mumble something that may have sounded like "you too" on my way out the door.

I hated myself for the rest of the day. Took an astronomy final and hated myself. Waited around in the library for AH to start up, and hated myself.

Six o clock rolled around, and I had to go to Art History.

A little lesson on geography. My Comms classroom (and coincidentally, Mr. Carrion's office) are in the same building as my AH class. I don't know how other colleges are set up, but these aren't like the stereotypical buildings where you go inside a main building, dick around in a series of halls and find a room. There ARE other buildings on campus like that, but this one isn't. This one, all the classroom entrances are facing out into the outside world, including those on the second story. My AH class is on the first story.

So while trudging my way up the small hill, who should I see walking on the second story to his office?

Without a thought, I blurted:

"Hey, Carrion!"

He stopped and -for reasons I will never understand- looked around in an upward direction. "Yeah? Who's calling?"

"Zephronias. Your class wasn't boring. I didn't doodle because I was bored. Your class is not boring!"

"Oh! Thanks." He poked his head over the railing to see me. It was getting rather dark. "Hey, remember when you said, 'You're being yourself. Stop it'?"

Took me a moment to realize what he was getting at.


A couple weeks prior, a girl was giving her speech. The resident smart alec was sneering and making clever remarks through the whole thing, as per the usual. When she finished giving her speech, she confronted him and told him off. She went back to her spot, and he looked around, utterly confused.

"What did I do?" he had said.

I shouted; "You're being yourself, dude. Stop it."

-End backstory-.

"Oh, yeah," I said, suddenly worried that he'd thought I was talking to him. "I was talking to insert smart alec's name here-"

"Yeah. I think a lot of people in the class really appreciated that."

"Oh. Um. Thanks."

"Thank you for the kind words. Happy holidays."

"Yeah," I started for my class. "You too."

End of happy times.

What brought this all on? Well, today, while digging around my schoolbag for the first time since school actually let out, I found the note I'd written to myself describing the entire thing. I'd wanted to remember every bit of it. I remember I wrote it right after this happened as people were piling into art history class.

Now I've got the warm fuzzies, and everything is awesome for the moment.

I hope everyone else is as happy as I am right now. Even if only for a little while.

Bone metastases, as of the most recent PET scan.

I will be starting chemotherapy again on Friday, and also a drug for bone support. Bleck.

More when I'm not exhausted. This sentence no verb.
Normally I enjoy shopping. Of course I'm a guy, and I like guy toys. I can't afford to shop for cars often, but if my ship comes in I'm so ready. I speak car. Or electronics, I am so there. My living room system rocks. Plus I have built a complete 5.1 home theater for my bedroom. A good one. Computers? Dual Monitors baby. I speak f-stop. Digital anything? Yep. I possess that most valuable of male attributes: expertise. Art? Books? Where's my winning lottery ticket.

But these days. I'm operating outside my comfort zone. You see I'm shopping for jewelry. Specifically, a certain type of ring.

So I am approaching this like I usually do: with research. Materials, Cut, Color, Clarity, settings, blah, blah, blah. I admit I can easily immerse myself in the inner details of a suspension system. But this jewelry thing is mind-numbing. In order to know the darned thing is any good you have to look at it through a flippin' microscope! Test drive? Not possible. Audition? Only after purchase. And what's a good deal anyway?

And then there's the price. The fine people at DeBeers suggest I spend three months salary. People, I'm buying a ring, not a car. My baby says "you don't have to spend too much." Exactly what does that mean? This is the sort of thing becomes a major sort of conversation immediately upon arrival. Her female friends and co-workers will admire and dissect the new item with the same enthusiasm men do when confronted with a new Skyline GT-R. I don't want her friends to think I'm a cheap-shit SOB. More importantly, I don't want them telling her that's what I am.

On the other hand, I'm in love with a woman who loves me back. Maybe I should just stop worrying.

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