And this little kid runs up and says “YOU HAVE GREEN HAIR”

I smile and say “yup”, which was a big mistake, because her two sisters proceeded to come over and talk my hind leg off for the next half hour.  Well, the one talked the most, in fucking spanglish, so I just kind of nodded and smiled when she rattled on about how my hair is a boy’s haircut, my pants are for boys, my shoes are for boys, and don’t I like being a girl? and do I have a Mom and do I have a Dad and do I have a boyfriend and what’s his name and does he have hair on his face and do you have a pool and and and and…

Kept trying the “it’s late, I need to go home” line (and all that accomplished was her telling me which ways NOT to go on my way home, because there’s “alligators and (spanish for spiders) and vampires”).  Which then drifted off into a one-sided conversation about dogs and cats.  And then, to top it all off, little miss spanglish belches some god-awful rankness riiiiiight in my face.

And the littlest one nicks my rubber duckie.  Now I have no duckie in my car

And strangely… when I DID finally escape… I just felt sort of lonely.  Got bummed about it for about two minutes before I realized that I should celebrate the lack of screaming hellians instead… and enjoyed a nice long drive home.  Just the smell of night, the haze and the lightning flashing ahead.  Uber Groovy.

…is how much I’ve walked today, according to my w580i.  That’s 4.2mi, translating to a total of 407 calories burned by moving one foot in front of the other all repetative-like.  And I thought my mad-dashes across airport terminals were impressive.  Didn’t want to believe it til I sat down with a campus map and realized how ass-tastic my routes were today.  From #5 to Memorial Hall to POT to B&E to the Student Center to Funk and back to #5.  Next semester’s routes aren’t looking much better.

Sorry, I know “how much I walked” isn’t really blogworthy news.  I’ll get the hang of this again, I swear.

Anywho.  Got all registered for next semester.  My advisor gave me the lovely news that I do indeed qualify for SW322, which saves me 3hrs in the long run… so I opted to take my (bonus) lazy-semester this go-’round.  So basically, I’m taking one course that really matters, two courses I should’ve taken in clown college, and (finally) German.  Yes!  I can finally do more than get a train ticket! Or inform people that my hat is black and white!  Or tell people to hurry the fuck up!
[I'd like a ticket please -- and hurry the fuck up!]

I’m also pleased to report that my student ID photo doesn’t look like ass.

Came home to find my books finally came in from half.com.  I finally bought a copy of A Field Guide to Otherkin by Lupa, and Witch School: Lessons for the Second Degree by some cheesy looking fucker with a gnarly beard.  I really shouldn’t talk about the leader of the trad like that, but my elementary school teachers always told me that I shouldn’t tell lies, so there you go.  But don’t let the cheese fool you… you wouldn’t think that anything called “Witch School” would be serious or valuable, but I really love their approach, and their First Degree program was pretty much awesome.  Nothing I didn’t know already, but you have to go through the motions.
So I flipped through both.  Beelined right for the Angels section in Otherkin… just to see… and yes, I’m in there!  Looked at the TOC in Second Degree and saw there is a section on sex magick.  As always, they have a very solid and mature approach… but I couldn’t read it without flailing (I have a habit of flailing whenever I have one of those overwhelming in-love moments).  Sex is sacred, a union of the God and Goddess, a union of… flail… God… flail… union… FLAIL.

On the subject of sacred sexual symbolism, my lilies opened today   I don’t know if they opened this morning and I just didn’t notice (I was in a sort of rush), or if they popped when I was off burning calories, but it was a very nice treat to see that on returning home.  Ahhh, flowers.  Aaaaahhhh, guys that actually buy you flowers.  I always laughed at the idea of getting flowers, until I actually found someone who believes in ‘em… and they really are special.  All I have to do is look at them, and my face busts.
All I have to do is look at him, and my face busts.
All I have to do is think about him, and my face busts…