Expect the Unexpected

Normally, I hate that phrase.  I'm a planner, so the unexpected is a hateful, disruptive thing anyway, but I find that phrase in particular trite and annoying.  If a zombie ambled along one day on the street, would you stop and say to yourself, "Well, that's unexpected.  But I expected the unexpected."  No, you would not.  You would say "Is that a fucking zombie?!  Oh my God, it is." And then you'd hurry quietly away, hoping that it's one of those slow zombies and not a fast one that can climb because we've all seen The Walking Dead and we know that screaming our fool heads off while running and waving our arms is probably the worst thing we could do in a situation like this.  No matter how overwhelming the urge.  And don't go to the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta unless you have a deathwish, because that guy is really fucking depressed.

So here are the things I had expected, nay, planned to do during my newest (and last!) trip through college:

• Go to class and pay attention this time.
• Do my homework.
• Study.
• Be completely unassuming and keep my mouth shut, thereby not drawing unwanted attention to the decrepit old crone who is sharing space with you in this class, eighteen-year-old with the short-shorts with TEXAS printed on the ass.

And here are things I've already done that I never expected to do:

• Sleep in my car in-between classes like a hobo, because I have a lot of time on my hands, but not enough time to go home and come back and also I'm really, really tired.
• Spend a lot of time looking for places to plug my laptop in.
• Spend hours (and I mean hours) working on algebra.
• Embarrass myself in front of God and everybody in Business Computing class because I know a lot about Superman and can't keep my mouth shut.
• Embarrass myself in front of God and everybody in Business Computing class because I know a lot about the Titanic and can't keep my mouth shut.
• Be the person the Introduction to Radio and Television professor calls on to explain to the teenagers in the class such alien concepts as "Betamax" and "Laserdiscs."
• Pay particular attention to my clothes to make sure I don't look like I'm trying to dress like the rest of you people.  So that means that the Hello Kitty t-shirt my nine-year-old (hereafter: M1) picked out for me will never see the light of the CCC campus, because it's cute and funny to wear when I'm with her, and desperate and sort of sad-looking when I'm on a college campus with actual teenagers.
• Report back to my children twice a week in response to such questions as "What did you do in school today, Mom?" and "How many friends did you make today?"  Damn me for being an involved parent.  They mirror what you say to them, you know.

I have also developed an alarming physical tic in my US History class.  It's mainly to keep my eyes from rolling completely out of my head and falling at my feet.  The man at the front of the room tells magnificent and sweeping lies about the origins of our great nation and, sadly, grades my exams and papers and shit.  I don't want him to see my eyes fall out of my face and think of that while he's reading my essays.  There will be more (oh, so much more) about this particular professor in the future.  Actually, later today.  And there will be a liveblog of today's class so that you can judge for yourself.

I only go to class on Mondays and Wednesdays.  Mondays I have an Elementary Algebra class that starts at 7:30am, Introduction to Radio and Television and US History.  On Wednesdays, I have all that, plus a night class (Business Computing) that starts at about 5:45.   Clearly I waited until the very last second to register for classes.  Wednesdays, predictably, are killers.  I get the algebra homework knocked out pretty early and then you can generally find me either wandering aimlessly around campus looking for a place to plug in my laptop, reading a romance novel and drinking massive amounts of caffeine or sleeping in my car like a damn hobo, with my jacket rolled up like a pillow under my head.  I keep my doors locked, but I should probably park on a hill or something, in case there are zombies.  All part of expecting the unexpected.