(no subject)

I feel like such an idiot. It isn't for the first time and it won't be for the last, but for some reason I hold onto these times when I do things incorrectly. Last night I was lying in bed, feeling guilty for this time in seventh grade when I forgot to bring a book to class and borrowed someone else's. And the teacher asked who had forgotten the book and I didn't raise my hand. I knew if I did, I'd have part of my grade docked. Then she asked what versions of a book people had, and I was the only person with this one edition. So she handled it, and at the end of the class asked to talk to me and she berated me for lying because another girl's name was written in the front. I got in trouble for not bringing something (a binder, a pencil, a book) with me about once every ten days or so, but it was enough to differentiate me from all the other girls in class, whose mothers organized them. And we were all such little estrogenated, type A personalities that I was known for being disorganized. It's such a bizarre, incidental little story I shouldn't even have repeated it. Suffice it to say, my experience in my elementry and middle school put so much pressure on me to be completely organized that I feel really guilty about the silliest little mistakes.

In any case, I was arranging to switch my comps section because I'm now writing an essay. I emailed both essay section professors, and Professor Monson wrote back saying it would be fine for me to join her section. I screwed up: I have stats at the same time as her comps section. But now I have to wait around for Professor Zabin to reply to my email, for us to meet, etc. when I want to know whether I should have part of my essay written or have an outline or have an annotated bibliography.