I don't know why this is, but every time I encounter the women at the Grille, I feel like a prisoner at Auschwitz, like I don't deserve to be eating food and that I've also offended them with my existence. Why is this? Perhaps it is because the most prominent Grille employee stares you down as if you are in fact stealing from her personal store of food. Or maybe it is in the way she unsmilingly says, "Have a nice day" and you know she really means, "I'm watching you." She terrifies me.
Why on earth must I sit through a class that is not relevant to my life, while pretending that it is my life? My freelance class is a joke. I have not been taught a single thing by my instructor. The assignments we receive have no direction; they are completely vague like "Write a nonfiction article" and "Write a book review for a specific publication of your choice." Ok. I did. How are you grading me on this? Yet we receive grades and she takes off points for not including the graphics of the original piece - but that's because the publisher provided those graphics. Every day that I sit through that hour and fifteen minutes of utter confusion, I question my major and its relevance to life. I don't even need this class to graduate. Dear Lord, give me patience.
Not to be crabby or depressing today, but it is snowing alot and it's as cold as it was in January, what with the wind and icy sidewalks and slushy roads. I'm sure glad it's March 1st!
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