Dork

My brain feels like mush. I literally hurt it this past week. I was so stressed out that I’ve had a headache for a little over a week now. All I can say is, thank God it’s Spring Break. I felt like I was an asthmatic who left their inhaler on the bed side table, but found myself running the last leg of a marathon on a smoggy day anyway. In case that description didn’t illustrate quite how overwhelmed I was feeling, I’ll just say this… I don’t know how I made it.

I had a Calculus test last night, what a nightmare that was. I keep finding myself sitting in that class and pondering the reasons why I’m there in the first place… Why exactly was it again? Oh yeah, stupid Mr. Siehl… That, and at least one day I’ll be able to tell my kids that I took Calculus in college, and actually passed it… I don’t think that will gain me any cool points with them though; in fact, John seems to think that every single one of us in that class is a dork, including myself.

I suppose that I am quite a dork, I really can’t deny it. I’d rather have my nose in a book then be parked in front of the TV. This proved to be somewhat of an issue when I was younger… I can vividly remember being GROUNDED FROM READING when I was 13 or so. Now, before you get all up in arms, I have to interject a few words in my parent’s defense here. Apparently I had come home from school and gone straight to my room (which was not unusual on days that I didn’t have any other extracurricular activities occurring). I informed my mother that I had a ton of homework to do (which was the truth), and that I intended to finish all of it immediately (which was quite a lie).

Anyone who knows me or even anyone who’s read some of my previous blogs will be able to tell you that I am a well established, extremely proficient procrastinator. This does not mean that I will sit on my bed and stare at the ceiling and do nothing, no… I will simply find TONS of other things to do to fill my time. Homework was not on the list that particular evening. My mom allowed me plenty of time (about six hours worth of it), completely uninterrupted to finish up my school work. I spent the entire six hours behind closed doors finishing up one book and starting another.
She walked in half way through my indulgence. No knocking, so I couldn’t even hide my indiscretions. She caught me, red handed. Book clasped tightly in my fists and nose buried firmly within the pages. My backpack sitting unmolested at the foot of my bed told the story of just how little homework I had completed that night. Her hands went to her hips, and she narrowed her eyes at me, “Have you been reading this whole time?” “Uh, um, well, I lost track of time, how long has it been?” “Six HOURS!” She turned on her heels calling over her shoulder that dinner was ready, and she expected me at the table minus the book.

That fateful night, I was grounded from reading. Well, not completely, I could still read, I just had to show proof that my homework had been completed before hand. I guess, that story goes to filling out my dork card a little more completely, but what is to be expected when my reward for being good, or getting good grades was my mom taking me out to the bookstore and letting me buy whatever I wanted. I was spoiled when I came to Barnes and Noble, God I love that place.

My father didn’t help either when it came to firmly affixing my dork label. Every night he would come into my room to tuck me in and we would read together. We read Robinson Crusoe together from cover to cover before I was six years old, and that was just the start.

I feel so fortunate to have grown up in a family which had a fully stocked bookshelf in the house. Wandering through the living room was like being lost in an aisle of Barnes and Noble for me, because I could spend hours shopping for my next read. As if it wasn’t enough having floor to ceiling bookshelves in the living room, I also had my own bookshelves in my bedroom, and sometimes, my mom would let me grab a book or two from my parents bookshelf in their room.

It seems that all families have their quirks, and most share at least one passion together, be it playing tennis, or watching college football. My family's just so happened to be reading, and furthering their careers in dorkdum. So yeah, I guess I kinda belong in calculus class.