For as long as I can remember, my mother has made me chocolate chip cookies on the first day of school. I remember getting a phone call from her on my first day at Cabrini – she was sobbing because she had forgotten that I wasn’t home and was therefore incapable of enjoying said cookies. She then overnighted them to me…and they were fucking delicious.
Today was my first day of whatever year I happen to be in at Stony Brook University. I thought it started well since it was also the first day of my “eating healthy” kick. I made a smoothie at home out of fresh strawberries, nonfat milk and some low-fat Greek yogurt. I went to the gym and worked out for an hour, had a granola bar and was off to my first class – Survey of Romantic Literature.
HOWEVER…it turns out it’s not Survey of Romantic Literature – it is Survey of the Romantic Poets William Wordsworth and Lord Byron which failed to be mentioned in the course description. Therefore…I am fucked because I couldn’t give a shit about rhyme scheme or the French Revolution that inspired the majority of Wordsworth’s work. It is also too late for me to drop the class seeing as how all the other classes I could have taken are filled. Whatever. NBD.
I then proceeded to get lost on the way to my Introduction to Theater Arts class where we discussed the importance of acting. I was disappointed that no one seemed to appreciate my love for Nicolas Cage.
Things weren’t any better when I gave my first lecture of the semester and consequently asked my first student to get the fuck out if he was going to continue being a jack ass. But all this pales in comparison to the hit and run I experienced on the way home.
A dude in a grey Saturn slammed into my driver’s side and took off after I suggested we call the police. Thankfully, I am all right. Big Bertha has some scrapes and bruises but she’ll be all right as well.
All I know is that I felt like absolute shit when I walked through the door until I saw my mother at the kitchen table…making a smiley face out of chocolate chip cookies. And as much as I like to pretend I’m tough, I broke down, fell into her arms and cried, “Mommy…”