Yesterday I bit my tongue as I was crossing the street. Just a few minutes ago as I was sitting in front of my computer, I poked my eye with my finger. Geez, why must we be entities with such physical annoyances?

My confidence level went zap after I performed the canon in music. You know that saying practice makes perfect? That particular one does not apply to me. After an accumulated hour of practice, I couldn't sight-sing even the first few measures of the piece correctly. The piece titled Dona Nobis Pacem, translated Give Us Peace. Oh evil evil irony. I messed up the rhythm, the pitches, and the solfege syllables for the entire piece. Well I got the first measure right. Yet still...why oh why!
In the sixth grade, I joined chorus because I thought everybody was going to do it. Remember, at that time, I was basically a blob of nothing. No opinions whatsoever. Otherwise if I hadn't done Chorus, I would have to take SMART--some program trying to get sixth graders exposed to all elements of society. Nonetheless, it was in Chorus that the Heather incident occured where I was object of humiliation. Besides that, in Chorus, while I was sitting alone, I remember hearing several people whispering, Geez, you know, Jennifer is really off tune.
Yes sir, that's correct!

Lin was so pessimistic too--"we are going to fail!!!" she whined the whole time until it was our turn. Thanks for telling me.

Of course, there is a reason that I am afraid of office hours. Oh sure, people say that the worst thing they can do is say no. Yeah right. The worst thing that can happen is when I burst into tears over an itty bitty thing. Then they start trying to find a reason why I would do such a thing. Then it makes me incredibly guilty to make them feel horrible (that is if they're human). Mentally I am okay. Emotionally, I am not. Then they feel like they are obligated to show me the easier route to accomplish the problem. However, I don't want the easier route. Then any other time that I go there again, they believe I am sensitive and will not challenge me. Sigh.
It's always like that. The comment, "it's just a piece. it isn't going to kill you." Sheesh, I am not weak and I already know that.
And when (or if) I return to class, it feels like I have been condemned with the label "that girl who cried".
When...and where...Spanish freshman year in high school, as a tutee in peer tutoring, having my essay corrected by LASF tutors (not once, not twice, thrice), gov't/econ senior year in high school, PE sophomore year, lots of times during lunch, twice last semester in CS3 self-paced center...

Oh but there's one thing that's funny about that. They never call on you in class anymore.