Ugh... I can't believe I go to such a stupid University. My parents say it's not just ISU, it's all schools, but I seriously think the public school system must be in pretty poor condition if they're all like my school.

Anyway, mean theatre advisor called me back while I was gone for the weekend. I left him my home number, but he totally got it wrong. Like, not even one digit out of place, just a totally different number. That freaked me out, because I didn't want him even more angry at me than he seems to be anyway. Anyway, he told me to come and see him in person. That was a whole lot of fun. The "artsy" bit of campus is labyrinthine even at the best of times, but it's especially scary when there's construction.

So I finally get to the guy's office, and he wants me to fill out the sheet for switching minors. Which I've told him about 8 times I'm afraid to commit because I already have a minor, but he's still like, "So, you don't already have a minor, right?" Anyway, apparently the override to get into the class I really need an override to get into is up to the prof teaching the class, not him. So I called her up and am now waiting for a message from her. Why does it always seem like I'm waiting for a phone call?

Anyway, I have to apologize for all the abuse I've been dishing out to mean theatre advisor on this blog. He's some foreign guy, so I can see why phone numbers mess him up and he doesn't always catch everything I say. Foreigners and I have a history of not understanding each other. And I guess don't blame him for being somewhat grumpy, because I wouldn't want to deal with angry college students in a strange land either.

I myself am also somewhat grumpy because I had to search an hour before I could find my wallet this morning. And when my mom's around, looking for things is doubly stressful because she keeps calling out places to look that I've looked already and then looks at them herself after I tell her I won't look there again and berates me for having a messy room. Which, the messy room has nothing to do with it. I can totally lose things as easily, if not more easily in a clean room. Case in point: we found my wallet in my dirty clothes hamper. That has nothing to do with all the crap on my floor. (and no, I didn't leave the wallet in my pants, as I ended up wearing them again today, the wallet somehow magically found it's way into the hamper, which sort of freaks me out)