Good Morning, Sunshine.
<<2003-01-28 - 10:53 a.m.>>

Dammit.

I woke up from a strange dream which I now don't remember, got a flash of anxiety, looked at the clock. 9:38. Class started at nine. Halfway done already.

Fuck.

So I got up, thinking of an excuse, ready to skip class and send the professor an email claiming illness. Sat down at the computer.

Got up.

Got dressed. Left the dorm. Walked to class. Hesitated outside the door, but only until the professor paused. Walked in. Was not suffused with burning shame.

Susan Meeker would have been proud of me.

And then when the professor told me (a bit later, when calling roll again and asking who'd bought the supplemental readings) that she needed to ask me something after class, I didn't panic. Okay, I had a few flashes of panic, fear that the question that she was going to ask me was along the lines of "Do you think you can just waltz into my class fifty minutes late?" But a defined fear, at least! Zibby used to ask me what I was afraid of when I would have terrible school-related panic attacks, and I could never tell her. But this time, I could have (and will, when I talk to her on Thursday). But at the end of class, I apologized for being late, said it was "all my fault," which it was, which would make that the truth.

Ha.

And now I am sitting here eating protein-licious nonfat lemon yogurt because I was told by someone who knows that I should eat more protein, and I am ready to kick ass.

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