Welcome Back to the Academic World, Anna Banana!

nothing excites me more than going back to the academic world.

Scratch that, I'm lying. It's not the thought of reading chapter after chapter of books or figuratively burning my brows or losing much more sleep (what is sleep?) that makes me look forward to going to grad school. It's the prospect of shaking up the status quo that has become my life for the past five years. Of course, the sound of meeting boys sends some tingle down my spine (I'm still a very single woman, mind you), but more than that, its really the idea that i am finally making some progress after the breakup is what motivates me to dash out of the office at 5:15 and into my 6pm class.

My first week as a come backing student has, of course, gone without a hitch. NOT. You know me.I am a magnet for disaster and I attract embarrassing situations like a fly to a pile of poop. Eeew. Not the best analogy but I think you got my point.

March 26, first day of school. I arrived a few minutes before 6pm. Thankfully, my brother had enrolled late that's why he was there to give me directions to my first class. After the usual meet and greet and introduction to the subject, I felt like I was getting my groove back as a student. So far so good. Until I inadvertently entered the men's bathroom during breaktime.

Whaddup!

Good thing no one's there. Imagine if I entered the restroom and found my professor in the middle of his biz-ness. Na-ah. I think I'd be dropping that subject immediately. (On second thought, maybe not. It would put my 18grand to waste.)

Second day of school, I was running late because I had to take care of some client. I am still a very committed and full-fledged member of the working force, you know. After some irritating moments with my cab driver (who told me to transfer taxis because he doesn't want to be questioned on his route choices) and Legolas being a needy friend, I was in a state of panic by the time I got to Rockwell. Without elaborately reading my class schedule, I scanned the map and searched the amphitheater where Managerial Accounting class was being held. I entered the class and found myself in the center of everyone's attention. I was 30 minutes late, entered the front door (not the back door which would have been more discreet), and almost knocked myself down when my bag caught the door. Fine. I'm still good. No biggie. I scanned the room and and two good looking guys made way in their aisle where i could sit. Hmmm, finally, some potentials. Whoohooo. I settled down and the cute guy to my left gave me a class card. I got my schedule and when I was about to look for my section, I felt disturbed. This does not feel right. I asked the cute guy if it was Managerial Accounting for standard and to my horror, he said yes. DEMMIT. I was in the wrong class.

Counting to 10, I picked up my bag, returned the class card to the cutie, and made my way down to the front door. Of course, so as not to look arrogant to the professor (late na nga, lalabas pa, he must have thought), I told him on my way out that I was in the wrong class. The humiliation just goes on and on.

Finally, I got to the right class where I was 45 minutes late and my professor marked me as absent. What's worse, NO CUTE GUYS. BOOOOOO!

So that's how my first week as a student went.

The adventures of Anna Banana, the ultimate academician, shall continue.