mermaids and daydreams

Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...

I am sitting in class sipping my Tazo Tea from Starbucks feeling like a sellout. I gave into the man instead of supporting my local economy. Damn gift cards. The venti cup reminds me of Burger King, as it proclaimes, "We Don't Just Want To Make Your Drink. We Want To Make Your Day. It's Not Just Coffee. It's Starbucks."

Of course, the gorgeous mermaid on the cup wins me over. Her thick curly hair and (what I imagine to be) sparkly star crown line her simple angular face that looks out with a welcoming curiosity. Her wide hips flow perfectly into her scaled mermaid fin looking voluptuous and womanly giving me (and every wide-hipped woman) hope that one day I too can be perceived as graceful and feminine. While Dr. Barry flits excitedly around the classroom buzzing about research projects I can feel my mind start to drift.

Today I am past exhaustion and have no chance of accidentally falling asleep, so I am able to intently focus on my energetic professor while daydreaming. I decide my tea is too strong, a result of Starbucks using two tea bags instead of just one, like Fair Trade does. I also come to the conclusion that statistics brings out my creative side which explains my daydreaming, doodling, and blogging (at least the rough draft on paper). Maybe it's the stimulation of caffeine. Either way I cannot bring myself to look at the left half of the room, for fear my entire strong front will be demolished in one sweeping glance. My goodness I need to get a hold of my emotions.

I start to think about last night, standing in line at an ATM with my vivacious best friend when the cute boy behind us starts mindless chatter in my direction. The tall blond haired boy had a t-shirt and shorts on, making me feel silly for wearing a cardigan. His smile was generous and his eyes kind. The thick blond hair on his face formed a short beard around his lovely features. Just as quickly as he had said hello we were done and on our way to the parking garage. Immediately after bursting through the doors I whispered how cute he was. "He reminds me of that boy you used to see," my confidant quipped. I kept rolling the words over in my head. And it is precisely reasons like these why I cannot look across the walk way.

Without anymore time to elaborate on the subject I am sucked back into the lecture when I feel thirty sets of eyes on my blushing complexion and Dr. Barry looking encouragingly my direction. I continue to write for just a moment more while scrounging for an answer to the question I just tuned out. Qualitative....correlational....ordinal variables.... I know we're discussing our research projects but what was the question?

I want to point to the other half of the room looking for an answer, but I'll just stare back at my professor confused about everything-as normal.