Phonophobe

I'm going to miss the horses and the scenery, dizzy and rolling hills, I'm going to miss bluegrass music and county rodeos, and I'm going to miss my friends and family.

I'm not going to miss outlandishly undeserved sense of self-importance, or the sense of oppression that comes from sprawling acres of pool supply outlets, of stretch pants, and constantly wondering if the water you're drinking is infected by e-coli from cow or human waste.

So bai! I'm saving my money now, working hard at getting a scholarship to either the Northwest College of Art, or the Cornish College of the Arts.

If neither work, I'm going to move regardless and pester State until they let me in. This will take a few months obviously, but I'm planning a visit (by plane- gulp!) within two months, if there's any justice at all in the world.

This isn't going to turn out the way New York or Chicago did, because the simple fact that I'm not going to let it. I want to go back to school, dagnabbit!
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At work, I'm going to be working customer service, along with the rest of the writing team. This is bullshit, and I'm hoping that it won't last. I left work after seven hours, directly after the meeting, because the news literally gave me a panic attack.

The phone terrifies me. Anyone who's ever been unlucky enough to travel with me knows my fear of planes, how I turn absolutely retarded and can't concentrate. My heart races and my palms sweat, and if there's anything in my stomach, I'll probably vomit.

The phone does this to me too. The same, mortal fear I have of flying, which is really just a fear of death and survival instinct kicking in, I have towards hearing that voice on the other end of the line going What? or Can you repeat yourself? I can't understand you, stop mumbling. Oh, or my favorite, Well you're stupid!

I left the office, immediately, and just sat in my car for a few minutes. For the life of me I can't remember the drive home.

But hey, Frasier is on! It's that episode where there's a verbal misunderstanding!