grace is my middle name.

The other day, I was sitting in my inappropriate and obnoxious Earth Science class. Quizzes were being handed out by my highly inept professor who fervently believes that cursing equals getting respect from students. As she handed out our "damn quizzes", I listened and observed my fellow classmates. The girl in front of me, who smelled like a nuked perfume factory, was flirting with a guy who smelled like dirty laundry. And I mean DIRTY laundry. SUPER combo. As their conversation went on about how much they drank and degraded themselves the night before, I decided to tune them out. Before I did however, I heard the dirty boy say,

"What can I say? Sexy is my middle name."

First of all, I highly disagreed with that statement. Secondly, after swallowing the bile that was welling up in my esophagus, I started thinking about my middle name. Grace. Do I live up to my middle name? Then I began thinking about how my first name means "grace." Double whammy. Do I need to live up to my first and middle name? I then set a goal for myself. I want to be a grace-filled person. AKA: graceful. I want, when people think of adjectives about me, to think of me as graceful. (Not that I think people REALLY sit around and think up adjectives about me.) It's my new goal.


Then I got my quiz back. And I had failed. I had two options. Throw a fit and act like perfume girl and dirty boy were acting - because they failed, too. Or I could accept the fact that I failed my quiz which counts less than 1% of my final grade and move on.


I slid the quiz in the folds of my notebook quietly and gracefully. Score one for the team.