Aw, I Don't Get To Explode After All. ;_;

Well, since I really don't have anything special to write here just yet, I guess I'll hit the basics. I'm Derek.
I'm the evil henchman of the future iron-fisted ruler of humanity, who just happens to be about 8 pounds of pure, furry Satan.
I'm currently listening to a techno remix of Magic Carpet Ride, since for some reason people like to know inane details like that.

Requisite silliness has been dealt with. Now, on to the real meat!

I'm not feeling particularly nervous about tutoring yet, nor the class for that matter. I'm not sure if I really will until I'm sitting next to my first tutee. Even then, the nervousness will likely be buried under a wave of horrible jokes, even more horrible puns, and at least an attempt to accomplish the business at hand. A general rule of thumb goes as follows: A personality that prefers to feel in control of their space, up to and including their general vicinity at any given time, will react unfavorably when confronted with a reality that leaves them with no control. I simply translate "unfavorably" to "babble uncontrollably" and nod happily, content in my new position in the scheme of that particular sphere of existence.

Oh yeah. Don't be surprised if you see me lurking around the SS building when I'm not at class. I'm an accomplished (world-class even!) lurker.

****End Transmission****

And now that I've sat with my first tutee, my opinion hasn't changed a bit. Granted, I've been eating Smarties for two hours solid and am on such a sugar high that if you snuck up behind me and went "BOO!" even semi-loudly I'd die of a heart attack. No Jacie, that wasn't an invitation. I felt natural, at my ease, and pretty much had a blast.

And now I'm going to resume dancing in the doorway in a probably futile attempt to burn off this excess sugar energy. Sayonara!