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damn, she's short.

she is short short woman.

who for some ungodly reason, still believes in the power of blue eyeliner.

YES, eyeliner. not eyeSHADOW, which i sometimes turn to in times of crisis, but eyeliner. which i bought in 7th grade. which i use when i want to make up my face like a funny joke. ha ha, look at that blue eyeliner. what a reject.

i look into those eyes, made gruesome with the outline of blue (yes, she lines BENEATH her eyes with the blue) and stammer.

"uhh, my topic is very general at this point, i don't have a thesis..."

i lose my breath. i say "autobiography" with such hesitation that it implies i don't know how to pronounce it. i don't write down the names she gives me. i interrupt. i am so nervous.

on thursday i will return to my little nest in the back, next to the wall, and chirp the answers under my breath while the rest of the class spin the little hamster wheels in their heads.

i will chirp, almost silently, and the wee bird-woman with the blue eyeliner at the front of the class will once again not hear me.