![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Part 2
16 September 1997
Daria was annoyed at the Self Esteem Class already. The teacher was droning on, espousing New Age crap: “Esteem... a teen. They don't really rhyme, do they? The sounds don't quite mesh. And that, in fact, is often the case when it comes to a teen and esteem. The two just don't seem to go together. But we are here to begin realizing your actuality...”
‘That makes no sense! ‘Realizing your actuality’?’ She thought. She raised her hand. “Excuse me. I have a question.”
“Sorry, question and answer time is later.”
“I want to know what ‘realizing your actuality’ means.”
“It means... look, just let me get through this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!”
‘That’s annoying!’ Daria thought. She began writing that the teacher didn’t know what he was doing, but she was interrupted.
A girl seated behind her with chin-length hair, three piercings in her ears and wearing a paint splattered red jacket over a dark grey outfit leaned forward and said; “He doesn't know what it means. He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice.”
Daria turned around. “How am I supposed to follow him if I don't know what he's talking about?”
“I can fill you in later. I've taken this course six times.”
( Quinn approached a large house. )
16 September 1997
Daria was annoyed at the Self Esteem Class already. The teacher was droning on, espousing New Age crap: “Esteem... a teen. They don't really rhyme, do they? The sounds don't quite mesh. And that, in fact, is often the case when it comes to a teen and esteem. The two just don't seem to go together. But we are here to begin realizing your actuality...”
‘That makes no sense! ‘Realizing your actuality’?’ She thought. She raised her hand. “Excuse me. I have a question.”
“Sorry, question and answer time is later.”
“I want to know what ‘realizing your actuality’ means.”
“It means... look, just let me get through this part, okay? Then there'll be a video!”
‘That’s annoying!’ Daria thought. She began writing that the teacher didn’t know what he was doing, but she was interrupted.
A girl seated behind her with chin-length hair, three piercings in her ears and wearing a paint splattered red jacket over a dark grey outfit leaned forward and said; “He doesn't know what it means. He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice.”
Daria turned around. “How am I supposed to follow him if I don't know what he's talking about?”
“I can fill you in later. I've taken this course six times.”
( Quinn approached a large house. )
