No really I'm not suicidal.

Yesterday I had my first day of Senior Seminar. We went around picking dates for the presentations of our field notes, which was accomplished by assigning the date to the person who could shoot their hand up the fastest when the date was called. I wanted one of two dates in November, but when I shot my hand up so did another girl across the room. (Yes, it was totally one of those moments from elementary school where you wave your right hand around while supporting it with your left. Ooo me, pick me, ooo ooo.) It was decided by the friend sitting next to Girl 1 that she was the winner of this contest, but because it was so close, the professor gave me first choice for any of the remaining dates. But they were all in December and I had wanted a November date. While the apportioning of dates continued, my friend A asked me why December was so bad. "I have so many papers due. I'm gonna wanna kill myself," I whispered back. Of course I don't know how to whisper. When I whisper, people in Mongolia can hear me. I sound like Li'l Jon. WHAT!? OKAAAY! Just then the professor came back to assigning me a date by saying, "I'll let two people go on the 28th. Vicky seems distressed." She had heard me. Great, now I'm the suicidal sociology student.