Swearing is a bad habit. If any pony needs to express their points through the use of cursing and using the names of princesses in vain, then they really don't have much of a point in the first place. How many replacement words exist in the thesaurus that can convey a number of meanings simply by the right application? The answer is several.
"Celestia d**n it."
However, the facts alone did not stop a certain someone from expressing her frustration in a muttered, vain use of her ruler and protector's name. She had thought that her life was looking up. After some insistence from her friends, she had decided to make a professional career out of her music rather than just play in front of shops with an open hat on the ground. An internship here and a scholarship there meant her finances were not big issues during her educated stay.
No, the issue was one of the classes she had just been informed about from her guidance counselor. Now, she knew how a lot of these public educational systems worked. Students had to learn a little bit of everything in case their talents didn't turn up a substantial career and sufficient living conditions. At the end of their time in college, young stallions and mares pretty much had a grasp on several things.
But of all the possible classes, of all the ludicrous subjects, why did she need Anthropology? A biped in the animal kingdom that had dull, faded hides and didn't even have basic magic at their disposal was a concept lost to the ages. They actually had a full course dedicated to this non-existent mammalian ancestor. Was there really no other science class available?
"I would've even settled for Thaumaturgy," she grumbled, "At least then, I could've learned about healing magic. You know? Something that's remotely useful?"
Lyra shook her head again as she half-stomped, half-trotted along her grumpy way. It was going to be a long semester.
---
"Alright! See you at nine!" called Lyra as she shut the door. She then turned to face the little filly that she was watching for the evening. She put on a smile. "What would you like for dinner, Chirpy?"
"Cookies!" cheered the little pegasus.
Heh, let's see if you're familiar with this game, thought Lyra.
She pretended to be deep in thought by waving a hoof just under her chin. "Hmm, we could do that. But what about the yummy cabbage stew that your mommy and daddy left for us?"
"Aww," whined Chirpy, "but I want a cookie."
"How about this?" proposed Lyra. "You can have cookies for dinner if you eat the cabbage stew for dessert. Sound fair?"
"Okay!" Chirpy perked up immediately.
Now the timing for the next part of Lyra's game required precision. She had succeeded once before with a foalsitting job back in Ponyville. But would this little girl play along the same way? Lyra hummed a little as she trotted into the kitchen. Chirpy was practically hopping along after her.
"Chirpy?"
"Yes, Ms. Lyra?" Chirpy stopped her hopping immediately.
"Have you ever had dessert before dinner?"
Chirpy tried to think of a time that Lyra described, but not one instant came to mind. She shook her head.
"Well, would you like to try that? It could be fun," insisted Lyra gently.
"Really?" Chirpy liked fun things. Her eyes sparkled with wonder at the prospect of breaking a rule and not getting in trouble for it.
"Trust me," said Lyra as she telekinetically reached for the cupboards and some of their contents. "I do it all the time."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Chirpy hopped again. "Dessert first!"
"As you wish, little one," said Lyra in a yielding manner as she served out the cabbage stew into two bowls.
---
It worked again, thought Lyra, I really need to stop doubting myself.
Chirpy had been fully willing to eat "dessert" first. She didn't even make a disgusted face at the trick pulled on her. She ate up all of her cabbage stew and was happily rewarded with two servings of "dinner" after that. Then, she immediately went to her connect-the-dots books filled with cool constellations.
Meanwhile, Lyra was busy reading her student contract after she laid it out on the table. It was the same legal jargon that she needed to sign and date last year, but the one slight difference right smack dab in the middle attracted her frustrated stare. It was that one course: Anthropology. Well, it was given a specific and confusing alphanumeric code, but her negative stress toward it bore a hole in her memory and wouldn't leave no matter how much she wanted it to do so.
Maybe I could just wait until Thaumaturgy has some spaces next semester. Sighing, Lyra shook her head. No, there's no guarantee that there'll even be seats available. Besides, I wanted to go into the larger music business as soon as possible. But really? Anthropology? Did it have to be something that... out there?
"Doesn't it hurt when you furrow your eyebrows like that?"
Lyra leaped out of her seat with her eyes wide. "Sweet Celestia! Don't scare me like that, Chirpy."
Chirpy tilted her head in confusion. "Scare you, Ms. Lyra? But you're not scared of anything."
Lyra chuckled humorlessly. "I wish that were true."
"Sorry." Chirpy's ears flopped. "I'll try not to be so scary next time."
Lyra smiled sadly while rubbing a hoof through the filly's mane. "It's not your fault. I just really don't want to take this course."
Chirpy gave a warm smile. "I don't like every subject I have to read in class, either. But, my mom always told me that there's something to learn from the less desirable classes... whatever that means." She slowly clasped both of her front hooves around Lyra's hoof. "Just make the best of things, even if you have to wing it."
A light went on behind Lyra's eyes. Her smile became more genuine and determined. "You know what? You're right. Thank you, Chirpy."
"You're welcome." Chirpy nodded.
Lyra got up from her seat. "Come on, it's time for bed, kiddo."
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