Here's that writing sample that terrified me so much last night. It still terrifies me, but I'm happy to have it done and sent in. I could have used some old material, but everything saved on Mac just seemed so juvenile. So, in true Holly fashion (well, in true Holly Fantasy Study Abroad fashion), I spent the entire day dashing about Paris, staring at Marcel Proust and Oscar Wilde's graves (asking for some help in the inspiration department), and I whipped out this tidbit an hour ago. I hope it's all right. I know it's nothing wonderful, but it reflects what I've been dealing with today, and I actually think it's kind of funny. I hope the professor agrees...
I tried to count, once, how many times you complained. I used my fingers, because I thought keeping a tally in my notepad would be too obvious, and maybe too concrete. One for your feet hurting, two for having to use the bathroom (yet again was what I didn’t say out loud), three was that you have to work over break, and oh man, you have to drive to Springfield to cosign your house lease.
After three, my fingers clenched into fists of their own accord, and I found myself swinging my stiff arms like an upright gorilla. Steam was coming out of my nose, thick as King Kong’s breath on some unsuspecting townsperson’s shoulder.
I huffed and puffed with that pent-up tally as you ordered a crepe. The man swirled the batter deliberately, used his fingers to lift and flip the pancake. While the other side sizzled you dug in your purse for change. One coin short, you moaned about high prices, and I ticked four in my head. I also handed you fifty cents.
Your crepe was warm, but you apparently were not, as we picked our way through the nightlife. Five was tallied walking past a porn shop. I ducked my head stupidly as a woman with big hair and big shoes beckoned us in. The neon lights glittered against puddles in the street, which you hated, hated to walk through. You paused, and I wondered, only half jokingly, if you expected me to offer to carry you across the water. I couldn’t anyway, because one entire hand was already carrying your complaints.
You hit six and seven waiting for the crosswalk to turn pedestrian green. My fingers clawed and jutted against my hips, and I trembled a bit. You get uglier every time you talk. Someday, when you’re not so old, I think your chin will melt against your neck. It’s used to being there as you look down your nose at puddles and people and such. Someday your eyebrows will fuse together in a permanent scowl, and then you won’t have to flex any muscles at all to achieve your favorite expression. I think how happy you’ll be, and then remind myself that you won’t be, of course.
Eight was a beggar who clung to your arm for a few seconds until you shook him off. I’ve sorry, sir, I mouthed, I’ve given my fifty cents away to someone else. I don’t think he understood.
Nine was schoolwork, and ten was me. Me, the dawdler, who couldn’t be bothered to appease beggars or glare at prostitutes or ferry over puddles. You threw ten over her shoulder as you continued on, leaving me out of fingers and gasping on the sidewalk. I felt my jacket shred off my arms, felt the fur burst onto my forehead and nose. I was on all fours behind you, pawing the ground with strong feet. You sashayed away, and I sat back on my haunches and watched you go.
Showing posts with label Worries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Worries. Show all posts
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
In Which Kevin and Perry Force My Hand
I don't know if I can do it, you guys. Maybe Morris has spoiled me too much, or maybe my childhood was too sheltered, or maybe I'm just not the right kind of person. But I don't know if I can be friends with these people.
They're so judgmental, and so unfriendly towards anyone who's even the least bit different.
For example, one guy in our group, Kevin (name has been changed), is a talker, and can be a little obnoxious about it. He doesn't try to be; in fact, I think it's obvious that he means well, and that that he's trying to be impressive and outgoing in order to make friends, but evidently the other people in the group don't see it that way. They mock him constantly. They spent the whole two and a half hour bus ride today baiting him with ridiculous questions, and then video recording his equally ridiculous answers so they could laugh at him later. As we got on the bus for the ride back, there was actually a small argument between two boys over who had to ride next to Kevin. And Kevin was sitting right there.
Later on, I was walking home from the bus stop with a group of kids from my dorm, and they were making fun of yet another guy in our group, Perry, who's from Texas, and is a perfectly nice, friendly person. But evidently he doesn't drink. Evidently he had a glass of wine with dinner tonight, but evidently that wasn't good enough. Evidently a mere glass of wine is grounds for eternal damnation. They were talking about making fun of Sam Houston, or bringing up the loss of the Alamo in front of Perry just to make him angry. (Yes, I will admit that the Sam Houston thing was kind of clever, but definitely not humorous in this context). Furthermore, I happen to know (and they knew as well) that it's Perry's birthday today, and that he's far from home and his friends and family. What kind of people trash talk someone on his birthday? In fact, what kind of people in a study abroad program trash talk other people in the same study abroad program? Aren't we supposed to be in the same boat here? Didn't we come to Salzburg to immerse ourselves in something new, instead of settling back into our middle school bad habits? Aren't we adults now? Aren't we strong and independent and beyond such pettiness?
Anyway, I don't think I exaggerated with the above stories, and I don't think I'll be exaggerating when I say that I'm literally on a precipice: I can either compromise all that I believe about people, and how they do and don't deserve to be treated, or I can spend the next few months being largely shunned by my entire study abroad group. I can either drink myself into a stupor every night at Shamrock's, or I can sit alone in my room with my laptop and Jane Austen.
I'm not a perfect person, and I'm sure I'm not handling this perfectly, but I'm choosing the latters.
I may be lonely sometimes, and I may be homesick sometimes, and I may at times wish that I had chosen a different program with different people, but this is where I am, and this is how I need to be.
Somewhere deep down in the stubbornest part of my being, I know that I can't be anyone else, and that I can't do things any differently.
And I'm not suffering, really I'm not; I have two really great friends here that I can do things with, and there are a few other members of my group whom I would like to get to know better. Salzburg is beautiful, Austria is divine, my German is improving, and classes start tomorrow.
Life is mostly good, as always, and I'm sorry that you have to see the bad parts, dear readers.
Stay gold. I'll be trying.
They're so judgmental, and so unfriendly towards anyone who's even the least bit different.
For example, one guy in our group, Kevin (name has been changed), is a talker, and can be a little obnoxious about it. He doesn't try to be; in fact, I think it's obvious that he means well, and that that he's trying to be impressive and outgoing in order to make friends, but evidently the other people in the group don't see it that way. They mock him constantly. They spent the whole two and a half hour bus ride today baiting him with ridiculous questions, and then video recording his equally ridiculous answers so they could laugh at him later. As we got on the bus for the ride back, there was actually a small argument between two boys over who had to ride next to Kevin. And Kevin was sitting right there.
Later on, I was walking home from the bus stop with a group of kids from my dorm, and they were making fun of yet another guy in our group, Perry, who's from Texas, and is a perfectly nice, friendly person. But evidently he doesn't drink. Evidently he had a glass of wine with dinner tonight, but evidently that wasn't good enough. Evidently a mere glass of wine is grounds for eternal damnation. They were talking about making fun of Sam Houston, or bringing up the loss of the Alamo in front of Perry just to make him angry. (Yes, I will admit that the Sam Houston thing was kind of clever, but definitely not humorous in this context). Furthermore, I happen to know (and they knew as well) that it's Perry's birthday today, and that he's far from home and his friends and family. What kind of people trash talk someone on his birthday? In fact, what kind of people in a study abroad program trash talk other people in the same study abroad program? Aren't we supposed to be in the same boat here? Didn't we come to Salzburg to immerse ourselves in something new, instead of settling back into our middle school bad habits? Aren't we adults now? Aren't we strong and independent and beyond such pettiness?
Anyway, I don't think I exaggerated with the above stories, and I don't think I'll be exaggerating when I say that I'm literally on a precipice: I can either compromise all that I believe about people, and how they do and don't deserve to be treated, or I can spend the next few months being largely shunned by my entire study abroad group. I can either drink myself into a stupor every night at Shamrock's, or I can sit alone in my room with my laptop and Jane Austen.
I'm not a perfect person, and I'm sure I'm not handling this perfectly, but I'm choosing the latters.
I may be lonely sometimes, and I may be homesick sometimes, and I may at times wish that I had chosen a different program with different people, but this is where I am, and this is how I need to be.
Somewhere deep down in the stubbornest part of my being, I know that I can't be anyone else, and that I can't do things any differently.
And I'm not suffering, really I'm not; I have two really great friends here that I can do things with, and there are a few other members of my group whom I would like to get to know better. Salzburg is beautiful, Austria is divine, my German is improving, and classes start tomorrow.
Life is mostly good, as always, and I'm sorry that you have to see the bad parts, dear readers.
Stay gold. I'll be trying.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
You Say It's Your Birthday
It's my birthday too. (That's a Beatles song for all of you sad, lonely, McCartneyless folks).
As always, it doesn't feel like my birthday. I'm twenty-one today. Huh. Interesting. Now please excuse me while I go back to alternating between whining in despair and attempting to cram one more item into my already bulging suitcase.
The one thing I will say about being twenty-one is that it's my last big birthday for a long while. At least until thirty, I'd say. And it's certainly the last birthday truly associated with being a teenager/young adult. After this it will just be another year, ho hum. No more big-deal kid birthdays for me. No more exclamations about how old I'm getting (because after a certain point, of course, such exclamations change from being complimentary to being downright insulting). Pretty soon my birthday cake will no longer be decorated with a candle for every year of my life. There'll be a candle for every five years, every decade. Fire safety comes before Grandma's pride, you know.
I'm afraid I can't say a whole lot about Austria right now because (see above) I still have packing to do, and it's late, and I'm exhausted from my last 4 a.m. shift at Target. I will say that I'm currently fairly frightened, and that I feel like a freshman all over again, and that if I didn't know deep down that I'm going to have a wonderful time, I would probably be cowering under my covers right now (although that still might come later on tonight).
The Wordpress blog is still a no-go. I haven't had the time (nor the patience) today to fiddle with it again, so it'll just have to wait until I'm actually sitting on the streets of Salzburg. Maybe it will work then?
Until then, I'll be journaling, I'll be thinking of you guys, and I'll be twenty-one.
Stay gold.
As always, it doesn't feel like my birthday. I'm twenty-one today. Huh. Interesting. Now please excuse me while I go back to alternating between whining in despair and attempting to cram one more item into my already bulging suitcase.
The one thing I will say about being twenty-one is that it's my last big birthday for a long while. At least until thirty, I'd say. And it's certainly the last birthday truly associated with being a teenager/young adult. After this it will just be another year, ho hum. No more big-deal kid birthdays for me. No more exclamations about how old I'm getting (because after a certain point, of course, such exclamations change from being complimentary to being downright insulting). Pretty soon my birthday cake will no longer be decorated with a candle for every year of my life. There'll be a candle for every five years, every decade. Fire safety comes before Grandma's pride, you know.
I'm afraid I can't say a whole lot about Austria right now because (see above) I still have packing to do, and it's late, and I'm exhausted from my last 4 a.m. shift at Target. I will say that I'm currently fairly frightened, and that I feel like a freshman all over again, and that if I didn't know deep down that I'm going to have a wonderful time, I would probably be cowering under my covers right now (although that still might come later on tonight).
The Wordpress blog is still a no-go. I haven't had the time (nor the patience) today to fiddle with it again, so it'll just have to wait until I'm actually sitting on the streets of Salzburg. Maybe it will work then?
Until then, I'll be journaling, I'll be thinking of you guys, and I'll be twenty-one.
Stay gold.
Monday, July 11, 2011
A Moral Dilemma and Something More Fun
Today has given me a lot to think about. I'm facing sort of a moral dilemma at work. I don't want to say much about it because this is private stuff, but I will say that it's nothing illegal.
It is bad enough, however, that I feel physically sick when I think about it.
And I wonder why in the world people feel entitled to treat other people like dirt.
And I think of that Dumbledore quote about it being harder to stand up to your friends than your enemies.
And I shake my head because I just hate the man sometimes for being so wise.
In other work-related news, the power went out today. And by "the power went out," I mean that as I was coming back from break, the lights flickered and went out. Then on again. Then off. Then on again. Then off. Then they stayed off. Luckily, we have a generator in our store that keeps enough lights on so one can see fairly well in most areas, keeps registers open so guests can still check out, and keeps the food cold and edible (although during outages guests aren't allowed to buy cold/frozen food).
Immediately after the power went out, I grinned. I grinned for an embarrassingly long time, actually. I love it when things like this happen at work. It makes my job so much more exciting.
I stopped grinning when I realized that I was about to start a cashier shift. That I wouldn't get to be in the middle of the action, dashing around the store with the sense of importance I treasure so much. I don't mind cashiering, but I hate that you don't get a walkie when you cashier, that you can't see or hear what's going on, that you're completely isolated and restricted to brushing bras and sunscreen and cat food across a laser with a repetitiveness that gradually becomes almost unbearable.
I like the people, though. I got a full six hours last night, so I was in top form today. Some people were kind of frustrated about the lack of light and the fact that they couldn't buy anything cold or frozen, but most people were willing to joke with me about the situation.
My favorite part about the outage? Walmart's power went out too, but instead of fighting through it and keeping things running like us, they shut down their store, locked the doors, and sat around in the parking lot for 2 hours.
(To their defense, I guess, they don't have a generator.)
(But why don't they have a generator???)
(Silly Walmart. Come to Target instead.)
It is bad enough, however, that I feel physically sick when I think about it.
And I wonder why in the world people feel entitled to treat other people like dirt.
And I think of that Dumbledore quote about it being harder to stand up to your friends than your enemies.
And I shake my head because I just hate the man sometimes for being so wise.
In other work-related news, the power went out today. And by "the power went out," I mean that as I was coming back from break, the lights flickered and went out. Then on again. Then off. Then on again. Then off. Then they stayed off. Luckily, we have a generator in our store that keeps enough lights on so one can see fairly well in most areas, keeps registers open so guests can still check out, and keeps the food cold and edible (although during outages guests aren't allowed to buy cold/frozen food).
Immediately after the power went out, I grinned. I grinned for an embarrassingly long time, actually. I love it when things like this happen at work. It makes my job so much more exciting.
I stopped grinning when I realized that I was about to start a cashier shift. That I wouldn't get to be in the middle of the action, dashing around the store with the sense of importance I treasure so much. I don't mind cashiering, but I hate that you don't get a walkie when you cashier, that you can't see or hear what's going on, that you're completely isolated and restricted to brushing bras and sunscreen and cat food across a laser with a repetitiveness that gradually becomes almost unbearable.
I like the people, though. I got a full six hours last night, so I was in top form today. Some people were kind of frustrated about the lack of light and the fact that they couldn't buy anything cold or frozen, but most people were willing to joke with me about the situation.
My favorite part about the outage? Walmart's power went out too, but instead of fighting through it and keeping things running like us, they shut down their store, locked the doors, and sat around in the parking lot for 2 hours.
(To their defense, I guess, they don't have a generator.)
(But why don't they have a generator???)
(Silly Walmart. Come to Target instead.)
Friday, July 1, 2011
I Need Some Sleep, Part 3
Possible reasons for my current insomnia:
1. My blanket is too short. It's the perfect weight for 80 degree, albeit air-conditioned, fanned circumstances, but it's too short. My grandma had it made for me when I was a baby, and while I'm sure it was quite adequate back then, it's not entirely suitable for a 5'10" 20-year-old who can only sleep sprawled out like a drunken sailor.
2. Aforementioned fan is bothering me. Whenever I close my eyes I find myself waiting for the fan to oscillate until it's blowing in my face. The fan haunts my thoughts. It's blowing on my desk chair...now my dresser...now my feet...now my face...now my nightstand...now back to my face. And yet, I can't sleep without the darn fan. It's a cruel, cruel situation.
3. I keep thinking of my plans for today. And boy, do I have plans. Strawberry picking with Mom, strawberry jam making with Mom, cleaning my bathroom, cleaning my room, doing laundry, mowing around the trees (that's right; my mother is officially taking advantage of my newly-discovered mowing finesse), working out, reading more Hemingway, attempting to add some color to my translucent skin, feeling guilty about raising my chances of getting skin cancer in 25 years, watching Whale Wars (and wondering, for the zillionth time, how much of the show is legal, and how it even gets broadcasted considering all of the clearly illegal content. Possibly because it's only broadcasted AFTER the fact? Does that make a difference? I think so. I think so. Will look into this.).
It's a full life I lead.
4. I have a mosquito bite. On my cheek.
5. It's July 1st. Is the entire state shut down?
6. Austria. I'm worried about money, my friends. Especially considering the exchange rate. Especially considering that payroll is down at Target, due to nearby road construction. Especially considering that payroll will likely continue to be down for quite a while, as the state shutdown will postpone said road construction indefinitely.
7. I should brush up on my German. I will be so very disappointed in myself if I get to Austria and end up doing poorly on the German placement test and thus end up back in Beginning German. But it's difficult to study by myself, out of a textbook. To quiz myself by myself, out of a textbook. I don't know how Laura Ingalls Wilder did it.
That's it, I'm giving up. I'm getting up.
1. My blanket is too short. It's the perfect weight for 80 degree, albeit air-conditioned, fanned circumstances, but it's too short. My grandma had it made for me when I was a baby, and while I'm sure it was quite adequate back then, it's not entirely suitable for a 5'10" 20-year-old who can only sleep sprawled out like a drunken sailor.
2. Aforementioned fan is bothering me. Whenever I close my eyes I find myself waiting for the fan to oscillate until it's blowing in my face. The fan haunts my thoughts. It's blowing on my desk chair...now my dresser...now my feet...now my face...now my nightstand...now back to my face. And yet, I can't sleep without the darn fan. It's a cruel, cruel situation.
3. I keep thinking of my plans for today. And boy, do I have plans. Strawberry picking with Mom, strawberry jam making with Mom, cleaning my bathroom, cleaning my room, doing laundry, mowing around the trees (that's right; my mother is officially taking advantage of my newly-discovered mowing finesse), working out, reading more Hemingway, attempting to add some color to my translucent skin, feeling guilty about raising my chances of getting skin cancer in 25 years, watching Whale Wars (and wondering, for the zillionth time, how much of the show is legal, and how it even gets broadcasted considering all of the clearly illegal content. Possibly because it's only broadcasted AFTER the fact? Does that make a difference? I think so. I think so. Will look into this.).
It's a full life I lead.
4. I have a mosquito bite. On my cheek.
5. It's July 1st. Is the entire state shut down?
6. Austria. I'm worried about money, my friends. Especially considering the exchange rate. Especially considering that payroll is down at Target, due to nearby road construction. Especially considering that payroll will likely continue to be down for quite a while, as the state shutdown will postpone said road construction indefinitely.
7. I should brush up on my German. I will be so very disappointed in myself if I get to Austria and end up doing poorly on the German placement test and thus end up back in Beginning German. But it's difficult to study by myself, out of a textbook. To quiz myself by myself, out of a textbook. I don't know how Laura Ingalls Wilder did it.
That's it, I'm giving up. I'm getting up.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
One and a Half Naps, and Then a Revelation
A warning before I begin: This will probably be a very personal post. And not that people who don't know me really read this blog anyway, but if you don't know me, maybe you should stop now. That's not an order, as this is the internet, (and therefore anything I post here is pretty much fair game) but it is a suggestion.
I was about to take a nap just now. I finished reading Paper Towns (magnificent) on the couch in the sun room, and then I started to doze off. The thing is, my left earring was pressing into my skull, and I was still wearing my Target red and khaki, and I was worried about the dog sneaking over while I slept and eating the pear core I had laying on the rug beside me and getting sick and dying or something while I slept on like a masochistic infant. So I abandoned the couch, locked the dog in the kitchen, threw away the core, changed into sweats, and got into bed.
I was so tired that I didn't even bother to set my cell phone alarm (I usually do when I take naps or else I will pretty much sleep for the next 2 days). I was so tired that when my knee nudged against paper under the covers, and when I remembered that the paper was the Sunday crossword that I had hidden from my sister this morning (Sunday crosswords are sacred to me, and she has bad handwriting. Don't tell her I said that.), I didn't even bother to set the paper on my nightstand. I decided to sleep with it nudged against my knee.
The thing was, as I was drifting off to sleep for the second time, I started to think about the guy I like (Don't be scared; I'm not going to go middle school on you. Promise). I was thinking about how cute he is, and how smart, and how funny, and I was imagining us hanging out together. And then I started to worry, the way I often do when I think about a guy that I like (and I don't think I'm alone in this). I started to wonder why he would ever like me. I'm not a supermodel, I'm not outgoing, I'm not bubbly, I'm not chill or calm or neutral, I have a big nose, sometimes I can be a major space cadet, I can't dance, I'm not graceful in any way, and I make mistakes constantly. Why would he ever, ever like me back, I thought.
And then, suddenly, like someone was shouting it in my ear, I heard this:
You're perfect.
I'm perfect.
The more I thought about this, the more of a revelation it became. I actually started crying, and as I stared at my turquoise bedroom wall, black mascara tears on my cheeks, I realized that I am perfect. That someone (namely, God) took the time to make me the way I am. He didn't make one mistake with me. He didn't make one mistake with anyone. Every bit of me, inside and out, is deliberate. Everything I am has a purpose, and everything I strive to be will only add clarity to that purpose.
And while I generally view myself as a pretty confidant person, I don't know if I really am. I think in the past, when I've embraced myself, I've done it one-handedly; I've left the flaws out. I haven't liked to think about them much because they're flaws. They're bad. But now I don't know if I believe in the flaws at all. They're really only bits of sin and lint and doubt that I've created for myself, that I've let hang around me because, well, this is Earth and I am human. And I wanted that crossword for myself, darn it!
Do you see yet? As a being I am perfect because, lucky me, I was made in God's image (that's right, I'm one of those). As a human, things get a little shady. But these things shouldn't stop me. If I create the shade, then surely I can be the one to wave it away. I know that I can't save myself completely without help, but I also know that I can save myself a little bit just by realizing how lovely the essence of me really is. (P.S. Your essence is quite beautiful as well).
I think I went around in a circle, you guys. I don't know if I ended up where I intended to, or if you were able to follow my tracks, or if I even left clear enough tracks to follow. I hope I did. I also hope that I didn't come off as some sort of motivational speaker. (There's that self-doubt again. Hello.) I didn't mean to. I just tried to take a nap about a half hour ago, and ended up not wanting to sleep after all. I hope you understand why.
I was about to take a nap just now. I finished reading Paper Towns (magnificent) on the couch in the sun room, and then I started to doze off. The thing is, my left earring was pressing into my skull, and I was still wearing my Target red and khaki, and I was worried about the dog sneaking over while I slept and eating the pear core I had laying on the rug beside me and getting sick and dying or something while I slept on like a masochistic infant. So I abandoned the couch, locked the dog in the kitchen, threw away the core, changed into sweats, and got into bed.
I was so tired that I didn't even bother to set my cell phone alarm (I usually do when I take naps or else I will pretty much sleep for the next 2 days). I was so tired that when my knee nudged against paper under the covers, and when I remembered that the paper was the Sunday crossword that I had hidden from my sister this morning (Sunday crosswords are sacred to me, and she has bad handwriting. Don't tell her I said that.), I didn't even bother to set the paper on my nightstand. I decided to sleep with it nudged against my knee.
The thing was, as I was drifting off to sleep for the second time, I started to think about the guy I like (Don't be scared; I'm not going to go middle school on you. Promise). I was thinking about how cute he is, and how smart, and how funny, and I was imagining us hanging out together. And then I started to worry, the way I often do when I think about a guy that I like (and I don't think I'm alone in this). I started to wonder why he would ever like me. I'm not a supermodel, I'm not outgoing, I'm not bubbly, I'm not chill or calm or neutral, I have a big nose, sometimes I can be a major space cadet, I can't dance, I'm not graceful in any way, and I make mistakes constantly. Why would he ever, ever like me back, I thought.
And then, suddenly, like someone was shouting it in my ear, I heard this:
You're perfect.
I'm perfect.
The more I thought about this, the more of a revelation it became. I actually started crying, and as I stared at my turquoise bedroom wall, black mascara tears on my cheeks, I realized that I am perfect. That someone (namely, God) took the time to make me the way I am. He didn't make one mistake with me. He didn't make one mistake with anyone. Every bit of me, inside and out, is deliberate. Everything I am has a purpose, and everything I strive to be will only add clarity to that purpose.
And while I generally view myself as a pretty confidant person, I don't know if I really am. I think in the past, when I've embraced myself, I've done it one-handedly; I've left the flaws out. I haven't liked to think about them much because they're flaws. They're bad. But now I don't know if I believe in the flaws at all. They're really only bits of sin and lint and doubt that I've created for myself, that I've let hang around me because, well, this is Earth and I am human. And I wanted that crossword for myself, darn it!
Do you see yet? As a being I am perfect because, lucky me, I was made in God's image (that's right, I'm one of those). As a human, things get a little shady. But these things shouldn't stop me. If I create the shade, then surely I can be the one to wave it away. I know that I can't save myself completely without help, but I also know that I can save myself a little bit just by realizing how lovely the essence of me really is. (P.S. Your essence is quite beautiful as well).
I think I went around in a circle, you guys. I don't know if I ended up where I intended to, or if you were able to follow my tracks, or if I even left clear enough tracks to follow. I hope I did. I also hope that I didn't come off as some sort of motivational speaker. (There's that self-doubt again. Hello.) I didn't mean to. I just tried to take a nap about a half hour ago, and ended up not wanting to sleep after all. I hope you understand why.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
A Downer Day
It's been a downer day for me.
In order to write last night's brilliant post (you can chuckle at this. I am.), I had to sacrifice quite a bit of sleep.
Lack of sleep meant that I was pretty much a space cadet the entire time I was at work.
I bumbled around stupidly.
I punched in when I wasn't supposed to.
I banged my arm against a shelf (bruise is appearing slowly but surely).
And last but not least, I somehow thought that I worked 8-4. It was 3:00 when I finally figured out that I was actually only supposed to work until noon.
On the way home I stopped at the library. Libraries usually cheer me up, but somehow, it didn't work today. I got 8 books, but only 1 that I really want to read. Outside of the library, there was a big construction zone where they were tearing up part of the sidewalk. I'm tired of construction. It seems like all of Forest Lake is one big "CONSTRUCTION GOING ON, PLEASE TAKE DETOUR." I'm tired of detours. I don't care what anyone says, roundabouts are not all they're cracked up to be. I have yielding issues.
Now I'm sitting in bed dragging myself down slowly but surely (mentally bruising??? (see above)). It's a sad sad thing to be doing on a Tuesday night, but when I'm in a funk like this there's not much of an escape. I worked on my Press article for a while, but it started to give me a headache; council meeting coverage not only requires an annoying amount of precision, but it's also kind of boring. Don't tell anyone I said that.
I guess I can read, but I'm currently stuck in the middle of "The Handmaid's Tale." This book disappoints me. I'll probably explain why once I've finished.
Sorry for lack of eloquence, optimism, excitement, etc. I'll try to be up to snuff tomorrow.
In order to write last night's brilliant post (you can chuckle at this. I am.), I had to sacrifice quite a bit of sleep.
Lack of sleep meant that I was pretty much a space cadet the entire time I was at work.
I bumbled around stupidly.
I punched in when I wasn't supposed to.
I banged my arm against a shelf (bruise is appearing slowly but surely).
And last but not least, I somehow thought that I worked 8-4. It was 3:00 when I finally figured out that I was actually only supposed to work until noon.
On the way home I stopped at the library. Libraries usually cheer me up, but somehow, it didn't work today. I got 8 books, but only 1 that I really want to read. Outside of the library, there was a big construction zone where they were tearing up part of the sidewalk. I'm tired of construction. It seems like all of Forest Lake is one big "CONSTRUCTION GOING ON, PLEASE TAKE DETOUR." I'm tired of detours. I don't care what anyone says, roundabouts are not all they're cracked up to be. I have yielding issues.
Now I'm sitting in bed dragging myself down slowly but surely (mentally bruising??? (see above)). It's a sad sad thing to be doing on a Tuesday night, but when I'm in a funk like this there's not much of an escape. I worked on my Press article for a while, but it started to give me a headache; council meeting coverage not only requires an annoying amount of precision, but it's also kind of boring. Don't tell anyone I said that.
I guess I can read, but I'm currently stuck in the middle of "The Handmaid's Tale." This book disappoints me. I'll probably explain why once I've finished.
Sorry for lack of eloquence, optimism, excitement, etc. I'll try to be up to snuff tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Speech Revisited
I was tabling for the Rally to Restore Affordability today, when Josh, who heads the committee responsible for organizing the event, asked me to give a speech at the Rally Before the Rally tonight.
Before I continue, here's some vocabulary for you:
Rally to Restore Affordability-An annual event that takes place at the MN Capital. Students from all U of MNs are bused in, and get a chance to not only listen to speeches given by their state congressmen and senators, but to actually speak to their legislators one on one. The goal is to let the Minnesota government know that U of MN students will not stand for budget cuts (which lead to higher tuition, cut programs, etc.).
Rally Before the Rally-Took place in Turtle Mountain Cafe at 6 p.m. tonight. The idea was to convince students (by informing them and prompting discussion about why we love UMM) to attend the Rally to Restore Affordability.
Anyway...
You remember that I was in Speech, right? And that I went to State my senior year? (I'm not bragging, I promise. These are informational points.)
Well let me just say that part of the reason I loved Speech (and did fairly well in it) was because I could PREPARE. I had time to research, to write, to memorize.
I am not a good impromptu speaker at all. Never have been, never will be.
So when Josh asked me if I would give a speech in 4 hours, when I realized that that entire 4 hours was already filled with class and work, I became very, very nervous. Luckily the Writing Room was slow enough that I had time to write some notes down, and even to practice a little bit.
Still, though, when I walked up to that podium I was shaking in my shoes. I started off, characteristically, by squeaking the microphone so loudly that everyone in the room screamed. Then I actually started to speak. I talked, firstly, about the basics of The Rally to Restore Affordability. The date, time, what it is, etc. Next, I decided to share my own experiences with the event. I talked about last year, when the event was cancelled because of a snowstorm, and I was secretly relieved because I was scared to death to meet my legislators. I talked about how I didn't feel that I, an ill-informed, hardly political English Major would have anything to say to them. Then I talked about this year, and how I've realized that The Rally is not about politics. The Rally is about students fighting for their U of MN experience. It's about us sharing with our legislators the things we value about our education, and asking them not to take those things away from us through budget cuts. It's not only our right to hold this Rally, it's our responsibility.
When I finished, I walked back to my seat and sat down to listen to the Chancellor.
After she finished speaking, I got with a group of strangers and we discussed the reasons why we had chosen to come to UMM.
After that, I helped to tear down posters, and move tables back into place.
After that, the Chancellor of UMM (whom I've never met, but have always admired), came up to me and said that I had done a wonderful job with my speech, and that I was a great speaker. After that, Josh told me that I had wiped the floor with them (which I translated to mean good job). After that, Mike (president of MCSA) complimented me as well.
After that, I walked back to my dorm smiling.
Before I continue, here's some vocabulary for you:
Rally to Restore Affordability-An annual event that takes place at the MN Capital. Students from all U of MNs are bused in, and get a chance to not only listen to speeches given by their state congressmen and senators, but to actually speak to their legislators one on one. The goal is to let the Minnesota government know that U of MN students will not stand for budget cuts (which lead to higher tuition, cut programs, etc.).
Rally Before the Rally-Took place in Turtle Mountain Cafe at 6 p.m. tonight. The idea was to convince students (by informing them and prompting discussion about why we love UMM) to attend the Rally to Restore Affordability.
Anyway...
You remember that I was in Speech, right? And that I went to State my senior year? (I'm not bragging, I promise. These are informational points.)
Well let me just say that part of the reason I loved Speech (and did fairly well in it) was because I could PREPARE. I had time to research, to write, to memorize.
I am not a good impromptu speaker at all. Never have been, never will be.
So when Josh asked me if I would give a speech in 4 hours, when I realized that that entire 4 hours was already filled with class and work, I became very, very nervous. Luckily the Writing Room was slow enough that I had time to write some notes down, and even to practice a little bit.
Still, though, when I walked up to that podium I was shaking in my shoes. I started off, characteristically, by squeaking the microphone so loudly that everyone in the room screamed. Then I actually started to speak. I talked, firstly, about the basics of The Rally to Restore Affordability. The date, time, what it is, etc. Next, I decided to share my own experiences with the event. I talked about last year, when the event was cancelled because of a snowstorm, and I was secretly relieved because I was scared to death to meet my legislators. I talked about how I didn't feel that I, an ill-informed, hardly political English Major would have anything to say to them. Then I talked about this year, and how I've realized that The Rally is not about politics. The Rally is about students fighting for their U of MN experience. It's about us sharing with our legislators the things we value about our education, and asking them not to take those things away from us through budget cuts. It's not only our right to hold this Rally, it's our responsibility.
When I finished, I walked back to my seat and sat down to listen to the Chancellor.
After she finished speaking, I got with a group of strangers and we discussed the reasons why we had chosen to come to UMM.
After that, I helped to tear down posters, and move tables back into place.
After that, the Chancellor of UMM (whom I've never met, but have always admired), came up to me and said that I had done a wonderful job with my speech, and that I was a great speaker. After that, Josh told me that I had wiped the floor with them (which I translated to mean good job). After that, Mike (president of MCSA) complimented me as well.
After that, I walked back to my dorm smiling.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Finals Week, Part II
I'm on a study break. I tried to do an hour of straight memorizing American writers and their works and the terms that describe their works, and I barely made it.
It's only the first day of Finals Week, and my brain hurts.
Maybe because I spent all weekend (literally) trying to make a thesis based on an essay we read in Honors, based on one of the paper topics provided. It kept not working and not working until I finally realized that it was not going to work. So, I switched topics. At 2 a.m. this morning. Wrote until 5. Woke up at 10. Wrote until 3:30. Turned the paper in about fifteen minutes before it was due. And it was probably the worst paper I've ever written. Not for lack of effort, but because I didn't have time to make it good.
That's the worst thing about this semester, I think. I'm trying so hard but my grades still aren't where I'd like them to be because I don't have time to focus on one subject or one paper or one reading for very long; the others start calling to me before I have a chance to even sit and consider.
Now my brain hurts and I don't think I can spend much more time with this American Lit. stuff I'm currently doing.
But okay. Here's the plan:
Tonight: Finish typing up study guide for Am. Lit. Study study guide.
Tomorrow: German final 11-1, study Am. Litl, Am. Lit. final 4-6, Work on Understanding Writing paper, Writing Room work 7-7:30, Info. Desk work 8-10, Finish Understanding Writing paper
Wednesday: Social Science work 9:30-11:30, Think of an idea for/research/write Icelandic Sagas paper. All day. Get 'er done. Info. Desk work 6-8. Finish Icelandic Sagas paper. Preferably before 3 a.m.
Thursday: You're not done with Icelandic Sagas? You've got to be kidding me, Hol...well...you have until 4:30. WRITE. After 4:30, take a few cleansing breaths, collapse limply on bed, then get up and start packing. 7:30 Mom arrives. Load car. Go home. Sleep until Saturday.
It's 10:14. 4 minutes past my alloted break time. Must go.
It's only the first day of Finals Week, and my brain hurts.
Maybe because I spent all weekend (literally) trying to make a thesis based on an essay we read in Honors, based on one of the paper topics provided. It kept not working and not working until I finally realized that it was not going to work. So, I switched topics. At 2 a.m. this morning. Wrote until 5. Woke up at 10. Wrote until 3:30. Turned the paper in about fifteen minutes before it was due. And it was probably the worst paper I've ever written. Not for lack of effort, but because I didn't have time to make it good.
That's the worst thing about this semester, I think. I'm trying so hard but my grades still aren't where I'd like them to be because I don't have time to focus on one subject or one paper or one reading for very long; the others start calling to me before I have a chance to even sit and consider.
Now my brain hurts and I don't think I can spend much more time with this American Lit. stuff I'm currently doing.
But okay. Here's the plan:
Tonight: Finish typing up study guide for Am. Lit. Study study guide.
Tomorrow: German final 11-1, study Am. Litl, Am. Lit. final 4-6, Work on Understanding Writing paper, Writing Room work 7-7:30, Info. Desk work 8-10, Finish Understanding Writing paper
Wednesday: Social Science work 9:30-11:30, Think of an idea for/research/write Icelandic Sagas paper. All day. Get 'er done. Info. Desk work 6-8. Finish Icelandic Sagas paper. Preferably before 3 a.m.
Thursday: You're not done with Icelandic Sagas? You've got to be kidding me, Hol...well...you have until 4:30. WRITE. After 4:30, take a few cleansing breaths, collapse limply on bed, then get up and start packing. 7:30 Mom arrives. Load car. Go home. Sleep until Saturday.
It's 10:14. 4 minutes past my alloted break time. Must go.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Another 2 a.m. Paper
Why do I do this to myself?
Why am I sitting here at 2:02 a.m. typing a 5 page research paper draft that's due tomorrow?
I've had weeks to work on the thing.
I've done pretty much zero research.
I've spent minimum time thinking about my topic (not that it's uninteresting).
The result of this lack of diligence?
Tomorrow, I will doubtlessly be turning in a draft that consists of me vomiting out my opinions on my topic.
It will a be a research-less research paper draft.
Of course, I will have b.s.-ed in my cover letter.
Something like, "I felt it was best to use my draft to discover what I think about my topic, and then implement my research later on."
My writing professor, being an extremely sharp person, will certainly see through said b.s.
Darn it.
You just can't win at 2:06 a.m. 2:07 is looking bright, though...
Anyway, said procrastination was actually not entirely procrastination. Most of it was actually lack of time to work on something long term. It's hard, you know, to make time for a paper that's due in a few weeks when you have a German test tomorrow, and an Honors paper due on Monday, and a 400 page novel to read in six days.
Plus I have work. Lots of work. Information Desk, Writing Room, Social Science Office.
And then there's writing an article a week for the campus newspaper, MCSA meetings, and various campus events.
Also social things. I need to have a life. I'm not one of those people who can just shut themselves off from everyone for a week on end. If I don't have time where I can hang out with my friends and not worry about anything else, I go crazy. Certifiable.
You know, it's suddenly striking me that I've had a lot of negative posts lately. I'm sorry. My life is by no means negative.
For example, today I had my first three intramural badminton matches. I'm afraid I lost all three, but they were all certainly interesting. Badminton has never struck me as a very intense sport, but let me tell you that I was absolutely drenched in sweat by the time I was done. I was also pretty sore; as you know, I'm not a coordinated person, so I was tripping over my own feet and getting my legs tangled and doing awkward lunge-type moves in pursuit of that darn birdie.
Overall, though (and here's the happy part at last), I had a lot of fun. I've always enjoyed playing sports, even though I'm by no means a great athlete. Next time, however, I'd like to win a little bit.
Why am I sitting here at 2:02 a.m. typing a 5 page research paper draft that's due tomorrow?
I've had weeks to work on the thing.
I've done pretty much zero research.
I've spent minimum time thinking about my topic (not that it's uninteresting).
The result of this lack of diligence?
Tomorrow, I will doubtlessly be turning in a draft that consists of me vomiting out my opinions on my topic.
It will a be a research-less research paper draft.
Of course, I will have b.s.-ed in my cover letter.
Something like, "I felt it was best to use my draft to discover what I think about my topic, and then implement my research later on."
My writing professor, being an extremely sharp person, will certainly see through said b.s.
Darn it.
You just can't win at 2:06 a.m. 2:07 is looking bright, though...
Anyway, said procrastination was actually not entirely procrastination. Most of it was actually lack of time to work on something long term. It's hard, you know, to make time for a paper that's due in a few weeks when you have a German test tomorrow, and an Honors paper due on Monday, and a 400 page novel to read in six days.
Plus I have work. Lots of work. Information Desk, Writing Room, Social Science Office.
And then there's writing an article a week for the campus newspaper, MCSA meetings, and various campus events.
Also social things. I need to have a life. I'm not one of those people who can just shut themselves off from everyone for a week on end. If I don't have time where I can hang out with my friends and not worry about anything else, I go crazy. Certifiable.
You know, it's suddenly striking me that I've had a lot of negative posts lately. I'm sorry. My life is by no means negative.
For example, today I had my first three intramural badminton matches. I'm afraid I lost all three, but they were all certainly interesting. Badminton has never struck me as a very intense sport, but let me tell you that I was absolutely drenched in sweat by the time I was done. I was also pretty sore; as you know, I'm not a coordinated person, so I was tripping over my own feet and getting my legs tangled and doing awkward lunge-type moves in pursuit of that darn birdie.
Overall, though (and here's the happy part at last), I had a lot of fun. I've always enjoyed playing sports, even though I'm by no means a great athlete. Next time, however, I'd like to win a little bit.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
A Disparaging Day
I'm feeling a little beaten down by college right now.
Got my Honors essay back today with an A-, but also with comments labeling it as "smart, well observed, and unusually well-written," but also as "superficial, unconnected, and undeveloped."
Truthfully, I've been getting comments such as these on a lot of essays lately. My writing is great, my style is wonderful, but apparently there's not much behind it.
This is obviously extremely troubling for me-to have professors think that I can write pretty, but that I'm ultimately uninsightful and unable to make strong arguments.
I had a bit of a breakdown after Honors, needless to say.
Crying unabashedly, I walked through campus, down behind Spooner and Gay and the Science Building, until I finally realized that I had nowhere to go. In the end I would just have to turn around and head back to the library to make things right.
College can be a surprisingly lonely place sometimes; your friends can sympathize, but in the end they have their own studying to do. Your parents aren't there to tell you that everything is going to be okay, and that when you wake up in the morning your problems will have worked themselves out. In college, you have to work your own problems out before bed. You have to be independent, and you have to bounce back from things whether you want to or not. You always have to try harder next time. You have to write two papers and study for a test in one weekend, because you have no other choice. Because you did have a choice; you chose to pursue higher education. You're paying for your classes. You wanted to be here.
And so I'm trying very hard not to let the A- and disparaging comments get to me too much. I have miles to go before I sleep, and I don't intend to waste time dwelling, unless said dwelling will help me to write a better paper.
Goodnight, blog readers. May your struggles lead to triumphs, and may you find a secluded park bench on which to sit and think whenever you are in need of one.
Got my Honors essay back today with an A-, but also with comments labeling it as "smart, well observed, and unusually well-written," but also as "superficial, unconnected, and undeveloped."
Truthfully, I've been getting comments such as these on a lot of essays lately. My writing is great, my style is wonderful, but apparently there's not much behind it.
This is obviously extremely troubling for me-to have professors think that I can write pretty, but that I'm ultimately uninsightful and unable to make strong arguments.
I had a bit of a breakdown after Honors, needless to say.
Crying unabashedly, I walked through campus, down behind Spooner and Gay and the Science Building, until I finally realized that I had nowhere to go. In the end I would just have to turn around and head back to the library to make things right.
College can be a surprisingly lonely place sometimes; your friends can sympathize, but in the end they have their own studying to do. Your parents aren't there to tell you that everything is going to be okay, and that when you wake up in the morning your problems will have worked themselves out. In college, you have to work your own problems out before bed. You have to be independent, and you have to bounce back from things whether you want to or not. You always have to try harder next time. You have to write two papers and study for a test in one weekend, because you have no other choice. Because you did have a choice; you chose to pursue higher education. You're paying for your classes. You wanted to be here.
And so I'm trying very hard not to let the A- and disparaging comments get to me too much. I have miles to go before I sleep, and I don't intend to waste time dwelling, unless said dwelling will help me to write a better paper.
Goodnight, blog readers. May your struggles lead to triumphs, and may you find a secluded park bench on which to sit and think whenever you are in need of one.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Stress Levels High
Here's what I have to do:
1. Study for a German test on Friday
2. Begin researching/writing my 10+ page Understanding Writing research paper
3. Write a paper for Icelandic Sagas (4 pages, due next Friday)
4. Write a paper for Honors: Traditions in Human Thought (5 pages, due next Friday)
5. Figure out topics for the above 3 papers
6. Give blood tomorrow
7. Work tonight, tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday
8. Do laundry
9. Get my Mac fixed once and for all
10. Study for American Literature Midterm next Friday
11. Finish reading Atonement (pleasure)
12. Sign up for Intramural badminton
13. Sign up for Big Friend/Little Friend?
14. Become a superhero so that all the above tasks can be successfully completed.
1. Study for a German test on Friday
2. Begin researching/writing my 10+ page Understanding Writing research paper
3. Write a paper for Icelandic Sagas (4 pages, due next Friday)
4. Write a paper for Honors: Traditions in Human Thought (5 pages, due next Friday)
5. Figure out topics for the above 3 papers
6. Give blood tomorrow
7. Work tonight, tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday
8. Do laundry
9. Get my Mac fixed once and for all
10. Study for American Literature Midterm next Friday
11. Finish reading Atonement (pleasure)
12. Sign up for Intramural badminton
13. Sign up for Big Friend/Little Friend?
14. Become a superhero so that all the above tasks can be successfully completed.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Like a City Upon a Hill
I know, I know-I've done it again. A couple of long, dramatic posts in a row, and then I didn't get back to you with the resolution!
By now, though, it seems kind of silly to explain to you how amazing Orientation was, what a good time I had with my group, and how I look forward to bumping into them around campus and seeing what they get involved in and how their freshman year goes.
Nah.
That's old news by now.
The new news is that I had my first day of classes today.
All of them were amazing.
I'm especially excited about my Icelandic Sagas Honors class. There are only about 13 people in it, so it's going to be a great discussion class. It's also interdisciplinary, so it's taught from an English-y perspective by an English professor, and a science-y perspective by a science professor.
I'll admit that there was a point when I almost had a meltdown thinking about all the studying I'm going to have to do this semester. I'm taking 17 credits for goodness' sake! Plus three jobs! What was I thinking, you guys? Why didn't you stop me?
Oh, well. All of my classes are going to be interesting and thought-provoking, and all of my jobs are educational (as well as financially reassuring).
I think it's worth it to be super busy if I can do all the things I want to do.
I'm also cutting down on my activities this year; I'm mainly focusing on MCSA (student government) and intramurals.
Okay...I should get back to my American Lit. reading now. It's an essay/sermon by John Winthrop, and let me tell you that while I love the guy to pieces, his writings are an absolute pain to read. I wonder if his fellow Puritans struggled as well?
By now, though, it seems kind of silly to explain to you how amazing Orientation was, what a good time I had with my group, and how I look forward to bumping into them around campus and seeing what they get involved in and how their freshman year goes.
Nah.
That's old news by now.
The new news is that I had my first day of classes today.
All of them were amazing.
I'm especially excited about my Icelandic Sagas Honors class. There are only about 13 people in it, so it's going to be a great discussion class. It's also interdisciplinary, so it's taught from an English-y perspective by an English professor, and a science-y perspective by a science professor.
I'll admit that there was a point when I almost had a meltdown thinking about all the studying I'm going to have to do this semester. I'm taking 17 credits for goodness' sake! Plus three jobs! What was I thinking, you guys? Why didn't you stop me?
Oh, well. All of my classes are going to be interesting and thought-provoking, and all of my jobs are educational (as well as financially reassuring).
I think it's worth it to be super busy if I can do all the things I want to do.
I'm also cutting down on my activities this year; I'm mainly focusing on MCSA (student government) and intramurals.
Okay...I should get back to my American Lit. reading now. It's an essay/sermon by John Winthrop, and let me tell you that while I love the guy to pieces, his writings are an absolute pain to read. I wonder if his fellow Puritans struggled as well?
Saturday, August 21, 2010
It Concerns Me
Now that I've finished all the tasks I outlined in my last post, I have time to sit and actually think about tomorrow. And this thinking has led to some unsettling thoughts.
I'm not nervous about being an OGL, exactly; my stomach isn't fluttery or anything. I'm just suddenly a little anxious. I did Link Crew for two years in high school, but I think that being an OGL is completely different. For one thing, my Orientation group is a group of adults. Literally. They're 18. They're older, they're (hopefully) more mature, and they're out on their own for probably the first time in their lives.
The biggest difference between college freshman and high school freshman is the level of independence. I cannot make my Orientation group stay. They can leave whenever they want, and Mrs. Johnson will not be waiting in the hallway to escort them back in.
In other words, unless I somehow make a huge impact on them tomorrow, unless I find a way to show them that it's worth it to stay with the group, they're gone.
Hopefully I find a way to do the above things, because I really believe that Orientation is an essential part of the freshman experience. Not only does it give you a ton of important information, but it gives you a chance to bond with people who are not on your floor. It gives you a whole additional group of people to say hi to on the sidewalks, and to sit by in Food Service (excuse me: The Dining Hall). It provides a support group that is entirely unique in that it is probably the first support group you encounter upon moving in. Orientation is the first impression most freshman will get at Morris, and so it's crucial that it's a good one.
Admittedly, I didn't love waking up early for three days to meet up with my Orientation group, and it was a little awkward because I felt like all the kids were friends and I was kind of on the outside. Luckily, though, I had a great OGL who really tried hard to make everyone feel comfortable, and who I continued to see around campus all of freshman year.
I'm going to do my best starting tomorrow to make everyone feel at home, and I even feel like I have a bit of an edge because I was a freshman last year, and I remember exactly what it felt like to be thrust headfirst into something like Orientation.
If all else fails?
I bought a bunch of candy at Willie's. A little bribe never hurts.
I'm not nervous about being an OGL, exactly; my stomach isn't fluttery or anything. I'm just suddenly a little anxious. I did Link Crew for two years in high school, but I think that being an OGL is completely different. For one thing, my Orientation group is a group of adults. Literally. They're 18. They're older, they're (hopefully) more mature, and they're out on their own for probably the first time in their lives.
The biggest difference between college freshman and high school freshman is the level of independence. I cannot make my Orientation group stay. They can leave whenever they want, and Mrs. Johnson will not be waiting in the hallway to escort them back in.
In other words, unless I somehow make a huge impact on them tomorrow, unless I find a way to show them that it's worth it to stay with the group, they're gone.
Hopefully I find a way to do the above things, because I really believe that Orientation is an essential part of the freshman experience. Not only does it give you a ton of important information, but it gives you a chance to bond with people who are not on your floor. It gives you a whole additional group of people to say hi to on the sidewalks, and to sit by in Food Service (excuse me: The Dining Hall). It provides a support group that is entirely unique in that it is probably the first support group you encounter upon moving in. Orientation is the first impression most freshman will get at Morris, and so it's crucial that it's a good one.
Admittedly, I didn't love waking up early for three days to meet up with my Orientation group, and it was a little awkward because I felt like all the kids were friends and I was kind of on the outside. Luckily, though, I had a great OGL who really tried hard to make everyone feel comfortable, and who I continued to see around campus all of freshman year.
I'm going to do my best starting tomorrow to make everyone feel at home, and I even feel like I have a bit of an edge because I was a freshman last year, and I remember exactly what it felt like to be thrust headfirst into something like Orientation.
If all else fails?
I bought a bunch of candy at Willie's. A little bribe never hurts.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Mid August Slump
I think I'm in a slump. A horrible, stressful, don't-feel-like-writing-for-no-apparent-reason slump. And I need to get out fast.
Not only because my August firstlinefiction story is due in a little over two weeks, but because I don't especially like myself when I'm not writing. No, it's worse than that. I don't even feel like myself.
Finishing Going Bovine last night only contributed to my overall slumpiness. Not because it was a bad book, but because it was so completely wonderful that I felt my own talents shrivel in comparison.
I know I'm being stupid. I shouldn't be comparing myself to Libba Bray, or even to F. Scott Fitzgerald for that matter. I should be happy that I have something to bring to the table that is completely unique, and I should devote my energy to becoming a better writer, not to becoming a different writer.
Plus, in all fairness (even though this is kind of a skunky card to play), I am only 19. I'm young and I still have three more years of school left. I have time yet to morph and figure out how I'm going to approach this whole book-writing thing.
In the meantime...
While I wait for the tides to turn and the slump to slowly straighten out, I'll be sitting here on my bed. This Side of Paradise will be open in my hands, and I'll be thinking of things and not writing them down.
Not only because my August firstlinefiction story is due in a little over two weeks, but because I don't especially like myself when I'm not writing. No, it's worse than that. I don't even feel like myself.
Finishing Going Bovine last night only contributed to my overall slumpiness. Not because it was a bad book, but because it was so completely wonderful that I felt my own talents shrivel in comparison.
I know I'm being stupid. I shouldn't be comparing myself to Libba Bray, or even to F. Scott Fitzgerald for that matter. I should be happy that I have something to bring to the table that is completely unique, and I should devote my energy to becoming a better writer, not to becoming a different writer.
Plus, in all fairness (even though this is kind of a skunky card to play), I am only 19. I'm young and I still have three more years of school left. I have time yet to morph and figure out how I'm going to approach this whole book-writing thing.
In the meantime...
While I wait for the tides to turn and the slump to slowly straighten out, I'll be sitting here on my bed. This Side of Paradise will be open in my hands, and I'll be thinking of things and not writing them down.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Things I Think
I think that sometimes you have bad days, and that those days feel like they drag on forever.
I think that sometimes people are hard to deal with, and that it's important to recognize that they're people too, and that they have their reasons just like everyone else.
I think that children can be as cruel as adults can.
I think that reading is the best way to forget everything, and the best way to remember what's really important.
I think that I'll probably never get the hang of parking.
I think that staring into space is underrated.
I think that being nice is worth a couple of scars.
I think that I'll settle into bed with The Aviator, some letters I have to write, and a comfy blanket, and work on erasing today to make room for tomorrow.
I think that Scarlett was right. Tomorrow is another day.
I think that sometimes people are hard to deal with, and that it's important to recognize that they're people too, and that they have their reasons just like everyone else.
I think that children can be as cruel as adults can.
I think that reading is the best way to forget everything, and the best way to remember what's really important.
I think that I'll probably never get the hang of parking.
I think that staring into space is underrated.
I think that being nice is worth a couple of scars.
I think that I'll settle into bed with The Aviator, some letters I have to write, and a comfy blanket, and work on erasing today to make room for tomorrow.
I think that Scarlett was right. Tomorrow is another day.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Stats
I don't really have anything in particular to say today, but I do especially want to say something because I want to hit 19 posts for the month of July. Last March I hit 19 also, which is, I believe, my all time record (one that probably won't be surpassed anytime soon).
Here are some stats for you:
Latest 'duh' moment: I'd been wondering for a while what the origin of a certain curious, drippy noise was. I only just realized that I left the sink running from when I got a drink of water about a half hour ago.
Activity: Playing Sims 2 (I always make literary families) on the Dell, and at the same time constantly checking the firstlinefiction website on my laptop to see if any results have been posted yet (they haven't).
Eyebrow condition: Red and sore looking. Unfortunately, I had to go to work today with the burns seared into my face. Also unfortunately, I read on the internet that waxing burns usually don't scar. Good Lord I don't know what I would do if these babies scarred. Wear a paper bag on my head for the rest of my life? Or maybe do a sort of reverse Phantom of the Opera; have a mask on just my forehead instead of just my cheek.
Current wrist ornament: I'm wearing those rubber band bracelets that don't look like much on, but when you take them off and lay them flat, they revert back into shapes such as peace signs and dinosaurs. They're the very latest preteen fad, and I'm happy to say that I've joined in.
Height: 5'10." Although probably about half that, since I am sitting down. Hmm...I wonder what my actual sitting down height is? Will find out some time.
Reading: *Going Bovine, by the marvelous Libba Bray. This book happened to win the Michael L. Printz Award. It also happens to be completely hilarious and wonderful. Which may be why it happened to win the Michael L. Printz Award.
Writing: Nothing. Well, this blog. And my journal. But nothing else.
Listening to: Nothing as of yet, although I did go a little crazy after work today and talked myself into buying an itunes card. Let the over-priced music buying begin!
*You know, under the facade of reading classics like Never Let Me Go, Fahrenheit 451, and Jane Eyre, I've been getting my Young Adult fiction on this summer. Maybe these side reads of mine don't sound very impressive or English-major-y to you, but I've been enjoying them immensely. Partly because I read the Y.A. authors' blogs online and think it's cool that I can get to know them a bit before reading their books, partly because the Y.A. authors are awesome and all seem to live in NYC and hang out and do awesome things together, and partly because I've always loved the Y.A. genre, and think I may want to write at least one Y.A. book someday.)
Here are some stats for you:
Latest 'duh' moment: I'd been wondering for a while what the origin of a certain curious, drippy noise was. I only just realized that I left the sink running from when I got a drink of water about a half hour ago.
Activity: Playing Sims 2 (I always make literary families) on the Dell, and at the same time constantly checking the firstlinefiction website on my laptop to see if any results have been posted yet (they haven't).
Eyebrow condition: Red and sore looking. Unfortunately, I had to go to work today with the burns seared into my face. Also unfortunately, I read on the internet that waxing burns usually don't scar. Good Lord I don't know what I would do if these babies scarred. Wear a paper bag on my head for the rest of my life? Or maybe do a sort of reverse Phantom of the Opera; have a mask on just my forehead instead of just my cheek.
Current wrist ornament: I'm wearing those rubber band bracelets that don't look like much on, but when you take them off and lay them flat, they revert back into shapes such as peace signs and dinosaurs. They're the very latest preteen fad, and I'm happy to say that I've joined in.
Height: 5'10." Although probably about half that, since I am sitting down. Hmm...I wonder what my actual sitting down height is? Will find out some time.
Reading: *Going Bovine, by the marvelous Libba Bray. This book happened to win the Michael L. Printz Award. It also happens to be completely hilarious and wonderful. Which may be why it happened to win the Michael L. Printz Award.
Writing: Nothing. Well, this blog. And my journal. But nothing else.
Listening to: Nothing as of yet, although I did go a little crazy after work today and talked myself into buying an itunes card. Let the over-priced music buying begin!
*You know, under the facade of reading classics like Never Let Me Go, Fahrenheit 451, and Jane Eyre, I've been getting my Young Adult fiction on this summer. Maybe these side reads of mine don't sound very impressive or English-major-y to you, but I've been enjoying them immensely. Partly because I read the Y.A. authors' blogs online and think it's cool that I can get to know them a bit before reading their books, partly because the Y.A. authors are awesome and all seem to live in NYC and hang out and do awesome things together, and partly because I've always loved the Y.A. genre, and think I may want to write at least one Y.A. book someday.)
Friday, July 30, 2010
Channeling Amidala
An unfortunate incident happened to me today. So unfortunate (and embarrassing), in fact, that I considered not sharing it. However, the part of me that loves a good unfortunate and humiliating story overruled the part of me that feels the need to crawl under a rock for a few days. So, I'm sharing.
I got my eyebrows waxed for the first time this afternoon. Don't laugh yet (the unfortunate part is yet to come). I've never been particularly bothered by my eyebrows; I mean, I'm not up to Frida Kahlo standards or anything. But my mom was getting hers done anyway, and since I tend to like doing little girly spa-type things every once in awhile (ex: my nail color changes frequently), I thought I'd give it a try as well.
The actual waxing part was fine. What I didn't realize, however, is that the phrase 'getting your eyebrows waxed' actual stems from the word 'wax,' which means a hot, melty substance that is swirled onto an oversized Q-tip and applied to your brow line. Then, a strip of paper is placed onto the searing wax and ripped away suddenly, leaving you lacking in small hairs and wishing you were lacking in throbbing pain.
Okay, okay; it wasn't really that bad. The bad part was when I got into the car and flipped down the mirror to check out my newly-groomed eyebrows. What I noticed instead was that there were bright red burns shaped strangely similar to the smears of wax that had been rubbed in the exact same places about ten minutes ago. Three burns total: Between the brows, and below each one.
First Thought: Ow.
Second Thought: I look kind of like Queen Amidala (except I didn't really)
Third Thought: Oh, I'm going to have fun walking around the mall like this.
And I did have fun. Since the following shopping trip was necessary and unavoidable, I just kept my head down and followed my mom from store to store. The whole time I was praying that I wouldn't see anyone I know.
I saw two people I know, of course.
The humor came in the dressing room. Trying on a shirt: "Okay, Mom. I'm going to cover my forehead with my hand. Just focus on my eyes down. How does it look?"
Despite the eventual okay-ness and fun-ness, however, I'm still hoping that I wake up tomorrow looking normal. While I'm clearly not beyond explaining the situation to certain coworkers, I'm not sure I can take a full shift of curious looks.
Queen Amidala may be ashamed of my cowardice, but after all, I don't have a closet full of epic headdresses to distract from my brow.
I got my eyebrows waxed for the first time this afternoon. Don't laugh yet (the unfortunate part is yet to come). I've never been particularly bothered by my eyebrows; I mean, I'm not up to Frida Kahlo standards or anything. But my mom was getting hers done anyway, and since I tend to like doing little girly spa-type things every once in awhile (ex: my nail color changes frequently), I thought I'd give it a try as well.
The actual waxing part was fine. What I didn't realize, however, is that the phrase 'getting your eyebrows waxed' actual stems from the word 'wax,' which means a hot, melty substance that is swirled onto an oversized Q-tip and applied to your brow line. Then, a strip of paper is placed onto the searing wax and ripped away suddenly, leaving you lacking in small hairs and wishing you were lacking in throbbing pain.
Okay, okay; it wasn't really that bad. The bad part was when I got into the car and flipped down the mirror to check out my newly-groomed eyebrows. What I noticed instead was that there were bright red burns shaped strangely similar to the smears of wax that had been rubbed in the exact same places about ten minutes ago. Three burns total: Between the brows, and below each one.
First Thought: Ow.
Second Thought: I look kind of like Queen Amidala (except I didn't really)
Third Thought: Oh, I'm going to have fun walking around the mall like this.
And I did have fun. Since the following shopping trip was necessary and unavoidable, I just kept my head down and followed my mom from store to store. The whole time I was praying that I wouldn't see anyone I know.
I saw two people I know, of course.
The humor came in the dressing room. Trying on a shirt: "Okay, Mom. I'm going to cover my forehead with my hand. Just focus on my eyes down. How does it look?"
Despite the eventual okay-ness and fun-ness, however, I'm still hoping that I wake up tomorrow looking normal. While I'm clearly not beyond explaining the situation to certain coworkers, I'm not sure I can take a full shift of curious looks.
Queen Amidala may be ashamed of my cowardice, but after all, I don't have a closet full of epic headdresses to distract from my brow.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
The Axe Has Fallen
I was doing a pull in school supplies today at work, and one of my coworkers (a guy named Matt) was saying something about not wanting to work, about it not being worth it. I asked him what he meant, and he said that he was being let go, and that he would only be working for a few more weeks.
And then he mentioned that Spencer, another Target coworker of mine, had already been let go. This completely shocked me. Spencer? Spencer John? He was in a bit of my Target story! He was nice! We had orientation together! He took one of my shifts for me when I couldn't work it! I mean, I didn't know him well at all, but I certainly feel the loss! He just...disappeared! I had no idea that he was even permanently gone!
Matt continued by saying (yeah, this guy's a talker) that Spencer had probably been let go because he was slow. Slow on the zone, maybe. Slow to respond to things. Funny, because I always thought that he was rather willing to help out. Very willing, in fact.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not criticizing the management at Target in any way, or questioning their judgment. I'm merely sharing my observations, and my general shock at the loss of team members I had worked with and gotten to know.
I realize that all of this is probably even to my benefit. Fewer people on the payroll, better pay for me, I guess. But boy I hate to look at it that way. I would personally rather have the people.
Anyway, what struck me the most was the fact that I could be next. Now, I consider myself to be a good, contributing member of the Target team. I try to respond and help out as quickly as I can, I don't purposefully dawdle on breaks, I give great guest service (mainly because I simply love chatting with people), and I make good time on the zones (although sometimes I get a little O.C.D. and spend more time arranging things than is probably necessary).
It's easy to play myself up, and I don't want to sound too self-righteous, but I'll just say that the reason I put so much effort in at work is because I constantly remind myself that I'm getting paid. It's my job. I enjoy it, I take pride in doing well, but I'm also getting $8.00 an hour, and I need to make that $8.00 worth it. Not only to me, but to the person who is shelling it out in my paycheck every fortnight.
Gosh, I hope I don't get let go. Honestly, though, it wouldn't even make much sense for them to fire me. I only have a few weeks of work left before I go off to school, and after that I'll only be an asset; I won't be on the payroll except for Christmas and the other main, busy holidays. I'll give them the extra manpower they need without taking too much pay away from everyone else. That's the way I see it, at least.
Okay that was part one of The Axe Has Fallen.
Here's part two:
My good friend Ben (one of my best friends at Morris) will not be coming back to UMM next year. I'm mentioning this not because I know he'll probably read it (Hi Ben), but because this news is really bringing me down, and if I want my blog to reflect the impactful things in my life (which I do), then I can't leave things like this out.
So here we go.
The Top 9 Things I'm Going To Miss Most About Having Ben at UMM:
1. The whistling. You can hear Ben coming from a long way off because he's constantly whistling (or singing or humming).
2. His laugh. Again, you can hear it for quite a ways. Makes him easy to find.
3. Having mysterious messages/drawings appear on my whiteboard.
4. We were going to take/suffer through German I together!
5. He's always up for going on a walk somewhere, whether it be to Pamida, the Student Center, or the Humanities Building (where he waited with me for like 30 minutes just so I could get advised).
6. Somehow Ben always knows everything about everyone. He's not particularly nosy; people just feel comfortable telling him things. He's like a well of secrets (which comes in handy a lot, take my word for it).
7. Watching Survivor! I hate to admit it, but he definitely remembers more about past seasons than I do, although we both agree that Rupert is the best Survivor of all time.
8. Just generally having such a good friend around, one who's always willing to listen, who gives great advice, and who will tell it to you straight up when you need him to.
9. I only have one eyeball, and it's for you! (sorry-inside joke)
Okay this is making me sad. It's not like he's dying or anything.
Now is the time when I have to embrace my new mantra: everything happens for a reason, and a lot of the time it happens for the best. There's a reason for this, which will hopefully become clear very soon. In the meantime, I'll be saving all of my best trips, falls, spills, etc. until we hang out again.
And then he mentioned that Spencer, another Target coworker of mine, had already been let go. This completely shocked me. Spencer? Spencer John? He was in a bit of my Target story! He was nice! We had orientation together! He took one of my shifts for me when I couldn't work it! I mean, I didn't know him well at all, but I certainly feel the loss! He just...disappeared! I had no idea that he was even permanently gone!
Matt continued by saying (yeah, this guy's a talker) that Spencer had probably been let go because he was slow. Slow on the zone, maybe. Slow to respond to things. Funny, because I always thought that he was rather willing to help out. Very willing, in fact.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not criticizing the management at Target in any way, or questioning their judgment. I'm merely sharing my observations, and my general shock at the loss of team members I had worked with and gotten to know.
I realize that all of this is probably even to my benefit. Fewer people on the payroll, better pay for me, I guess. But boy I hate to look at it that way. I would personally rather have the people.
Anyway, what struck me the most was the fact that I could be next. Now, I consider myself to be a good, contributing member of the Target team. I try to respond and help out as quickly as I can, I don't purposefully dawdle on breaks, I give great guest service (mainly because I simply love chatting with people), and I make good time on the zones (although sometimes I get a little O.C.D. and spend more time arranging things than is probably necessary).
It's easy to play myself up, and I don't want to sound too self-righteous, but I'll just say that the reason I put so much effort in at work is because I constantly remind myself that I'm getting paid. It's my job. I enjoy it, I take pride in doing well, but I'm also getting $8.00 an hour, and I need to make that $8.00 worth it. Not only to me, but to the person who is shelling it out in my paycheck every fortnight.
Gosh, I hope I don't get let go. Honestly, though, it wouldn't even make much sense for them to fire me. I only have a few weeks of work left before I go off to school, and after that I'll only be an asset; I won't be on the payroll except for Christmas and the other main, busy holidays. I'll give them the extra manpower they need without taking too much pay away from everyone else. That's the way I see it, at least.
Okay that was part one of The Axe Has Fallen.
Here's part two:
My good friend Ben (one of my best friends at Morris) will not be coming back to UMM next year. I'm mentioning this not because I know he'll probably read it (Hi Ben), but because this news is really bringing me down, and if I want my blog to reflect the impactful things in my life (which I do), then I can't leave things like this out.
So here we go.
The Top 9 Things I'm Going To Miss Most About Having Ben at UMM:
1. The whistling. You can hear Ben coming from a long way off because he's constantly whistling (or singing or humming).
2. His laugh. Again, you can hear it for quite a ways. Makes him easy to find.
3. Having mysterious messages/drawings appear on my whiteboard.
4. We were going to take/suffer through German I together!
5. He's always up for going on a walk somewhere, whether it be to Pamida, the Student Center, or the Humanities Building (where he waited with me for like 30 minutes just so I could get advised).
6. Somehow Ben always knows everything about everyone. He's not particularly nosy; people just feel comfortable telling him things. He's like a well of secrets (which comes in handy a lot, take my word for it).
7. Watching Survivor! I hate to admit it, but he definitely remembers more about past seasons than I do, although we both agree that Rupert is the best Survivor of all time.
8. Just generally having such a good friend around, one who's always willing to listen, who gives great advice, and who will tell it to you straight up when you need him to.
9. I only have one eyeball, and it's for you! (sorry-inside joke)
Okay this is making me sad. It's not like he's dying or anything.
Now is the time when I have to embrace my new mantra: everything happens for a reason, and a lot of the time it happens for the best. There's a reason for this, which will hopefully become clear very soon. In the meantime, I'll be saving all of my best trips, falls, spills, etc. until we hang out again.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
I Need Some Sleep
So today is the big MOA trip that I've been planning forever with some college friends. I'm excited, yet I'm worried as well.
Hence the lack of sleep.
I woke up at about 7:00 this morning because I abruptly remembered that I forgot to get the keys to the car from my sister. I leapt out of bed just as she was getting into my neighbor's car to go to school. Despite my flinging opon of the front door and shouting, she didn't notice me.
I went back inside to find that Mom had left a spare pair of car keys at my place on the table, along with the GPS.
So that was taken care of.
I went back to bed, but have basically been tossing and turning for about an hour now.
Sometimes I wish I could just turn my brain off and not think for a few hours.
I also have a stuffed-up nose from lack of sleep.
I'm listening to the Eels (I Need Some Sleep). It's a good song, though it's one of those songs that you only listen to when you're doing the thing that the song is talking about (aka being up really late/early and can't get back to sleep).
I need some sleep
Time to put the old horse down
I'm in too deep
And the wheels keep spinning round
Everyone says I'm getting down too low
Everyone says: "You just gotta let it go"
"You just gotta let it go"
I just gotta let it go
Hence the lack of sleep.
I woke up at about 7:00 this morning because I abruptly remembered that I forgot to get the keys to the car from my sister. I leapt out of bed just as she was getting into my neighbor's car to go to school. Despite my flinging opon of the front door and shouting, she didn't notice me.
I went back inside to find that Mom had left a spare pair of car keys at my place on the table, along with the GPS.
So that was taken care of.
I went back to bed, but have basically been tossing and turning for about an hour now.
Sometimes I wish I could just turn my brain off and not think for a few hours.
I also have a stuffed-up nose from lack of sleep.
I'm listening to the Eels (I Need Some Sleep). It's a good song, though it's one of those songs that you only listen to when you're doing the thing that the song is talking about (aka being up really late/early and can't get back to sleep).
I need some sleep
Time to put the old horse down
I'm in too deep
And the wheels keep spinning round
Everyone says I'm getting down too low
Everyone says: "You just gotta let it go"
"You just gotta let it go"
I just gotta let it go
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