Senior Checklist

Senior year...how do i say this....

I'm stressed the fuck out. That about sums it up.

In high school i got the speech from my guidance counselor on how to make my college years go by smoothly. This is of course is what they tell all college bound students:

Freshman Year: Take all the intro classes. Get that shit out of the way. 101's, Elementary _____. The sooner you get those out the way the better.

Sophmore Year: Get to know your professors. By then maybe you'll have some interest in what you want to do, so take the classes that interest you. Make good grades, join a club or too. Yadda.

Junior Year: Hardest year by far. Start thinking about grad school. Keep the grades up, keep schmoozing the professors. Practice the GRE. Stay on top of things.

Senior Year: If all has gone well then you will ace the GRE, Have a solid GPA, Have some Recommendations in the bag, and Grad School "HERE YOU COME"

Unfortunately being someone who doesn't particularly follow the rules, i have come upon my senior year freaked out about Grad School, struggling to get the courage to ask for recommendations, finally pulling up my GPA, and that whole "staying on top of things"....Out the window.

The truth is I have no idea what i want to do. I want to write, i want to make money, i want to travel, and i want to have a love affair with Sufjan Stevens...sign me up for that.

The closer i get to the end of this semester the more i am kind of taking the whole "a year off wouldn't be so bad" mantra to heart. The only reason i want to go to grad school is because I feel like i have to. Like that's the next logical step. But when i sit back and think about it, a part of me would love nothing more than to take some time off, collect my thoughts, figure out what i can do with my writing abilities, and go on from there.

My mom says i came out of the womb rushing. I was born two days early because as she says "I wanted a birthday all for myself". Not only was i born early, but the doctor who delivered complained (jokingly of course) that i had pulled him out of a very important dinner. My mom says he was still decked in his suit at the hospital.

I've been a person who never likes to sit still for too long. I like getting my hands dirty, i like things right here and right now. It's not that i don't have patience, i just like to get things done quickly...so i can have fun later

But as of late this personality trait has been running me into the ground, i am literally wiped out, and struggling to pick myself up. I'm stressed out about a million and one things, and i am no where close to sorting it all out.

I need a vacation. A long extended vacation that may span a whole year. Like to England or something. That would be neat. A whole year traveling. Or interning. Or not being couped up in a classroom all day.

Sticking it to the Man

I know I'm avoiding the pink elephant in the room ( my dad, my dad, my dad) and that i should probably write about my very tearful breakdown in therapy ( I think i even made him cry) but because i am good at avoiding things...i digress.

Today I stuck it to my arch nemesis(from last semester), and that's clearly blog worthy.

Last year i took a English Class with Josh , this dude who would not shut up about how much he was really into English. He was sort of cute in that "I wear shirts with collars, and dress shoes to look smart" way, but i just couldn't get over his...sucking up. Maybe he really does like English, but he just kept going on and on about it.

Throughout the semester i kept running into him, shooing him the arch nemesis glare the whole time. If college has taught me anything, it's that i am hella competitive, and i kind of drive off of that. I hate when people say "hey I'm really great at this" only to prove that they aren't pretty great at anything (I'm having this problem in my creative writing class). So I put my guard up, and my fighting stance on as soon as someone starts talking pompously about something they may or may not be good at (however if their actions do back up their word, all is forgiven...and then i love them)

Anyway, me and Josh have the same weird advisor lady. She talks a mile a minute, has no concept of having a linear conversation, and gossips on the staff. I love this her. However her flightiness was a small problem today since it's advisement time.

Basically we have to sign up for a time with our advisor, pick classes we want to take, and then head on our way. It's suppose to take 15 minutes, and then the next student will come in and repeat the process.

I went to her office on Monday to sign up on the advisement sheet on her board. As i rounded the corner F*cking Josh had gotten there first. I stood back and watched him sign up for a time (scowling of course).

I signed up for 11:30, right after Josh's appointment. I wish i could say it was because i wanted to scowl some more at him on advisement day...but the time simply fit my schedule best.

So today was advisement day, and as i figured me and Josh were a) the only ones waiting outside her office because b) we were the only two who had signed up on Thursday. Unfortunately as 11:15 rolled around, crazy insane but funny advisor lady had not shown up. At first i was like, she'll be here in a few minutes don't worry about it, but the closer it got to 11:30, i was like " We'll who between the two of us is going to get advised if she doesn't show up. I mean my time is at 11:30 but technically he should go before me"

Feeling a little brave (because for some reason lack of sleep, worry, and headaches gives me a "i don't give a shit attitude" ) i walked up to Josh and was like "what time were you suppose to get advised". He was leaning against the wall looking at his file " 11:15" he said in another stupid collared shirt " but I've been waiting for a while, and she just hasn't shown up"

Being a person who just can't sit around and do nothing, i told him I'd go to the main floor and see if they had any clue where she was, and what we should do since she wasn't here. After a short chat with someone in an office, I was told me that we should wait a little bit, but if she didn't come after that time, to reschedule for another day.

Being the nice person that i am, despite disliking him, i told Josh he should probably wait a little while but reschedule if he didn't feel like waiting. Maybe i was making him nervous, or maybe he just had some where to be, because of instead of waiting...he rescheduled and then left.

I of course was going to give her a few minutes, before leaving a comment that would have went something like "where the hell were you?". After about 5 minutes, when i too was becoming fed up with waiting, i started packing my shit to go. But patience paid off, because as soon as i put my ipod on, she came strolling around the corner, apologizing for being late.

Me: It's okay, there was another kid waiting though, but he just rescheduled

Lady: He should have stayed, he could have still been advised.

At the time i didn't think much of it, but as i was walking back to my dorm, i was like "shit i totally delayed his advisement process by suggesting him to move his time. If i had kept my mouth shut, he wouldn't have to come back in a week, wait in the hallway, take time out of his schedule just to do the whole thing all over again..."

Of course i was saying it the guilt turned into a little happiness.

I inadvertently stuck it to him.

A Meeting With Mr. DoucheBag---Shit

So i know I'm suppose to hate my very hot but very boring creative nonfiction teacher (who I call Mr. Douchebag), but after a terrible weekend(slowly recovering, thanks for the reassurances) i was too tired to even hate him the last couple of days...especially since i emailed him about helping me with my short story.

Last week i went to an old professor asking for a recommendation and to read my story for any suggestion. She didn't seem to mind about the recommendation part, but reminded me that she was more of critical essay person than a creative writing woman, so she would be not really helpful in critiquing my work.

She then mentioned that i should probably talk to this professor on campus, whose won a buttload of awards and is really talented. My ears perked up, until she said "His name is Mr. Douchebag"

After cursing that I'd have to go back to most boring human being in the world,i caved and wrote him an email asking if i could talk to him about my short story and the writing process in general.

Less than an hour later, we had set up a meeting time via email(scheduled for today), and the buildup has been tense since then, like some old western where two foes are going to meet for a showdown.

I felt it on Monday, as i walked into class(still depressed and the verge of tears) as Mr. Douchebag kept shooting me a look Like just because i wrote him an email I would suddenly be attentive in his class...big shock on Monday when i laid my head down and spaced out.

So today i marched up to his office, armed with my version of the short story i emailed him, and waited for some shit to break loose(since he is a fan of tearing my stuff up)

Instead, he spent an hour proving why he may not be such a douchebag. I grilled him, like the rent was due, and he came back with really helpful suggestion. He says I'm getting the rhythm of the whole short story thing and that it takes a couple of drafts before i will be happy with it.

He was actually really nice, and gave me some sound advice. We spent an hour thinking of where my story could go, how to end it, and how to keep the reader interested.

Now i don't know what to do,he's still boring ass hell, and i still wish i had taken someones class...but dammit he actually helped. This throws my whole arch Nemesis thing out the window. That SOB.

Time to finish this story, it's due Thursday and I'm just in the middle.

More to come after a short word from my sponsors

Death Be Not Proud

I'm a wreck.

My dad called me last night, and ever since i have been crying like crazy.

Ever since my grandma died there has been this constant worry over my dad's health. His years of alcohol have no doubt taken a toll on his liver and his recent heart attack has made the once fearless man a little more careful.

He's one of those guys who doesn't really tell you what's wrong with him, until something bad happens. Which is frightening because i'm not there to take care of him, even though there is probably nothing i can do.

There was certain immediacy in his voice the other night, like he had to tell me right then and there that he loved me with all that he was able to give. "If anything ever happens" he kept repeating "i just want you to know that you, and your, brother and your mother were the most important thing to me. I never left you, and i never will"

My dad is like the strongest person i know, when i was a kid i swore he could lift cars, bend steel, and conquer the whole entire world. There is this picture that i hold on to with my whole life, it was taken moments before my mom came to pick me and Morgan up from our weekend stays. He is wearing this green army hat flexing his muscle with me and Morgan imitating the same thing. I am kneeling on his lap, with a huge grin on my face, as my pigtails are moments from hitting him in the face. But i remember it being the best night of my whole entire life, and i never wanted to leave.

I don't know what i'd do if my dad were to die. If i couldn't call him up just to hear him say that he was proud of me. I'd feel so guilty for not being there and for not having the words to say that i was proud of him too. Despite the divorce, and shit like that, I was just glad and proud that he thinks i'm the best thing that has ever happened to him.

I'm trying to put my worries behind me, but my tears are not letting that happen.

Creative Writing.

We have moved on to the short story portion of class...and so far....not so good.

I'm beginning to question if i am actually a good writer, or compared to the quality of the other students my teachers think my work is marginally good.

The drawback of taking a writing class is that i have to read 20 or so different papers in a limited amount of time. I could never be a teacher, i have so much respect for them, but if i had to read the garbage I've been reading lately every year, i may jump out a window.

It's like they grew up and their imagination flew out the window. I've been reading page after page of static, nonsensical, lacking emotion...work. And it is bringing me down. It's pretty hard to critique someones work, especially bad work, and then tell them how to fix it.

For some out of the way reason, i am actually pretty bummed...Like this is how you see the world, this is how you wish to convey it, is there nothing beautiful and inspiring in your words.

I don't know, but i have about 6 more papers to read, give critiques on and then return. I'm going to need a Sufjan Stevens break to complete this task. The have sucked all the creativity out of me, leaving a bland mess.

Thanks Dr. Phil

Thanks to a very special episode on Dr. Phil, i finally have an idea for my short story (both for my creative writing class and for grad schools). Trust me i usually turn the channel when him and his crazy looking wife are on, but because it was fall break (and because i couldn't find the controller) i figured I'd watch him for a little bit or until i found the controller.

I had some idea of what i was going to write, but needed some major details to make my story interesting. Our writing prompt is: 2 people who don't know each come into contact and find out that they are actually connected by one person. It sounds easy but I've been racking my brain over it for the longest time. All i knew is that i wanted it to take place at funeral or a wake, but the details were a little fuzzy after that.

Dr. Phil had some crazy story about a messed up family, small towns, a dead baby, and screwed up mothers. My story will not nearly be as dysfunctional as that poor family, but i was inspired to change some major details in the story and make it my own. If i get into any grad school based on this story i literally may have Dr. Phil to thank. That's a very scary thought.

I've been busy these last couple of weeks because of the amount of writing and reading that is consuming my life. If my nose isn't in a book, it should be. And if my hands aren't typing some short story, poem, or essay...well then they need to be. My mind is wiped out from all this work, and some days i feel like i may faint from sheer exhaustion.

I have to find two professors to write me a recommendation, and because i hate asking people for things this search has gone nowhere. My Realism teacher really liked me when i was in her class, so i emailed her a couple of hours ago to schedule a meeting so we can talk about this recommendation. I hate when students, just go up to a professor after class or something and go "can you write me a recommendation" and then them leave the high and dry for the rest of teh semester until the next time they need something.

I feel like if someone is going to write me a recommendation, they should totally be involved in the process. So anyone i ask a recommendation from it will be face to face, in their office as i discuss my plans and aspiration. I want them to feel like i came to them for a reason, rather than out of convenience. Maybe it's just me though.

I know i can probably get my Realism professor, and I have to stop by my American Lit Professor who totally dug my work this summer. I need one back up professor though, just in case one of my schools ask for 3 rather than 2 recommendations. I figured the back of professor either has to be my Creative Writing teacher, or Mr.DoucheBag.

I think i have one over Creative Writing teacher. His comments on my poems have been "i like this a lot but...", which is a little unnerving. But on the last poetry assignment, where i had to write a sonnet he simply wrote "Beautiful. Good Job".

I have contemplated going to Mr.Douchebag but i just don't see the point in going. He wanted us all to have a one on one with him last week, so he could get some idea about our progress in his class. Despite disliking him immensely i was hoping that outside of the classroom setting he would be witty and funny. He has the most beautiful face ever, he just has to be witty and funny. I spent all last semester dreaming that he would be charming and intellectual.

But i was proven wrong once again. Not only is he absolutely boring but i think he also may have been born without a personality. Most professors decorate their office with pictures of family and friends, or even with posters, magazine clippings...SOMETHING. I walked into the blandest office i have ever seen. No photos, no calendars, no pictures. Just a plan office with a very old computer in the corner and two chairs.

I was trying to my very charming self, but i couldn't crack him. He just stared with a blank look, nodding his head. I thought i was talking to wall. a very cute wall, but a wall nonetheless.

He wanted to know if i liked his class....and i lied like the rent was due "yeah it's really interesting, and I'm learning a lot"

I told him i was taking another writing classes, and he seemed to perk up. He wanted to know who i was taking...but for the life of me i couldn't remember, because i've been calling him Creative Writing Professor in my head. So i told him that i had no idea what his name was (it's professor Wright). He looked at me like "you don't know your professors name" and i shot him a look back that read "you just learned mine".

The meeting last 20 minutes and i was ready to go. He was boring me, the room was boring me, and his old computer was making noises. Before i could leave though, i got smile out of him when i told him i was going to write my "2 week experiment thing" in journal form. He smiled and then said "i'm really looking forward to reading it". This is the dude who tore my paper to shit, but he's looking forward to reading my paper.

Whatever.

Time to write my Dr. Phil Inspired story.

Thoreau Would Be Proud.

Pictures from my walk today. I'm totally becoming a nature loving tree hugger. Damn you Henry Thoreau. Damn you and your idealism.

Rubbing Salt in the Wound

I found this little thing this morning, which was slid under my door sometime last night.

Jeepers, Housing just doesn't give up. I am on a decorating mission for fall break. This is bullcrap, my room will be beautiful when i get back.

Until Sunday

Beckett

PigSty

Apparently my room is a pig pen.



When you live in a dorm you have to get your room checked yearly by RA's (otherwise known as kids who do nothing all year until the shit hits the fan and they really have to step in).



They are suppose to check to see if you don't have any illegal items in the room and if you do you are written up. I don't know what happens when your name is written down on the violation sheet...but in my mind they drag you off to some place and you are never seen again. NEVER.



Apparently everyone who is anyone in college leaves there door open, which is some sort of welcoming gesture for friends and neighbors to socialize ( i course do not do this, because then how am i suppose to dance to Justin Timberlake.). Sometimes when i walk down the halls i get a sneak peak into other people's room. Most of the rooms i have encountered are very crowded with stuff, not particulary messy, as it is FULL.



Because of my hectic start of a semester (read "I F*cking moved to escape noisy roommates and fire alarm) i haven't spent anytime decorating. I finally put up 2 of my poster this weekend and purchased this groovy footstool to relax my legs on. Other than that, i have the bare essentials(during fall break i am totally buying crap to deck this room out and make it home )



Anyway. The perks of having a single room is that i feel i can be as messy as i want to be. I mean I don't have another person sharing the room with me, and my mess is a contained one. Clothes in one corner, bottles of water in the other corner( i try to recycle), paper on desk i don't use, and misc. stuff under the bed. So i may have some clothes on the floor, and a open cereal box or two... but it isn't that bad. Or so i thought.



10 minutes ago, while i was packing for Fall Break, i had my first routine room check with two very prime and proper RA's. After looking around my room and asking a few questions, they went out into the hallway to discuss something (always a bad sign). When they came back in to my room i got this conversation



Girl: I don't mean to sound rude---
Me: [which of course now means you are going to say something rude]
Girl: Are you always this messy?



Wow.



Me: I mean kind of, Combined with the whole packing thing.
Girl: Yeah i know but we just want to make sure there aren't any cockroaches
Me: [Jesus Christ lady, i have one unopened box of cereal. Give me a F*cking Break] Well beside the spider i killed in the bathroom there haven't been any roaches.
Girl: You'd be surprised



At this point I'm like, are they really going to drag me off into the unknown for a few clothes on the floor and an open Apple Jack Box.



Girl: We just want to make sure that you keep your room tidy.
Me: I mean how tidy is tidy?
Girl: [looks at the box of cereal] A little bit cleaner than now.
Me: [wow anytime you want to get the f*ck out of my room would be fine by me]
Girl: I'm not going to write you up or anything since it is just you in the room but...
Me: I know keep it clean. Thanks.



Despite her "I'm not trying to be rude" statement....I'm totally fucking offended. She basically called my very contained mess a pigsty. Now i have, for the moment, this very puzzled look permanently placed on my face as i look around my pigsty of a room, and try to redeem some dignity to my space.



I feel so violated.



What a rude B*tch.


My mom would totally agree with her though.

Above picture is the scene of the crime. You be the judge.

Fall Break tomorrow!!!!!

Running on Empty.

Only 2 more days until Fall Break... i don't know if i can wait that long.

In the last couple of days i have become extremely stressed. Mr. McContinuesToSuckAtLife is assigning way too much work for a class that simply does not require it. Personal Essay, Interview someone to write a personal essay on, a presentation, a two week experiment to write about, and then revising all of this shit.

Now is making us have a one on one with him so we can discuss our progress and concerns in his class and i must admit i am going to mention that he has assigned a lot, especially since this isn't my only class or cause of stress.

Cranking out a short story is harder than i thought. I have to complete two for my creative writing class and to kill two birds with one stone ( i hate that phrase cause i really like birds) i am going to use one of those short stories for my writing portfolio for grad school.

All i have is a few scribbled thoughts on character, plot and setting but no idea where i am going with it. 20 pages seems like the longest thing in the whole entire world, and yet it holds sort of my future in it's formation.

Despite the stress i still managed some how to procrastinate this whole weekend thanks to Justin Timberlake and a stroll in the park. I do work better under pressure but this pressure is a little overwhelming and i am looking for a little relief in the days to come.

I am sure all this stressful mess will come out in therapy tomorrow. Therapy is going well, i know i haven't talked about it a lot but it's mainly cause i have so much i want to say about it, but not enough time to do so.

We don't really talk about anxiety anymore, but more of my relationships with people. I'm having a hard time connecting cause i always feel...distant. I am still in my thoughts entirely too much, daydreaming about everything and afraid to come out of my shell or let someone else in.

Tobey "NotSoMcGuire" has a different approach to therapy than Casey. He is more "get out there, try it and if it doesn't work...get out there and try it again. No big deal". I thought i would hate this approach the whole "if you fall off a horse get back up on it and try it again" but he's so nice about it when he says it that i totally believe him.

I told him about feeling to "mature" to hang out with people my age. That despite being goofy and silly, i always get this label of "wise" because i happen to read and write a lot. It's like the moment you walk in a room with a book in your hand people assume you quote Wordsworth in your free time.

He asked that if i felt more comfortable around with people older tham me, why i never made an attempt to make friends with them. As i was sitting there, feet folded in a nice leather chair i was wondering the same thing. Why don't i just hang out with who i am comfortable with and if they are older than me...so what. Right? He asks the simplest questions but of course they are ones i never think about. So i think he's helping me get out of my shell or at least teaching me how to to.

In an attempt to make try this mingling thing, I started a conversation with someone in my class on Thursday, and i think I semi flirted with the South African boy i use to work with (he only worked there for a couple of months before getting a position as a professor for a Computer Science class on campus. He's cute and he's smart).

I know my amazing group of friends is out there somewhere, hiding perhaps in a very cute coffee shop with one seat open just for me. I imagine my great group of friends will be a good mix of silly and intelligence. Nerdy but Cool. Book Smart but with knowledge on Popular Culture. And having some interest in Curb Your Enthusiasm wouldn't hurt either.


Until then though i have to play the friend field, and so far it's not as easy as i thought.

Getting the Athletic Department in Trouble.

To make extra money before fall break i agreed to work 4 extra hours this week at the library.

The library has the yearly thing called statistics in which they try to get some idea of how many people use the library at certain times of the day. So for two weeks throughout the school year someone has to walk around and basically count how many people are on each floor. It's a shit task but for an hour a day i don't have to shelve books, and plus the task of counting people doesn't take long so i get to hang out and not do work after i've finished.

The library recently added this called the athletic learning center, where the university basically decided to convert a whole section of the library specifically for athletics to use. Go figure. This athletic center is "designed" to make smart and sporty athletics, by providing tutoring and resources for them not privy to the rest of us. while we use old computers and sit in chairs that make noices, the athletic learning center has these cool black chairs and Macs.

My boss is pissed, because the space they gave the athletics was the space she had been trying to get for the past five years.

So anyway on the list of "places to count people" the athletic center was included. I was uncomfortable walking in there, but i'm not afraid of 6'5, +220lbs guys....i can hold my own. I think? When i walked in there a dude at the desk gave me a "what the hell is she doing in here look", as i attempted to make my way around the corner to count how many people were in the room he cleared his throat and asked me politely "what the hell i was doing with a clipboard and pen in my hand"

After explaining to him the "inventory of people" the library conducts each year, he continued to stare at me suspiciously but gave me a head count of people from his desk. For the last 3 days i have basically encountered the same "cold shoulder indifference" as i entered the room.

So today before i went off to do statistics I decided to ask my boss what the guy downstairs issue was with me doing a job i was asked by her to do. As i was telling my story of the guys kind of rudeness i could see her getting concerned and then pissed at the way the guy was addressing me. I mean he wasn't a jackass or anything, and i thought he was nice enough to give me the number of people in the room without me having to count, but because she is already annoyed with the athletic department being in THE LIBRARY she was willing to use any excuse to protest them being there...and i guess one guy being rude to me was her first attempt to bring down the atheltic department

Before i could even say "you know what it isn't even a big deal" she was calling the huge boss in the main office to tattle-tale on the guy downstairs. I just sat there like "what the hell is going on" as she was telling the very now exaggerated events of the past few days to her. I periodically had to insert "he didn't yell he just was a little rude" "He didn't kick me out, i just really didn't go in"

Luckily the situation didn't esculate that much and i was simply told to avoid the athletic department because they don't need a "head count" in that department of the library.

I now know how it feels for things to go from zero to 100. I feel like i almost got the whole athletic department in trouble for a simple queston. And though i can hold my own...i don't know how much of my own i can hold against big ass football players.

Another disaster avoided..but barely.

Is it Over?

I am so ready for fall break i can't even hide my extreme boredom in class.

I have one week until break but before then i have a midterm, a test, a paper, a meeting, and i agreed to work extra hours this week to help my boss out of a jam. Yeah i am pretty much screwed.

Of course i am having a problem with the new people i work who don't seem to really like working that much. For the four hours i worked yesterday i was the only one of the floor shelving books, while everyone else decorated the office with Halloween stuff (literally a task one person could have done)

When i walked into the office everyone made the face like "oh shit we totally forgot to tell her or we totally didn't want to tell her we were having a jolly good time in the office" while my overworked ass was downstairs putting up books.

I was a little pissed yesterday because of this. As i shelved books on the empty floor except for the one creepy dude in a leather jacket, i felt excluded from the gang that was forming.

I talk to people at work, but then i go off and do my job. I mean my boss is stressed out as it is because people don't work, so i attempt to be the one person she can depend on.

Of course despite having a so-so relationship with my coworkers i get along well with my boss...who is like 20 years older than me.

I don't understand why i get along with people older than me. Is it a conspiracy or something. I get called mature all the time, and while others may take this as a compliment i F*cking hate it.

So far Wise has done anything for me socially. I'm feel too young to hang out with people much older and too wise to hang out with people my own age. It's a lose lose situation. I got to find the balance, i just don't know how.

Time to study, and then drown my restlessness in a bottle of apple juice.

Therapy tomorrow. Yeah?!!??!!

In other totally unrelated news...i've been internet searching for some Tibetan Prayer flags. They are the most beautiful things i have ever seen. They are usually hung outside for the wind to blow against them but i was planning on hanging them in my dorm. I hope that doesn't go against their purpose so much .

This nature class is really having a profound affect on me. I feel like i am becoming a tree hugger and i don't know why. I feel so peaceful outside, and i just got all inspired to go on some trails and chill with the trees for awhile (well the trees of my campus).

I want to at least figure out more about the prayer flags before i buy them. But now i want to go Tibet. Geez.