Break Time

Despite the fact that I have a paper that is begging to be written and exams that I really need to prepare for, I have decided to take a couple days off. No homework, no studying, just relaxing. I have been Little Miss Productivity for an long time now and yes, I have been knocking out assignments left and right, but it has not been easy. Actually, it has been quite difficult in I-hate-everything-I-write-so-I-should-drop-out-of-college-and-become-a-professional-panhandler kind of way. And since I have been getting headaches every night for the last few days, I think that's my cue to calm down.

In my mind, I deserve a short break. But only a small one. This is not procrastination, it is creative planning for the future.

One of These Days I Will Stop Making Mistakes

I keep posting my posts for this blog on my other blog. This time the post was actually somewhat relevant, but still. This only seems to happen after I get done with a large amount of homework. The extreme fatigue starts to set in and make my mind burn.

The light at the end of the semester long tunnel is on the horizon and it is the only thing getting me through each day. Just two more big assignments before finals week. It's really almost over.

Now if I can just get through my final week of blog posts without screwing it up again...

Because Video Games are the Only Thing That Matters

Final Assignment #1: Study the language of a certain group and report your findings.

In a way, this is all deja vu. Once again I have to be a creeper to complete an assignment, but this time we were given much more control. We were required to choose a certain subgroup of English to study and prepare a short presentation that would lead to a medium size essay.

At first, I attempt to trick myself into doing the project on something that didn't interest me at all, but I soon realized that I was only hurting myself (and my grade). I fell back on my old standby topic: video games.

Yes, whenever I am able to choose my own topic with no restrictions, I almost always include video games in some way. Once, I even composed an essay about Shakespeare, video games, Roger Ebert and swans, and not only did it work, I consider it one of the best papers I've ever completed.

I ended up focusing on the terminology used to discuss the Super Smash Bros. games, which is actually much more extensive that I thought. My presentation is tomorrow and I can tell that it's going to be good because I'm actually extremely excited. And I'm terribly afraid of public speaking.

But it's way too easy for me to get excited when video games are involved.

Library Lessons Part Two

This is what I've realized during my second trip to the library this week:

1. I have spent more time in the library these last few days than I have in my entire college career.
2. Though you may seem or even feel like a loser, a few hours in the library can be more productive if you go on Friday afternoon/evening. The awkward silence becomes an empty one. Add headphones and you can forget you're even there.
3. Good headphones are a good investment. Especially if you want to blast explicit music while you hammer out an 2600 word paper. Or just don't want the random stranger next to you to know just how much you love that song by Madonna.
4. The stuff on the book for sale shelf is hardly ever worth looking at.
5. It is impossible to be truly productive and walk out without at least a slight headache.It might be due to the harsh lighting or an adverse reaction to the smell of dusty dictionaries.

The Camels Back is Already Broken, The Straw is Overkill

Do professors ever actually take in consideration that everyone of their colleagues want to give out major assignments near the end of the semester? They say they do and then the last few weeks come around...all of a sudden deadlines are approaching fast and you have absolutely no time to breathe.

I was doing pretty fine until another assignment was thrown on top of my already overflowing pile. Now I just want to drop out and sleep until the end of the semester. But I have been through worse, so I am pretty sure that I can handle this.

I hope I can handle this.

Library Lessons

These are things that I have learned from after doing homework in the library for a couple hours tonight:

1.) Just because you can find footie pajamas in your size that doesn't mean that you should buy them. Or wear them in public. Especially if you're male. 

2.) Bad smells don't go away; you just get used to them.

3.) Headphones are pointless if everyone around you can hear your music.

4.) Don't assume a person is Facebook stalking you if you walk over and see your page on their computer screen.

And most importantly:

5.) I can't stand doing my homework in the library.

I'm a Good Writer, No Matter What I Think

I have hit that frustrating part of the semester where I believe that every word I write is absolute garbage. It's probably a side effect from all of the pressure caused from busy last half, but I can't stop thinking that I should quit while I'm ahead. Even writing those first two sentences was an unnecessarily difficult struggle.

But a meeting with my professor reminded me something that I forget more often than I'd like to admit: I'm good at writing. I suppose the cliche "You are your worst critic" is a cliche for a reason. Perhaps I have temporarily lost the ability to write and edit my own work without muttering to myself that I'm a failure.

Here's hoping that I can get it back soon. I have several assignments that are begging for completion.

End of the Semester is Just a Few Big Papers Away

This week, I have to work on three assignments. Going along with my quickly calculated schedule, I can handle all of this work as long as I type two full pages for at least one assignment each day.

I have no motivation but I refuse to leave this all to the very last second since the last minute has already come and gone.

This semester will be over be for I know it. That is the only thing that's keeping me going at the moment.

Procrastination Kills Slowly

I have 3 assignments due tomorrow. A word etymology on the slang term of my choice (I finally settled with dope), a poetry book review and a poetry reading review (which is actually quite awkward because I'm writing about the professor).

This wouldn't be an issue if I didn't waste most of last week doing almost absolutely nothing.

I should really stop procrastinating so much.

I'm Much Too Tired for This

Once again, I posted on one blog with the intention of posting on another.

This time I'll blame it on the fact that I have been locked up in my apartment for the last 24+ hours doing nothing but watching the Home Shopping Network and taking naps.

I am losing my mind.

Come to Me, Motivation

For someone who has four assignments due next Tuesday, I am extremely unmotivated.

I need to at least do something today. Maybe a poem or two. I could always finish the first part of my poetry collection review. Or start my last etymology assignment...

Or I can keep procrastinating and do it later.

No. After I type the period at the end of this sentence will jump up and get started on my homework. 

Food Coma Eminent

I'm pretty sure I ate too much today. All you can eat soup, salad and breadsticks at Olive Garden and an unreasonable amount of stuffing got the best of me.

I want to go to sleep. But I promised myself that I would be productive so I will fight the urge to climb into my bed and pass out. For now.

An Earlier Wednesday Than Usual

Today, I broke my pleasant habit of sleeping in on Wednesday by getting up at around eight. I didn't just do it for kicks and giggles...I volunteered to be a part of a diversity panel at a presentation for high school females that were visiting the campus for a tour. Instead of listening to the quiet voice in my head that tried to convince me that staying in bed and avoiding public speaking, I got up early and sat in front of a large group of strangers...

It was actually quite pleasant. Truthfully, I feel more comfortable talking to younger people, especially girls. I guess it comes from my time as section leader in my high school marching band where I was almost forced to be a good role model for the underclassmen.

But it was a good group of girls over all. And one girl actually had questions for me. Yes, they were about a college back where I live on the other side of the state, but I still thought that it was really cute that she decided to not only ask me questions during the panel, but approach me afterward too.

And we also got treated to breakfast after our part of the program was over. Free food is always a good thing.

It was worth waking up early and facing my fears.

Know How to Choose Your Battles...And Your Classes

After two weeks, a four page paper and the fear of a double-quiz, I have decided to drop my science quad. Because signing up for physics was a mistake.

I shouldn't have listened to all of the professors that tried to convince me that I was smart enough to handle it. I should have listened to my gut and dropped the class during the 20 minute break he gave us during the first class meeting.

Now I have to take two science classes next semester in order to graduate. All I can do now is enjoy my free time while it lasts.

English Majors--Killing the Environment, One Assignment at a Time

It is really hard to be as green as everyone wants you to be when your major requires to print out several pages of writing assignments every week. I recycle and compost as much as I can but because I study English, I'm sure that my ecological footprint is huge.

Last semester, I averaged about three papers a week. Each paper was at least three pages long. This isn't counting the final few weeks of the semester when I had to complete several assignments that had an eight page minimums.

This time around is definitely not as bad coursework wise, but I still have to print out at least six pages a week because of my poetry workshop course. And since it's poetry, the assignment hardly ever takes up more than half a page. I just need the extra copies so my workshop group members can look over my poem and give me their feedback. Feedback that I don't always reference in the end.

In short, a forest dies just so that I can struggle to compose a sestina. I should work harder to make each word count since a life was taken to make it possible.

Indecision on a Friday Night

One of the most difficult decisions that a college student has to make is deciding whether or not you want to go out on a Friday night.

You could go out, but you could also stay in, relax and watch movies. This may seem like a simple choice but it could actually be quite complicated depending on the situation.

The problems that I have to solve with on a regular basis.

College Really Is Almost Over

I am only one class away from completing my major and two classes away from completing my minor...I don't know what to do with myself. That's not enough classes to be considered a full time student, so I considering taking something completely pointless. Like yoga or tai chi.

But I will be productive and take the fiction workshop that would actually be helpful in the future.

No fun for me, I suppose.

PCs Can Be Dangerous to My Health

I'm currently typing this up on a laptop I was forced to check out from the library in order to be productive after my Macbook died. I have no charger cord and the only person I know that has one is currently off campus and probably won't be back until tomorrow. Time will go on with or without me, so I had no other choice.

Okay, so I did have other options. No one put a gun to my head and marched me into the library media center to rent a computer but I didn't want to sit in the library or borrow the laptop that my roommate so generously offered. Taking advantage of the library's 24-hour laptop rental system seemed like the best idea I could come up with.

The laptop is an old HP with Windows XP. It's ugly, it's slow and the resolution is so harsh, my eyes are burning. I don't consider myself a snobby Mac user but this is not the most pleasant experience I've ever had with technology.

I'm seriously fighting off a headache. Gathering the strength and motivation to do my homework is hard enough...I don't want to have to worry about a laptop damaging my brain.

I'm done. I need my Mac back now.

Wearing a Sticker Like a Little Kid

Today is election day and one of the biggest parts of the entire voting process is the sticker that you get in the end as proof of your responsibility.

I realize that Detroit voting stickers are a bit more "accusatory" than that ones they use on the west side of the state. While the people are around me are showing their pride with cute little stickers with a tiny American flag, mine shirt is branded with a significantly larger sticker that not only states that I voted, but asks if you did too.

It comes of kind of harsh depending on how you decide to take it. I guess that's Detroit for you.

Physics: Setting My Brain on Fire, One Cell at a Time

Tomorrow is the second day of my brand new Physics quad. This wouldn't be that big of a deal if it wasn't for the fact that we are having a "short quiz" before we dive into our next lecture.

He says "short quiz", I hear "long drawn out mathematical exam worth about half my grade."

Going over the lecture notes and textbook, it doesn't seem too bad. But for someone who hasn't been tested on anything math related in three year or anything even remotely scientific in four, the idea of the quiz is terrifying.

Trying to remember the equations makes my head hurt in a very weird way. It's not a headache or migrane but an slow burning sensation...

Maybe I'm thinking too hard and smoke is beginning to form...

 

Graduation is Coming...But Part of Me Wants To Stay?

I plan on graduating in May and I just realized something: I'm actually going to miss college.

Today was a fantastic day. A surprisingly interesting class (the history of the English language fascinates me more and more each day), a pleasant conversation with a favorite professor (I learned that its okay to not like T.S. Eliot because she doesn't either), a warm cup of pumpkin pie and gingerbread coffee put a nice smile on my face. It was just one of those perfectly easy college afternoons.

And soon that will all be over. It feels bittersweet. I wouldn't mind staying here if I could hang out, take some easy classes for free and not pay any additional tuition fees...but college is not free and I'm not staying another year just for fun.

No matter how much I don't really want to leave, I can't stay here. But I can always come back for Homecoming as a proud member of the alumni.

Dictionaries Can Be Fun?

I'm an English major so it is obvious that I love words. It would be absolutely impossible for someone who didn't like them to handle everything that I have to deal with on a daily basis. But I suppose I never realized how deep this feeling really goes...that is, until I started taking a course on the history of the language.

When the professor explained that we would be required to complete assignments based on the origin and definition of random Old English vocabulary, I almost sighed from boredom. And when a friend of mine tried to convince me that the assignments were one of the best parts of the course, I just nodded in an attempt to avoid saying something rude. They both promised that logophiles would find the work interesting, but that fancy term couldn't apply to me right?

Well, "broil me in butter and call me a flounder" because somehow, the history of words like dress and pumpkin fascinate me. Greatly. All of the different forms, meanings, etymologies...writing the essays isn't most pleasurable way to spend my time, but doing the research and getting full credit makes it worth the effort.

But don't think that you'll ever catch me reading the dictionary in my spare time. I'm not enjoying my homework that much.

I'm No Shakespeare, I Just Write Poetry

Poetry Assignment Nine: Write a sonnet.

Well, I can't say that I didn't know that at one point I would be working with specific forms in poetry. My professor made it clear that we would venture into a more structured territory. But I never expected our first poetry form to be the sonnet.

As soon as she started talking about stressed and unstressed syllables, I immediately tensed up...got "stressed" out. It's been so long since I've had to think about an actual form of poetry that I don't really even remember exactly what stressed and unstressed mean. She gave us a rhyme scheme and a about 10 minutes to work on it in class...I gave up after the first two seconds and started brainstorming for something else.

I need a "Sonnets for Dummies" book.

Never mind. I checked Google after typing that sentence and found the sonnets page on the "For Dummies" website. I think I can do this now.

I'm Too Tired to Think Up a Title...Or Write Anything Interesting

I must admit that after having classes for almost six hours straight this afternoon, thinking is the last thing on my to-do list. My mind has been destroyed by simple mathematic equations.

Taking a physics class after 3 years without a formal math class was not a good idea. 

Imitation Might Be Flattery, But Originality Looks Better

There's nothing better than the feelings connected to something new. A shiny new toy, a fresh pair of glasses, a crisp fall coat...You not only get the object itself, but if someone notices or better yet compliments you on it, it's like a buy-one-get-one free deal. You're unique, original. It's a great way to boost your self-esteem.

But then, all of sudden someone else steals your thunder. Your new thing is now their new thing and you find yourself wondering whether or not anyone will remember or even realize that you had it first.

Where I am I going with this? Well, after years of consideration, I decided to cut my hair last May. When I returned to school, the complements were almost endless. In fact, someone liked my hair so much that they decided to cut their extremely long hair almost the exact same way.

At first, I was livid. Seeing her new pictures on Facebook caused me to jump out of bed and run through the house in search of my mother making intelligible sounds that could be compared to primal screaming. But then after the initial shock wore off, I actually was quite flattered. Doesn't her new hair make me a trendsetter?

The old saying finally made sense. It is a cliche for a reason.

It also helps that many individual parties have informed me that the cut flatters me much better proving once again that nothing beats the original.

Late to My Own Party

I keep walking in my apartment to find people awkwardly waiting for me. The last two time I've planned to meet up with someone, I've ended up running late. When I finally make it to back to my apartment--tired from the rush and completely apologetic--the person that I've kept waiting is just sitting on my couch entertaining themselves. In the most innocently creepy way.

Yes, my roommates are letting these people in, so it's not that creepy. But I'm just waiting for that day...I'll walk into a dark living room. Suddenly a single bright light flips on and the random guest will say in the most menacing voice "I've been expecting you..."

Because that's how I would do it. I'm slightly disappointed that these people are being so polite.

To Places Unknown...For English?

It might be a new trend but a few of my professors are suggesting that we take trips to places that I wouldn't normally go, all in the interest of academic progress. First, my sweet poetry professor mention a possible reading in the local hookah lounge for our review assignment due later this semester. Then, my professor for History of the English Language brought up how a previous student based their main research project on the vernacular used at a nearby gay bar.

I don't know what's gotten into these people, but I hope it leaves soon.

(To be honest, the gay bar thing actually sounds interesting but the hookah lounge...I'm not willing to let a cloud of smoke kill my pores just to hear some random person read poetry pretentiously. And I would have to wash my hair afterward and that's just not cool.)

Class is Canceled? Well, Lucky Day!

I always have the most fantastic luck.

Good student that I am, I genuinely don't like to miss class. I never even skipped in high school (unless you want to count that one time I accidentally missed French because of a band program, but I have been told by many others that time doesn't count). So when I miss class, I usually have a really good reason. And because I have fantastic luck, the day I miss class is usually the day that it is canceled for some unexpected reason.

Too bad I didn't see that coming today. Instead, I hiked out in the freezing rain to make sure my assignments were in the appropriate mailboxes and retreated to my apartment feeling worse than before. My friend to texted me about 10 minutes later, after my heartbeat slowed to a more healthy rate and my lungs started accepting oxygen again, that class didn't even happen today. Effectively making my seemingly heroic efforts null and void.

Because I always have the most fantastic luck.

Too Sick to Be a Good Blogger

Okay, here's the thing: I currently maintain two blogs. Just a second ago, I finished writing a short post about how since I'm behind on my obligatory posts for this one, I decided to try to make up for it today even though I canceled all of the rest of my plans for the day because of how sick I am right now.

I published it and almost immediately realized that it went up on the wrong blog. Instead of copying it over, I just deleted as fast as possible so no one would see it.

I would try to write it again but I don't exactly trust my judgement right now. I think my minor sickness has made me delusional. I will just stop now while I'm only slightly behind.

If At First You Don't Succeed, Return It to Your Nearest Target Store and Try Again

I love Target. It's a fabulous one-stop-shop (well, the ones with groceries anyway) that you can easily waste hours in, buying things that you didn't know you needed simply because they're on sale...or shiny...or just there when you have the money...

But for some reason, I keep finding myself buying a few things and returning at least one of them shortly after the fact for various reasons. Maybe it looks one color in the fluorescent lights and a totally different color in the sun. Maybe it's just the wrong brand. Either way, I will walk out of the red doors feeling completely accomplished and partially broke, only to get back to my apartment and regret my decision.

Example: Today, I went to Target specifically for the non-medicated store brand version of the apricot facial scrub made popular by St. Ives. Trying it was a fluke really; I simple grabbed what looked like the cheapest thing on the shelf. However, it's the best face wash I've ever used and I'm afraid to use anything else. So much so that I refuse to even open either of the two bottles of medicated St. Ives scrub that I bought I while back...at Target...because they were on sale.

Anyway, I grabbed two of the Target brand scrubs, in an effort to think toward the future and stock up and left with that familiar sense of accomplishment. It wasn't until I got home and started to unpack my store finds that I actually looked I what I had purchased.

Up and Up Medicated Apricot Scrub. In my attempt to avoid one medicated version, I just ended up buying another one. And once I again, I will be taking a trip to Target simply to exchange something that I bought the last time. Everyone knows that Target trips come in twos.

Forget Ambien, Try This Book!

A few weeks in and I have already given up on the only literature class I have right now. When I signed up for the course, I didn't really have excruciatingly high hopes. My previous experience with these types of class have been mostly positive: not too exciting, but interesting for the most part. So I was prepared to be somewhat bored while getting the chance to read at least one good novel.

That isn't going to happen. Everything that we have been reading has been painfully dull. Our professor is obviously more into the subject matter than most (if not all) of us and his personality does help a bit. But when the material doubles as a sleep aid, there is only so much that you can do.

I have officially decided to just keep my head down and get to the end of the semester. A friend of mine has assured me that it will not get better, so my goal is to just survive. The end of this class cannot come fast enough.

This Girl's Getting Back in the Kitchen

After all this time, I have finally decided to use the kitchen that I move through everyday to actually make myself a real, balanced meal. Not just oatmeal, not just a turkey and swiss sandwich or leftover pasta. Meat, grain, vegetable: the works. I must say that it was a resounding success.

Pan-seared chicken breast with rice and broccoli. Nothing like the grand souffles that I sometimes make at home, but still. It's the first "traditional" meal that I've had in a while, which is actually really sad.

My culinary side has reawakened. It's time to stop watching Food Network all day and actually cook something for a change.

Political Sign Wars

I will not be outdone, especially by strangers who don't share my strong political views. 

Case in point: a few short weeks ago, the residents in the apartment on the right side of the front door decided to plaster their windows with Romney/Ryan signs. Four of the most boring, plain, white Romney/Ryan signs that probably hit the production line. Since my apartment is directly across on the left side of the door, this seemed to me like a golden opportunity for a good spirited political competition. Immediately, I ran to my roommate Serena and expressed our need to retaliate. 

Of course, this action is all for the greater good; both candidates need to be represented after all. 

Soon after, her mother produced a small sign and suggested that we find the democratic office in town, tell them about our neighbors and ask if they could help us out. Yesterday, we finally made our way over there and walked out with an astonishing ten signs. Ten. And not just regular Obama signs but bright colorful ones that represent almost every group: students, women, Latinos, LGBT, Michiganders...

Our competitors never stood a chance.

I've been waiting to catch someone commenting on them. Serena has already caught a group of girls taking a moment to stop and stare. When comparing us to the Romney guys, their verdict rang loud and clear: "Those Obama people outdid them by a lot!" 

Sweet political success.

I Would Put a Witty Title Here, But That's Too Hard

I have lost all sense of motivation. The repetitive nature of my homework assignments is beginning to get to me. I am tired of writing and poetry and word etymology assignments. I am tired period. And the weather is starting to kill my sinuses, so I feel like a snotty blob. Fun.

On the academic side of the problem, a recent Barnes and Noble trip ended with brand new flowery day planner and the hope of reawakening my organized side. The fact that I have written many tasks down but not completed them means that it has not gone well so far.

I need a break. Good thing one is coming up soon.

The Store Brand Experience

I love food; I hate paying for it. Loving a good deal as much as I do, a trip to the local grocery store most involves searching for the things on my usually poorly thought out list at the lowest price possible. Of course, my eyes always fall on those dubious store brands that promise comparable quality at a lower price.

It's not like I'm some sort of "food snob". Store brands or no-names are not beneath me. They  occasionally make an appearance in my mother's kitchen back home, so I'm familiar with such things. It just feels awkward to have to decide if that trusty major brand product is worth the extra few cents when living on a small budget. 

For example, during a recent stop at Walmart (a store I don't very much like, even though the prices is are quite nice), I stood in the cereal aisle for entirely too long, my eyes bouncing between my go-to Quaker Old Fashioned Oats and the cheaper Great Value alternative. After staring at both the retail and the unit prices and considering my small options, I left with the store brand, convinced that I made the more logical choice. Besides, I just douce my oatmeal in soy milk and smother it in peanut butter, so I don't think the brand really matters.

But there are some cases where I will accept no substitutes. On the subject of my typical morning meal, I might take knock-off oats, but I will only eat it with Silk milk and major brand peanut butter. It doesn't really matter which brand; I just go with the cheapest. My standards are not high, but they are definitely not that low. 

You can't cut all the corners. You have to treat yourself somehow.

It Only Takes One Banana to Ruin a Good Day

Today, I made the horrible mistake of eating a banana. It's been so long since I had one, maybe 13 or so years...I've never liked them, but I've always wanted to. They're just so portable and healthy...and I like to try foods I don't like every once in a while to see if my taste has changed...

Now I feel like crap. No more bananas for me.

Free: A Favorite Word of College Students Everywhere

As a cheap college girl with limited funds and a unreasonable view of retail prices, I find any type of freebie is extremely exciting. So much so that I am a part of a few Facebook pages dedicated to posting free sample offers and my mailbox is usually flooding with trial sizes of new products.

Today I suppose the world was feeling especially generous. At the end of it all, I am left with a ticket to an upcoming play, a pretty nice usb stick and a coupon for a free pineapple pop from Edible Arrangements.

One of the best feelings in the world is getting something for nothing.

Just Because There is No Seating Chart, Doesn't Mean You Can Sit Wherever

College classrooms don't usually have assigned seats but that small technicality doesn't stop most people from claiming a specific spot. In my case, most of my courses end up in the same room on different days so I tend to sit in the same seat each time (the one right in front of the door, despite the fact that opening and closing it is quite the hassle). The seating arrangements are established the very first day and are practically written in stone afterward. You can imagine the frustration caused by people who insist on messing up the flow of everything by stealing someone else's spot...

Usually, I don't have this problem, probably because I sit in the chairs right by the completely annoying door. But for some reason, I haven't been so lucky this year. One day, I could be sitting in the middle of a row of empty chairs...The next day, I can barely fit my notebook in front of me because everyone and their mother/grandmother has decided to sit next to me for reasons unknown. But nothing tops the fact that in one of my classes someone keeps stealing my seat every other day, forcing me to keep bouncing to a fro like a bad game of musical chairs.

Next time, I'm buying a name plate and showing up early. Let's see how they like that one.

Caffeine in College is Serious Business

College and coffee go hand to hand (a pair almost as amazing as college and ramen), so it's absolutely appalling that our campus coffee shop just can't seem to get its mixed drinks right. I must admit when you walk in at the right time and the right person is behind the counter, you can walk away with a cup full of caffeinated magic. But more often than not you're just left with a bunch of milk, a splash of expresso, non-existant flavorings and broken dreams.

Most workers have the tendency to skip on everything that matters. Like the syrups that separate a mixed drink from just regular coffee. The slightly outrageous prices do not make it any better.

There's also the handful of people who don't know how to make the drinks on the menu, even though the ingredients list is literally right in front of them. Being a creature of habit, I always order the same drink with chocolate, white chocolate and hazelnut, making it extremely obvious when someone makes it wrong. And my friend Brandon shared an awful story about how he ended up with chai with expresso in it. After he specifically requested no expresso and the worker sharply responded "We don't put expresso in our chai...". Of course, the irony was not lost after that mistake.

One of these days they will realize the error of their ways and stop messing with the wonderful caffeine dependency that upper-level college courses inspires. But since I'm leaving in May, I probably won't see that day come so I won't get my hopes up.

Some Poets Just Don't Know How to Read

One of the most annoying things about poetry is the stereotypical way that most poets read their work in front of an audience. That dry, lifeless tone that makes you think that sharing their words is a private torture. The nonsensical way that they choose to slooow doown certain words...and add random pauses...beforespeedingupwithoutwarning and using unnecessary EMPhasis on random SYLlables...And of course, the ending must not leave the listener with a sense of closure--no matter how final the words seem--but simply fade into nothing...

Where in the world did that kind of performance technique come from? Who made the golden rule that poets need to sound like philosophical jerks in order to come off as "deep"? The conspiracy is deeper than all of us; poets have been reading like this for years. All I know is that these back-door-lounge-room type performances need to stop.

I'm slowly learning that even though listening to a poet read their work aloud let's me hear the intended rhythm, their voice takes away from my personal experience. There has been a quite few times where my poetry professor has played audio from live poetry reading that made me want to bang my head against the desk in pure frustrated disappointment.

Poetry is ruined by pretentious intent.

Not every poet does this; I have heard the few impassioned writers that stir more emotions with their voice than just their words. Sadly, their names escape me because the bad greatly outnumber the great. Those horrible performances still ring in my ears.

I don't read poetry aloud often so I'm not to sure about how I want to do it, but if I have to sound "deep" to sound like a poet, count me out.

Voting and Graduating: Two Things I Will Take More Seriously

After procrastinating for as long as I feel is comfortably possible, I have finally decided to fill out both my absentee voter ballot application and my application for degree candidacy. Right now. At the same time. I should have done both of these things a while ago but time is a slippery little thing. One moment I'm writing a reminder to myself, the next moment a month has passed and I still haven't even printed anything out.

The concept of time might be slippery but it hasn't got away from me just yet. It's still pretty early in the semester and there is plenty of days left before the big election. I just have to kick it in gear and ignore the urge to set everything to the side and save it for tomorrow. I will try my best though the shininess of the internet is quite distracting.

Dead Girls and Pancakes: Why You Shouldn't Have to Use Someone Else's Random Ideas

Assignment Six: Create a poem that ends with a random line provided by a fellow classmate.

You just have to love the random exercises that can come up in a creative writing class. In a course that is finds it foundation on the participating students' imagination, it doesn't seem to weird when the professor steps back and let's someone else come up with the subject for the prompt. Things like that are supposed to end beautifully; amazing creativity through secret collaboration. But the problem with this brillant "secret collaboration" is that the unsuspecting student has absolutely no control over what insane idea they end up with. Finger-crossing doesn't block stupidity.

This time around, each student in my poetry workshop class was given a slip of paper and a few minutes to come up with what they would consider a "good" way to end a poem. Just the final line; no lead in, no clues. Our professor stressed the word "good" because her intention was to   randomly distribute these images as prompts and we were urged to refuse the temptation to sabotage one of our peers. You can imagine how well this all worked out.

Of course, I think my creation "sunset was shattered against the rising tide" was pretty awesome, though my friend "Brandon" did not agree. His opinion is actually invalid because any mind that comes up with something that has to do with dead girls looking at pancakes. I don't remember the exact wording but that main theme is pretty much unforgettable. There is obviously something with the boy, which is common knowledge really. Even though I'm not too excited about the line that I received, but I'm extremely sorry for the person that got thrown that demented gem.

Good luck, whoever you are.

Free Lunch Does Exist, Even When You're Picky

I suppose I should be honest and say that the horror that was Monday and Tuesday of this week wasn't all inconvenience and unhappiness. It did prove that my college has some amazing people on its staff, specifically the Dean of Students who is my favorite person at the moment.

Even though the staff though they were being helpful in our time of need, after being kicked out with no warning, free meals at the school cafeteria seemed like a slap in the face. Our dining services are horrible, sanitary but disgusting. Anyone who says otherwise either doesn't know how food is supposed to taste or has been eating the stuff so long that they're just used to it. I live in the apartments so that I don't have to waste time and money trying to survive on whatever garbage the chefs decide to throw on the menu. Going back to eating in the cafeteria this year is not a part my game plan.

When Serena and I went to retrive our belongings after the initial evacuation, safety concerns forced us to wait for an escort. As we stood in the lobby, the dean of students arrived on the scene and gave us an update on the situation (and pretty much confirmed the rumor that RA's roommate was hanging something on his sprinkler). When he told us that he was covering our bill at the cafeteria, it was with that sort of excitement that screams "I know that what I am saying right now is great news to you! I'm happy to help!" in a completely genuine way. Picky eater that I am, I threw his generosity right back at him--in the most polite way that I could--and asked if we could get credit somewhere, anywhere else on campus. His face fell flat for just a fraction of a second before he assured me that if I asked food service would be happy to accommodate my needs.

I am such a pessimist that I didn't even bother asking. Hungry and furious, I simply stumbled into the cafeteria for lunch and check out my options. Nothing worth mentioning. Defeated, I made my way to a friend's apartment to see if they had any plans for lunch. I was only a handful of yards away when the dean of student drove up to me in a golf cart and flagged me down. He was happy to inform me that he spoke to food service who agree to let me eat in the campus's made-to-order cafe instead the hole-in-the-wall cafeteria. My mood improved by 2000% then and an extra 1000% when I actually went to order and learned that they never set a price limit (Know that I did not abuse this opportunity and ordered a reasonable amount of food).

That moment alone made my day, week, semester even. So much so that I wrote him a thank you card and dropped off at his office this afternoon. It's always the small bright spots in chaos that can make the most difference.

Welcome Back to Your Apartment. Don't Make The Same Mistake Again.

Everything is back to normal, except for the huge fans outside my doorway. And the fact that it feels like a full week has passed when it has only been two days. Being misplaced will do that to you.

There is a lesson to be learned here: Don't hang things off indoor sprinklers. It's not only a stupid idea, but it can endanger many lives and cause a large amount of unnecessary damage. That one boy has to be the most hated individual on campus right now. I attend an uncomfortably small school. Everyone should know who it was and how it happened by now.

I spoke to someone who actually felt sorry for him. "People must be giving him so much crap right now", they moaned to me as I complained about how foolish his idea of interior design was. We all know it's wrong to judge, but tempers are flaring at the moment. People will talk. And yell. And curse.

Honestly, my opinion is highly biased. I had a previous encounter with the boy that was less than pleasant, leading me to refer to him as Douchebag C*** or DBC for short. It has a wonderful ring. It was catching on before, but it's really taking off now.

After all this, I will find it almost impossible to not destroy his existence the next time I see him. But when it really comes down to it, his own stupidity and the sprinkler system already beat me to that, so I don't really have to do a thing. Karma.

Fire Safety Doesn't Always Involve Flames

The worst Monday is the kind of Monday that makes you feel like you've gone through a entire stressful week in less than 24 hours. When it's all over, you sit down and realize that tomorrow is Tuesday. You might just have to do it all over again in the morning. That is the life that I lead.

The day started off like any other: with a bowl of Raisin Bran and early morning writing session as the Today show provided background noise. After I got ready for the day, my roommate "Serena" invited me on a quick afternoon Target trip, which was only moderately successful but completely enjoyable. 

It was when we returned from this adventure that everything started to fall apart.

As soon as we pulled up to the building, we heard the fire alarm and saw half of the apartment's residents sitting on the grass a few yards away. It was said that the second floor resident assistant's roommate was just sitting in his room, minding his own business, when suddenly the sprinkler system in his room just went off. And didn't stop. Within moments, the rooms next to and underneath that "accident" were flooded. 

All this started happening around 1:10. I had class at 1:40, my stuff was in my room and I was trapped outside. As you can imagine, I didn't make it. 

Angry and hungry, Serena and I left campus and grabbed a nice lunch at a nearby healthy deli/cafe hoping that it would all be sorted by the time we got back. Of course, we returned to small scene of chaos. Carpet cleaning services were on duty and people were checking the electrical system as we stepped through the door. The power was off. We were told that we needed to grab whatever we might need for the next few hours, leave the building and wait for an update. But there would be a chance that it wouldn't be sorted out by nightfall. In that case, they would provide "alternative accommodations".

Refusing to go wherever our already over-crowded residence system wanted to place us, Serena suggested that we travel to her grandparents house if all else failed us. After getting what we needed for at least the next 24 hours out of our rooms, we parted ways. I went to my second afternoon class. 

An email update came about an hour later that explained that our apartment building would be should down for 24-48 hours. Cots would be set up in the gym and each resident would receive free cafeteria meals until the building is reopened. We simply left campus and decided to just hope for normalcy in the morning.

Oh, yeah...about that boy just sitting in his room when the sprinkler went haywire? Of course it didn't just go off on its own. Apparently, he hung stuff on it and broke the release mechanism. So in the end, people's belongings were destroyed and everyone was misplaced because some boy wanted to decorate his room. Fantastic.

I am blessed though. It could have been much worse..Our unit was completely dry. 

The most ironic part of it all was that we were scheduled to have a meeting on fire safety tomorrow...

College Food Intervention FAIL

I called this blog College Without Ramen for a reason, even though this is my very first post that's actually about food. Eating fake, processed junk seems like a waste when you have a complete kitchen at your disposal. I don't always eat meals made from products straight from the farm, but I'm definitely not eating any ramen, tv dinners or fast food. But after watching the eating habits of one of my roommates, I realize that not everyone feels the same way that I do.

Little Miss "Bernadette" doesn't eat real food. For the last three weeks, I have only seen this girl eat frozen snacks, frozen pizza, frozen burgers...If you can stick it in the microwave for a few minutes and eat it with one hand, she's all over it. Okay, she ate delivery pizza at one point in time, but still. She has not had one "home-cooked" college kitchen meal since we've been on campus. After the other day when she left to go get food and returned with more Stouffer's Pizzas and Hot Pockets, I decided that I'd had enough.

I planned a food intervention. When I suggested the idea of an "apartment dinner", she brightened up.

"I just got paid! I was thinking about ordering pizza for everyone!"

Should have seen that coming. After shutting her idea down with sharp determination, a quick trip to Target was made. We ended up with creamy Chicken Alfredo, a dairy-free supplement for those of the lactose intolerant variety and peanut butter cookies that were overcooked but still slightly tolerable. When dinner was served, my other roommates and I settled down at the table with our wonderful meal waited for the break-thru moment. Which never came.

Picky-eater Bernadette refused to even try the food. In fact, as the three of us chatted over pasta and wine, she sat in her room and played video games. Which is something that she does ALL THE TIME. She's even left a hilarious game night midway to socialize with her "online friends". But that has nothing to do with the current point that I am straying away from...

She only came out of her room when we started trying our peanut butter cookies. Of course, she praised them, so we decided not to give them to our worst enemy and let her have them instead.

Lesson learned: Bernadette just doesn't eat real food. No fruits; no vegetables. Or pasta and Alfredo sauce apparently.

Somehow we will figure this out. But I'm beginning to believe that if it's not dough smothered in sauce and topped with processed meat, it's not getting past her.

I'm not giving up. Even if it takes all year.

A Personal Day

Today is just one of those days. You know, the ones where you don't feel like doing anything productive and would rather waste the day away napping in the sunshine like a fat pampered cat...It's a good thing that I only had one class today because I don't know if I could handled anything after that.

And now I'm here trying to make a post out of absolutely nothing. Riveting stuff. I think I'll stop here before I blow you mind with any more of my amazing prose.

Happy Video Game Day

Today is National Video Game Day. While I would ideally celebrate the day playing Smash Bros. with the main group until delirium sets in and words stop making sense, the closest I will get to that magic is a few intense solo sessions with my roommate's copy of Rhythm Heaven. Wonderful fake holidays such as these should never fall on Wednesdays when other people are either at work or school while I'm at home enjoying the boredom of a class-free day.

Oh well, maybe next year.

The Party Pooper That Wasn't Invited

Imagine: You weren't invited to a party/get-together that your friend put together. After you find out about it, would you be mad at your friends that were guests or the host that didn't invite you? If you answered "your friends that were guests", you may want to re-evaluate your life because you might be a petty jerk.

Sadly, this is not a hypothetical situation for me. Prepared for quiet night of relaxation, I was completely caught off guard when I was invited go out and celebrate one of my friends 21st birthday. My long-time friend "Brad" was not included in this adventure and when he found out about it, he was naturally upset. However, it's not natural that he decided that ignoring me completely is the best course of action. You know, because I personally left him out due some deep-seeded hatred or something. Everything is my fault.

Brad doesn't realize that he was purposely snubbed by the birthday boy for various reasons. His name was brought up a bit during the festivities and it was made excruciatingly clear that he was not supposed to be there. Last time I checked, that makes it a problem between the two of them. But if he wants to be a petty jerk, then so be it. His name will just have to be added to the growing list of "People Who Hate On Me and Actually Think I Care". Which doesn't really exist because making it would imply that I care.

He can get back to me when he comes to his senses.

Best Cure for Writer's Block: Start Writing

No matter how long you stare at a blank screen, words won't magically fill the white space. Nothing will show up until you start hitting the keys. Pearls of wisdom learned the hard way: by staring at my blank computer screen for about 10 minutes, waiting for a flash of inspiration.

Nothing worth noting has happened today. It's been a very relaxed day actually. No drama, relaxed classes. And nothing beats a long late night trip to Target. The only thing keeping me from curling up and perusing the internet until I pass out is this post, a pile of laundry and the fact that I haven't written that pancake poem yet. Even after eating New York style cheesecake pancakes at IHOP yesterday, I still haven't quite got the theme yet. But I'm working on it and the night is still young.

It's the perfect time for the deep poetic magic to happen.

Delinquency. No Excuses.

I wish I had some fantastical excuse for not writing a post yesterday and writing today. Like a not-so-tragic accident, a random blackout caused by a powerful downpour or a secret call from President Obama asking me for personal assistance with his reelection campaign because he knows I have great connections. But yesterday was my 10th accident-free day, it only rained for a moment and the closest I got to Obama was a call from a campaign volunteer back in my hometown asking if they could count on my vote this year.

No, I simply forgot. The day was filled with Olive Garden, Nordstrom Rack, Super Smash Bros. Brawl, Pizza Hut and Apples to Apples. Girl time, craft time, game time with silly quotes and pancake jokes in between (I did not mean to make that rhyme). Next thing I knew, it was ten minutes to midnight and I already walking out of the door to my next adventure...Which was just walking across campus to deliver food to someone who already ordered in followed by a brief stop in the freshman residence hall for a three-way game of pool. Nothing too mind-blowingly epic. 

I blame my friends even though that is a terrible excuse that I should not be using. In fact, I take it back. I'll promise I'll do better next time. 

Who Thought Forcing Strangers to Live Together Was A Good Idea?

I am EXTREMELY happy that I can finally say--with no sarcasm or spiteful feelings--that I have great roommates. Not to say that the people I shared dorms with in the past were bad...they just weren't very good. Honestly, I never felt very comfortable with any of my previous arrangements. I spent so much time in my friend's buildings that other people thought I lived there. And when I wasn't with them, I spent my time waiting until my roommates went home for the weekend. Since  many people on my campus seem to live out of backpacks and refuse to do their own laundry, I could have a few moments to myself every once in a while.

It could have been worse though. I was once dragged into a mediation between a few of my (mostly former) friends. Everything seemed peachy keen between them, when in reality two of the girls wanted to forcefully kick out their roommates and switch rooms because of petty things like music tastes and loud inside voices. One of my friends was forced into a sort of "intervention" that was really just her roommates standing in a circle and destroying her existence in the middle of the night. And I also had to help convince one girl to let her roommate into their shared dorm after she not only locked her out but moved all of their stuff to block the door. All because the girl did the unthinkable: have other friends.

Why can we all just get along? Or at the very least, keep our heads down and stay out of trouble?

Ode to Making Pancakes, If You Know What I Mean

Assignment Four: Compose a poem about pancakes.

This is my own doing. Could you even imagine a professor just demanding something so random?

"For next weeks meeting you will need to write a poem about a lovely stack of pancakes. Breakfast is the most important part of the day after all. Let the delicious treat inspire you."

That is not what happened. Instead, it started with a normal first day of class ice-breaker. The only difference is that after each person introduced themselves, they were required to name an image they would like to use in a poem. All of the images everyone else came up with were pretty standard: feelings, various types of weather, basic deep poetry stuff. Of course, when all the attention comes to me--the very last student to speak--I have to come up with something more original than all that. So I say the first thing that comes to mind:

Syrup being poured on a stack of pancakes topped with butter. My exact words.

You can imagine the mixed reaction of laughter, confusion and slight annoyance that followed that gem of brillance. After my turn, the class continued as if nothing happened. As anyone might have guessed, the list of chosen images returned during the next class session. Each pre-assigned poetry workshop group was required to choose one and create a poem with it. With the use of a very civil coin flip, we settled on my pancake prompt. I was prepared to argue for my vision but my group was extremely open-minded.

I don't know if any other group decided to jump on my genius, but I did ask one of my friends to write a pancake poem just for fun. We ended up bouncing several crazy ideas off each other. Some involved armed robbery at the crack of dawn, others ended in murder. But most of them involved using the act of making pancakes as an euphemism for sex, mostly to describe infidelity.

The poems might not be about pancakes after all.

A Soap Opera A Day Keeps the Blues Away

Soap operas are a misunderstood art form. So much so that referring to the genre as an art form sounds stupid. If you watch one, you probably don't want anyone to know. No referencing your favorite parts of yesterday's episode or making inside jokes based on past storylines. Your friends would never understand. Not everyone can appreciate the appeal of rapidly aging illegitimate children or long lost evil twins. They are an acquired taste.

But I believe that everyone should watch at least one soap opera at some point in their lives. Not only are they inexplicably addictive, they can help you truly appreciate the simple life you lead. No matter how bad of a day you may have had at least you don't have to worry about realizing that the arch-nemesis that died trying to steal your baby is not only alive but really your sibling who was kidnapped from the hospital the day your father left your mother for her sister. Not many things can top that insane level of drama.

As a seasoned viewer, I recommend Days of Your Lives: a long running classic that moves fast enough to keep your attention but slow enough that you don't have to watch everyday. The drama and treachery can really brighten up the time between classes/monotonous daily tasks. Try it whenever you're feeling particularly overwhelmed.

Your Dorm Comes With A Light and Mirror. Use Them.

If you take a leisurely stroll across my campus, you can see many things. The beautiful foliage, the fascinating buildings and of course, the terrible outfit choices...Yes, the various new and original ways students can make themselves look foolish are the most striking part of a walk around any campus really.

Their outfits are offensive. I am offended.

There is no excuse for this madness. It's not hard to pick up a pair of jeans and match it to a shirt. It doesn't take that long to put on real shoes instead of socks and sandals. And is it too much to ask for people to stop wearing leggings with short shirts. No one wants to see that much of anyone on a sunny day.

So dear random stranger girl, take off your extra tank top, thick leggings and boots. It's almost 90 degrees outside. When you take off your boots, burn them. It looks like you chopped off the feet of a rabid yeti in the pursuit of fashion. You deserve better. And to young man in the stripes and plaid: shame on you. Go back to room and start over. Don't come back out until you care about how you look or learn how to show it.

When you get dressed, just take two seconds and ask yourself: Do I look like I tried or do I look like a fool? I do it often. It saves lives.

Why People Normally Ask to Be Roommates, Not Make Executive Decisions

The hardest part about college is dealing with the people who never took the time to grow up. When I say grow up, I don't mean giving sugar binges or waking up on Saturdays for work and not cartoons. Real maturity. The kind that makes you deal with problems and not ignoring them. Especially when I comes to someone you consider your friend. Especially when you're the one that was wrong.

Okay, wrong is a strong word. Let's just say that this person was "misguided and uninformed". And let's just call her Erica. Her name isn't Erica, but I've yet to meet one that I like so it fits. It's not Erica's fault that she believed--for reasons known to her and God alone--that I would be okay with her random decision to write my name as well as my desired roommates on her dorm room application. Without telling either of us. She couldn't have thought about how it wouldn't work out. Maybe Erica overlooked the fact that her sister HATES the girl I actually wanted to room with. Though I think that's quite impossible because Erica's sister hates this girl in a creepy I-would-kill-you-if-I-only-could-get-away-with-it kind of way.

Erica's intentions must have been pure. Misguided but pure.

All of this information came out so suddenly that we could not discuss why this arrangement wouldn't work. Because of limited space, my actual roommate and I needed to find two more people to fill a four-person campus apartment but it was made quite clear that Erica and whoever it was she signed us up with were not being considered.

When the bottom dropped out, Erica shifted the blame on me. Now when she sees me, she relies on the classic "Something is painfully interesting in the opposite direction" stare to avoid acknowledging my existence. You know, instead of just owning up to the mistake or asking why her brilliant secret plan didn't work.

Not that I care. I wasn't really friends with her anyway. We were just polite associates. Which might make a person wonder why I wrote about it in the first place then.

It was just something to do.

A Covert Operation

Assignment One: Be a spy/creeper.

As an avid--but not creepy--people watcher, the fact that my first English assignment is to eavesdrop on other peoples conversation pleases me. When you visit a public place, you can't help but pick up on other people's random conversations. Even when you couldn't care less about a stranger's favorite breakfast or latest sexual conquests. Why not make observations, take notes, write a paper and get a grade for something you do without even realizing? All you need is a pen, paper and newspaper to make yourself look busy and no one will realize that you're paying close attention to their conversation about the best kind of chocolate bar.

Hershey's Symphony with almonds and toffee. Discussion over.

Tasks like this make you realize how disconnected our society is. Most conversations last only a moment and don't have any real substance. How many times has someone answered the question "How are you?" with something other than "Fine/Good. How are you?". Does anyone really want to know how the other person is doing?

Nothing worth noting has come up. The mission continues tomorrow.

The Title is the Hardest Part of Writing Anything

I'm an English major but I don't like to write anymore.

For about nine months of the year, my life is measured by essays and due dates. It is controlled by professors who almost seem to meet secretly and schedule all their assignments days apart so they can laugh at their students' struggles. When one assignment is done, another needs to be started. Holiday breaks are listed on the calendar, but everyone knows they're only good for special projects and research papers. No break for you.

The moments where my head isn't in a required novel and my fingers aren't cranking out a response essay, I'm definitely not scribbling down any prose or poetry. After writing several pages literary theory, the last thing I want to do is explore my own imagination. I write what is necessary and nothing more.

So once again, I face another year of long books, late nights and forced academic brilliance. The courses seem enjoyable but I can already feel the writer's block kicking in. Years ago, I used to write stories on the back of handouts and short poems in my notebook margins. How can I get back to doing that?

Nothing kills the creative spirit like higher education.