writing as catharsis, or how I stay sane...

So I stopped by the Holman Center tonight to pick up my check, and the guy running the front desk immediately started teasing me. (I have no idea why...I think he was bored). I am going to admit that I stooped to using a method of guilt I find extremely pathetic: I looked up at him and gave him my "Sad Eyes." If you've seen them, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, let's just say that I should have to declare them as lethal weapons, they are so potent. ;) Anyway, he stopped, looked at me, then said, "Rough day, hun?" Usually I really despise being called anything other than my name by guys, but I only nodded pathetically. He handed me my check, patted my hand comfortingly and sent me off with "Don't worry, tomorrow will be a better day. I promise." I have no idea why I'd find such trite words from a clueless stranger so comforting, but there you go. :)

I hate Wuthering Heights. I was hoping that by some miracle, this time I read it I would discover a deep-seated like for the book, since it's such a classic and whatever, but much to my dismay, I think I hate it MORE than I did in high school. I can't fathom disliking characters as much as I do the ones in that book. And it's not even fun to dislike them, like the great villains you love to hate. No, these characters are just so...hatefully pathetic. And of course, I have a paper, project and group discussion on the novel I have to work up some kind of motivation to complete in the next month... ::sigh:: Sometimes school is annoying.

On a positive note: I just found out I got a whopping refund this semester! (I have yet to figure out why, but I'm not letting that stop me from wild, hysterical excitement!) So I've decided since I've received this huge refund, I shall make a trip out to Wal-Mart this weekend and treat myself to a new pair of scissors. (My current pair is so dull, yesterday it stopped cutting paper).

the answer to "is it really THAT bad?" and other insincere questions...

Today was one of those days. As I tripped down the stairs this morning, (after over-sleeping, jabbing myself in the eyeball with mascara, forgetting to eat breakfast and misplacing my English homework), I considered the likely possibility that my day would play out like one of those movie montage scenes. The kind with music in the background, where you see short clips of one horrible disaster after another befalling the poor hero/heroine. So yep, that was my day. In the middle of my fourth coughing fit during my morning class, I simply gave up and began laughing like a loon. This had poor Nicole and Kody, my peeps (and saviors; but that's another story...) afraid first for my health, then their own, once they decided it was quite possible I had gone mad. Now that I am once again calmed, self-possessed and reoriented, I think it is quite possible I have.

Officially began my tutoring today...my first tutee made me feel all big sisterly. She's a freshman, greener than the grass in May, and all excitable about life, liberty and the pursuit of an over-priced education. First thing on our session agenda: learn how to read a syllabus. :)

The above situation reminded me of just how much I miss my lil sisters. Darn. I told one of my friends the other day how much I miss them, and she told me I was sort of pathetic. I think maybe I am. Good thing I make pathetic look awesome... :S

So I'm kind of dreading my class tomorrow; the one with my arch-enemy. I have absolutely zero energy to take him on right now. But he's just so...annoying. When someone is THAT convinced he's totally awesome, and decides it's his prerogative to tear everyone around him down in order to convince them of how much more awesome than them he is, it's virtually irresistable to put them in their place. Right? That is my latest argument/defense for the ongoing armed hostilities between him and I. (Well, armed on my part, anyway...)

:D

boys, homework, slipping on the soap and other lead causes of drama...

Went to Wal-Mart today...very strange experience. A girl about 15 years old grabbed me (like, literally physically grabbed me by the arm) and dragged me over to a rack of shirts. She then precedes to demand my opinion of them. I tell her quite politely that "I don't work here, and fashion advice isn't really my forte -" she interrupts me with: "I don't care if you don't work here, or if you're fashion retarded; just tell me what you think about the !@%* shirt!!" I walked away. In hindsight it was probably not the most mature reaction, but I can think of a lot more immature reactions I could have chosen, so honestly I am rather proud of my self restraint. *sigh. Oh well, fodder for writing... :)

Called "C" back today...she continues to crack me up with her boy drama. She is a good reminder to me of how easy it is to fall into the habit of high school drama, and forget to leave it in high school...but it is rather fun to live vicariously through her. I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to incur any kind of drama with guys right now; in fact I go out of my way to avoid it, but I do appreciate learning from her drama. It's like the pain-free way of gathering life experience. :) Anyway, spent another hour talking with her about her boy, and don't really know how else to help her. She knows it's not going to work; she and him are so obviously not right for each other. But (as I know rather painfully from experience) it's so hard to accept that when you get along with a guy so well; when you can have pressure free fun with him, he makes you laugh, you understand each other...it's hard not to want what feels so...well, good.

I am in such an introspective mood tonight...not sure why. Maybe it has to do with this feeling of balancing on the very top of a downhill rush I know is about to sweep me away; the next two weeks aren't going to leave me much time to breathe, much less think. Which can be nice at times...but I do so love to think.

the whooping cough and other life-ailments...

So I just realized today that over the past week and a half I have very (well, mostly) comfortably slipped into the life of a hermit. Acute, obnoxious sicknesses that cause everyone to flee from the mere sight of you has surprising perks. I went out with Christina last night, my first social interaction in a week and a half. She was willing (actually, desperate) to hang since she is also ill with a super-virus. We met up at the university pond with the intention of walking around a bit, but by the time we'd walked about 20 feet we both laid down on the ground, completely exhausted. So we lay there for about an hour comparing symptoms and chatting about life. It was great. :D

But back to my original thought...I can't believe how un-bored I've been, mostly confined to my dorm. I think of myself as a pretty social creature most of the time, and I honestly do love people; I find them completely fascinating, and LOVE making new acquaintances. Yet at the heart of me, I think I am rather solitary. I love my own company; I love being away from distraction and rediscovering my inner dialogue and thoughts...and I am starting to sound way too pompous. :)

So Gina and Jenny visited me today! I was driving back from the district library, when I realize Gina called me and left a message saying "you have a half hour to call me back before you become the biggest loser on the planet" (or something to that effect). So I call her, and practically cause an accident on Huron River Drive when she says she's 20 minutes away from my dorm, and wants to take me out to dinner. It was awesome; the kind of surprise so good, even I hadn't thought to wish for it.

So I am signed up to donate blood on October 8.
I am terrified.
I do realize people do this all the time (and survive); it's something that I greatly admire and have always wanted to do. I just have a little, teeny, so-slight-it's-practically-Twiggy issue with people extracting fluids necessary for my continued survival. And yes, I know I have plenty extra. But besides the fact that the Red Cross is giving out free t-shirts to donars, this quote I have on my wall keeps sticking rather inconveniently in my head: "Do one thing every day that scares you." Darn that Eleanor Roosevelt! But yet shall I be brave. (However, if I do not survive, I expect someone who has read this post to begin an in-depth investigation exposing the Red Cross's gross malpractice, and possibly even reward me with some kind of posthumous peace medal).

meanies and their mean meanness...

What a long, completely exhausting day. Classes upon classes upon classes...then rushing back to eat before heading to VISION to help out with the food drive preparations...then straight from there to a CRU meeting. WHY do I attempt so much??

Actually, now that I think back on my classmates' vicious mocking of me in front of my entire Creative Writing class yesterday (don't ask me WHY he spent five minutes before our prof came in to class verbally insulting me - I have NO idea) the only accurate insult he leveled at me was classifying me as a "typical, tragic classic over-achiever." Though I am positive said classmate's intention was NOT to help bring about my personal growth, I've decided that that is precisely what I shall glean from it. (I've also decided it's a good thing I am a reformed meanie myself, because it's been surprisingly helpful in giving me a well-spring of grace in dealing with this jerk...)

ANYWAY...I found some of my prof's comments today quite thought-provoking. I wish I remembered them. Thank God for:
-short term memory
-paper
-pen
-note-taking

Without the above, I would be lost.

;)

disbelief, and other strange ailments

So my 80-year-old Shakespeare prof, and my 85-year-old Mythology prof, one a highly distinguished male and the other a highly distinguished female, have undoubtedly the dirtiest, crassest vocabularies I have ever heard. (This is a SLIGHT exaggeration, but ONLY slight) I am having quite the hard time getting over my shock, and possibly my previous stereotypes about academic individuals their age. These are all quite definitely quashed now, as I am forced to re-assess my thoughts on the subject. One point I would really like to bring up to my Shakespeare professor, however, is the fact that though he has on numerous occasions made it clear that he has absolutely NO patience with delicate "euphemisms" ("passing away," "sleeping with," etc.) he employs crass euphemisms CONSTANTLY in class, they just happen to be more blunt and to the point (in essence, more offensive). The lack of logic in this simply confounds me.

Anyway...I happened to notice a suspicious gathering of students outside this afternoon as I was walking by the student center on the way to class. Since I was going to be ridiculously early to class anyway (one of my many hopeless compulsions/paranoias), I stopped to see what the ruckus was about. Lo and behold, it's Rush Week at my school! (Oops, I mean "Orientation Week" - we're going PC about it or something...) so since I couldn't be less interested in joining a sorority (even the thought makes my scalp itch), I searched through the mayhem for a familiar face or two, and discovered a table set up from VISION! (My school's main volunteering organization) So I stopped to say hi, and got an entire pile of free stuff thrust into my face! :D For simply stopping to say hi to some aquaintances and expressing my appreciation for their work, I got (for FREE!):
-two VISON t-shirts
-an adorable "donate your organs" plastic cup that has a very cute (yet completely anatomically incorrect) heart on the front!
-flyers to hand out to people who see all the aforementioned advertisments and asks me what the heck is "VISON", and perhaps best of all:
-CANDY! :D
I love my school. (Well, the volunteering office, anyway...) :)

hugging: the new handshake?

I am so not physical. It did not take Sunday to show me that, but it was definitely an affirmation of the fact that the touchy-feely type expressions of greeting and/or affection are just SO NOT my thing. Sunday I attended a church that, though it does not call itself this, would best be described as "charismatic." To sum up the experience: I was hugged, pet, blessed by laying of hands, and tugged around by my hand for two-and-a-half hours straight. And though these people were all very well-meaning, one insightful, searching glance at my face would probably have revealed my high level of discomfort with all this touching. :S But I suppose I should just accept that not all experiences are supposed to be comfortable, and leave it at that.

So yesterday I officially made an enemy out of my English professor. And I am doubly chagrined to say that it was sort of on purpose. It was just one of those situations where I just COULD NOT hold my tongue, at least in good conscience. Typically, in almost all situations I am a fly-under-the-radar type person, but the ONE THING that really goads me into action is when I see someone trying to make someone else feel stupid. That is this prof's main hobby, I am convinced. What else is there to do, besides butt in and make an enemy out of a prof that will eventually have the power to make a huge impact on your gpa? (Hmmm...the first stirrings of regret and anxiety are beginning to appear....perhaps this plan was not well thought out after all...) :S

Hehe. Tons of stuff to do this week...not in the least of which is trying my ABSOLUTE HARDEST to get my butt home this weekend for Megan's 15th birthday celebration. After much deliberation I've decided it's stupid to let a little gas money, loss of study time (etc.) make me miss my lil sister's birthday. Someday I'll probably live like seven hours away. Then, MAYBE I'll have a good excuse. For now, it's time to do some amazing responsibilities/schedule juggling and go home.

So one of my profs was telling us the other day that the difference between reality and fiction is that while fiction has plot, our lives have no plot. Any plot that appears in our lives is plot that we isolate, or simply create. I've decided that this is one of my great gifts (possibly even my superpower): finding plot in the otherwise randomness that is my life. :D

the smell of pencils and wet trash

So back to school...literally. Being in my dorm again reminds me of...well...last semester, but also of being back in the womb - so comfortable, cozy, and CLAUSTROPHOBIC. And that is the last of my whining, since I know actually having my own dorm room strips me of that right.

The strangest thing today...I was hit on by almost every guy I came in contact with. Seriously, it started me thinking about whether that kind of thing is like a contagious disease or something. I really am actually not exaggerating much about this...I mean, the cafeteria dude drew a little mistletoe on my lunch lid, for goodness sake. Anyway, weird Twilight Zone stuff...

Watched the new Indiana Jones movie at the "Free University Movie-in-the-Park" showing last night...and all I can say is, Lucas, Spielberg and Harrison Ford, time to come up with a new idea. (Lucas, you especially. I mean, Clone Wars animated?? Come on now.)

I just remembered that the dreaded first week of classes - and having to introduce yourself a million times via stupid icebreakers - is officially OVER! YESSS! I am actually quite psyched about the first full week of REAL classes, although by this time next weekend I shall probably be stuck, arms flailing about, underneath a gigantic pile of textbooks, notes, syllabi and their corresponding homework assignments. Well, everything has a catch, now hasn't it? :S

P.S I cannot WAIT until they open up the trash rooms in my dorm, so they can move the smelly trash dumpster from underneath my window. Whose idea WAS that, anyway?!