Tag Archive: classes


On my list of things to do:

  • Clean my room
  • Actually do laundry
  • Color code my planner
  • Read new textbooks for class
  • Get a new ink cartridge for my printer
  • Organize my binders/folders for class
  • Alphabetize my dvds
  • Vacuum

My life is so hard. lolz

Last week, I was really doing well at the whole GT part of GTL (Gym, Tan, Laundry) but every time I thought about doing laundry, I was discouraged because that required me to pick up all of the clothes that are currently hanging out on my floor. That task always seemed too daunting and required too much patience. There was never a time when I was like, yeah, I really wanna pick all this shit up right now.  I mean, sometimes I really do enjoy cleaning and making things all perfect and pretty.  Sometimes  I really love doing laundry, but these past couple of weeks I find everything about it too obnoxious and time-consuming and tedious.

Classes start this week and I’m just so unenthused.  I usually love school supplies and organizing my binders to get ready for class but I just have been putting it off.  I don’t know why.

I don’t know why I feel this way. I don’t know what’s wrong.

Something isn’t right.

Ugh.

I constantly feel like one giant ball of fail. All the time.

Sucktown, population: me.

Advertisements

It was never really a mystery to us why it seemed like our entire floor in the dorms in college hated us.

Sarah and I lived in the room at the very end of the hallway. Our perfect square of a room was the gathering place every Thursday night to watch The OC and later Grey’s Anatomy. Our room was the meeting place of the whole group of us for those three or four nights a week we went out to parties. And later, our sophomore year of college, our room was next door to two of our good friends, whose room would blare with the latest Justin Timberlake song or One Republic’s “Apologize” before it was cool and overplayed on the radio.

We did dumb shit, like dress up like the some cracked out version of the Spice Girls and sing really, really loudly after 2 in the morning. You know, when the whiners on our floor were sleeping, and had been since 11 pm.

As a group, we’re loud. I mean, I scream and screech a lot, I laugh loudly, and I shout when I’m happy or excited. Multiply that by at least four and you’ve got my core group of friends in college. And we were together constantly.

Add in the fact that we lived in an all-girls dorm. In the really, really old dorms. As in, I lived in the same dormitory my grandmother lived in. The same dormitory my mother lived in. It’s old. We also lived in the dorm mostly populated by the college of music kids. They’re all artsy and hipster-y and obviously too smart and better than us to get loud and crazy all the fucking time, like we did. The best part about our dorm is that it was the closet to the street with all the bars on it. And it was relatively close to a lot of the off-campus housing and greek life. (And let’s get real: I loved me some fraternity parties before I was of the legal drinking age.)

I think this photo adequately demonstrates the potential Le Le and I have when it comes to getting crazy. lolz (Ps. Le, does that headband look familiar? bahaha)

My point is, our floor hated us.

We were constantly hushed and asked nicely to be quiet. And when all else failed, we were told on. When we realized that the RA’s were about to come bust us, we’d quickly finish the shot glass full of five o’clock vodka on Leah’s or my desk, turn the music off, grab our coats and fly out the door.

I mean, we didn’t want to get written up. Again. Or have to pour our alcohol down the bathroom sink. Again.

Even when we weren’t drinking (illegally) in the dorms, we were loud. And probably really, really obnoxious. I’ll leave you with this one memory I have, a memory that really reinforced the fact that everyone on our floor just did not get me, or my friends.

You know how in college dorms there are all kinds of random-ass signs for random-ass shit? Like, sign up for ballroom dancing in one of the rooms by the cafeteria, or do you need a tutor for some really hard singing class you’re taking? Well, I can’t remember why we decided to make a sign but one night we did, and we hung it on the walls all over our hallway, and all of the doors to the bathrooms, and the mirrors, and the door to the stairs.

It was a nice sign. It didn’t ask anyone to donate their first born to some demonic cult or require anyone to spend any money on anything. It was just a nice little sign to remind people to have a good day and to provide a little pick-me-up. Sometimes people just need that. Classes are hard. It’s really hard to walk fifty feet to a building across a nice little field to go sing for a couple hours a day. And it gets cold in Michigan.  And sometimes blowing off class on a Friday to play Ultimate Frisbee in Adam’s Field is just really… hard. So we posted our sign to let people know we cared.

Our sign was not appreciated. When we woke up the next morning, every single sign had been torn down and thrown away.

The people on our floor were dicks. And they hated us.

For the first seven weeks of this semester, I’ll be taking the first class in my concentration. In seven weeks, I will learn an entire semester’s worth of material. This is not a new concept, as all of my classes in grad school thus far have been in the seven-week accelerated format. This is just fine by me but it does mean that things go pretty quickly and doesn’t really leave much time to slack off and miss classes. Not that I ever would, of course,since I’m such a perfect student and never skipped classes in college- ever. If life was like Pinocchio and everyone suffered from the nose-growing disorder he suffered from, I surely would look ridiculous right now.

Side Note:  Speaking of Pinocchio, I haven’t seen that movie in forevs because the live-action version with JTT (Jonathan Taylor Thomas, aka the love of my life when I was ten years old) really, really freaked me out. And I’m fairly certain the animated version by Disney was creeps as fuck too. Maybe now that I’m old and a grown-ass woman I should re-watch the movies that scared the hell out of me when I was younger. What would that list include, I wonder? E.T. would definitely be on that list. I haven’t seen that shit since before I can even remember!!

Anyway, now that this post has completely gotten away from me and gone to a way more exciting topic, I’ll go back to the boring shit I was telling you about at the beginning. My point was, it’s the eve of my first class of this school year. It’s the first class of my concentration, and just between you and me, because I’m a huge nerd and really, really like school, I’m SUPER excited to be getting into the core classes of the reason I’m going to school. I read my textbook for my pre-assignment and got really excited to be a part of class discussions. I’m excited for my brain to act as an eager sponge and just soak up all the information coming at me!

People with rolly backpacks disgust me.

The best part is, I really, really love the first day of school. As far back as I can remember, I’ve loved it. Well, except for that one year in elementary school when I was afraid of my teacher on the first day of school and was too much of a pansy to ask to go to the bathroom so I wet my pants and tried to hide the puddle of pee on the tiny chair I was seated in.  But, really, besides that, the first day of school and I are, like, besties.

I love brand new school supplies. I love shopping for school supplies. I love seeing everyone walking around campus and filing into classrooms. Everyone just seems so much happier on the first day of classes than all of the other times they walk into class. The first day of school just gives people a pep in their step! And frankly, I love that kind of shit.

I also really, really love getting the class syllabus. Sure, that gets sent out beforehand sometimes, but I like all the time the professor spends going over it, like we don’t have eyes and can’t possibly read or understand what they mean just by reading it. I love going through the class calendar and color coding my planner. I enjoy seeing how much I’m going to hate my life because seven weeks goes by in a flash and that means a large assignment is due every single week.

Anyway, I hope everyone has an enjoyable first day of school, whether it already happened for Fall 2010 or if it’s still to come after Labor Day.  I guess if you’re reading this and don’t have a first day of school anymore, then I feel sad for you. Because it’s one of the many joys in my life. And I look forward to the day I’m a parent someday (bahahaha I should never have kids) and can scar those children with how much I love the first day of school.

I realized I haven’t talked about Grandma in a while.

This is mostly because I’ve spent a ton of time at HomeHome this summer, at least since classes ended at the beginning of August.

Classes are starting this week. Boo 😦 RIP Summer 2010. So I’ll undoubtedly be spending more of my free time at Grandma’s again. In the meantime, here’s a classic tale of one of Grandma’s idiosyncrasies.

Every night, Grandma and I sit down to have dinner at 7 o’clock. We sit at the small-ish round, glass table in the kitchen because the dining room is too fancy and too large for just two people.  I generally sit down first, at my usual place at the table, where Grandma has set my place with a red place mat and her white porcelain dishes. There’s always a glass of milk sitting at my place beside a small lettuce salad or bowl of fruit, because you have to have a vegetable or fruit at every meal. When I take my seat, Grandma looks over the table and asks aloud, “What am I forgetting?”  I no longer respond to this question because the answer is always “Nothing, looks like everything’s here” and she usually just ignores it anyway.

She then makes some disparaging comment, like “well, this doesn’t look as good as the food your mother cooks, but it’ll be juuuuust the way we like it!”  or something like “I tried to work the grill again; that was a job Grandpa usually did…” when, in actuality, she did a perfectly fine job with the grill.  When she says stuff like that, it makes me kinda sad ’cause it’s just unnecessary and the negative things she says are pretty much unfounded. Sometimes I respond with “Noooo, it looks great” or I just shrug because it seems that my comments don’t really make a difference anyway.

By this point, she hasn’t sat down yet, but I’ve been seated for at least three minutes. Comfortably situated in the seat I always sit in.  Meaning, I have pulled my chair out, sat down, and scooted my chair in close enough to the table that I’m not far away at all from the table. No unnecessary reaching. It’s after these comments have been made that she finally reacts to me sitting at the table. There is plenty of space between me and the wall behind me. Sure, it’s a small space; where the table is, it’s in a little nook. But like I said, I am comfortably seated and I am not at all pressed for room. I’m not squished in between the table and the wall. All is well. It’s perfect. No fussing is necessary.

But ooooohhhh noooo. Grandma always, ALWAYS grabs the table and pulls it away from me to “give me more room.” She just grabs the base of the table and yanks it away from me, saying “Here Kate, let’s give you a little more room.”

I DON’T NEED MORE ROOM! More room is the last thing I need. I could hoola hoop with all the room I’ve got!

I have since stopped reacting in any way other than scooting my chair to follow the table. Before, I used to say something like “Oh, no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it” or “No! Don’t move the table!!” but my pleas go unheard. Or, maybe she hears them and just ignores me. The latter is more likely, as she has ears like a wolf, like me, so I know she hears me. She just chooses to ignore my requests.

So every day, I scoot into the table on my own and hope that she’ll forget to move the table away.

But, alas, she never forgets. So it’s a constant battle.

Maybe one day I’ll hold on for dear life to the table and pull it towards me while she tries to yank it away. Until then, though, it looks like I’ll continue to scoot my way across the nook to catch up to the glass table that keeps getting taken away from me.