It's getting so hectic! It's already the weekend before Thanksgiving. I can hardly believe it. This term flew by faster than any year I was in high school, which is saying something since parts of it are just a huge blur.
*shudder* I feel I'm getting a bit old for this.
Halloween was so much fun. My g-ma, Felicia, dressed me up in 80s gear. I loved it. She is a million times better with make up and hair than I am. She dressed up as a flapper, and her dress was absolutely awesome.
Sadly I didn't get to see my big, Megan. But oh wells. We went to Kimber's room for a bit and then us a big group of girls went to ZBT, where we met up with Carina and Brittany and a ton of other girls. I didn't know a lot of the guys there, but they were hilarious and seemed a lot of fun. I definitely need to go there more often.
Then, off to AFter Dark for the Phi Delt party. I've never danced so much in my life. So many people were there, and I knew a lot of the Phi Delt guys. I can now happily say I grinded on Dr. House, aka Joe Florio. It's weird how similar the two are.
Bridget was there too, Andy's sister. All the guys kept trying to grind on her to piss off Andy, so me and Megan Z and Joe (kind of) acted as a task force to keep her from being too uncomfortable. It was nice to see a familiar face, and I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual.
It's been really busy since then. November has flown by. I went home for 11/11/11 for Tyler's wedding. Michael and Katie's kids are at the fun age now. Sophia loves me, and so do Izzy and Jackson - Jackson's a little turd. I need to watch my mouth around them though. I didn't say any bad words, but I did say butthead, which apparently is a bad word - so much for that. This is what happens when you put me around small children.
Ah wellz, it was a great wedding. I missed a lot on campus though, which isn't fun.
I'm making more friends. Last night me, Kate, Carina and Heather had a pizza/movie party in Kate and Heather's room. It was nice. I missed nights like those. We're going to try to do those every two or three weeks.
YEAH!
Oh, and me and Carina discovered we are the same person. It was odd, but comforting to know I"m not alone in my oddness :)
Tonight was A Christmas Carol, and Xi Marks the Spot. Now i'm going to Jen and Berly's room, then After Dark! I'm so pumped, I straightened my hair!
Oh yeah's. I feel pretty. Now I just need to change.
I'm excited for break. I need a break, first of all - EVERYONE DOES!! College is different in that we do not get a day off every week, but our breaks tend to be longer. Turkey Break isn't much, but winter break is over a month long. Heck yeah!!!
But the best part about Thanksgiving? REAL FOOD!!!!
Life is good. I have the occasional down day, and there's definitely been challenges, but then, c'est la vie. :)
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Why hello, ledge, I'm thinking I need some space from you.
To clarify last blogpost, ladies and gentleman, I'd like to say I don't hate Monmouth College. Truly, I don't. It's beautiful here and the people are pretty friendly, all things considered.
I'm just a freshman stuck in a brand new world and the future is creeping up on me. Existential crisis, a friend or two has called it. And now I'm wondering what I'm doing. Where am I going to end up?
But then, I finally calmed down. I talked to a few of my good friends. I talked to a professor. I'm stepping down from the ledge, so to speak. I guess it's just a typical part of life - and sometimes you hit it early, sometimes you don't. I typically hit things before everyone else. I'm not sure if this is one of those cases.
It's all baby steps, I suppose. Invite people over, talk to people you typically don't talk to, chill out in the library or the lounge or sorority house as opposed to your room. Give out your number if the person passes the creeper test or the bitch-you-don't-want-to-have-on-your-contacts-list. And just *be.*
It takes time, but I'll get there. I've got all this time, and don't have any time, all at once. That's beauty of living, isn't it? Not having a clue when it all ends. It kind of sucks because when the moment comes I imagine you feel pretty stupid about all the time you wasted…but that's just being human, really. I know I waste time. I feel pretty miserable sometimes. I think it's inevitable. I guess just try to live in the now, and don't sweat the small things. I hear people complain about the most retarded things, and it really makes me go, "huh? Quit being so negative."
Seriously, positivity is key. I have my moments, Lord knows, but at least I'm trying. And that's all I can do.
I'm just a freshman stuck in a brand new world and the future is creeping up on me. Existential crisis, a friend or two has called it. And now I'm wondering what I'm doing. Where am I going to end up?
But then, I finally calmed down. I talked to a few of my good friends. I talked to a professor. I'm stepping down from the ledge, so to speak. I guess it's just a typical part of life - and sometimes you hit it early, sometimes you don't. I typically hit things before everyone else. I'm not sure if this is one of those cases.
It's all baby steps, I suppose. Invite people over, talk to people you typically don't talk to, chill out in the library or the lounge or sorority house as opposed to your room. Give out your number if the person passes the creeper test or the bitch-you-don't-want-to-have-on-your-contacts-list. And just *be.*
It takes time, but I'll get there. I've got all this time, and don't have any time, all at once. That's beauty of living, isn't it? Not having a clue when it all ends. It kind of sucks because when the moment comes I imagine you feel pretty stupid about all the time you wasted…but that's just being human, really. I know I waste time. I feel pretty miserable sometimes. I think it's inevitable. I guess just try to live in the now, and don't sweat the small things. I hear people complain about the most retarded things, and it really makes me go, "huh? Quit being so negative."
Seriously, positivity is key. I have my moments, Lord knows, but at least I'm trying. And that's all I can do.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
I don't know.
"and we'll climb up on the mountain, y'all, we'll let our voices ring, and those who've never tried it, they'll be the first to sing."
I don't know what I'm doing here.
What if I made a mistake? What if I picked the wrong college? What if it's not the college and it's just me? Maybe i'm just tired of being in school. I hate that it's "required" to graduate college to be successful. I hate being in school. I'm not learning anything important, and I can't imagine it's different anywhere else - private, public, wherever.
I seriously hate it. I hated it in high school. I don't hate it quite as much as I did then, but I still just look around sometimes and ask, "Why am I here? Why the hell am I here?"
Am I supposed to go on my own? I feel like the moment you lose your drive for education, you lose any value you may gain. I'm trying, I'm definitely taking steps to figure out what's wrong within, but sometimes I wonder if maybe I should just quit.
Give up.
Do something really different.
Scare myself.
But how do I do that? No one will help me. Hell, hardly anyone helps me now. I try to map out what I'd do if I actually did it, drop out of college, but I don't know. I'd be alone, and while I generally like my quiet time, I can't be alone for long. It bores me. It saddens me. Sometimes it angers me. But then, if I leave school and just go somewhere, anywhere, will that be any better?
Or am I just traveling the typical voyage of a college drop out, and never amount to anything? Wind up trapped somewhere? Be dead inside for the rest of my life?
My god. There would be no safety net. But what if I wind up finding out what I'm meant to do?
Or is it too soon?
But seriously…I don't know what I'm doing.
I just don't know anymore.
I don't know what I'm doing here.
What if I made a mistake? What if I picked the wrong college? What if it's not the college and it's just me? Maybe i'm just tired of being in school. I hate that it's "required" to graduate college to be successful. I hate being in school. I'm not learning anything important, and I can't imagine it's different anywhere else - private, public, wherever.
I seriously hate it. I hated it in high school. I don't hate it quite as much as I did then, but I still just look around sometimes and ask, "Why am I here? Why the hell am I here?"
Am I supposed to go on my own? I feel like the moment you lose your drive for education, you lose any value you may gain. I'm trying, I'm definitely taking steps to figure out what's wrong within, but sometimes I wonder if maybe I should just quit.
Give up.
Do something really different.
Scare myself.
But how do I do that? No one will help me. Hell, hardly anyone helps me now. I try to map out what I'd do if I actually did it, drop out of college, but I don't know. I'd be alone, and while I generally like my quiet time, I can't be alone for long. It bores me. It saddens me. Sometimes it angers me. But then, if I leave school and just go somewhere, anywhere, will that be any better?
Or am I just traveling the typical voyage of a college drop out, and never amount to anything? Wind up trapped somewhere? Be dead inside for the rest of my life?
My god. There would be no safety net. But what if I wind up finding out what I'm meant to do?
Or is it too soon?
But seriously…I don't know what I'm doing.
I just don't know anymore.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Get Mad. Sometimes. No, Really.
You ever read a book that randomly reminds you of a long-suppressed memory, and suddenly, something makes sense?
I'm reading a lot of books I've never read before for my Young Adult Lit class (English 180). One is 'The Skin I'm In.' Maybe you've read it - it's a junior high, elementary school-level book. It's about a black girl who is picked on mercilessly by everyone, yet affiliates herself with the worst girl of them all as a semi-sort of protection. Needless to say, I want to punch the bully in the face. And I want to shake some sense in Maleeka.
But I know it can't be done. Because I was there. I used to let someone pick on me, beat me up, do all sorts of nasty things - childish things, terrible things, things that hurt long after they happened, long after the wounds were inflicted. And there's only so much anyone else can do before enough is enough.
I never really got my 'enough is enough' moment. At least, if it did, I don't remember it. I fought back, but I was overpowered.
Now, there's no one that can push me around. I get mad. And I do something about it. So maybe all the childhood/adolescent trauma did something to me, something that can't be undone, something that many people try to protect kids from but, hell, it made me stronger. It made me fight.
I heard the click. Something finally fit in my mind, something small but really important to how I am. I always get mad when I read books where the protagonist is picked on. Whether they do something or not is not quite as relevant, although I usually keep telling them to do something. I mean, looking back, junior high was worse than high school because that was the only time I was bullied by multiple people. Now, well, let's just say those people are fuckin' losers. Never going to amount to anything, probably wind up dead in the next ten years, the whole nine yards. I could be wrong. Maybe they'll be the next dude of The Pursuit of Happyness, and in a way I hope I'm wrong, but I doubt I am.
Looking back, I see how ridiculous it is not to stand up for yourself. I mean, when you're a kid it's a big deal if you're different. Oh God, it is. But there's a difference between wanting to fit in, and taking every shit that is dumped on you like a patch of grass. There's a fine line. And I know how to walk it. So while I am prone to hitting people, it is because I am hard-wired that way, after letting someone physically assault me - I literally, sometimes, must hit back.
And now, some words of wisdom from the a guy who used to be a major eff-up:
"Don't ever take no shit off of anybody. I think that's the best piece of advice I ever got."-Johnny Depp
I'm reading a lot of books I've never read before for my Young Adult Lit class (English 180). One is 'The Skin I'm In.' Maybe you've read it - it's a junior high, elementary school-level book. It's about a black girl who is picked on mercilessly by everyone, yet affiliates herself with the worst girl of them all as a semi-sort of protection. Needless to say, I want to punch the bully in the face. And I want to shake some sense in Maleeka.
But I know it can't be done. Because I was there. I used to let someone pick on me, beat me up, do all sorts of nasty things - childish things, terrible things, things that hurt long after they happened, long after the wounds were inflicted. And there's only so much anyone else can do before enough is enough.
I never really got my 'enough is enough' moment. At least, if it did, I don't remember it. I fought back, but I was overpowered.
Now, there's no one that can push me around. I get mad. And I do something about it. So maybe all the childhood/adolescent trauma did something to me, something that can't be undone, something that many people try to protect kids from but, hell, it made me stronger. It made me fight.
I heard the click. Something finally fit in my mind, something small but really important to how I am. I always get mad when I read books where the protagonist is picked on. Whether they do something or not is not quite as relevant, although I usually keep telling them to do something. I mean, looking back, junior high was worse than high school because that was the only time I was bullied by multiple people. Now, well, let's just say those people are fuckin' losers. Never going to amount to anything, probably wind up dead in the next ten years, the whole nine yards. I could be wrong. Maybe they'll be the next dude of The Pursuit of Happyness, and in a way I hope I'm wrong, but I doubt I am.
Looking back, I see how ridiculous it is not to stand up for yourself. I mean, when you're a kid it's a big deal if you're different. Oh God, it is. But there's a difference between wanting to fit in, and taking every shit that is dumped on you like a patch of grass. There's a fine line. And I know how to walk it. So while I am prone to hitting people, it is because I am hard-wired that way, after letting someone physically assault me - I literally, sometimes, must hit back.
And now, some words of wisdom from the a guy who used to be a major eff-up:
"Don't ever take no shit off of anybody. I think that's the best piece of advice I ever got."-Johnny Depp
Labels:
acceptance,
angry,
defense,
love,
pride,
self,
standing up,
who you are
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Soundtrack of My Life
So, to put off homework, which is something I should major in, here are the songs that would be on the soundtrack of my life. This is just for right now, my 18th year of existence - the one that would span my whole life is too much for me to chew on right now.
In a Small Town ~ Kenny Chesney
Like a Rock ~ Bob Seger
Enchanted, Sparks Fly ~ Taylor Swift
My Favorite Regret ~ Gigolo Aunts
Under Pressure ~ Queen feat. David Bowie
Don't Stop Believin' ~ Journey
Tell Me I'm a Wreck ~ Every Avenue
Only the Good Die Young, She's Always a Woman, Vienna ~ Billy Joel
Raise Your Glass, Who Knew ~ P!nk
Stand By Me ~ Ben E. King
Misery ~ Soul Asylum
Welcome to the Jungle ~ Guns n' Roses
Eye of the Tiger ~ Survivor
Scotty Doesn't Know ~ Lustra
Ready to Love Again ~ Lady Antebellum
The Engine Driver ~ The Decemberists
21 Guns ~ Green Day feat. American Idiot Cast
Lose Yourself ~ Eminem
Music is My Boyfriend ~ Skye Sweetem
I'll Make a Man Out of You ~ Mulan soundtrack
O Children ~ Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
In a Small Town ~ Kenny Chesney
Like a Rock ~ Bob Seger
Enchanted, Sparks Fly ~ Taylor Swift
My Favorite Regret ~ Gigolo Aunts
Under Pressure ~ Queen feat. David Bowie
Don't Stop Believin' ~ Journey
Tell Me I'm a Wreck ~ Every Avenue
Only the Good Die Young, She's Always a Woman, Vienna ~ Billy Joel
Raise Your Glass, Who Knew ~ P!nk
Stand By Me ~ Ben E. King
Misery ~ Soul Asylum
Welcome to the Jungle ~ Guns n' Roses
Eye of the Tiger ~ Survivor
Scotty Doesn't Know ~ Lustra
Ready to Love Again ~ Lady Antebellum
The Engine Driver ~ The Decemberists
21 Guns ~ Green Day feat. American Idiot Cast
Lose Yourself ~ Eminem
Music is My Boyfriend ~ Skye Sweetem
I'll Make a Man Out of You ~ Mulan soundtrack
O Children ~ Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Labels:
80s rock,
ben e. king,
eminem,
Every Avenue,
eye of the tiger,
green day,
Kenny Chesney,
life,
misery,
mulan,
music,
nick cave,
scotty doesn't know,
skye sweetem,
soul asylum,
soundtrack,
Taylor Swift
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
What is brave to you?
What is bravery to you?
I'm scared of new people. I'm scared of never fitting in. I'm scared of time.
I go to a school over 150 miles away from my hometown. I know two people before I move here. I go to a classroom, and do not know a single face. I talk. I speak. I try to branch out. I take advantage of each moment.
Does that make me brave? I don't know. I think that just might be life. Thoughts, anyone?
I'm scared of new people. I'm scared of never fitting in. I'm scared of time.
I go to a school over 150 miles away from my hometown. I know two people before I move here. I go to a classroom, and do not know a single face. I talk. I speak. I try to branch out. I take advantage of each moment.
Does that make me brave? I don't know. I think that just might be life. Thoughts, anyone?
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Yrbooks R N
Everyone was excited about it. Steelecat said it was gorgeous. They blew off anything important to talk about "how awesome it is."
my book.
It all paid off, and I can't wait to see it.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
A meandering response to a ridiculous question
It's a question I was asked during a scholarship interview, and I found myself fumbling - I didn't know why at the time why this question in particular threw me off completely, but now I do: It's ridiculous. Here's the question:
"Where do you imagine yourself in 10 years?"
Let's put this in to context (at the time). I am 17, very nearly 18 years old. I'm a senior in high school. I'm still debating between colleges. I only know I want to be an English major because English is the only area I have had a chance to explore, discover I have an affinity for it, and most importantly love it. I have so many dreams I don't know which one I want to explore, or if they are even feasible at this point.
Here's a rundown of professions I have briefly or not-so-briefly entertained: a veterinarian, a fiction writer, a reporter, a literary editor, a newspaper/magazine editor, a contributing staff writer, a photographer, a stunt double, a screen writer, a special effects coordinator, an actress, a publishing mogul, a lawyer, a singer, a freelance writer, a musician.
Those are the ones that spring to mind anyway. And you know what? No matter how old you get, once you have a dream, it never completely lets you go. A part of you always yearns to be that, even if it's not possible, even if it's not probable, even if you have discovered something else you want more.
Most importantly is that I don't know what dreams will become attainable by careful planning. I don't which ones will be attainable when/if Fate intervenes. Say I audition for a play, and get a good part. A movie producer or an actor or something comes along and sees me and offers me a role in a movie, or gets me an agent. Becoming an actress seems very likely, no? But say, a year or two or more or less, I write a novel and manage to get it published. What do you know, a dream is accomplished, because I took a class or I finally disciplined myself into sitting down and forming a piece of publishable literature.
Or say I complete college and land a job at a publishing firm. Say that I become a newspaper writer/editor for the college newspaper and my resume builds up so I get a job for the Chicago Sun-Times.
Idon'tknow.
"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Now that you see me, see what's in my head, tell me, how can I answer that? Explain to the interview in a few seconds what it just took me roughly five minutes to write? Time is money, very literally in this case. No way could I give a feasible answer except, I don't know. I don't know where I'm going to be because my life is still very much open to interpretation. It's an ambiguity.
(There you go, Professor Suda and Hale.)
In my eyes, that's a good thing. I would undoubtedly be very depressed if I knew exactly where my life was going to be in ten years, when I was only 17-18 years old. I don't want to know. I want to be happy. That's about all I can think of. And I think that's all I can feasibly imagine at this point.
It doesn't take Fate or careful planning to be happy. You just have to look at life, and be happy with what you see. The way I look at is this: if I don't know where my life is going to be, I have hope. And I am happy with that.
"Where do you imagine yourself in 10 years?"
Let's put this in to context (at the time). I am 17, very nearly 18 years old. I'm a senior in high school. I'm still debating between colleges. I only know I want to be an English major because English is the only area I have had a chance to explore, discover I have an affinity for it, and most importantly love it. I have so many dreams I don't know which one I want to explore, or if they are even feasible at this point.
Here's a rundown of professions I have briefly or not-so-briefly entertained: a veterinarian, a fiction writer, a reporter, a literary editor, a newspaper/magazine editor, a contributing staff writer, a photographer, a stunt double, a screen writer, a special effects coordinator, an actress, a publishing mogul, a lawyer, a singer, a freelance writer, a musician.
Those are the ones that spring to mind anyway. And you know what? No matter how old you get, once you have a dream, it never completely lets you go. A part of you always yearns to be that, even if it's not possible, even if it's not probable, even if you have discovered something else you want more.
Most importantly is that I don't know what dreams will become attainable by careful planning. I don't which ones will be attainable when/if Fate intervenes. Say I audition for a play, and get a good part. A movie producer or an actor or something comes along and sees me and offers me a role in a movie, or gets me an agent. Becoming an actress seems very likely, no? But say, a year or two or more or less, I write a novel and manage to get it published. What do you know, a dream is accomplished, because I took a class or I finally disciplined myself into sitting down and forming a piece of publishable literature.
Or say I complete college and land a job at a publishing firm. Say that I become a newspaper writer/editor for the college newspaper and my resume builds up so I get a job for the Chicago Sun-Times.
Idon'tknow.
"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Now that you see me, see what's in my head, tell me, how can I answer that? Explain to the interview in a few seconds what it just took me roughly five minutes to write? Time is money, very literally in this case. No way could I give a feasible answer except, I don't know. I don't know where I'm going to be because my life is still very much open to interpretation. It's an ambiguity.
(There you go, Professor Suda and Hale.)
In my eyes, that's a good thing. I would undoubtedly be very depressed if I knew exactly where my life was going to be in ten years, when I was only 17-18 years old. I don't want to know. I want to be happy. That's about all I can think of. And I think that's all I can feasibly imagine at this point.
It doesn't take Fate or careful planning to be happy. You just have to look at life, and be happy with what you see. The way I look at is this: if I don't know where my life is going to be, I have hope. And I am happy with that.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
First Day
Wow. So this morning is a blur. I remember getting up and getting dressed and not putting on make-up like I had planned. I went to breakfast with Mary Kate at 8:45 because my earliest class is at 9:30, which is AWESOME since I had early bird last year (Gary is going to laugh when I tell him that). I went back to my dorm, picked up my backpack and trudged to U.S. History.
I don't know if this is because I am accustomed to the unquestionable talent of Mr. Zini, my 8th grade history teacher, or even good ole Mr. Bond, freshman Civics and senior World History teacher, but I'm pretty sure that Professor Urban is going to put me to sleep. Which is a bummer, because he seems like a really nice guy. But what can you do? It's a general-ed class and the only way I could take another gen-ed history class is if I took Spanish 102 at 8 in the morning every day.
Say it with me: NO.
Then came ILA with Professor Suda. I can already tell she's a no-bull shit kind of person. She's crazy, but a good kind of crazy. She's also a music teacher, so there you go. She's also apparently a hardass at grading, but seriously, bring it on. Sorrill, Steelecat and Kensil prepared me. Mr. Roberts kept my self-esteem in check with his hand-drawn figures that I will always cherish.
Note to self: remind Mom not to throw that folder away or promise sudden death.
Afterwards (my schedule is 9:30-10:45, 11-11:50, and 12-12:50, bam bam bam on MWF), Spanish 102. Professor Germain Badang is an interesting guy - grew up in Africa (I can't remember where exactly....shit), speaks that language native to his country as well as Spanish and French, now lives in Monmouth, IL. Don't ask me how that happened, I don't know yet. And he began by speaking French, asking if this was a French class, which I didn't fall for because come on, oldest trick in the book (and I had already checked with the girl next to me that this was the correct class, thank you very much). Then switched to Spanish. He spoke occasional English, but in general, he said so himself, 80% Spanish, 20% English.
I'm interested to see how this goes.
I think my most vivid memory is the rain - it was beautiful because it hasn't rained, really rained, as long as I've been here. I moved in July 31 - yeah, that heat wave you may recall? No air conditioning. I drank four water bottles per day and only had to pee once, on average. So the rain was beautiful, but brief. It's weird because in some spots it was sunshine and other parts a little drizzle. Awesome. And I thought of As Told by Ginger, "There were copper colored ponies, air that smelled like rain, and the moon was out in daytime..." Blah blah blah.
Oh, and I was guaranteed no Spanish on Fridays. HOLLA! And I only have three classes per day, with the exception of Wednesday: 11:00-11:50 ILA, 12-12:50 Spanish, 1-1:50 Young Adult Lit, and 7:00-7:50 Print/Media workshop.
Best part of the day was going to the theater moving. As soon as they started talking about auditions, I slowly started to feel more alive. Finally! My chance! I've always wanted to act, but no singing talent = no part in the spring musical. Those *******! but now I have my chance. Then I had dinner with a bunch of theater majors/minors etc., and finally met the guy who I remember from two years ago in Sweeney Todd. He played Toby then and he stole the show, when he was a freshman. He's very dynamic and hilarious and modest and (I think) gay, and it's a great combo.
Moral of the story: everything, including first day of school, is better in college than in high school/junior high. I'd say elementary school, but a) I don't remember a whole lot of it and b) elementary school was the best years of my life.
I don't know if this is because I am accustomed to the unquestionable talent of Mr. Zini, my 8th grade history teacher, or even good ole Mr. Bond, freshman Civics and senior World History teacher, but I'm pretty sure that Professor Urban is going to put me to sleep. Which is a bummer, because he seems like a really nice guy. But what can you do? It's a general-ed class and the only way I could take another gen-ed history class is if I took Spanish 102 at 8 in the morning every day.
Say it with me: NO.
Then came ILA with Professor Suda. I can already tell she's a no-bull shit kind of person. She's crazy, but a good kind of crazy. She's also a music teacher, so there you go. She's also apparently a hardass at grading, but seriously, bring it on. Sorrill, Steelecat and Kensil prepared me. Mr. Roberts kept my self-esteem in check with his hand-drawn figures that I will always cherish.
Note to self: remind Mom not to throw that folder away or promise sudden death.
Afterwards (my schedule is 9:30-10:45, 11-11:50, and 12-12:50, bam bam bam on MWF), Spanish 102. Professor Germain Badang is an interesting guy - grew up in Africa (I can't remember where exactly....shit), speaks that language native to his country as well as Spanish and French, now lives in Monmouth, IL. Don't ask me how that happened, I don't know yet. And he began by speaking French, asking if this was a French class, which I didn't fall for because come on, oldest trick in the book (and I had already checked with the girl next to me that this was the correct class, thank you very much). Then switched to Spanish. He spoke occasional English, but in general, he said so himself, 80% Spanish, 20% English.
I'm interested to see how this goes.
I think my most vivid memory is the rain - it was beautiful because it hasn't rained, really rained, as long as I've been here. I moved in July 31 - yeah, that heat wave you may recall? No air conditioning. I drank four water bottles per day and only had to pee once, on average. So the rain was beautiful, but brief. It's weird because in some spots it was sunshine and other parts a little drizzle. Awesome. And I thought of As Told by Ginger, "There were copper colored ponies, air that smelled like rain, and the moon was out in daytime..." Blah blah blah.
Oh, and I was guaranteed no Spanish on Fridays. HOLLA! And I only have three classes per day, with the exception of Wednesday: 11:00-11:50 ILA, 12-12:50 Spanish, 1-1:50 Young Adult Lit, and 7:00-7:50 Print/Media workshop.
Best part of the day was going to the theater moving. As soon as they started talking about auditions, I slowly started to feel more alive. Finally! My chance! I've always wanted to act, but no singing talent = no part in the spring musical. Those *******! but now I have my chance. Then I had dinner with a bunch of theater majors/minors etc., and finally met the guy who I remember from two years ago in Sweeney Todd. He played Toby then and he stole the show, when he was a freshman. He's very dynamic and hilarious and modest and (I think) gay, and it's a great combo.
Moral of the story: everything, including first day of school, is better in college than in high school/junior high. I'd say elementary school, but a) I don't remember a whole lot of it and b) elementary school was the best years of my life.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Deja-Vu, Re-Vamped
It's not what I thought it'd be.
Then again, I had very few ideas about it to begin with. I just wanted something better. I looked around, every day, for about a year - looking back, for much longer than a year. There had to be something better. There had to be more.
Taylorville is a great place to grow up, but leaving is the only way to grow out.
So I arrived early, participated in research. Heard a professor say words like fuck and damn and shit. And you know, it wasn't derogatory - he/she was imitating someone, was talking like people actually talk, wasnt' worried (too much) about offending someone.
I went out when I wanted to go out. No checking in, no texting my parents. I didn't know too many people, because there were only a small number of people to know. Then I watched, as week 2 went by, and more and more people filled the cafeteria.
I sat with random people at lunch, people I didn't know. There were no cliques - football players mostly sat together, but that was because they were told to, to create "team spirit," at least until camp was over. Everyone sat with everyone. People who might have hated each other just a few months ago, had they gone to high school. People giving people a chance because everything is different now.
Hell, even the air is different. And sometimes it stinks, both figuratively and literally (there's a slaughterhouse on one side of town and a dog food factory on the other).
It was in some ways new, and in other ways not. I was a freshman again. Some things are the same.
But some things...some things are vastly different. I look back four years ago, when I met people who changed my life, people I never would have expected to - people who still do.
Take a break, and think. Who have you fallen in love with? Who do you still love - as a friend, as more than a friend, years after you first met? Who has changed you?
I know that, in some ways, that's the same thing - you never know who you're going to meet and what role they are going to play. You just meet, talk, exchange perspectives, exchange numbers. You talk about your schools, and what your major is, what you're involved in.
It's like a first date, but with friends.
Today was the Freshman Walk-Out. That's when all the freshman Scots (yay! I'm a Scot!) walk around the town and are formally welcomed by businesses - by pens, pencils, free notebooks, coupons, fliers, food, magnets, markers, key chains. It was hot, sweat fell down my back, and the bags (started out with one, ended with four) grew heavy in my hands, deliciously heavy. And I was smiling the entire way, because it finally happened.
This isn't my entire life. But it's my life right now. It's a new beginning, finally, the one I've been waiting for. The next chapter has officially started, a new page started - and I was finally who I wanted to be, who I could be. I could join clubs without being judged by people, without being limited by my old friends. And I mean nothing bad by that, because I love my friends, best friends - and I know that they know what I mean. Anybody who's been to college knows what I mean.
All the things you wanted to do? They're possible. And it's a glorious feeling. Much like high school freshman year.
But here's the difference, the big difference: I know how fast it really goes. I remember last year, feeling so old, so big, so brave. I N V I N C I B L E. I hope my senior friends know what I'm talking about, because it's a nice feeling to have once in a while - the knowledge that you want to get out of here, but for now, this is your place, where you belong, it's finally your turn to be the head honchos. There is not a person (worth knowing, anyway) who you don't know, not a teacher you haven't heard a story about.
My little darlings, who I remember as little freshmen still to this day and am so proud of the people they have become, know what I'm talking about. All I can say is enjoy it as much as you can. I know, there are times senior year sucks and you just want to GET OUT, but when you're out, you are out. There's no going back. Remember that.
I was happy at graduation - ecstatic. I hope you are, too, because that means you're ready to go, and you should be. But until then, take a look around every once in a while. Participate. Or don't participate - in one class in particular, half the hour we usually spent just messing around, me usually playing angry birds or complaining how I could be doing something for Journalism.
Just make some memories that you want to remember. You'll appreciate it later, when you're a freshman again like me, not 14 but 18, and remember those days that sucked, but you also remember the days that kept you going.
Also, Facebook = awesome. I don't know what I would do without it, friends-wise. I miss my senior class so much already. We were unique, we were friends, we knew each other. Now we're all in different directions (all of us, thank God, no losses yet), but we are still united - phone numbers, Facebook, Skype. I'm so glad. I don't want to lose contact with them just yet, although 10-year reunion is going to be fun.
It goes by fast. And today, I recognized that. I smiled most of the entire day, was in a jovial mood despite having homework for the first time in months. I loved my ILA (Intro to Liberal Arts) class, because it was different from high school. I went to an informational meeting about sororities, something I never would've done in high school. I went to a residence hall meeting and began to realize just how differently, wonderfully different this year would be.
I can't wait to see how I change, who I form relationships with. I can't wait to see what teachers I hate and what teachers I all but literally worship. I can try to avoid the fights when I can, but I know that every bit of it, good or bad, there's a part of me that's going to enjoy it. Because I will be growing, experiencing, constantly changing. I will become who I am meant to be. I will find out just what I am made of.
I guess you could say I'm one of those people. The ones that take everything in stride because it all happens for a reason.
There is a reason. It's up to me to find it. This is me, going through ups and downs. This is me, going through another four years that will go by so slow, but looking back, it will have gone by so fast.
This is me, a freshman once more. I'm going to enjoy every second of it, because I know how it feels to be a senior and secretly (or not-so-secretly) scared shitless of what's next.
We don't remember days, we remember moments.
Walking down the streets of Monmouth this early afternoon, with two new friends I met only a few weeks ago, I realized that I will get back to that feeling soon enough, in a full circle. I realized I will never have a first day of college again, only a moment in the back of my mind.
This is me, age 18 now, and I'm taking hold of these days that will transform into moments, and I'm doing my damnedest to never let go.
"There's a whole universe next door. Come on, let's go."-e.e. cummings
Then again, I had very few ideas about it to begin with. I just wanted something better. I looked around, every day, for about a year - looking back, for much longer than a year. There had to be something better. There had to be more.
Taylorville is a great place to grow up, but leaving is the only way to grow out.
So I arrived early, participated in research. Heard a professor say words like fuck and damn and shit. And you know, it wasn't derogatory - he/she was imitating someone, was talking like people actually talk, wasnt' worried (too much) about offending someone.
I went out when I wanted to go out. No checking in, no texting my parents. I didn't know too many people, because there were only a small number of people to know. Then I watched, as week 2 went by, and more and more people filled the cafeteria.
I sat with random people at lunch, people I didn't know. There were no cliques - football players mostly sat together, but that was because they were told to, to create "team spirit," at least until camp was over. Everyone sat with everyone. People who might have hated each other just a few months ago, had they gone to high school. People giving people a chance because everything is different now.
Hell, even the air is different. And sometimes it stinks, both figuratively and literally (there's a slaughterhouse on one side of town and a dog food factory on the other).
It was in some ways new, and in other ways not. I was a freshman again. Some things are the same.
But some things...some things are vastly different. I look back four years ago, when I met people who changed my life, people I never would have expected to - people who still do.
Take a break, and think. Who have you fallen in love with? Who do you still love - as a friend, as more than a friend, years after you first met? Who has changed you?
I know that, in some ways, that's the same thing - you never know who you're going to meet and what role they are going to play. You just meet, talk, exchange perspectives, exchange numbers. You talk about your schools, and what your major is, what you're involved in.
It's like a first date, but with friends.
Today was the Freshman Walk-Out. That's when all the freshman Scots (yay! I'm a Scot!) walk around the town and are formally welcomed by businesses - by pens, pencils, free notebooks, coupons, fliers, food, magnets, markers, key chains. It was hot, sweat fell down my back, and the bags (started out with one, ended with four) grew heavy in my hands, deliciously heavy. And I was smiling the entire way, because it finally happened.
This isn't my entire life. But it's my life right now. It's a new beginning, finally, the one I've been waiting for. The next chapter has officially started, a new page started - and I was finally who I wanted to be, who I could be. I could join clubs without being judged by people, without being limited by my old friends. And I mean nothing bad by that, because I love my friends, best friends - and I know that they know what I mean. Anybody who's been to college knows what I mean.
All the things you wanted to do? They're possible. And it's a glorious feeling. Much like high school freshman year.
But here's the difference, the big difference: I know how fast it really goes. I remember last year, feeling so old, so big, so brave. I N V I N C I B L E. I hope my senior friends know what I'm talking about, because it's a nice feeling to have once in a while - the knowledge that you want to get out of here, but for now, this is your place, where you belong, it's finally your turn to be the head honchos. There is not a person (worth knowing, anyway) who you don't know, not a teacher you haven't heard a story about.
My little darlings, who I remember as little freshmen still to this day and am so proud of the people they have become, know what I'm talking about. All I can say is enjoy it as much as you can. I know, there are times senior year sucks and you just want to GET OUT, but when you're out, you are out. There's no going back. Remember that.
I was happy at graduation - ecstatic. I hope you are, too, because that means you're ready to go, and you should be. But until then, take a look around every once in a while. Participate. Or don't participate - in one class in particular, half the hour we usually spent just messing around, me usually playing angry birds or complaining how I could be doing something for Journalism.
Just make some memories that you want to remember. You'll appreciate it later, when you're a freshman again like me, not 14 but 18, and remember those days that sucked, but you also remember the days that kept you going.
Also, Facebook = awesome. I don't know what I would do without it, friends-wise. I miss my senior class so much already. We were unique, we were friends, we knew each other. Now we're all in different directions (all of us, thank God, no losses yet), but we are still united - phone numbers, Facebook, Skype. I'm so glad. I don't want to lose contact with them just yet, although 10-year reunion is going to be fun.
It goes by fast. And today, I recognized that. I smiled most of the entire day, was in a jovial mood despite having homework for the first time in months. I loved my ILA (Intro to Liberal Arts) class, because it was different from high school. I went to an informational meeting about sororities, something I never would've done in high school. I went to a residence hall meeting and began to realize just how differently, wonderfully different this year would be.
I can't wait to see how I change, who I form relationships with. I can't wait to see what teachers I hate and what teachers I all but literally worship. I can try to avoid the fights when I can, but I know that every bit of it, good or bad, there's a part of me that's going to enjoy it. Because I will be growing, experiencing, constantly changing. I will become who I am meant to be. I will find out just what I am made of.
I guess you could say I'm one of those people. The ones that take everything in stride because it all happens for a reason.
There is a reason. It's up to me to find it. This is me, going through ups and downs. This is me, going through another four years that will go by so slow, but looking back, it will have gone by so fast.
This is me, a freshman once more. I'm going to enjoy every second of it, because I know how it feels to be a senior and secretly (or not-so-secretly) scared shitless of what's next.
We don't remember days, we remember moments.
Walking down the streets of Monmouth this early afternoon, with two new friends I met only a few weeks ago, I realized that I will get back to that feeling soon enough, in a full circle. I realized I will never have a first day of college again, only a moment in the back of my mind.
This is me, age 18 now, and I'm taking hold of these days that will transform into moments, and I'm doing my damnedest to never let go.
"There's a whole universe next door. Come on, let's go."-e.e. cummings
Labels:
college,
excitement,
freshman,
love,
new,
nostalgia,
retrospect
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