Top 10 Reasons Why I'm Captain Grouchy Pants Today...

10. My feet haven't been properly warm since Christmas. This could be because I live in an apartment with zero insulation.

9. The medical professionals have yet to find a way for me to have an IV of Diet Coke (and not have it kill me like the crazy nurse did with the patient in Brazil).

8. I don't want to like the new companion on Doctor Who but I do. I also don't want to like the new credits sequence or the new and improved inside of the TARDIS.

7. People who correct you just so they can sound superior (especially when they do it in front of your boss).

6. Procrastinators. I'm so sorry, but no, since you haven't even begun an application to our program, we can't admit you for a semester that begins on MONDAY.

5. My desk has become a dumping ground for files that advisers have yet to pick up for the coming semester. My desk is not big enough for this to go on much longer.

4. The creepy homeless guy who was practically living in my office over the weekend drank all of my remaining pomegranate 7-Up which is only sold at Christmas. And since it's no longer Christmas, I can't find any.

3. It's no longer Christmas.

2. Yoplait stopped making my favorite kind of yogurt.

And the number one reason that I'm Captain Grouchy Pants today....

1. Because I am an adult and as an adult, I don't get to stay in bed when it's negative eleventy billion degrees outside and drink hot cocoa and bond with the doctors of Grey's Anatomy or go on adventures with Amy, Rory and the Doctor or play office Olympics with Jim and Pam.

Now. Who do I speak to about quitting adulthood?

Remember how I graduated last spring?

And remember how when you graduate the stress of final exams is supposed to be gone? Yeah, I did too. But the last two weeks have proved to be absolutely insane. Like off the charts. I feel like I'm living solely on Diet Coke. I have that finals haze hanging over my mind kind of insane. This is partly because I'm tutoring at the Burb again so I've been working an extra 4 hours each night after my regular job at the business school. Also? I'm in charge of helping plan graduation for the b-school. Which means that I'm pretty sure that before Friday my pretty little head is going to spin clean off my shoulders. I haven't felt this...manic? Insane? Exhausted? Wiped out? In desperate need of a day closed sunny room, with a pile of books and a cup of tea? In an extremely long long time. It's not that I hate either of my jobs. I actually quite like them both. I love my students (most of the time). I love getting to teach history on a daily basis. I like getting to 'administrate' and organize at my b-school job. I won't lie to you though: I'd like to have time to eat something more than cold cereal or sushi from the Smiths on 9th and 9th every day. 

So I'm begging you, dear readers. Tell me something lovely and wonderful. 

And go.

Side Effects of Being An Assistant...

First off, you all should know that I'm a horrible person. As long as we have that established, you can read on.

Because of my job, I attend a lot of meetings. I take notes. I bring coffee. I make copies. I give brilliant suggestions that make the entire room gasp in admiration and appreciation. (One of these things is not like the other...) Basically, I'm Pam from The Office, minus the whole Jim situation. Unfortunately.

Anyway, because I studied history, I'm a fantastic note taker. No joke. It's one of my superpowers. My last semester of school, I was paid to take notes in one of my classes. It was delightful. I basically got paid to go to class. But again, I digress. As I'm sitting in these meetings, (many of which are incredibly boring), I tend to people watch. I do this because I can take a minimal amount of notes and still recall most of what was said. (See? Superpower, baby!) In all of my observing, I've noticed that there are a few different kinds of meeting goers. For your express enjoyment, I will separate them into categories:

- The Bobble Head: This particular specimen is always a pleasure to observe. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. This is the co-worker who is constantly nodding their head along with whomever may be speaking, constantly making earnest eye contact so as to make the speaker feel validated. Now, a nod every now and again to agree with a well chosen point is always a good thing. But a Bobble Head has a tendency to nod for the entire duration of the meeting. What is actually being said is of no consequence, a Bobble Head will continue to nod even if you suggest that Martians are going to take over the company and all human jobs will be outsourced to Jupiter. Resist the urge to hold their head still for them. It could lead to some awkward water cooler conversations.

-The Paper Shuffler: The Paper Shuffler or PS has a tendency, exactly as their identifier suggests, to unnecessarily move their papers around. And around and around. It has been suggested by professionals that if you have a PS in your midst it's a-okay to skip them when giving out the meeting's hand outs. You may want to conveniently run out of meeting agendas. It'll save you the time and the sanity.

-The Note Taker:  That guy who sits in the corner, furiously scribbling down every blessed word that anyone says (particularly the boss)? At times you wonder if you see smoke rising gently from underneath the tip of his pen? To be honest, you probably can. The Note Taker will probably be able to recite entire conversations after the fact. Unfortunately for him, it has nothing to do with a superpower. Be sure to have an extra writing utensil close at hand just in case the Note Taker's stops working. You wouldn't to deal with the meltdown.

-The Daydreamer: You know that girl who stares out the window the entire meeting? What? There's no window in your conference room? Okay, fine. A Daydreamer will stare at a blank wall. They also have the tendency to make comments completely unrelated to the current topic. Every now and again, you might want to bump their arm to keep them moderately engaged.

-The Fidgeter: Meetings that contain a fidgeter are particularly difficult for me. It takes all of the very small amount of self-control that I possess not the dive across the table and yank the pen, paperclip, small piece of paper or cell phone out of a figeter's hand and throw it across the room. That wouldn't cause much of a scene would it?

and last but not least...

-The Interrupter: This particular breed of meeting goer is among the most deadly. They make it incredibly difficult to get a word in edgewise and frequently starts sentences with "I did that last week" and "I think that somebody should get on that" or "I think that sending Mallorie to England is a lovely idea" (Okay, maybe not so much that last one). Often, the Interrupter (or Humanus Interruptus) will do their best to change the entire topic of discussion, bringing everything back to their "accomplishments" or "contributions". You may want to grab the Fidgeter's pencil and shove it in their eye. Do NOT resist this temptation. It will be for the good and  betterment of all.

A quote...

Remember how I haven't had the plague in months? Remember how I was SO incredibly excited to realize this? Remember how Sara the Theatre Fairy and I were just commenting on how great it was that I hadn't been sick? And who comes down with the plague about 2:30 yesterday afternoon? You've got it right. This girl. This means that my energy is at an all time low so all I have for you, dear readers, is this brilliant quote:

Isn't that just a lovely thought? It also makes me want to burst out into "Do You Believe in Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonful, but I'll save your ears. Anyway, I'm off to create more Excel spreadsheets. Can I just say, I love getting paid to organize someone else's life? It's fab. 

Loves!

Playing grown up...

Do you ever feel like you're just playing at being an adult? Let me tell you something: even though I have been counting down the days until graduation, it still felt like I was just pretending. As I sat in a sea of black and red clad graduates all wearing those ridiculous mortar board hats (Can I pause in my seriousness to say that I want to find the person who decided what graduation attire should look like and give them a swift kick in the shins? Everyone looks terrible in that get up AND it screws with your hair. Okay, rant over), I couldn't help but have a slight moment of panic at the idea of entering the real world. 

I've spent the last few days telling people that I still have to go home and finish my homework or contemplating which classes to register for next semester only to come to the jarring realization that all my homework is done and all my classes completed. I suppose that being a school nerd makes the transition slightly more painful because in reality, I'm going to miss school. (Not enough to start grad school right away, mind you. I'm not that nuts.) Part of me is going to miss the papers and the lectures, the assigned reading and the study groups. 

School was safe because it was something that I knew for sure that I was good at. Now I'm required to make all of that knowledge useful somehow, and I'm at a loss for how to do so. I know that a history degree is basically useless without a master's and most places that I apply to work won't care about my views on the Cold War or that I know all about FDR and his alphabet soup. 

But I am determined to make the last 8 years of my life worth something on the grand scale of things. I've already been offered and turned down 2 jobs because they weren't what was right for me (trust me when I say that I know it sounds completely crazy. Take it up with the Lord), and I just have to trust that someone who is much more intelligent and has my best interests at heart is directing things. As long as I follow His plans and His inspirations, I'll end up right where He needs me to be and what could be better than that?

Call me vain if you must.

 But I simply LOVE these pictures that the brilliant, talented and simply delightful Emily Mangum took for my graduation. I know, I know, I stuck them up all over Facebook, but this girl can't get enough exposure and let's be honest: I'm self centered and egotistical and I like them. 

You know how...

during finals week you have those insane dreams about sleeping in and missing your final? Or the fact that you're on your way to take a math exam and you forgot your calculator? You rush around in a blind panic because you can't miss your exam and usually wake yourself up because you're thrashing in your blankets?

Sometimes it's not a dream.

Like this morning.

It went something like this:

I decided to let myself sleep in a little because I have a whole TWO hours between school and work, giving me ample time to come home and beautify myself for the day. I got up around 9:10, brushed my teeth and decided to check my email to see if I had any emails from my favorite missionaries. I'm reading through Sestra Staheli's email when I look down at the clock on my computer and realize that my exam is in exactly 16 minutes. I throw a sweatshirt on over my pajamas and race out of my house with my purse. As I'm driving like a maniac down 9th  East, going through the equations for compounding interest and stocks and bonds, I realize that I didn't grab my calculator. Panic had officially set in. At this point I actually pinched myself to be sure that I wasn't having some sort of insanely detailed and realistic dream. I then made a VERY dangerous U turn and booked it back to my house, ran down the stairs, grabbed my calculator and set off once again for the U. As was my luck this morning, I'm stuck behind a bus (I loathe public transportation) and the slowest driver known to man until I hit 4th South. I don't think I've ever taken that corner so quickly in my entire tenure at school. The time? 9:39. I had exactly 60 seconds to drive up the hill, turn on left on 1850 East, turn right on South Campus Drive, turn left on Mario Capecchi Drive, turn left on to North Campus Drive, go through the roundabout, come out on Central Campus Drive, drive to the closest visitor parking lot to OSH, run into room 202, snag a test and sit down in my seat on the front row. Even at super speed, that's fairly close to impossible. I've never wanted the ability to Apparate more in my entire life. I settled for driving like I was from southern California while trying my hardest not to swear. I made it into the room at 9:50. I'm beyond proud to say that I finished the entire exam in exactly 30 minutes, knew that answer to every single problem and didn't cry once.

It's more than I can say for my first exam in my 1010 class.

"If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!" Peter Pan

I've made a decision. 

I'm never growing up. Ever. 

Mostly because I'm scared to pieces about it. I don't know anything about 401Ks, insurance policies or retirement plans. I still (on occasion) watch the Disney Channel and I own both "A Cinderella Story" and "Another Cinderella Story". And I watch them. I like sleeping in on Saturday mornings. Grown ups are supposed to get up early and clean or jog or something responsible like that. And they typically describe themselves as 'adults' as opposed to grown ups. 

Enough jabbering and out with the truth of the matter:

I'm in major denial about graduating in May. 

I'm half ecstatic, half paralyzed by fear. 

What, may I ask, does one do with a history degree?

I like reading books and writing papers. I like going to class and taking notes. For heaven's sake, I like being a college student! Don't tell, but I like midterms and finals. The only kinds of exams which make me positively ill are of the mathematical variety. I enjoy studying. 

Don't stone me, but it's the honest to goodness truth. I swear on Yoda. And my copy of Beauty and the Beast. And my Berlin T-shirt which reads. "You are leaving the American sector" in 4 languages.

How in heaven's name am I supposed to decide what I want to do for the next 10 to 20 years when I have a hard time deciding what I want to wear for the next 10 to 20 minutes? (Don't believe me? Ask my sisters. I change my clothes more than most people breathe.)

See, I can think of lots of things that sound fun to do: pilot the Millennium Falcon, become a ninja spy, find out what fruit cake is actually made from... but none of those are professions. 

There's one thing that I really want to do. So badly that I can almost taste it: 

I want to teach for Teach for America. 

Desperately. Ardently. And any other adverbs that you can think of which convey intense desire. But it's not a sure thing. I can't guarantee that I'll be accepted. 

So. Instead of face an uncertain reality, I've made the childish decision never to grow up. 

Anyone care to join me?

Remember that one time...

when I woke up and my eyes were swollen shut? I do, because it was this morning. Yup yup. I look like I've been crying my eyes out for days on end. I know what you're thinking. "How delightful! I'm so jealous! I've always wanted to attempt to open my eyes in the morning and have the lids stick together!"

 I assure you it was a lovely feeling. 

Also, remember that one time that I found out that they're going to pull my tonsils out of my throat? I do. It was yesterday. Which was all sorts of fun and exciting. Especially after they told me how much fun it's going to be. Who ever heard of feeling worse 7 days after you have surgery than you did the day after? That's a bunch of junk.

Last but so far from least, remember that one time that I completely passed my math class? There was joy and celebration and all sorts of goodness. It was the best Christmas present that I've ever gotten (okay, maybe not better than Yoda or the purse that Squeegee gave me, but pretty close). 

Proof that God loves me...

(Aside from the fact that I have simply fantastic friends AND that He created the likes of Zachary Levi and Michael Bublé.) 

I've mentioned it before and I'm sure that my total and complete lack of blogging and socializing in general have been excellent evidence, but this semester has been a rough one for me. My usual zeal and adoration for school have been completely absent. I think that part of the problem was that I did not have a single, solitary history class this semester. That's never happened to me in my entire college career. And apparently, my subconscious did not enjoy it. The other factor could be that senioritis has reigned supreme in my universe since May. I am so totally and completely ready to be done with my undergrad and on to something, anything, else. 

Don't get me wrong, I love the safety and security of the U campus. I love that I know where all my buildings are. I love that professors know me. I have friends here. If I could pick one word to describe how I feel about life in general right now it would be comfortable. I have a rhythm. I'm the type of person who craves over all stability,  with little bursts of change here and there. I blame my mother for this. She fed me, bathed me and put me to bed at the same time every single night as a baby. She instilled in me this need for a schedule and organization. 

Anyway.

Back to my proof.

I've been hanging on for dear life all semester, just praying for Cs (since both of my classes were credit/no credit this semester a C wouldn't mar my fairly decent GPA) because I didn't have the energy required to be my normal Hermione like self. This morning, I checked my grades for my Geography class (in which I literally failed 50% of the assignments, but NOT for lack of trying) because we took our final insanely early.

I held my breath as I clicked on the little box which blinked "New Grades Posted" on WebCT. Part of me wanted to just close my eyes and have someone else look, but the mortification that would wash over me if I had, for the first time in my entire life, failed a class kept me from doing it. 

It was one of those moments where I felt like the computer was particularly slow and exceedingly fast at the same time. Por fin, my grade popped up on the screen. 

Who has two thumbs and has never been so happy to see the letter C in her life? 

THIS GIRL!

That's right, dear readers, I passed. 

Proof that God loves me and does, in fact, want me to pass my classes so I don't remain in college forever?

I think so.

Happy finals week! 

BEST THING ONE OF MY STUDENTS HAS EVER DONE...

As anyone who reads this blog knows, my students are hilarious. No, honestly, they are. Remember when I asked a group of them where Berlin was and they said South Korea?  Today I was working with the basketball player that I mentor and I pulled out a pack of gum. Let me just tell you this: since beginning my tenure as a tutor I have gone through more gum then any normal person. Every time I pull the pack out one of my guys gives me the puppy dog eyes and says, "Can I have some?" and I, being the total push over that I am, hand the package over. Last night I went through half of a brand spanking new package of gum because a bunch of guys from the football team happened to be in the room when I opened it. Anyway, this afternoon, I pulled my gum out of my backpack while helping Dom write a paper. While unwrapping my minty goodness, I mentioned that one of my other students told me that the wrapper on Stride gum (my gum of choice) was edible. After considering what I said, Dom asked for a piece of gum.I handed him one and then I turned around to throw my wrapper away; upon turning back around I noticed that Dom had the gum, unchomped but open in his hand, but his wrapper was suspiciously missing. I then realized something simple, but fundamental: never tell a 19 year old that something is edible. They will invariabley try and eat whatever it is. Oh yes my friends, he was eating the wrapper. When I told him that he was supposed to eat the gum and the wrapper together, he pulled the soggy wrapper out of his mouth and smashed it together with his unchewed gum. When I told  him that the student who had originally shared this wrapper theory with me was from Texas, he exclaimed: "So he eats the wrapper because he's from Texas! I'm from California! Where I come from you either throw the wrapper in the garbage or on the ground!!" When I asked him why he even tried it, he replied, "You knew I would as soon as you gave me the gum!" Apparently, that had been my evil plan all along. Who knew that 19 year olds and 4 year olds had so much in common?

Remember that one time...

that I went to Macbeth? Oh yes. I do. And remember how I loved it? I sure do. And remember how at one part, Macbeth (who was played to absolute and sheer perfection by Grant Goodman) stood a mere three inches from me? Yeah. I most definitely do. I actually held my breath for most of the show. It was by far and away one of the most amazing things that I have ever seen.

In other news, school starts today. Now usually I'm bouncing off the walls, jumping around like a Mexican bean at the thought of school beginning again, but this semester I'm not so much so excited. Part of it might have to do with that terrible, mind numbing, brain killing, stress inducing subject that is math 1010. Okay all of it. I'm taking a geography class, which should be fun and fairly simple, but every time I see MATH 1010 in my list of online courses a small part of me dies. I loathe math.

"I despise academics." Lorelai Gilmore

So I really don't despise academics. I'm going to be a college professor for heaven's sake. Academics are my life. But right now, I'm in the process of The Week of Five Papers (well that's the Native American name for it. I just call it the week from hell). Yes friends, you read that right. I had 5 papers due this week. Here's the page break down:

Senior Capstone Paper of Death: 25 pages
Korean movie review of depressingness: 2 pages (If I had to sit down and type it, then it's a paper.)
Iranian Revolution of confusingness: 8 pages
Biography of Livia Drusilla, who rocks my socks off: 10 pages
Korean History book review on a book that I have yet to read: 5 pages

I'm done with the paper of death, the movie review and the biography. I only have 13 pages standing between yours truly and cram sessions for finals. And every single ounce of my motivation is gone. I've tried bribing myself with frozen yogurt (as in I write 4 pages of my Iranian Revolution confusion and I get the treat. I've written half a page and it's been an hour) but even that hasn't done anything for my fading desire. So basically, I'm sitting on my bed, typing a sentence here and there and pretending that I really want to write this paper. In reality, it could be worse. This is my last semester where I'll have any history classes, actually come to think of it, this is my last semester where I'll take more than one class. So I guess the Avalanche de Papers could be more awful: I could have to do it again next semester. That realization aside, if any of you want to send me suggestions via any mode of communication possible (we're talking even carrier pigeons, people) I'd love to hear your suggestions of how to convince myself to finish these nasty little papers. 

Sometimes...

...I crave chocolate chip cookies.

...I get a little too emotionally attached to characters in TV shows. (I *might* have cried a little when Rory told Logan that she couldn't marry him and when I found out Booth had a brain tumor.)

...I listen to the same song over and over again. Right now it's Renegade by Styx. Before that it was Sway Your Head by We Shot the Moon. I have an incredibly high tolerance for repeats. 

...I talk to myself. I never answer, but if I'm alone I definitely talk to myself.

...growing up sounds fun, other days I wish I could be a little kid again.

...I want to write novels.

...I don't read the whole book but still get an excellent grade on the book review which I wrote in a couple of hours for class.

...rain makes me happy.

...I sleep until the last possible second, even if it means that I look scary.com for school.

...I make up words. Mostly with Aubrie's help, slickery being one of our favorites.

...my mom says that I should start my own card making business. I love making thank you cards, invitations and birthday cards by hand.

...I wish I lived in a Jane Austen novel.

...I love mysteries. 

...I mock wedding announcements. Wollschy and I have joked about starting a business to tell people whether or not their announcements were ugly before they sent them out.

...I just wish that I could close my eyes have have life fast forward like it does in movies. Then I could skip all the parts that I don't like, just like I do in movies. 

...super amazing things happen while I'm at work. Case in point: Today, I'm working a super fancy, shmancy event. They have a display of White House china from many of the Presidents of the United States. Not only did I get to see that, but when I told the guy who owns the collection that I'm  a history major, he pulled a small blue box out of his pocket. From the box, he pulled out a silver chain. He told me, "Now just as a chain that means nothing. But when I tell you that this is the watch chain that the Prophet Joseph Smith gave to his brother Hyrum, that Hyrum wore to Carthage, it means something." I just stared at the chain in my hand before handing it back. "That's real history," he said.

Here's A Story of a Lovely Lady...

..and her lovely face. This face to be exact:





This is the face that got me 2 free bags of Sasha's popcorn last night at the University of Utah gymnastics meet. You see, blog friends, there's this boy that works at the Sasha's popcorn stand that knows my darling little sister. (To be completely honest he's her first boyfriend, if you call holding hands and putting your arm around each other at 14.5 years old boyfriend and girlfriend). Said boy looks JUST like Justin Bieber. I'm not even lying. Anyway, KJ came to the meet with me a) to spend time with her SUPER awesome older sister and b) to see the Justin Bieber look-a-like. Anyway, when we went to buy our popcorn, lover boy just gave us 2 big bags, free of charge. I've decided that I'm going to take her with me everywhere and just see how many more free bees I can get. 


Here's a parting picture, just for your enjoyment, of KJ and me. Aren't we darling?

Photographic Proof that My Job Rocks...

Oh blog friends. We have discussed how freaking awesome my job is many many times before, but today, I bring you photographic, empirical evidence. 
SO.

Because we do check-in for football games and such, and because the West Regional Basketball Semi-Finals were in Salt Lake this year, I was generously given the opportunity to work at the K State/Xavier game tonight and let me tell you, it was one freaking amazing game. I tell you what. I was three rows back, right behind the K-State cheerleaders, which turned out to be fortuitous because I decided to cheer for K-State (and anyone who beats BYU). So, here's my evidence.... Are you ready for this?

So this is the view from my seat, while Xavier was shooting a free throw. I'm fairly sure that is Roy Holloway (who, let's be honest was really really good looking) getting ready to shoot. He was INCREDIBLE!

 This is Sarah and i enjoying our stinkin' awesome seats. Yes, I'm cheesing it hardcore. Also pictured are our flight attendant uniforms aka the outfits given to us by the NCAA that made us look very much like flight attendants. I spent half my night feeling like I should be directing people to the exits. 

 This is a very tired looking me showing you, blog friends, that I had an all access pass to the NCAA West Regionals 2010 Championships. Yes, I know. I'm cooler then you could ever hope to be because of my incredible job. You can clap and bow to me later, right now, I need a nap. 

My Special All Me Alone Space...

So friends... I have been needing to repaint my room for a very long time and the lovely gift of spring break given to me by none other than the University of Utah gave me time to actually do it! So here are a few pictures to demonstrate my mad decorating/painting skills. I still have to add a little paint to my closet and shelves, so pictures of the rest of my room are still to come. I know that you'll all will be waiting with baited breath, because I'm that big of a deal. You don't have to remind me. (And yes, I was definitely watching Bones when I took these pictures. Surprise? I think not.)

Sometimes...

...base my self worth on how many comments I get on my blog. I know it's silly, but it's very true.


...I check my phone obsessively. Okay all the time, but the title of the blog post is sometimes, so I couldn't put all the time, it would ruin the illusion.


...I catalog what I'm wearing. As in "Shirt: Old Navy Jacket: Old Navy Jeans: Gap Shoes: Payless" like in a magazine. I never did this before I read Confessions of a Shopaholic but Becky Bloomwood does it all the time and I just got in the habit. Don't judge. 


...I look in the mirror and wonder why no one told me that my bangs were sticking straight up Alfalfa style. This used to happen on the mission all the time, and Wollschy got so sick of it that she cut my hair off right at the roots. I'm not even joking. And when we finally got our hair cut by a professional (Katie), she made Wollsch promise never to touch anyone's head with scissors again. In her defense, I told her it was okay.


...I freak out about my grades. And do things like run up three flights of stairs to beg a professor to allow me to email a paper because I can't get it to print. I (might) have done this today. My friend DJ (might) have told me that I need to chill because I (might) have been freaking out. Just maybe.


... I believe in those scary chain mail letters. Not enough to pass it on, but when something bad happens I wonder if it's because I didn't pass it on. 


...I get homesick for the mission. Like when new missionaries come home and put up pictures on Facebook. I have an overwhelming urge to put on my name tag and see if it's the same. (It's not.)


...I think in worst case scenarios. Example: My sister won't answer the phone so I automatically assume that something awful has happened and she's dead in a ditch. In reality, she just left her phone in her room. I'm crazy.


...I'm a mean person. No really. I am. Just trust me.


...(this is an all the time) I love it when the Dalby girls do "Sometimes" posts. It makes me happy. And it makes me miss them. (In reality, Emily is not really a Dalby anymore, she's a Mangum, but they will always be the Dalby girls to me.)


Just because I put up another post doesn't mean that I want you all to stop commenting on the book post. Just so you know. 

Judging Eyes from Judgy McJudgerson....

So today I was waiting at the Trax station for the train to come after work. (Yes, I do have a car. And yes, I did just say that I took that train. I don't believe in paying the exorbitant fees for a campus parking pass. But that is another story for another day). Anyway, I saw this girl while I was sitting at the station, minding my own business, jamming out to Third Eye Blind on my iPod. How very 90s of me, I know.  The girl comes up and sits down on the concrete on the other side of the Plexiglas next to me. She's definitely wearing "the boots with the fur" (high heeled, no less), hair a little too long and slightly off from the style that it seemed like she was trying very very hard to imitate. I also noticed that she was very intently reading the latest novel-turned-tear-jerker-movie Dear John. I laughed because that it didn't surprise me. She looked exactly like the kind of girl who would be reading such a book. As soon as I thought it, I felt a little bad. What makes me think that I'm so special? Just because at the time I had a copy of Tacitus in my backpack?And then I began to wonder when someone sees me reading at the Trax station and look down to notice that it's some fancy shmancy book for one of my classes, are they surprised? Something to ponder...

In which everything becomes complicated...

Dear blog friends. 
I have a sad story to tell you all. It involves the complete annihilation of version 2.0 of my life plan. I, according to my careful calculations, was supposed to graduate from school this year. It was much anticipated. There were countdown charts made (coughLizLewisHortoncough) and plans for incredible senior trips laid out. In short, it was a done deal. But, as things do, the plan has been changed. I'm not exactly sure whether or not I'm alright with it yet, but I do know that there's someone much smarter than I, who has a much better perspective then I, who has strongly suggested (read: inspired) me to adjust that plan to one the He feels is more suited to the grand scheme of things. It's one of those moments in life where one is required to stick their little foot into the darkness of an unknown and complicated future... But, just as Mr. Emerson suggested all those many moons ago, I intend to go confidently in the direction of my dreams and I suppose the success that I desire will be met with at an unexpectedly common hour.