Hell week

After one royal wedding birthday party extravaganza, an after party, six person slumber party, and an eight a.m. wake-up call I’m ready for a break. Sadly, there isn’t one in my near future. I haven’t been able to take any mindless TV breaks or sleep for fourteen hour stretches. But, I’m okay with this. I’m dedicated to my last week of undergraduate classes. I plan on going to each of my last six classes. I’m even going to participate in my online class chat. I want to go to every dinner and lunch and even every ungodly early breakfast. I might sit outside for a few hours. I don’t think the teachers understand that there is just so much seniors want to do during the last week of classes. Turning in two research papers and starting final reviews are not what I want to do. But I guess having a relaxing ending to a stressful four years of school would be inconsistent after all.    

Busiest Weekend

My last full week of college classes start Monday. That means, this weekend is the busiest of the year. First there is the amazing birthday party. Saturday night is the school's inaugural ball. And Sunday is the first event in the graduation process: honors convocation. I'm pretty excited about all of these things. But, sadly, I'm also way too busy. Sure I'm excited about wearing pretty dresses and hanging out with all my friends, but I still need to write a couple papers and study for my finals. I just wish I had more time... On the plus side though, I'm pretty sure that even if I fail the rest of my assignments this year, I'll still graduate!

Last word

Tonight is the last issue of the school paper for the semester. That would make it my last issue ever. Of course, I have writer's block. I don't know what to say. Do I talk about my old articles? How about the time our old editor made us listen to the same song fifteen times in a row? Do I mention all the friends I made through the paper? Or do I reflect on the fact that I'm completely lost with no clue as to what I'm doing in three weeks and all I wish was that I could go back in time and write for another year?
I've decided to just write junk about my feelings. It should be just as lame as my first article... so full circle, right?

Things I am not proud of

I consider "reality TV star" a viable career choice
My mother did all my grade school art projects
I cry at seven distinct parts in the movie Mulan
I set my two pet gerbils free... inside a dumpster
Crying babies give me goosebumps
I am terribly lazy
I never learned to use scissors
My favorite Justice League member is Aquaman

Work is difficult

Three of my favorite people have had great work related experiences these past couple of days. I’m so happy for them. Just the idea of having a reliable source of income makes giddy. Actually achieving employment well, that makes you a superhero in my books. I’m sure I’ll become more serious about my own job search in a few weeks. Adding become-an-adult-with-a-fulltime-job to my list of things I need to do before graduation is just too much. Instead, I’m just going to work on attending my classes, writing some papers, planning senior events, and partying with my friends for the (maybe, but probably not) last time with all my college friends. Besides, having a job makes the whole growing up thing a little too real for me. I much rather be a poor college student even after I have a degree. I just hope my parents still send me care packages.

Lucky eleven

I have eleven more classes left before graduation. With so few classes it should be easy for me to actually attend. See, academic consistency has never been one of my traits. Even in grade school, I would regularly take personal days. I carried these habits on to college. If I’m having a bad day, or if I need to work on an assignment, I’ll skip class. This semester has been the worse. Despite wanting to savor every last moment of college, classes included, my attendance has been horrible. I’ve missed at least one class each week since the second week of classes. I’m not proud of this fact, and I really worked to make myself go to class... but I’m a little lazy. And now, I have eleven classes to make up for the weeks worth of classes I’ve missed. I’m pretty overly unrealistic about being able to end on a high note. I guess I can focus on the fact that I’ll never have to go to another class after these two weeks. But, then again, I’ll never be able to skip another college class again.  

Bye-bye bedroom

Tonight is my last night home. I'm going back to school tomorrow and I won't return until after graduation. I wish I knew what coming home will feel like as a full-fledged adult. Right now, I'm still a student depending on my folks for insurance and a roof. But this time next month, I won't be depending on them, I'll just be a guest. I hope when I become a guess and not a resident I won't feel too weird. I know my dog is probably looking forward to me leaving for a while. As much as she loves me, after my third day home sue starts to miss having my bed to herself. And, I guess, in a few more weeks, it will be her bed for keeps and I'll have my own bed in my own apartment. I think we're both ridiculously excited about it.

Soggy Saturday

Good ole Kentucky weather is at it again. Today, along with our funnel clouds and flooding my hometown was graced with hail. The first time I experienced hail when I was in middle school. Little marble sized started pinging off our roof. My older brother and I had never experienced hail before. Obviously, my brother ran in the front yard to collect some of the magical ice crystals. After all, how else will we learn about science? Just as he scooped up some stones to walk back in baseball sized hail started plummeting down. Luckily, he made it in. Sadly, our mom' car lost it's windshield.
I'm a little terrified of hail. I don't want my car hurt. I love my car... Also, innocent people and homes and trees blah blah blah don't damage them blah... But my car could be hurt! To help ease my fear I've employed one of my favorite techniques. Instead of thinking of hail in the terms the weatherpeople use: 3" diameter, golfball sized; I like to think of hail as gumball sized or jellybean sized and my favorite: baby hedgehog diameter. Lying to myself always seems to make me feel better.

Bacon nation

After a long day of doing nothing, my friend and I decide to top it off with maple bacon sundaes. They were better than expected. But instead of blogging I think I'm going to go be horribly ill.

Postal nostalgia

I mailed my graduation announcements today. I limited my list to aunts and uncles in order to keep me from being overwhelmed with filling out envelopes. So, I mailed thirteen letters today. I went to a real post office and talked to an actual mail-person and bought real stamps. I even put the stamps on the envelops myself. The whole process reminded me of a simpler time: standing anxiously in a long line while my mom shipped care packages. The old post office even looks the same as I remember with only one big difference. I was looking forward to sorting and slipping my announcements into the different mail slots for local and out of town mail. As i kid i loved pretending I was a postal worker as i sorted out our mail. But now, there is only one slot. So, my thirteen announcements which will go out to seven states and two countries went into one slot. The post office needs to realize that I am completely willing to do part of their job and use their services more. All they have to do is put in different slots for each state and country and let me pretend I'm an employee. I like to feel like I'm contributing. That's why I like Subway so much. Mmhhh now I want a footlong. 

Things I’ve “inherited” from my mother

Insatiable love of Sunkist soda

Possible magical bird talking abilities

Allergies... tons of freaking allergies  

Unhealthy love of peanut m&m’s

Awkward greenish brown poop colored eyes

Inability to cook

An affinity towards the color blue

Irrational paranoia

Amazing diorama building skills

Becoming a stupid adult of stupid not-cool adultiness

I’m one more day and one more class away from Easter Break. This break serves as a beginning of the very end. After Easter there will be eight days of classes between me and final exams. I have two research papers and three tests before I can graduate. That’s it. I’m still having a difficult time realizing and accepting that I’m going to graduate. But having a checklist of what I need to do and seeing that the checklist is so short makes things believable. But with this actualization of graduation comes the hit-me-across-the-face realization that I’m going to have to find a job. A real job. That pays in real money. Because I'll have to pay real bills. Maybe if I just stay one more semester... Four years ago I definitely didn’t expect that college would be such an anchor. I spent 18 years without college, why is leaving feeling so difficult?       

Purple Parasaurolophus

Yesterday I received this season’s first birthday present: nine pairs of brightly colored dinosaur earrings. I can now accent my outfits with red T-Rexes or purple Parasaurolophuses or a whole range of varieties and colors. They’re super cute and discreet. Why today, no one even noticed my dinosaur earrings until I drew attention to them. To me this doesn’t mean my friends are unkind. Instead it encourages me to wear different brightly colored dinosaurs every day for ever. Why not? Sure if I ever had a job that required me not to wear earrings, I wouldn’t wear earrings. So, excluding the off chance I work in the real world, there is no flaw in my plan to my love of juvenile fads close to my heart… or least to my earlobes. Maybe now that I have tiny reminders of childhood happiness I won’t have to decorate my room like a seven year old. But I probably still will. All I know is I’m very happy my first birthday gift was such a success, and I’m thankful that my friends know me so well. So well, in fact, they probably didn’t notice my new jewelry because it fits me so well.

Also, I want you all to know I spent thirty minutes finding out the purple dinosaur earrings were Parasaurolophuses. I need to learn to prioritize.

Lost

Today was a great day with one of my best friends shopping for party dresses. As we parted, however, I did something I've never done before. I left my phone in her car. At first I didn't believe. I searched my room for ten minutes convinced that I had carried my phone in my room and covered it up without realizing it. But, no, it was gone.
To retrieve my most expensive and precious belonging, I had to endure seven intense trials. I also had to facebook message and walk to a library. It was horrible. I couldn't check the weather on my phone so I didn't know what to wear for my walk to the library. I had to log into facebook on my laptop because I didn't have my phone. It was the absolute worse. Luckily, four hours later when I got my phone back, I had only missed two calls, and I found that I had learned a great deal about myself. Mainly, I love my phone. Also, a television, laptop, hundred plus book library and university full of people are a lot more fun with an iPhone. 

Looking for motivation

Driving over to my friend's house today and I realized, again, how much I love being in my car. Driving makes me so happy. I got my licenses later in life. I was 21 when I finally passed the test. I only failed the driving test once. I didn't wait for so long because I lacked ability... I just didn't want to take the test. Looking back I regret all the fun I could have had. Kind of make me wonder what else I've missed out on because of my laziness? Whatever, I'm just going to sit here.

Rain delay

Around nine this morning it was pouring down rain in one of those never going to stop kind of sheets that makes the world look like a creepy, grainy old slasher movie. So, the call was made to cancel our outdoor activity. Luckily, within an hour the rain stopped. I’m not sure what the weather is like in other places around the world, but during the Spring Kentucky has a strange habit of trying to relive all the seasons. From blazing heat, to torrential rains, to the occasional snow and hail fall, spring in Kentucky is just the bees’ knees. And by bees’ knees I mean bees don’t have knees just like Kentucky weather has no sense. Today was supposed to be filled with college students acting like little children but now I’m just paranoid my car will be dented by hailstones. Oh, Kentucky you play with my heart. I guess the outdoor games will have to take place some time later... like in June when the chance of hail finally drops. 

I’ll take the physical challenge

Tomorrow, barring horrific rains, my school’s activities board will be hosting our own rendition of Double Dare. I’m pretty freaking excited. I can’t wait to cover people in home made slime and watch college students make fools of themselves. As we make last minute preparations for the physical challenges I can’t help but remember the old game show, and I think to myself, “I really hated this show.”

I did. It was horrible, and messy, and sometimes they had happy families which would make me anger. Mostly, though, I hated the physical challenges. See, I wasn’t athletic growing up. I know, filling buckets with sponges isn’t very athletic, but throwing salad fixings into a bowl on top of someone’s head sure is. The point is seeing kids younger than me succeed at menial, hand-eye coronation type events would upset me. Because I was blind.

Not, like Helen Keller blind, just legally blind… in one eye. Still, it meant I had absolutely no depth perception. Until I was about ten, I don’t even think I knew I had a right side to my body. Whenever I would turn corners, or go through doorways, I would smack the right half of my body into the wall leaving giant goose egg knots on my forehead. The worse part, to help alleviate this, I had to wear an eye patch over my good eye. This just made it so I couldn’t even clap. That is how bad my depth perception is. And whenever I took the eye patch off it would rip out the majority of my eyebrow… it sucked.

Luckily, with both eyes open, I can see just fine, and I’ve learned to deal with seeing things my own way. I only have to move my head a few inches to the right to see like a normal non-cycloptical individual. But every time I try to throw or catch anything I’m painfully reminded how I longed for athletic abilities growing up. I didn’t want to be a professional athlete; I just wanted to kick butt at physical challenges. And I really wanted to be on GUTS. Do you remember that? That was a cool show.        

Unrealistic goals that I consider realistic for myself

Become a foremost authority of something

Have a statue of me in a prominent city

Go to space

See a live platypus

Write a book successful book

Learn how to live independently

Learn how to paint my own fingernails

Become famous enough for people to seek me out in public spaces

Empty shelves

I barely packed my room, that one day I said, “Yay! I’m going to pack my whole room.” In actuality I filled three medium size Rubbermaid’s. One is filled with the non-essential shoes I am willing to take home over Easter break and leave for the summer. Another has about two thirds of my books. I couldn’t put any more in because it started to get too heavy. The last one contains toys. Not so much toys more like knickknacks… If, of course, you are a knickknack collecting ten year old who still really loves 101 Dalmatians and tiny plastic dinosaurs. I just like being surrounded by happy things. And to me nothing says happiness like neon colored plastic vampire teeth and Star Wars bobble heads.

I decided to go ahead and pack up my joyous collection because, they really don’t do anything. The first week of school, I calm my nerves by displaying all my bright plastic toys and then I forget about them. But now that my selves are empty the realization that I’m going to leave this room is so unmistakably in front of me. And an even worse realization is assaulting me as well. Can I have all these things when I am an adult, living on my own, trying to make it in the cutthroat world called life?

I guess I can. In my bedroom (Ha). According to my future roommate, my “childish” interior design fashion isn’t, how do you say this nicely, welcomed in his life. I know they are childish, but I enjoy the happiness they bring. As I look around my sparse dorm room, I miss Superman lunch box, but more importantly, I’m ready to grow into something more appropriate. Like an even cooler Superman lunch box. Oh, with a matching grown-up thermos.     

Fry this dish?

I routinely have to remind myself that people don’t want to read a blog about what I eat. But if I’m going to blog about myself, I should talk about the extreme food craving I’ve had lately. See, I’ve recently rediscovered my love for pickles. Of course, I can’t truly enjoy a pickle without Oreo cookies. Seriously. I love mixing pickles with Oreos. When I run my own 24-hour-amazing-themed restaurant which will serve all my crazy breakfast-y foods, I will serve pickle slices and Oreo cookies. Not only, will they be a big hit, but customers will also have the “fry this dish?” option. Because what could possibly be better than pickles and Oreo cookies? Fried pickles and fried Oreos cookies! And this is what I’ve been craving lately. Sadly, I have no way to fry Oreos or pickles. I’ll just have to wait until I’m a famous restaurant owner to try the recipe, trust me, this is another one of the billion dollar ideas that people should just pay me for thinking of.

Unbirthday party

Last night was my friend Amanda’s annual birthday but not actually on her birthday get together. Spending the evening with friends and food was great. But the very best part of her birthday celebration is the fact that her birthday is just one day before my birthday. Our birthdays are still a few weeks away but the anticipation is already starting to get to me. I’ve already had a whole post dedicated to my love of my birthday, specifically birthday presents. But during that post I was still on strong pain medicine, and I don’t think I made myself very clear.

I love my birthday. My earliest birthday memory is of my mom and dad taking me to the PX (the military versions of a mall… not sure if that’s common knowledge) and telling me I can spend $100 on whatever I wanted. So, we walked through aisles of toys and finally I found a beautiful Barbie doll and asked, “Do we have enough?” My parents took the doll and examined it for ten minutes before finally telling me they’d be willing to make up the difference but I’d have to help take out the recycling. It was a great day. Not only did I learn that little Sagan had no concept of money, but I got an awesome toy and I liked helping so the day was great.

Anyway, my birthday gets to be the one time of the year that is my day. I get to be the center of attention. And presents… beautiful presents.

Tansition radio

When I woke up this morning, I had a rare burst of energy that is usually accompanied by hours of cleaning and meticulous organizing. I don’t have these urges very often and I try to capitalize on them. But instead of purging my old mail pile and placing my bead collecting in my craft box, I’ve made a much wiser decision. Because I’m moving in a month, I’m just going to start packing up my room. Now, instead of trying to make my room presentable I’m just going to put everything in boxes and tell my friends, “This is messing; I’m transitioning.” So, the only question is what to do with this energy? I’m thinking pointless hours on the internet and dateline investigation’s presents. Yeah, that makes so much more sense.    

Stuffs hasn’t got real

You’d think by now I would have accepted the fact that I’m going to graduate and leave the state I’ve grown up in early next month. But I seem to be lacking that ah-ha moment. I picked up my cap and gown, I’ve started filling out my invitations, but I don’t feel like a graduate, yet. This happens to me all the time. Something significant happens, but it doesn’t sink in until later. Like when I got my driver’s licenses. I didn’t take my driver’s test until the summer I was twenty-one. But I’ve had my permit since I was sixteen. And I practiced driving since I was sixteen… Anyway when I actually passed the test and became a licensed driver it was a big deal. But I didn’t feel like a driver. I still find myself feeling guilty when behind the wheel. I freak out whenever I pass real driver’s because I just know they will realize that I’m just a phony.  But I do have a driver’s licenses and now I have a cap and gown. Soon, I’ll have a diploma. I just wonder how long that will take to sink in. Hopefully, before I have a job interview that asks about my degrees.  

Saving the world one discounted yogurt at a time

I try not to watch too much television. I have a bad habit of becoming caught up in the programs. Basically, every time I start to watch a new television series I let the series take over my life. Last night I watched Extreme Couponing. Now, all I want to do is plan shopping trips and have a stock hold of below retail priced foodstuffs to last through a nuclear winter. But I don’t really have anywhere to store a hundred roles of paper towels right now. Therefore, I have synthesized a brilliant plan which will allow me to practice in my newest obsession and help the world. I am going to extreme coupon for a food bank. That is totally plausible. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be hired immediately. I am prepared to edit my resume to show my money saving abilities. With a few years of practicing and checkout conquering, I am sure my economy enterprising will earn me a bid for sainthood at the very least. I think as far as my useless skills list is concerned, this one will be a crowning addition.   

Nifty

So here is my fiftieth post. If my blog was a dog, it would be being studied by experts trying to find long life genes. But seriously, I’m pretty proud of myself. Of course, I haven’t accomplished much. But what was I expecting 50 days ago? If you hadn’t realized, the purpose of this blog isn’t to cure cancer… that would be as affective as changing Facebook profile pictures to cartoon animals. What is the purpose?

To let Julie know that I am an amazing person

To, maybe, find someone else who enjoys pickles and Oreos

To admit that I feel guilty about eating fish when the skins still on

To share my fear of looking into mirrors when the lights are off with all the other wimps out there

And of course, to allow myself a place where I can write all those things I think but prefer not to say

Hello. It’s not me you’re looking for

If having a blog hasn’t made it obvious enough, I guess I’ll come out and say it. I kind of want to be internet famous. Not for real famous, I just want the chances of someone I don’t know knowing me to increase dramatically. I don’t want to make money or be on television or have one stupid video of laughing things uploaded to YouTube. I just want a mild dose of internet celebrity. I don’t think that is too much to ask. In today’s society, I think it is expected.

Because of my strong desire to gain fame I check the stats on my blog, a lot. Yesterday I noticed that someone had found my blog by googling “claw hand deformity.” The country of origin for this google: Korean. And the real kicker: I was the fourth link to come up. Either censorship in Korea is high, or information on “claw hand deformity” is low. No matter how I roped him or her in, I’d like to say hello to the Korean who viewed my blog post about my banal kindergarten experience… I hoped it helped, and I help you tell your friends.

I’ve thought about whoring my blog out a little more. Maybe name each entry after celebrities. But in the end I’ve decided I much rather get famous this way. One awkward Google search from Korean at a time.

Not my best, but my last

This year is definitely a year of lasts for me. One of the lasts that I will miss the most is the college related crafting. One on my college jobs has been working as a resident assistant. If you don’t know what that means, I keep track of a floor full of freshman girls. That usually just means 15 to 20 well behaved studious people, but still. Each month I’m responsible for posting a bulletin board and name tags for each girl. That means once a month I am forced to be creative. Typically, I hate being forced to do something. But when it comes to crafting, I would enjoy it no matter what. Gun to my head, bomb about to detonate, three minutes to live, I will still love crafting.  

As the year goes on, I have so many things I have to do. I can’t give my full attention to any one thing. So, I did my last set of name tags and my last bulletin board today under the stress of a five page paper deadline looming and an emcee gig to prepare for in two days. My name tags and board aren’t great, but I’m proud of them. And, I hope, they don’t look like a stressed-out-end-of-the-road-senior craft project. I hope they look like a your-resident-assistant-cares-for-you-and-in-three-months-will-be-wishing-she-was-back-making-name-tags craft project. After all, how many jobs out there pay you to craft? Seriously. Please tell me if you know of a job that will pay me to craft!!!  

Early is on time, extremely early is even more on time

A friend of mine and I went to a matinee earlier today. I love seeing movies, but I can’t help but get anxious whenever I go to the theater. I just hate being late. And by late, I mean I hate not being extremely early.

When I was in high school and would meet friends at the movie theater, I would always show up a good thirty minutes before any one else. I just don’t want to risk missing anything. Worse, I don’t want to walk into a theater that already has the lights turned down and the movie-goers settled in. It’s rude to the others and super embarrassing.

I get this anxious feeling whenever I am late to class, too. I would rather skip a class than walk in five minutes late. This isn’t new; as I kid, I would wait at the bus stop for forty minutes even though the bus came at the exact same time everyday… I just couldn’t risk it. Once the teacher starts class, I’m not interrupting. And I can’t walk into a movie theater after the lights are turned down and the previews start. Luckily, my friend and I got to the theater in plenty of time. My desire to be early isn’t a problem for me, it’s only a problem for the friends I drag an hour early along with me.  

Catch-22

I've spent my Saturday doing what I should have been doing all week: my homework. If I haven't made it painfully clear, I'm supremely lazy. This laziness is exasperated whenever I have to do something I have no interested in. Even the joy of bullshitting doesn't help. And so, it is the last minute and I have to finish my homework.
The class: vocation and spirituality, online
The lame-ness level: During the first online session we had to compare ourselves to pictures of dogs waiting around a swimming pool... and there was a right and wrong answer
The assignment: group discussion boards
Every week we have to comment on a message board about how the weekly reading has changed our view on vocation. AND we have to reply to two other students on the message board. Why is this so difficult for me to complete? Well, the first week, I didn't have the book and I couldn't complete the assignment. So I bullshitted some stuff and replied to one other post by talking about feelings. I thought I did a pretty good job, considering. But the teacher not only failed me for that week (which was understandable) she also wrote me a long letter about how not replying to my classmates hurts the overall participation level in the class and is unfair to them...
What this teacher has done, has ensured that nothing I do for this class will be sincere, or turned in a minute before the do date. The work I put into not putting into work is exhausting.

Half a cup for every tortilla shell, no exceptions

Today I ate dinner at the top-notch cafeteria at my college. The food isn’t too terrible, but it is definitely school cafeteria-y. The worse thing about it is the poor selection. Today I ate a cheese quesadilla and a bowl of cottage cheese and grapes. It was worth the thousand dollars I pay for a meal plan, I am sure. The quesadilla did do a good job transporting me back to my eighth grade year in home economics class… flashback. We had just finished up a roaring segment on balancing a check book. The class was preparing to start learning what every thirteen year old wants to learn: cooking. Our teacher prefaced with demonstration on washing knifes and measuring liquids. The class patiently waited to be split into groups. One group would learn to cut green beans, another would master the art of sauteing mushrooms, and the last, most coveted group would learn to make cheese quesadillas. We all silently prayed, and I was rewarded with the job of official cheese measurer. And for the next week each day at two I made perfectly measured cheese quesadillas with four other eighth graders. It wasn’t exciting, or interesting, but as far as what I learned from that class it is the one thing that has lasted. Oh, and the scar I got from spilling melty cheese on my forearm. Yep, that’s still there.