It's A Disaster

Lateness, the story of my life. Sometimes it's a conscious choice, other times... not so much. And I'm honestly not sure at all how to fix it. I can set two alarms and still sleep through my 8 o'clock classes, waking up sometime around 11 (Luckily, that was a Thursday, so I didn't have my other class until 1:30).

Saturday night, I made a choice, probably not the best choice, but I did make it and enjoyed it. That resulted in me going to bed around five in the morning, which was why it wasn't the best choice. I had work at 10:15 on Sunday. That is usually a hard shift for me to do, since on Sundays I don't wake up until three on a good day--without staying up so late the night before.

I heard my alarm, but I had set my alarm early so that even if I didn't hear it the first time, I would be okay. I heard it once. Then I woke up. And I was already five minutes late, that alone meant that I couldn't eat breakfast and I was probably going to have a stroke trying to run there in the cold weather right when I woke up.

Sunday was the worst day ever. Until 1:45 when I got off work. People in the caf on Sundays are like vultures. There is no moderation! Everyone got so excited for the mac and cheese and the eggs and sausage and there was no stopping them. I could only watch as they demolished all the food and had to force me to go back and forth between the kitchens and the line. I burned my hands a lot. Do not underestimate the power to steam. It's pretty lethal.

On top of that, I was still super tired. I actually fell asleep for five minutes just leaning against the counter. In my defense, I had minimal sleep and I was sick.

I have a secret. For the last two weeks that I'd been working that shift in the caf, I had escaped cleaning tables and the such. In fact, last week, I had gotten out fifteen minutes before I was supposed to. It was a good day, that day. But this week, I wasn't so lucky. I finished cleaning up my area and went to the clockroom. I told the person I was done. She asked if I had asked a manager. I'm a liar, and I lied. She said that was the same thing I'd done last week and sent me back out.

Bad Day.

So I had to clean tables. Again, people are vultures. Messy, messy vultures.

Children of the Revolution

Let's be honest, I'm not exactly the most outgoing person. I talk. A lot. And loudly, but... that doesn't always mean I have a plethora (did I spell that right?) of friends all over the place. I have close friends in my dorm and I love them dearly, but that's quite seriously about it.

There are rumors that went around my group of friends who had older brothers or sisters in college and they said that in the first two weeks of school was where you make your friends and you have to go crazy insane making those friends or else it's going to be hard otherwise.

They're so full of crap, let me tell you that.

It's J-Term now and I find myself making new friends still. You sit next to a person, you ask them a stupid question (like one that states quite clearly the answer on the syllabus) and then it's best friends forever (not really). Then you sit down and watch a movie in one of the dorm rooms with a bunch of "strangers" after being locked out of the room you were supposed to watch the movie in. Then it's bonding, where everyone throws in their own comments and pays little attention to the movie (I don't recommend that).

But after a while, you have friends. So never think you'll never get friends, because there are plenty of opportunities!

Sweet Misery

So, the first week of J-Term is complete and I already have a test. It really isn't that bad. I'm learning some new things every day.

I'm taking Intro to Chinese Cinema, which I took mostly because it was easier to schedule work hours then and because it sounded like an easy class. I wasn't into the whole effort idea while all my friends were still at break. I actually like my class though. Sure, there are times when I get a little homesick for the Japanese class, which was basically the same thing, but it'll give me something to tell my teacher when I go back to visit her between breaks.

Meanwhile, there is forever drama in my life. Last semester, I worked in the cafeteria for one shift and that shift was the dishroom. Everyone loves working there. It's my worst enemy. All the steam and the hot plates and the wetness--I hate wetness. I always ended up smelling like a garbage can and my skin all oily and gross when I got back to the dorm. So, I hate the dishroom, and when I was scheduling for my j-term hours, I avoided it at all costs. I even took a lunch shift on Friday when I already had a closing shift at Marty's to avoid the dishroom.

So imagine my surprise (and intense misery) at walking into the clockroom Friday morning and finding out that I had to work dishroom.

Little to say, I did not bring clothes to change into because I didn't think I was working the dishroom and went straight to class right after. It was the worst. I smelled like a garbage can. My hair went limp (which is a tragedy within itself) and I was wet. Ew...

So, I officially am not a big fan of the Fridays. Luckily, I only have two more Fridays.