Not much has happened this week, I'll be brutally honest. People are getting slapped with the reality that second semester is no joke. And trust me... it's no joke. Paideia is still a killer, but we already have a paper due that is apparently so important that I have to stay up until... now (2:48) to finish writing it. It's really just a response paper.
Religion kicked my butt on Friday. Let's talk about my Friday. It was a good day. All I had was paideia in the morning and then choir in the afternoon because two of my other classes were cancelled. It was a good day. I went back to my dorm and read the bible homework that I hadn't done and took a short nap. I planned to wake up at 11:00 so that I could have the response in by 11:30. We had a write at least 500 words on the prompt. Not hard right?
I turned in 200 words. That's not even half of what we needed. It was my first grade in the class and it was an epic fail. Of course, maybe it would have helped if I read any of the homework at all, but the question was not based on any of the other readings we had to do! I was ashamed. It wasn't even that I said all that could be said. I had no idea what to say--actually, I ended up confusing myself to the point where it went beyond just drowning.
Little to say... I hate religion right now. It shouldn't be as hard as it is. I went to church. I sometimes listened! I was confirmed and "read" the bible for confirmation.
Alright, I just fell asleep there for five minutes, so I'm going to turn in. Write more later.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Art of Losing (your mind to work-study)
Work-study. The ever constant thorn in my side. Sure, I have interesting stories to tell about my experiences, but that doesn't take away the fact that it sucks. Intensely. It pretty much sucks all the blood, life, and essence out of your life.
I'm not kidding.
This week was the first week of school. I was super happy because I no longer had hours in the caf and all of them were at Marty's. Trust me, it's infinitely more cooler. ;). I had all my hours planned and I was dealing with the fact that I would have to get up at 8am even on Saturdays. Horrible, I know, but it gave me a chance to have a weekend, at least. I had all ten hours, which was nice, considering how I had nine last semester, and I was prepared for lift-off.
And then I was crashed/emergency landed. My friend that I thought I was working my 3-hour Saturday shift with said that she didn't see me on the schedule for that particular shift. I shimmied on over to Marty's and assessed the situation. And it was bad. Apparently, there had been a miscommunication and that shift was taken away from me and given to someone else. I had to find three hours or suffer the consequences of super-poverty.
It put a damper on my day, that was for sure. I found out I was three hours in the hole an hour before I had to go into work as a cleaner. I hate cleaning. I really do, but that's what I signed on for. It was an unhappy day indeed. I was terrified I was going to have to go to the caf to get hours, which would very much break my soul.
Luckily, one of the workers was canceling one of her shifts and it was on a day that I wasn't working.
You are now reading the blog of someone who has 9 hours (again! ><) and works Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
I don't advise doing that. I'm certain my sleep will suffer. But the things I do for money...
I'm not kidding.
This week was the first week of school. I was super happy because I no longer had hours in the caf and all of them were at Marty's. Trust me, it's infinitely more cooler. ;). I had all my hours planned and I was dealing with the fact that I would have to get up at 8am even on Saturdays. Horrible, I know, but it gave me a chance to have a weekend, at least. I had all ten hours, which was nice, considering how I had nine last semester, and I was prepared for lift-off.
And then I was crashed/emergency landed. My friend that I thought I was working my 3-hour Saturday shift with said that she didn't see me on the schedule for that particular shift. I shimmied on over to Marty's and assessed the situation. And it was bad. Apparently, there had been a miscommunication and that shift was taken away from me and given to someone else. I had to find three hours or suffer the consequences of super-poverty.
It put a damper on my day, that was for sure. I found out I was three hours in the hole an hour before I had to go into work as a cleaner. I hate cleaning. I really do, but that's what I signed on for. It was an unhappy day indeed. I was terrified I was going to have to go to the caf to get hours, which would very much break my soul.
Luckily, one of the workers was canceling one of her shifts and it was on a day that I wasn't working.
You are now reading the blog of someone who has 9 hours (again! ><) and works Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
I don't advise doing that. I'm certain my sleep will suffer. But the things I do for money...
Friday, February 6, 2009
Better in Time
It's the first week of second semester and I have formally given up my biology major. There's hope yet (I haven't sold the book) but at this point, I would rather take Paideia all four years than take another semester of biology (I probably wouldn't, but it's to establish a point). I am taking Paideia, American Politics, Intro to New Testament, Public Address, and Wellness. I'm not sure how I feel about taking all those right now for many different reasons.
Paideia... there's really no choice. I tried, but my advisor sent me an email telling me that I needed to take a Paideia next semester. It's not that bad, really. I have the professor that I had last semester... even though it's a 8AM... yeah. Luckily, to make up for it being at such an ungodly time in the morning and for having to trek that hill between Larsen and Olson (don't underestimate it's power at 8 in the morning), instead of doing the intense research paper that has to be 10-15 pages, our "research paper" is on oral history. I don't know much about it, but I'm pretty excited for it. She's having the Luther archivist come in and talk about retelling oral stories and then we have to choose someone from a different culture and at a certain age to tell their story. Other than that, I still hate it. Nothing make me want to cry more than trying to write a 5-6 page paper on a book I didn't finish reading.
Right after Paideia is my American Politics class. I was terrified on the first day. There's no homework. There's four books. There's a 7-10 page paper due in March on a change we'd make or something we would keep the same on the Constitution and then we get to take the identity of a politician and hold a Constitutional Convention. Then there's those dreaded participation grades... I'm not a good participant--not before 11 in the morning. I mean, I opened my mouth once today and it did not come out in English and I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with the question either. Yeah, it was embarrassing... but I was so exhausted, I hardly noticed. However, I'm still pretty excited about it. Because I'm a proud nerd. :)
*insert naptime from 10:15 - 12:15*
Then I have Intro to New Testament... yeah. There's not much I can say about that class, but our professor is pretty cool from what I can tell of the first two days. I would probably have more to say if I... actually did the homework. Oops... yeah, I fell asleep somewhere between reading my American Politics and bleeding out of the eyes for Paideia. But hopefully, I'll have more to say next time.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays... ANOTHER 8AM! I have to say... I think I enjoy torture. My 8am is Public Address. I didn't think it would be that bad because I was super-nerd in high school and I was on speech team. I totally sucked, but I was ON it, which is more than some people can say. Then she said the bad word: Extemporaneous. I wanted to drop that class. It just means that instead of having it laid out in front of you word by word, it's notes that you refer to. That was sucking specialty. I was a much better memorizer/impromptu person than extemp. speaker. I'm interested to see my score in that class.
*insert naptime from 9:30 - 11:00*
Wellness? It's not your average gym class. One day is in lecture and the other is actually doing activity. It's pretty laid back and a bunch load of my friends have it at the same time. Whether they are in my class or not is up in the air. I have no idea who my teacher is (I should probably look that up). We have to read... which isn't that great, but compared to the rest of the reading I have to do, it's nothing.
That, plus work-study, is my life. I'm not sure how I feel about it still. We'll have to see how I feel next week.
Monday, January 26, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, January 12, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Keep on Singin' My Song
I now have a new favorite Christmas tradition. Christmas at Luther.
I really wasn't big on the choir because of all the time that was put into just practicing when I could be doing something more productive... like facebooking. But after this week, I saw just what happened because of the all the practicing and it made me smile, just a little bit.
On Sunday, it was the worst rehearsal ever because it lasted forever and we had to come back from break early, but every other rehearsal after turned less and less into a hassle. We had a dress rehearsal on Wednesday and we wore our robes and make-up and went through all the individual choir songs and I felt kind of giddy. The lights were in full view and there was even a little audience. Sure, we had to go back and forth a few times, but it felt almost like the real thing with the running up the stairs to the balcony and the coming down and running into Aurora.
We had our first performance on Thursday and that was where all my friends and my roommate were (my other roommate was in choir). Overall, it went very well for having messed up a few times in the dress rehearsal. I was definitely feeling the spirit because of the song selection. I was pretty much on a high the entire time because not only was it a really good Christmas performance, but it was the first time I was on a stage like that in years. So afterwards, at the dorm, I had a dance party with my friends (even though we probably should have been studying for the biology quiz) and we popped, locked, and dropped it until we were sore.
Not a good idea.
On Friday, there were two performances and I was still aching sore from the dancing the night before. It was the most unpleasant, hardest, painful-est recital to go through. Standing the on the risers did nothing to curb the pain in my legs. I was fairly certain that all people saw on my face was clear agony and pain. However, it was still a better performance than the one on Thursday (in my opinion). That was just the first concert. The second one was a little worse for me, so I might have gotten a little overenthusiastic when we were singing the last song (which I was already enthusiastic about because it's my favorite) and raged out of there to change into my jeans and warm boots and then proceed to collapse in my bed. We didn't get out until eleven that night, but it was totally worth it.
Saturday was, what I thought, the best performance. Everything went perfectly and I wasn't in as much pain as I was the night before. It was great. I wished it could have been Sunday that was the best performance because that was when my mother was going to be there, but alas, it wasn't. Sunday was one of the top because of the candle-lighting, which is my second favorite part of the concert.
Because the concerts were being recorded by public television people, we couldn't have the stage completely dark during the lighting, so the effect wasn't as powerful. But on Sunday, we had the lights off and I quickly scanned the room looking at all the choirs (even though I probably wasn't supposed to) and got kinda happy. I'm a sentimental person--it gets me every single time.
Really, that was the best experience ever. I probably wouldn't repeat it right now and I'm kind of happy it's over, but I would do it again next year in a heartbeat. I was happy to be a part of it, no matter how painful, time consuming, paper failing, test failing, hot, and crowded it may be.
(Yes, I did fail my paideia paper that was due on Wednesday [I think] and it was partly the reason I failed my quiz) -- but it was totally worth it. And I just suck at time managment.
Marcie
I really wasn't big on the choir because of all the time that was put into just practicing when I could be doing something more productive... like facebooking. But after this week, I saw just what happened because of the all the practicing and it made me smile, just a little bit.
On Sunday, it was the worst rehearsal ever because it lasted forever and we had to come back from break early, but every other rehearsal after turned less and less into a hassle. We had a dress rehearsal on Wednesday and we wore our robes and make-up and went through all the individual choir songs and I felt kind of giddy. The lights were in full view and there was even a little audience. Sure, we had to go back and forth a few times, but it felt almost like the real thing with the running up the stairs to the balcony and the coming down and running into Aurora.
We had our first performance on Thursday and that was where all my friends and my roommate were (my other roommate was in choir). Overall, it went very well for having messed up a few times in the dress rehearsal. I was definitely feeling the spirit because of the song selection. I was pretty much on a high the entire time because not only was it a really good Christmas performance, but it was the first time I was on a stage like that in years. So afterwards, at the dorm, I had a dance party with my friends (even though we probably should have been studying for the biology quiz) and we popped, locked, and dropped it until we were sore.
Not a good idea.
On Friday, there were two performances and I was still aching sore from the dancing the night before. It was the most unpleasant, hardest, painful-est recital to go through. Standing the on the risers did nothing to curb the pain in my legs. I was fairly certain that all people saw on my face was clear agony and pain. However, it was still a better performance than the one on Thursday (in my opinion). That was just the first concert. The second one was a little worse for me, so I might have gotten a little overenthusiastic when we were singing the last song (which I was already enthusiastic about because it's my favorite) and raged out of there to change into my jeans and warm boots and then proceed to collapse in my bed. We didn't get out until eleven that night, but it was totally worth it.
Saturday was, what I thought, the best performance. Everything went perfectly and I wasn't in as much pain as I was the night before. It was great. I wished it could have been Sunday that was the best performance because that was when my mother was going to be there, but alas, it wasn't. Sunday was one of the top because of the candle-lighting, which is my second favorite part of the concert.
Because the concerts were being recorded by public television people, we couldn't have the stage completely dark during the lighting, so the effect wasn't as powerful. But on Sunday, we had the lights off and I quickly scanned the room looking at all the choirs (even though I probably wasn't supposed to) and got kinda happy. I'm a sentimental person--it gets me every single time.
Really, that was the best experience ever. I probably wouldn't repeat it right now and I'm kind of happy it's over, but I would do it again next year in a heartbeat. I was happy to be a part of it, no matter how painful, time consuming, paper failing, test failing, hot, and crowded it may be.
(Yes, I did fail my paideia paper that was due on Wednesday [I think] and it was partly the reason I failed my quiz) -- but it was totally worth it. And I just suck at time managment.
Marcie
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