Just about every table here has a computer open on top of it. Some even have two.
A guy across from me just said he got, and I quote, "raped by that stupid test." Wow... never heard that one before.
Another guy is wearing a blue shirt, has a military haircut-buzz thing, speaks with a deep, manly voice, has big shoulders/pectorals/bulging biceps, and just put his computer away... in a pink plaid carrying case.
A guy just went to unplug his computer, and yanked the whole outlet cover out. Ha ha.
A girl just walked by, and I do believe she is studying to teach 3rd grade. Why do I think this? Well, because she is dressed like a 3rd grade teacher, with dark, curly hair just above her shoulders, thick rimmed glasses, and a permanent, pinched scowl on her face. I see that, and I just think "elementary school teacher alert!"
Hmmm, another guy in pink. Only he's wearing a black and gray flannel jacket over his pink striped polo shirt. Certainly makes for an interesting combination.
The whole floor shakes whenever somebody walks on it. Really, the dining hall thing in the WILK can't possibly be stable...
My head still feels like it has a brick sitting in it, but the lives and intrigues of Ottoman Sultans are starting to fade into the "forgotten fact" file, where they will stay safely until AFTER tomorrow.
Ooh! That guy's jacket looks like an island sunset! layers of yellow, orange and red... sweet!
Count Dracula is telling a couple girls he just got an 81% on a final, and he didn't go to ANY reviews! Good for you, oh scary-looking-one.
The PC/Mac ratio here is about 4:5... I think. Assuming that one that I can barely see is a Mac. Oh, nope. It's a PC. 5:4, then. PC still wins.
That girl's hat has ears! And a nose! It's a dog!
A group of 4 people are studying ASL. One guy was signing, then started doing the robot.
Across the way is this cute, little, blonde girl who can't possibly be older than her first freshman semester. She's so tiny and petite... and has her cheeks stuffed with food, bulged out like a chipmunk.
Obama is on the TV. Just a second ago that same screen informed me that Pepperboys does EVERYTHING!!!!!
Pink-laptop-man has been replaced with stare-at-my-homework-and-hope-it-does-itself-spacey-man... who just got up and left... and high-fived the girl next to the girl with a dog-hat... and made the floor shake as he walked... walked past a guy who looks like a cross between a lumberjack and David O. McKay...
... and my Jamba Juice is empty now.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Well, this is fun...
Four finals left. Yeah, I know. It's day 4 of finals week, and I've only taken 1 of them. My problem? I've spent the last 3 days studying for 3 finals at the same time.
My latest study-project has been studying Al-Andalus (fancy-shmancy name for Islamic Spain) and the Ottoman Empire, for my History 240 final. I feel pretty ready (except for the fact that I can't, for the life of me, remember why Selim the Grim was grim... I think he killed a bunch of people. Actually, I'm SURE he killed a bunch of people, I just can't remember which ones, and if he was related to them or not), and I now have 4 hours left before I'm scheduled to take it.
So, I had this thought: I can study for US history... or Ancient Near East... I only need about 1/2 an hour to get ready for Isaiah, so I'll save that.
And then my brain went, "AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! I HAVE TO TAKE FOUR FINALS!!! WHAT AM I GONNA DO???? HOW CAN I TAKE IT???? WWWAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!"
And then the other part of my brain whacked the spazzing part upside the head and said, "KNOCK IT OFF!" After which, the rational part started stroking the hyperventilating part's hair and saying, "Relax, don't think about it. Focus on the Ottomans. Just the Ottomans. That's all you have to take right now."
And I had an epiphany... again. I swear, I've had this one like 5 times already.
I'll be fine. I've had this week ALL planned out, and I planned to take 2 finals today, and 2 tomorrow. I'm nearly ready for USA, and I'll get ready for Ancient Near East tonight, AFTER I finish with Ottomans (which I am ready for) and Isaiah (which doesn't take much to get ready for, since I did all the preliminary work of organizing my notes already). I also don't need to worry about ridiculously long lines in the testing center, since I'll be using them as time to get last minute studying done, and they may give me an extra hour or two.
So, focus on the Ottomans. Don't think about the rest, because if I look at the whole picture, my head will explode. One task at a time.
Besides, even if I blow it, I've pulled my grades up high enough that it won't hurt too bad. It's just one test.
This pep talk to myself has been brought to you by Selim the Grim who killed lots of people whom he may or may not have been related to.
My latest study-project has been studying Al-Andalus (fancy-shmancy name for Islamic Spain) and the Ottoman Empire, for my History 240 final. I feel pretty ready (except for the fact that I can't, for the life of me, remember why Selim the Grim was grim... I think he killed a bunch of people. Actually, I'm SURE he killed a bunch of people, I just can't remember which ones, and if he was related to them or not), and I now have 4 hours left before I'm scheduled to take it.
So, I had this thought: I can study for US history... or Ancient Near East... I only need about 1/2 an hour to get ready for Isaiah, so I'll save that.
And then my brain went, "AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! I HAVE TO TAKE FOUR FINALS!!! WHAT AM I GONNA DO???? HOW CAN I TAKE IT???? WWWAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!"
And then the other part of my brain whacked the spazzing part upside the head and said, "KNOCK IT OFF!" After which, the rational part started stroking the hyperventilating part's hair and saying, "Relax, don't think about it. Focus on the Ottomans. Just the Ottomans. That's all you have to take right now."
And I had an epiphany... again. I swear, I've had this one like 5 times already.
I'll be fine. I've had this week ALL planned out, and I planned to take 2 finals today, and 2 tomorrow. I'm nearly ready for USA, and I'll get ready for Ancient Near East tonight, AFTER I finish with Ottomans (which I am ready for) and Isaiah (which doesn't take much to get ready for, since I did all the preliminary work of organizing my notes already). I also don't need to worry about ridiculously long lines in the testing center, since I'll be using them as time to get last minute studying done, and they may give me an extra hour or two.
So, focus on the Ottomans. Don't think about the rest, because if I look at the whole picture, my head will explode. One task at a time.
Besides, even if I blow it, I've pulled my grades up high enough that it won't hurt too bad. It's just one test.
This pep talk to myself has been brought to you by Selim the Grim who killed lots of people whom he may or may not have been related to.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Someone Needs a Chill Pill
About a year ago, I read a particular play by Shakespeare. Shakespeare is a genius and all that. We know.
This play was Timon of Athens. It was based on a story told by Lucian, the Ancient Greek satirist, and was about a happy-go-lucky, warm fuzzies, I love the crap out of all of you, here take all my stuff because I love you so much guy named Timon. (That is not TIE-mun, that is tih-MOAN... like Pumba's buddy.) Then Timon finds out that he's been so generous that he's given away all his stuff, and not only is he broke, but he's in debt.
No worries! He's got lots of friends! In deep humility, he explains that he's in a bit of a pickle, and can they spare a little cash?
Friend #1: Ummm... sorry, Timon. See, I've got this thing... yeah, a thing. That's what I have. It's a really expensive thing. And, um, well, see, yeah. No can do. Go try your other friends, because they're in better condition to help than I am.
Friend #2: Needs money? Ummmm... What was that, honey? Oh, sorry, but I've gotta go. Come back next week, okay?
Friend #3: Timon went to #'s 1 and 2 first?! Forsooth! What an outrage! If he'd had any respect for our friendship, of COURSE I would have given him money! I'd have given him all I own. But for this insult? Pah!
As you can see, clearly he had no friends. Just moochers.
What is Timon to do in this situation?
Why, decide he hates the world, of course! He then goes to live in the hills and throw rocks at people.
I mean, seriously. People are jerks. That's just the way the world works. We should therefore all throw rocks at everybody else. The end.
Now, my retelling of this Ancient Greek tale of wisdom and woe and stuff actually does have applicability in real life.
Simply put, as far as today is concerned, Timon is in my head, battling with my normal me for the chance to throw rocks at people.
For example, earlier today a friend wanted to go with me to school. As she put it, going to school with someone was a lot less boring than going alone. What most people would hear upon a statement like that is, "Hey! Let's ride to school together, friend! I love you so much!" And, of course, I did hear that statement. But then, in walks Timon. He throws a rock at me and hits me in the head. All I can hear after that is, "I just invited myself on your car ride to campus. No, I'm not going to ask. I just expect you to give me a ride so you can entertain me, slave." At which point, being the victim of my own good nature that I am, and of course, for the sake of decency, unable to refuse to give her a ride, I bow humbly and say, "Yes, my liege." Then, while she's in the shower, I decide I need to pick something up from work and laugh maniacally to myself that I'm leaving without her, and I'm not going to wait for her to primp and prim her beauty self.
I step outside. The fresh air hits me. I realize I am a jerk. I go to work. I park in Senior Management Parking, because today, I am the Queen. I pick up my stuff. I get back in the car, listening to my Chronicles of Narnia soundtrack (niiiiiice, peaceful, feel-good music), and I realize how much I utterly love my friend, and I really DO want her company in the car on the way to class. *facepalm* Okay, breathe. Calm down.
Once at home, I come in and my friend, from the goodness of her heart, kindly asks me how my test went, fully believing I had ditched her while she was in the shower. I tell her that I had just gone to work to pick some things up, and I haven't gone to campus yet, hoping I didn't hurt her feelings. We drive to campus, and I plan to drop her off as close to her destination as I can get her. She deserves far more penance than that, but it's a start. As I'm dropping her off, I start to feel Timon emerge again, this time, because of the stupid people in cars around me.
Actually, the people were perfectly fine. They were obeying every last rule of the road and of dropping passengers off with perfect pleasantness and happy, smiling faces, unaware that a meerkat-shaped demon in a chiton was chucking metaphorical boulders at their faces. They just weren't getting out of their car fast enough. And by fast enough, I mean they weren't shot out by rocket-launchers.
Then I took my exam. Then I went home. Somewhere, in the drive, I started thinking about such volatile topics as driving and feminism. Not sure what provoked that (actually, I'm pretty sure nothing provoked that), but it was storming around my mind while I drove.
Once at home, after violently stabbing my microwave dinner's plastic cover with a fork (the instructions DO say to poke holes in it), I sat down to eat my lunch. Right in front of me, on the table, was a handout from church. "Charity suffereth long," it reminded me.
Oh yeah. I determined, just yesterday, that I wasn't going to become a wreck this week. It was time to stop letting Timon have his way with me, and actually bring my little demon under control.
Time to bean him with a rock!
No, no, no. That's not nice. Time to do something nice.
I started writing this blog entry. It's amazing how cathartic writing is. Out flows bitterness, leaving a big space that's just waiting for me to fill it with whatever I choose to put inside. I think I shall fill my space with a pony... and a sparkly star... and bunnies... and cucumbers... and a Christmas ham... and a backhoe... and a paper bag with a face drawn on it... and boots... and lemon bars... and a AA battery... and a ceramic bear... and a real bear... and a Trans Am... and Lynnae... and cherry limeade... and a furry jacket that's reeeeeeeally soft... and a couch... and my phone bill... and a clock... and a tissue... just one tissue... not a used tissue... and pepper spray... and a statue of Mt. Rushmore... and a dragon... and a dagger... and snowflake pajamas... and grapefruit-flavored lip balm... and an airplane... and a book... and wallpaper... and toothpaste... and a pillow... and a banana... and a leopard-printed neck massage thing... and finally, HAPPINESS!!! SPARKLY, SHINY HAPPINESS!!!
Essentially, today I got a harsh reminder that it's not okay to be moody. It's fine to have moods, certainly, but having an unpleasant one is no excuse for being a veritable storm cloud that spits rain all over everybody else. I've known this, and I used to abide by it, but somewhere in the last semester I let it slip. Time to regain the parts of myself I really liked.
The end.
By the way, to all those who were forced to be in my sulky, angry presence during the first half of today, I really am sorry. I'm nice again. I promise. And from now on, I'll behave, even under massive stress.
This play was Timon of Athens. It was based on a story told by Lucian, the Ancient Greek satirist, and was about a happy-go-lucky, warm fuzzies, I love the crap out of all of you, here take all my stuff because I love you so much guy named Timon. (That is not TIE-mun, that is tih-MOAN... like Pumba's buddy.) Then Timon finds out that he's been so generous that he's given away all his stuff, and not only is he broke, but he's in debt.
No worries! He's got lots of friends! In deep humility, he explains that he's in a bit of a pickle, and can they spare a little cash?
Friend #1: Ummm... sorry, Timon. See, I've got this thing... yeah, a thing. That's what I have. It's a really expensive thing. And, um, well, see, yeah. No can do. Go try your other friends, because they're in better condition to help than I am.
Friend #2: Needs money? Ummmm... What was that, honey? Oh, sorry, but I've gotta go. Come back next week, okay?
Friend #3: Timon went to #'s 1 and 2 first?! Forsooth! What an outrage! If he'd had any respect for our friendship, of COURSE I would have given him money! I'd have given him all I own. But for this insult? Pah!
As you can see, clearly he had no friends. Just moochers.
What is Timon to do in this situation?
Why, decide he hates the world, of course! He then goes to live in the hills and throw rocks at people.
I mean, seriously. People are jerks. That's just the way the world works. We should therefore all throw rocks at everybody else. The end.
Now, my retelling of this Ancient Greek tale of wisdom and woe and stuff actually does have applicability in real life.
Simply put, as far as today is concerned, Timon is in my head, battling with my normal me for the chance to throw rocks at people.
For example, earlier today a friend wanted to go with me to school. As she put it, going to school with someone was a lot less boring than going alone. What most people would hear upon a statement like that is, "Hey! Let's ride to school together, friend! I love you so much!" And, of course, I did hear that statement. But then, in walks Timon. He throws a rock at me and hits me in the head. All I can hear after that is, "I just invited myself on your car ride to campus. No, I'm not going to ask. I just expect you to give me a ride so you can entertain me, slave." At which point, being the victim of my own good nature that I am, and of course, for the sake of decency, unable to refuse to give her a ride, I bow humbly and say, "Yes, my liege." Then, while she's in the shower, I decide I need to pick something up from work and laugh maniacally to myself that I'm leaving without her, and I'm not going to wait for her to primp and prim her beauty self.
I step outside. The fresh air hits me. I realize I am a jerk. I go to work. I park in Senior Management Parking, because today, I am the Queen. I pick up my stuff. I get back in the car, listening to my Chronicles of Narnia soundtrack (niiiiiice, peaceful, feel-good music), and I realize how much I utterly love my friend, and I really DO want her company in the car on the way to class. *facepalm* Okay, breathe. Calm down.
Once at home, I come in and my friend, from the goodness of her heart, kindly asks me how my test went, fully believing I had ditched her while she was in the shower. I tell her that I had just gone to work to pick some things up, and I haven't gone to campus yet, hoping I didn't hurt her feelings. We drive to campus, and I plan to drop her off as close to her destination as I can get her. She deserves far more penance than that, but it's a start. As I'm dropping her off, I start to feel Timon emerge again, this time, because of the stupid people in cars around me.
Actually, the people were perfectly fine. They were obeying every last rule of the road and of dropping passengers off with perfect pleasantness and happy, smiling faces, unaware that a meerkat-shaped demon in a chiton was chucking metaphorical boulders at their faces. They just weren't getting out of their car fast enough. And by fast enough, I mean they weren't shot out by rocket-launchers.
Then I took my exam. Then I went home. Somewhere, in the drive, I started thinking about such volatile topics as driving and feminism. Not sure what provoked that (actually, I'm pretty sure nothing provoked that), but it was storming around my mind while I drove.
Once at home, after violently stabbing my microwave dinner's plastic cover with a fork (the instructions DO say to poke holes in it), I sat down to eat my lunch. Right in front of me, on the table, was a handout from church. "Charity suffereth long," it reminded me.
Oh yeah. I determined, just yesterday, that I wasn't going to become a wreck this week. It was time to stop letting Timon have his way with me, and actually bring my little demon under control.
Time to bean him with a rock!
No, no, no. That's not nice. Time to do something nice.
I started writing this blog entry. It's amazing how cathartic writing is. Out flows bitterness, leaving a big space that's just waiting for me to fill it with whatever I choose to put inside. I think I shall fill my space with a pony... and a sparkly star... and bunnies... and cucumbers... and a Christmas ham... and a backhoe... and a paper bag with a face drawn on it... and boots... and lemon bars... and a AA battery... and a ceramic bear... and a real bear... and a Trans Am... and Lynnae... and cherry limeade... and a furry jacket that's reeeeeeeally soft... and a couch... and my phone bill... and a clock... and a tissue... just one tissue... not a used tissue... and pepper spray... and a statue of Mt. Rushmore... and a dragon... and a dagger... and snowflake pajamas... and grapefruit-flavored lip balm... and an airplane... and a book... and wallpaper... and toothpaste... and a pillow... and a banana... and a leopard-printed neck massage thing... and finally, HAPPINESS!!! SPARKLY, SHINY HAPPINESS!!!
Essentially, today I got a harsh reminder that it's not okay to be moody. It's fine to have moods, certainly, but having an unpleasant one is no excuse for being a veritable storm cloud that spits rain all over everybody else. I've known this, and I used to abide by it, but somewhere in the last semester I let it slip. Time to regain the parts of myself I really liked.
The end.
By the way, to all those who were forced to be in my sulky, angry presence during the first half of today, I really am sorry. I'm nice again. I promise. And from now on, I'll behave, even under massive stress.
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