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Too much study has addled her brain



                                                    ----------------------transmission lost--------------------------


Me: (to Mom) I have exams!! Two! AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND DEFERRED TAXES!!!!! Woe is meeeee!!!!!

Gmail: *bloop!*   (this always means a text from the boyfriend)

Text: Happy 6 month-avesary :D:D:D:D
Me: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!! HE REMEMBERED THE DATE!!!!


 Midterm break. It sounds very well. Two days off from school so that all the diligent little students will have plenty of time to study for the upcoming midterms. Like I said, this all sounds very well, and it would be well, only--it doesn't work thataway.  At least not for me. And as a grade-obsessive, control freak, I would imagine that my experience cannot possibly be the worst.

What I think will happen
In the weeks leading up to midterm break, I think about it constantly and know that all of my hopes and dreams will be fulfilled in those two days. I will be able to stay home and sleep in until 8!  And after I wake up at such a late hour, I will be so well rested that I will be motivated to study. I will get everything done on Saturday so that I can relax on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. I will use Monday and Tuesday to clean my room, exercise, and get ahead on all of those little projects that aren't due until December. Oh yes, it will be wonderful, if I can make it to the break, all else will be smooth sailing!

What actually happens
As I finally stagger to the break, I can't believe that it's here. I've made it. I'm safe. *music swells*  I get home from school and drop backpack and books on the floor. I feel the need to sink into a coma. Sleep. Sleep is what I need. The human body is not made to function on four hours of sleep each night for three weeks. Sleeeeeep.  But then the stress-free, break-intoxicated student thinks, "Hang on, I'm on break....I can stay up late...and get up late tomorrow!" The student then proceeds to waste the rest of the day vegging on the internet until the wee hours of the morning.  But after weeks of hard work, surely this is justifiable.  The weary student sleeps the sleep of the very sleepy. And doesn't wake until late in the next day. Which somehow makes the student more tired. The rest of the day is spent vegging. Which is still justifiable, and hey, break now, I've still got Monday and Tuesday, right? Of course right.

It's Monday. Suddenly the thought of going back to school on Wednesday is...really depressing. So depressing...I'm too depressed to work.... The day is spent vegging. Suddenly it's Tuesday. When did that happen?! Panic starts to set in. How in the world am I going to get all of this done?! Why did I wait?! I have deadlines tomorrow!!  And added to this panic is the remembrance of the days of vegging, and knowing that the panic is utterly and completely self-inflicted.

It's Wednesday. Back to school. Back to lectures. Back to the accumulating piles of homework that will, honestly, only ever be completed the night before they're due. 

Midterm break...its only purpose is to give the Inmates of the University a brief taste of freedom, so that we know what it feels like in case we've forgotten, before being ordered back to work. 

Excerpts from a silly girl

So I've been reading back through my diary that I kept from when I was twelve. Some of it I find humorous, some I find sad. I don't particularly like fourteen year old me.  Anyway, here is an excerpt from me at twelve:

August 2003
"I am always a bit cautious in how I start a journal. I don't want to say something dumb on the first line. Now I am on the third line. Now I can say something dumb.  Sometimes I try to be strictly sensible. I never succeed." Hm, some things don't change.

"Sis is talking about her story. She talks about it a lot. I am now where I can do something else and half listen at them same time. All I have to o is say mm-hm at regular intervals. Then she says "You aren't listening, are you?" Then I will say "Oh yeah" and repeat the last thing she said. She was not at all pleased when I read that to her. She says 'At times it is beneficial for a writer to voice his thoughts with the vague hope of convincing himself or clarifying details. And by doing so to clear ones own thoughts more in a mindset for writing.' " I repeat: some things don't change. :P

"I have a small yellow envelope I keep secret papers in. (current insertion: secret papers? What am I a French revolutionary?) I keep it in the back of my diary. The other day I was looking at stuff that reminded me of it. I hadn't looked at it for a while so I wondered where it had gotten to. So, I looked at my diary and decided it was too thin to be there. I looked in my nightstand. No envelope. I looked in all five of my drawers. Under my clothes. No envelope. You wouldn't think it would be that hard to find a bright yellow envelope. Anyway, I opened my closet. I have two big heavy, stuffed boxes up there on a high shelf. There is also a basket in between. They are all filled with junk I would probably never need until I threw it away. I looked in the first box and didn't find it. One of the most irritating things was I could picture it in my mind being there. So, I looked in the basket. The envelope was not in there. Then I looked in the last box.  As I was getting it down, the basket decided to come down. So there I was. Standing on my tip toes trying not to drop two big heavy things.  I finally got the basket back on the shelf without dropping it. The envelope was of course not in the box. So, I marched myself over to my nightstand where I keep my diary to prove to myself that the envelope was not there. I opened my diary and the envelope fell out."

That was the inspiration for some Scarlet Pimpernel fan-fiction that my sis and I wrote years later

Last one, still twelve.

"Yesterday was the Kelsi's birthday. We went to the movies and saw "Pirates of the Caribbean." Here is a confession I promised myself I would not tell you about. I think Orlando Bloom is handsome."  Handsome? *gigglesnorts* Ah, I was so young. I believe your Earth word is "cute."   

P.S. Don't tell the Marine about that last one. 

Let not ye without tissues enter here

A friend linked me to this. I cried. A lot. I've always cried during reunions, just because. Now, I know how it feels to see the person you love for the first time in months. I will never forget that hug, thinking I couldn't believe that my Marine was finally home.

And if you can get through 1:30-1:45 without crying, you are a Klingon without tear ducts.


Random goopyness....

'You Say It Best When You Say Nothing At All' by Ronan Keating is the best song EVER!!!!!!!!!!!

As you were.

Excerpt from the Student Chronicles....

Thus begin the chronicles of the Student vs. the Groopid. 

Our tale begins eight weeks ago in the land Business Writing.  In the basement of a building, in a dark computer lab, surrounded by students slacking off on Facebook, the Student waited. Waited for the fateful words of the Professor announcing the start of class.  Her computer would not come on, so she had nothing to do but sit and experience the old familiar feeling associated with darkening the doorway of an English class.  Dread.  Panic. Where's the door I'm out if here.  Terror.  

The Professor announced that it was time.  And walked to close the door.  The Student sat, rooted to her seat making calculations. "Time to door for Professor: 5 sec.  Time to door for Student:  grab backpack, 1 sec; vault over football player’s feet, 3 sec; recover from failed vault, 2 sec; time to calculate time to reach door, 2 sec.  Student will not succeed.  Abort operation. In Excel this would be =IF(Professor time>Student A1:A4, "Go for it", "Abort operation")."

The door closed with an ominous clang.  Trapped for now, the Student waited.  The Professor spoke: "This class is designed to get you all thinking like business people.  You will be asigned to a group.  This will be your group for the entire semester, so I hope you all get along.  If not, you'll just have to learn to work with each other. "

She began to call out names.  Not even allowing enough time for the student to give a glance around the room for people she definitely didn't want to partner with. It mattered not and the Student's name was called with four others.  The Student and the four walked to their designated spots and looked at each other.  And then the two girls began texting while the two guys got back on Facebook. 

After the room had rearranged itself into it's groups, the Professor explained our mission.  As a group, come up with a business idea.  Plan it, and present it to the class.  We were told to start immediately.

The Student and group mates looked at each other.  And introduced themselves.  Girls 1 and 2 continued to text. 

Girl 1: So, like, what are we supposed to, like, do.

Student: Um.  Come up with a business plan.

Girl 1: HAAHAHAHAHHAHHAAA!!!!!!   Sorry, got a funny text.

Guy 1: So, does anyone have any ideas?

45 minutes later, we had decided on beginning a business in event planning and coordinating.

Girl 1: So, like, what are we supposed to do now?  Can we leave?

Student:  I think we should come up with a name.

Girl 2: Well, it needs to be something catchy.

Student:  Ooh!  I've got it!  How about "Event Horizon"

(Lead Cricket:  Oh sorry, did we miss our cue?  We weren't listening to you either.  GUYS!  CUE!

Other Crickets: *chirpchirpchirp*)

Group:  Huh?

Student:  You know, an event horizon.  As in a black hole?  And we could say something like, "Do you have an event on the horizon?  Let us plan it for you."   It's a pun.  And it's funny.

Girl 1: So, like, does anyone have any ideas for a name?

After much discussion, the group decided on Just for You. Because that makes you think of event planning.

And that was when the Student experienced a new feeling...the feeling of claustrophobia, of being stuck with no way out.  Work with these people?  Get a grade based on these people? 

As class was dismissed, and she walked into the frigid cold with snow blowing in her eyes, trying to fish her gloves out of their respective coat pockets, the Student contemplated her stupid group. 

And since she had a penchant for coming up with REALLY GOOD NAMES for things...a name was born...the Groopid

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November 2011