make me an offer i can't turn down
Right now, I would like to say: booya. Or perhaps, booja. I will not be picky and I am just as likely to say one or the other.
My hands hurt. My legs hurt. The arches of my feet hurt. Still, my thumb is injured and somehow I aggravated it with all of my insane paper writing skills. Let's just hope that these papers fetch me a B+ or so. Hell, as long as I pass, I will be okay. I've never had a scare with school as bad as I have this semester. It's like I got smacked with the I Suck stick.
Never again--I mean it this time. One more semester, and I'm in the clear. Also, it turns out that I'm a-ok with my Spanish major. I need two more classes, the ones I'm taking next semester. One is a film class with this killer professor that I think is just too funny. He stops every time he sees me and says hi. Over the summer, I must have run into him about fifty GAGILLION times.
I remember sometime last winter when I was standing outside Sarah and Carly's apartment on Packard saying goodnight to someone and he screeched to a halt on his bike to shout, HOOOOOOOLA. COMO ESTAAAAAAAA?? I nearly had a heart attack at the tender age of Too Young.
Besides, how can you not love a professor who teaches you about buggarones and all the things that you always wanted to know about queer culture in el Caribe? Dude is so cool, it hurts.
So I finished both of the papers that I needed to. They're both printed and stapled. I spoke to her and it's fine for me to turn them into her mailbox within the next hour. Then I have to be at work, where I'll negotiate some kind of way for me to get HELLA PAID during this fine, fine winter break. This means I'm staying in Ann Arbor. All of this independence like I have no one else that relies on me is kind of weird. The mother didn't freak out like I thought she was when I told her I would not be gracing her home with my presence this holiday season, but that she is more than welcome to come down. You know, unless she's the one that wants to be lining my wallet with those fine, sexy dead presidents.
(did you hear that they're considering the removal of Alexander Hamilton from the ten note and put Reagan on it instead? Yeah, I know. Because Reagan did so much for the world and Hamilton did nothing, like establish our banking system. GO FIGURE!)
The blind indulgence of substances can begin tomorrow, or tonight, once I finish that English paper about... um, okay, I'll admit that I forgot what it's about--but hey the draft is done so that means I really just have to go through and make it a non-piece of shit. Then I have to do the reflextion for my self-graded class (yes, you read that correctly and no, it is not a Residential College class) and I'm completely finished.
That's hot, right?
I'll find out about Teach for America sometime later this week. I'm not sure if I really want it or not. I mean, of course I want it so badly. At some point in my life, I want to be a part of that program. If I get it, I'm doing it and there is no debate about that. It's just that there are so many other awesome things to do, like continuing with AIESEC--okay, so that's the only other thing.
I suppose, partially, getting TFA would mean having to move on and do things a bit more... grown up-like?
Okay, yeah. Stop laughing.
Right now, I'm just going to bask in my afterglow of writing twelve pages of Spanish in less than twenty-four hours. Four hours of sleep and I've never been happier.
My hands hurt. My legs hurt. The arches of my feet hurt. Still, my thumb is injured and somehow I aggravated it with all of my insane paper writing skills. Let's just hope that these papers fetch me a B+ or so. Hell, as long as I pass, I will be okay. I've never had a scare with school as bad as I have this semester. It's like I got smacked with the I Suck stick.
Never again--I mean it this time. One more semester, and I'm in the clear. Also, it turns out that I'm a-ok with my Spanish major. I need two more classes, the ones I'm taking next semester. One is a film class with this killer professor that I think is just too funny. He stops every time he sees me and says hi. Over the summer, I must have run into him about fifty GAGILLION times.
I remember sometime last winter when I was standing outside Sarah and Carly's apartment on Packard saying goodnight to someone and he screeched to a halt on his bike to shout, HOOOOOOOLA. COMO ESTAAAAAAAA?? I nearly had a heart attack at the tender age of Too Young.
Besides, how can you not love a professor who teaches you about buggarones and all the things that you always wanted to know about queer culture in el Caribe? Dude is so cool, it hurts.
So I finished both of the papers that I needed to. They're both printed and stapled. I spoke to her and it's fine for me to turn them into her mailbox within the next hour. Then I have to be at work, where I'll negotiate some kind of way for me to get HELLA PAID during this fine, fine winter break. This means I'm staying in Ann Arbor. All of this independence like I have no one else that relies on me is kind of weird. The mother didn't freak out like I thought she was when I told her I would not be gracing her home with my presence this holiday season, but that she is more than welcome to come down. You know, unless she's the one that wants to be lining my wallet with those fine, sexy dead presidents.
(did you hear that they're considering the removal of Alexander Hamilton from the ten note and put Reagan on it instead? Yeah, I know. Because Reagan did so much for the world and Hamilton did nothing, like establish our banking system. GO FIGURE!)
The blind indulgence of substances can begin tomorrow, or tonight, once I finish that English paper about... um, okay, I'll admit that I forgot what it's about--but hey the draft is done so that means I really just have to go through and make it a non-piece of shit. Then I have to do the reflextion for my self-graded class (yes, you read that correctly and no, it is not a Residential College class) and I'm completely finished.
That's hot, right?
I'll find out about Teach for America sometime later this week. I'm not sure if I really want it or not. I mean, of course I want it so badly. At some point in my life, I want to be a part of that program. If I get it, I'm doing it and there is no debate about that. It's just that there are so many other awesome things to do, like continuing with AIESEC--okay, so that's the only other thing.
I suppose, partially, getting TFA would mean having to move on and do things a bit more... grown up-like?
Okay, yeah. Stop laughing.
Right now, I'm just going to bask in my afterglow of writing twelve pages of Spanish in less than twenty-four hours. Four hours of sleep and I've never been happier.
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