McDonald's
Just something I wrote a while ago, one of the things I turned in to Advanced Writing to gain a little time to think of something new. . .
And Again. . .
Scenery
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Bemidji
I had to meet up with my FYE class by the lake today (which our teacher didn't show for, so while most the class went to ColdStone, I went and sat in a chair by the lake) so I decided to snap a few pictures with my new phone to test out the camera. I am impressed. For a phone.
I love Fall. It was amazing out today; definitely the perfect Fall weather. A light breeze and 65 degrees. Perfect.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
The Weekend
Yes, I caved, I went home. Again.
I did have a very good reason: a birthday party. It was great. It was for Josh, my friend's now four year old. Eyes like emerald marbles, that kid has. All the little kids (I think there was a million, but it could have just been 6 or 7 very loud ones) were girls, aside from Josh, poor kid. Still, he didn't seem to mind. I think he had a lot of fun. Not counting the little ones, I was the youngest person there. This caught me off guard at first, but another teacher I knew was there with her two little girls, and she made me feel better when she struck up conversation about BSU and her graduate studies and my majors. The conversation turned more lighthearted when my friend (hosting the party and running around making sure everything was going well) joined in to talk about another certain teacher I had and their escapades. That with the amazing food, I had a great time.
Needless to say, I will be spending at least the next two weeks here at school (homecoming is this week and I should probably participate in that somehow. . .). Maybe I will actually get more than the minimum done on homework being here.
I did have a very good reason: a birthday party. It was great. It was for Josh, my friend's now four year old. Eyes like emerald marbles, that kid has. All the little kids (I think there was a million, but it could have just been 6 or 7 very loud ones) were girls, aside from Josh, poor kid. Still, he didn't seem to mind. I think he had a lot of fun. Not counting the little ones, I was the youngest person there. This caught me off guard at first, but another teacher I knew was there with her two little girls, and she made me feel better when she struck up conversation about BSU and her graduate studies and my majors. The conversation turned more lighthearted when my friend (hosting the party and running around making sure everything was going well) joined in to talk about another certain teacher I had and their escapades. That with the amazing food, I had a great time.
Needless to say, I will be spending at least the next two weeks here at school (homecoming is this week and I should probably participate in that somehow. . .). Maybe I will actually get more than the minimum done on homework being here.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Stressed
Stressed. The perfect word to describe me at this moment. My hands are shaking, my head is pounding. I have been trying to study all day for Astronomy and Myth for tests this week, and guess how I'm doing?
Not well.
Granted, the Astronomy test is a take home, but the Myth test. . . We'll see. I suppose the point of these first tests is to do horribly so I can figure out what needs to be done better. Like studying and obtaining a photographic memory. I've never been one to do so horribly on a test so not to pass it. But this test. I'm beginning to wonder. It doesn't help that I get the world's worst case of test anxiety. Even when it's on a subject I'm very good at and know enough about to take a test on it.
And forget about sleeping.
It doesn't help that my stress and anxiety is making it impossible to write. I've had to start taking papers I've written before, revised them, and turned them in Advanced Writing. One of three I've had to write so far have been original to this year. This is probably stressing me out the most. Writing is my thing, my enjoyment. And here I am, recycling old pieces, unable to figure out anything that would make a good topic. I'm taking suggestions.
I think it will help once I actually have a system of studying. I'm starting to figure one out for Astronomy, though it might be too late for this first test. As for Myth. . . taking notes off of his speed talking is insane. I've probably only been able to write down half the important names and minimal definitions and explanations. This class is mounting up to feel like how stressed I was throughout Pre-Calc. My brain is going to explode at some point. I just hope I scrape by like I managed in Pre-Calc. It can be an interesting class, it's the following at trying to take notes that I'm not used to. I can only take Dad's stance of optimism in life and say, "It can only get better."
Not well.
Granted, the Astronomy test is a take home, but the Myth test. . . We'll see. I suppose the point of these first tests is to do horribly so I can figure out what needs to be done better. Like studying and obtaining a photographic memory. I've never been one to do so horribly on a test so not to pass it. But this test. I'm beginning to wonder. It doesn't help that I get the world's worst case of test anxiety. Even when it's on a subject I'm very good at and know enough about to take a test on it.
And forget about sleeping.
It doesn't help that my stress and anxiety is making it impossible to write. I've had to start taking papers I've written before, revised them, and turned them in Advanced Writing. One of three I've had to write so far have been original to this year. This is probably stressing me out the most. Writing is my thing, my enjoyment. And here I am, recycling old pieces, unable to figure out anything that would make a good topic. I'm taking suggestions.
I think it will help once I actually have a system of studying. I'm starting to figure one out for Astronomy, though it might be too late for this first test. As for Myth. . . taking notes off of his speed talking is insane. I've probably only been able to write down half the important names and minimal definitions and explanations. This class is mounting up to feel like how stressed I was throughout Pre-Calc. My brain is going to explode at some point. I just hope I scrape by like I managed in Pre-Calc. It can be an interesting class, it's the following at trying to take notes that I'm not used to. I can only take Dad's stance of optimism in life and say, "It can only get better."
Friday, September 17, 2010
Good News!
Dad's melanoma seems to be totally gone! During his surgery a few weeks ago, they found cancer in one node they tested and decided to remove the rest around it; and it seems they got it all. The surgery on his colon was on Tuesday, and he seems to be doing well. They took out 22 inches, and we'll get the tests back on all of that in a couple weeks. I'll be going home this weekend so we can all go see him on Sunday. I can't wait. Talking to him on the phone is funny, they are managing his pain well so his words slur.
What with all the good news that seems to be coming our way, I can not forget that first day, the day I called him to see how his doctor's appointment went. I had to practically yank the information out of Dad. He wasn't going to tell me, but by asking the right questions (my dad has yet to utter a lie to me), he spilled. When I got home, Mom told me the doctor didn't give us any hope. That was the worst day of my life, hands down. With the memory of my grandpa (Dad's Dad) recently dying of a cancer so aggressive it took him within months, the idea of my dad having cancer of any kind was horrible. I hope that doctor is being smote right now.
On a less important note, I've got a new phone! One that charges! I probably would have been fine with my other phone, but the thing that plugs in to charge had broken off completely, and I was using my brother's old phone to charge my battery in. It's the Samsung Messenger, and I have yet to see about putting ringtones on it. I hope it's as easy as it was for my previous phone. . .
I've only got two classes today, Advanced Writing was at 9, and Myth is at 11. My algebra and astronomy professors will just be 'gone,' and my American Lit teacher (Rose Weaver) is attending her daughter's wedding in New York. She was pretty antsy to be gone on Wednesday (she left for Minneapolis right after our class). I asked her about New York because there is a chance for me to go on a Lutheran mission trip to NY over the Christmas break (if it's 20p I'm so there). She told me what I've always heard about the city; it's louder than anything I can imagine, the speed of life in incredible, and it's easy to get lost. I have an aversion to extreme noise, overwhelmingly quick paces, and I'm the most directionally challenged person I know. Why do I want to go to New York? I think it's just one of those places, one to see before I die. Though I have many other cities ahead of NY on that list (Rome, London, Barcelona, Paris, Tokyo, among many, many others), if there is going to be an opportunity, why not take it?
Speaking of traveling, I saw a flier at Career Services advertising a need for an English teacher in China (an English school). . . no need to have previous experience teaching, no need to speak another language, and the lowest degree they require is an AA . . .
What with all the good news that seems to be coming our way, I can not forget that first day, the day I called him to see how his doctor's appointment went. I had to practically yank the information out of Dad. He wasn't going to tell me, but by asking the right questions (my dad has yet to utter a lie to me), he spilled. When I got home, Mom told me the doctor didn't give us any hope. That was the worst day of my life, hands down. With the memory of my grandpa (Dad's Dad) recently dying of a cancer so aggressive it took him within months, the idea of my dad having cancer of any kind was horrible. I hope that doctor is being smote right now.
On a less important note, I've got a new phone! One that charges! I probably would have been fine with my other phone, but the thing that plugs in to charge had broken off completely, and I was using my brother's old phone to charge my battery in. It's the Samsung Messenger, and I have yet to see about putting ringtones on it. I hope it's as easy as it was for my previous phone. . .
I've only got two classes today, Advanced Writing was at 9, and Myth is at 11. My algebra and astronomy professors will just be 'gone,' and my American Lit teacher (Rose Weaver) is attending her daughter's wedding in New York. She was pretty antsy to be gone on Wednesday (she left for Minneapolis right after our class). I asked her about New York because there is a chance for me to go on a Lutheran mission trip to NY over the Christmas break (if it's 20p I'm so there). She told me what I've always heard about the city; it's louder than anything I can imagine, the speed of life in incredible, and it's easy to get lost. I have an aversion to extreme noise, overwhelmingly quick paces, and I'm the most directionally challenged person I know. Why do I want to go to New York? I think it's just one of those places, one to see before I die. Though I have many other cities ahead of NY on that list (Rome, London, Barcelona, Paris, Tokyo, among many, many others), if there is going to be an opportunity, why not take it?
Speaking of traveling, I saw a flier at Career Services advertising a need for an English teacher in China (an English school). . . no need to have previous experience teaching, no need to speak another language, and the lowest degree they require is an AA . . .
Friday, September 10, 2010
Unintentionally Awake
So here I am. 11:30PM.
Back home, my 'late night' was 9:30. Unless Dad and I were up watching the newest Top Gear or movie.
I live out in the country. It's quiet, aside from the occasional biker party across the river at the Saint Hilaire park. Which I've been to once, and apparently 'they' only want St. Hilaire residents using the park, so says the welcome sign. Anyway. The loudest noise, on average, is a bird. Or the rain. It's peaceful.
I've always longed to live closer to town. Somewhere within walking distance to everything. A bit like my situation here at college. Lord, how I miss the quiet.
It's 11:40. And the banging around in the rooms around us haven't let up. Nor has the yelling, laughing, grunting, or the rampaging elephants. Usually, I'd plug in my headphones and watch Bones, my latest obsession. But around 9:30 I ended on an episode that I am going to go ahead and assume it's going to be my favorite of all three seasons so far (IE: Brennen and Booth share their first kiss, which I thought wasn't until season five at which Brennen rejects Booth and they go their separate ways. This idea broke my heart. So season three's kiss, added to the theme of the episode, was brilliant!). I didn't want to ruin that awesomeness by watching another one just yet. With that in mind, I began to write. Something I should have been doing all day today, but I hate the feeling of being rushed. I've got a bit of an idea for my final paper in my Advanced Writing class; I just have to get it on paper. A paragraph down the page, the door behind me swings open. I expected Missy, or one of her friends peeking in. It may have been a friend, but it wasn't just to peek in.
"Krissssssteeeennnnnn,"
I yanked my head up, out of my reverie, and looked to see the door slam shut. I heard some sniggering outside, and before whoever it was did it again, I leapt over and slid the lock home. Missy could damn well knock if she's forgotten her key.
I miss home. I miss knowing that when I have my door open and my windows wide to coax a breeze, my name will not be hissed from somewhere unwelcome. At least since my brother moved out. Ha. I miss having to get up to check and see if everyone is still breathing. I miss the quiet. I miss my 9:30 bedtime.
I love the town I've come to. I just have to get used to living around other people. It was silly of me to assume an apartment-like living arrangement would be silent as an abbey full of nuns. Nuns that swore a vow of silence.
It's midnight. I have to be up in six and a half hours.
There seems to be a rave just outside my door.
Cheers.
Back home, my 'late night' was 9:30. Unless Dad and I were up watching the newest Top Gear or movie.
I live out in the country. It's quiet, aside from the occasional biker party across the river at the Saint Hilaire park. Which I've been to once, and apparently 'they' only want St. Hilaire residents using the park, so says the welcome sign. Anyway. The loudest noise, on average, is a bird. Or the rain. It's peaceful.
I've always longed to live closer to town. Somewhere within walking distance to everything. A bit like my situation here at college. Lord, how I miss the quiet.
It's 11:40. And the banging around in the rooms around us haven't let up. Nor has the yelling, laughing, grunting, or the rampaging elephants. Usually, I'd plug in my headphones and watch Bones, my latest obsession. But around 9:30 I ended on an episode that I am going to go ahead and assume it's going to be my favorite of all three seasons so far (IE: Brennen and Booth share their first kiss, which I thought wasn't until season five at which Brennen rejects Booth and they go their separate ways. This idea broke my heart. So season three's kiss, added to the theme of the episode, was brilliant!). I didn't want to ruin that awesomeness by watching another one just yet. With that in mind, I began to write. Something I should have been doing all day today, but I hate the feeling of being rushed. I've got a bit of an idea for my final paper in my Advanced Writing class; I just have to get it on paper. A paragraph down the page, the door behind me swings open. I expected Missy, or one of her friends peeking in. It may have been a friend, but it wasn't just to peek in.
"Krissssssteeeennnnnn,"
I yanked my head up, out of my reverie, and looked to see the door slam shut. I heard some sniggering outside, and before whoever it was did it again, I leapt over and slid the lock home. Missy could damn well knock if she's forgotten her key.
I miss home. I miss knowing that when I have my door open and my windows wide to coax a breeze, my name will not be hissed from somewhere unwelcome. At least since my brother moved out. Ha. I miss having to get up to check and see if everyone is still breathing. I miss the quiet. I miss my 9:30 bedtime.
I love the town I've come to. I just have to get used to living around other people. It was silly of me to assume an apartment-like living arrangement would be silent as an abbey full of nuns. Nuns that swore a vow of silence.
It's midnight. I have to be up in six and a half hours.
There seems to be a rave just outside my door.
Cheers.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Old School
I never thought I would see a sign like this:
The honor system. I wonder if I'll ever see this elsewhere in the world.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Home and Away
8.26.10
Home and Away
I need to get out of here. I stare around at the flat, deadened brown earth surrounding me, my shoulders slumping at the only obstruction of my view; a single line of trees miles away. My spirits rise when I remember the host of trees and hills that occupy Bemidji, the ancient oak trees and the towering pines. Minnesota might not be near the Alps or the ocean, but the university overlooks a lake and there are several state parks I can walk around.
The sun begins to rise as the train of cars belonging to my best friend, my dad and I drive into Beltrami County. We crest a hill and groves of trees rise up around the highway. The pinks and purples of the sunrise flash through the rare gaps of trees. I roll down my window and smell the fresh scent of pines and stick my tongue out at my best friend as she pulls into the left lane, level with me. Euphoria courses my body, my fingers tingling as they flex from the wheel. Nerves keep my stomach tumbling. It’s not perfect, but it’s not home, I think happily. A change of scenery is all I want.
I smile at my dad as we walk back to the van.
“Are you going to be okay?” His voice is soft.
“Of course.” I hug my dad goodbye. “Thanks for helping me move in. I’ll miss you.”
He gives me a one-armed hug back. “I’ll miss you too.”
With that, he left. I turned back to my dorm and a feeling of awe swept over me. I am on my own. I get to decide when to wake up, what I have for dinner, where I go, what I do. The feeling of freedom bubbled up inside. I consider skipping back to my room.
I stare at the clock. 1:30 AM beams red, mocking my sleep deprived body. Closing my eyes for a moment, I sigh. Looking back, I rub my eyes. 2:30 AM.
I blink. 3:30 AM.
4:30 AM.
5:30 AM.
A squawking jolts me awake, and I fumble for my phone. I flinch from the blue screen and dismiss the alarm. A groan comes from my left, and I almost jump out of my skin. My roommate throws herself to her other side, an arm flinging a pillow to the floor. I stumble to the floor, pulling the sheets off the bed with me. I flip-flop across the room, shut the door so not to wake my roomy, and make my way to the communal bathroom.
I pull back the green shower curtain and step inside, my arms weighed down by my clothes, a towel, my shampoo and conditioner, face wash, body wash, and other toiletries. Hanging up my clothes on the two small silver pegs, I freeze. Turning back to the shower head, I snort in frustration. What, did I walk into the short person’s stall? I walk back out and peek into the other (unused) stalls. I return, my morning foggy head unable to see the point of a three and a half foot tall shower head.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw something to make me recoil, making me tread on my shower caddy.
Hair. Another unknown person’s hair. Long ones, blonde ones, tiny ones that looked like--
I step on my shower caddy again, desperate for the nightmare to end. The too-loud radio caught my attention when the time was announced. I felt the grease sludge in my hair, my pores clogging with the beginnings of giant stress caused pimples. There was no other way. Curling my limbs close to my body I leap under the arctic pressure wash.
I power walk to my class, 50 pounds of books and notebooks digging into my lower back. The wet cuffs of my jeans rub against my ankles, sure to leave an irritated rash in its wake. I’ve no time to think up a more efficient way to shower because I’ve lost myself in Hagg-Sauer Hall. The maps on the walls make no sense—YOU ARE HERE is posted off to the side of the building. Sure I was on the second floor and not, in fact, floating outside, I start off again, not sure who labeled the classrooms but knowing I was going to hit them when I found them.
The day progresses and not only is 50 pounds of books digging into my back, but now I have the knowledge that I have 50 pages of reading to get through by Wednesday. Whoever thought high school was going to prepare us for that one . . . other bitter thoughts crossed my mind as I head back to the dorm.
Happy to have only one class in the early morning the next day, I begin my homework. Lost in underlining another sentence in my American Literature book, I wonder when my dad is going to call me down for food. My stomach growls. Looking up, I realize once again where I am, and I look at the clock. Wally’s is closed. Great. I crawl over my chair to get away from the desk and take out the stash of granola bars.
I stare into the shower. Day four of living in a dorm and I’m fighting to overcome my need for a hygienic shower for my need of a hygienic body. Finally, I go down to dinner, my hair smelling like shampoo again. I sit at a table and dig into my Chinese and salad. I don’t look around, I let the feeling of loneliness creep over my mind, and I can almost smell my dad’s home cooked food. I can see the gleaming hair-less shower.
There’s no place like home.
*Ideas for improvement anyone? Also, I need to find a way to post these papers without having to copy paste. . . it doesn't work very well!
Home and Away
I need to get out of here. I stare around at the flat, deadened brown earth surrounding me, my shoulders slumping at the only obstruction of my view; a single line of trees miles away. My spirits rise when I remember the host of trees and hills that occupy Bemidji, the ancient oak trees and the towering pines. Minnesota might not be near the Alps or the ocean, but the university overlooks a lake and there are several state parks I can walk around.
The sun begins to rise as the train of cars belonging to my best friend, my dad and I drive into Beltrami County. We crest a hill and groves of trees rise up around the highway. The pinks and purples of the sunrise flash through the rare gaps of trees. I roll down my window and smell the fresh scent of pines and stick my tongue out at my best friend as she pulls into the left lane, level with me. Euphoria courses my body, my fingers tingling as they flex from the wheel. Nerves keep my stomach tumbling. It’s not perfect, but it’s not home, I think happily. A change of scenery is all I want.
I smile at my dad as we walk back to the van.
“Are you going to be okay?” His voice is soft.
“Of course.” I hug my dad goodbye. “Thanks for helping me move in. I’ll miss you.”
He gives me a one-armed hug back. “I’ll miss you too.”
With that, he left. I turned back to my dorm and a feeling of awe swept over me. I am on my own. I get to decide when to wake up, what I have for dinner, where I go, what I do. The feeling of freedom bubbled up inside. I consider skipping back to my room.
I stare at the clock. 1:30 AM beams red, mocking my sleep deprived body. Closing my eyes for a moment, I sigh. Looking back, I rub my eyes. 2:30 AM.
I blink. 3:30 AM.
4:30 AM.
5:30 AM.
A squawking jolts me awake, and I fumble for my phone. I flinch from the blue screen and dismiss the alarm. A groan comes from my left, and I almost jump out of my skin. My roommate throws herself to her other side, an arm flinging a pillow to the floor. I stumble to the floor, pulling the sheets off the bed with me. I flip-flop across the room, shut the door so not to wake my roomy, and make my way to the communal bathroom.
I pull back the green shower curtain and step inside, my arms weighed down by my clothes, a towel, my shampoo and conditioner, face wash, body wash, and other toiletries. Hanging up my clothes on the two small silver pegs, I freeze. Turning back to the shower head, I snort in frustration. What, did I walk into the short person’s stall? I walk back out and peek into the other (unused) stalls. I return, my morning foggy head unable to see the point of a three and a half foot tall shower head.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw something to make me recoil, making me tread on my shower caddy.
Hair. Another unknown person’s hair. Long ones, blonde ones, tiny ones that looked like--
I step on my shower caddy again, desperate for the nightmare to end. The too-loud radio caught my attention when the time was announced. I felt the grease sludge in my hair, my pores clogging with the beginnings of giant stress caused pimples. There was no other way. Curling my limbs close to my body I leap under the arctic pressure wash.
I power walk to my class, 50 pounds of books and notebooks digging into my lower back. The wet cuffs of my jeans rub against my ankles, sure to leave an irritated rash in its wake. I’ve no time to think up a more efficient way to shower because I’ve lost myself in Hagg-Sauer Hall. The maps on the walls make no sense—YOU ARE HERE is posted off to the side of the building. Sure I was on the second floor and not, in fact, floating outside, I start off again, not sure who labeled the classrooms but knowing I was going to hit them when I found them.
The day progresses and not only is 50 pounds of books digging into my back, but now I have the knowledge that I have 50 pages of reading to get through by Wednesday. Whoever thought high school was going to prepare us for that one . . . other bitter thoughts crossed my mind as I head back to the dorm.
Happy to have only one class in the early morning the next day, I begin my homework. Lost in underlining another sentence in my American Literature book, I wonder when my dad is going to call me down for food. My stomach growls. Looking up, I realize once again where I am, and I look at the clock. Wally’s is closed. Great. I crawl over my chair to get away from the desk and take out the stash of granola bars.
I stare into the shower. Day four of living in a dorm and I’m fighting to overcome my need for a hygienic shower for my need of a hygienic body. Finally, I go down to dinner, my hair smelling like shampoo again. I sit at a table and dig into my Chinese and salad. I don’t look around, I let the feeling of loneliness creep over my mind, and I can almost smell my dad’s home cooked food. I can see the gleaming hair-less shower.
There’s no place like home.
*Ideas for improvement anyone? Also, I need to find a way to post these papers without having to copy paste. . . it doesn't work very well!
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