Ket here, again, Official Slacker Badge stuck firmly to my chest. Because Iím such a horrible poster, Iím backlogged (of course!), so you get a nice big one today. Plus some general rambling that I need to let out. Youíve been warned.
Iím officially naming Summer 2010 as Summer of the Bugs. This summer, I have seen more insects, arachnids, and other crawlies of the non-mammal variety than I have ever seen in my life. In my house Iíve had gnats, fruit flies, ants, spiders, roaches (luckily only two of those Ėshudder-), moths and all manner of bugs that I donít even know what they are. Itís like an invasion of the creepy crawlies. I canít buy fresh fruit and leave it on the counter for people to eat as they please. Nope, it has to be eaten immediately, and the rinds/cores/etc. put outside instantly. Otherwise, the swarms appear. The inside and outside perimeter is covered in every natural bug repellant I can find, but they still manage to get in.
Outside is an even different story. You canít walk an inch without coming into contact with something of the insect variety, in the air or on the ground. The mosquitoes have revved up their armies and the ticks are in full force. Heaven forbid any sort of radiation leaks; weíll all be starring in a horrifying B-movie of epic proportions.
And they arenít just normal bugs. No, someone put miracle grow in their eggs, because these things are gigantic. Iíve seen dragonflies the size of hummingbirds Ė and larger. Oddly, the common house fly seems to be in decline this year, or maybe theyíve just morphed into something unrecognizable and are dive bombing fishing vessels off the coast. I donít know if it was the unseasonably cold winter, the skipping of spring and heading straight into the deathly heat of summer, or if this year is just one of those odd years where there are lots of bugs. Maybe some evil scientist is out to dominate the world, and heís using genetically altered bugs to start the invasion. Whatever it is, Iíve had enough. Now, if youíll excuse me, whatever the heck it is that just starting crawling across the wall needs to become friends with the sole of my shoe.
AmbitionĒEverything I have written is the result of reading or of interest in people. Iím sure of that. I had no ambition to be a writer.Ē Ė Marianne MooreYeah, I slacked again, big time. I blame it on school work. Really, I do. Iím determined to get the best grades I can, so I devote the majority of my free time to studying. It will most likely be much worse from here on out. I start business and accounting next semester, which I know is going to eat through my time like a pack of termites on untreated wood.
You see, Iím determined to be accepted to Washington and Lee University. Itís private, itís small (like less than 2,000 students small), and itís highly selective. Out of thousands of applicants each year, 19% are accepted. For transfer applicants, the ratio is even less. So I have this narrow window within which to prove that I deserve one of those coveted spots. I can be nothing less than exemplary.
Sure, itís quite an ambitious task. But I donít want to be another face in the crowd at a larger school. Mind you, there is nothing wrong with those bigger schools, I just donít feel that Iíll fit in. I like a smaller, more personal learning experience. Plus, WLU is a liberal arts school with a business college (and a law school), and to me you canít get better than that. The opportunites they offer are amazing. Not to mention VMI (Virginia Military Institute) is right next door (literally across the street). So hello hot guys in uniform all day!
I may be setting myself up for a huge disappointment, but I try not to think about that. And, Iím not just trying my hardest to get good grades so that I can have a chance at WLU, but it is a big motivator. No one has doubted me yet, and my biggest supporter has been my step-father (a shock to me, but still awesome), who rallies behind me whenever Iím feeling stuck.
I know I should have a back-up plan, just in case, and Iím sure I will soon, but right now I have one goal in mind. Do the best that I possibly can. (Okay, okay, two. Get my research paper back and have my grade on it be a 10. What do you say, English prof, was it good?)
AcademiesĒA word on academies: Poetry has been attacked by an ignorant & frightened bunch of bores who donít understand how itís made, & the trouble with these creeps is they wouldnít know Poetry if it came up and buggered them in broad daylight.Ē Ė Allen Ginsberg I have a test Monday, a test Wednesday, and two finals on Thursday. That schedule will probably be changed around some more tomorrow as my school figures out what the hell they are up to. I think my English prof is just tired of teaching in the heat. We havenít had a full class in weeks.
I did my class reviews. I got lucky in that three out of four of my instructors werenít so bad. They made class interesting, sometimes fun. The fourth, well, Ms. Crinkles can go retire now. Of course I wrote a scathing review about that class. What a waste of money. Anyhow, letís move on.
Iím hoping I have good teachers next semester. Itís all accounting and business and economics, so I pray that I have people who love what they teach. Iím really not in the mood to fall asleep in class because itís boring. I specifically stayed away from one professor. Iíd like to not be raped by tests. Could you imagine it?
You go in on test day, thinking youíre ready. You studied, got good sleep, and ate a good breakfast. So you sit at your desk and wait for the teacher to hand out the test. Here it comes, a massive stack of paper that requires an industrial-sized staple to hold it all together. Line after never-ending line of questions, not a damn one is multiple choice. Your mouth goes dry and your stomach starts to churn as your brain receives the information from your eyes. It only takes a nanosecond, but your brain has decided ďFuck this, Iím leaving!Ē and a mob of cells stampede towards the exits through your ears. In the process a few cells are trampled and donít escape; these few dazed and confused thinking machines all you have left for help.
An hour later you emerge from the class. Your hair looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket and your clothes are disheveled. Every inch of bare skin is covered in paper cuts and that industrial staple is firmly implanted right between your eyes. Your entire body is shaking, eyes glazed over, grip so white-knuckle tight on your pen it would take the Jaws of Life to pry your fingers apart. Even coffee canít help now.
Doesnít sound like fun, does it? Iím a masochist, but not to that degree. I want to love going to class, not fear for my life. So I purposefully worked my schedule around that certain professor. No way am I going to lose my brain cells if there arenít copious amounts of alcohol involved.
Fall semester is approaching fast for a lot of us. I have a two week break (omg Ė back to work full time, ewww), then the cycle repeats. Damn circle always coming back around to its beginning. I was going to put something prolific here about staying safe and sane during the school year, but, eff that. It only needs four simple words.
Stay sane inside insanity