Filed under: College, Uncategorized | Tags: changes, college, moving out, summer, transitions
In three weeks, I will be moving into my own apartment.
There will be no more three AM fire alarms, leading to an evacuation mission of one hundred and thirty seven, nor will there be a friendly little Asian woman who I greet in the morning as she cleans the community bathroom and empties the trash.
It will be a significant day for many reasons. For those of you who know me, you know that I have been waiting for this day for a long time. Years, really. Maybe it was initially an act of pure defiance. Then again, I am stubborn and young and have a hell of a mind of my own. But it has evolved into a more positively-motivated endeavor. It is my best attempt to get what I want while also looking for a way to improve my relationship with my family. Hopefully, moving into my own place will signify a new chapter in my black sheep role–perhaps I will move back toward the grey sheep. It will also signify that I made it through my first year of college. Something which still shocks me.
This year has gone from bad to worse to Ok, I can handle this. It’s been two or three moments of blissful happiness, accompanied by endless sleepless nights of discontent, long afternoon naps alone in my twin sized bed, and phone calls home begging for a taste of happiness. Yet somehow, I’ve managed.
In fact, I have come to a point where I am relatively content with my existence here. It is a little less monotonous, though very oriented toward academics, trying to find time to sleep, and eating meals alone. But I am okay with that. Sometimes that is the hardest part about adjusting to anything–of course it’s not what I am really looking for– but I have to shut up and take it.
It could be a lot worse.
Forrest Gump was wrong. Life is not a box of chocolates. Life is a pantry full of random ingredients, and life is what you make of it. At the beginning of the year, I would argue the meal was none other than ‘mystery mush.’ Thankfully, my culinary skill has improved enough to serve peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You get sick of them day after day, but every once in a while, it is so much more delicious than you were expecting.
So what will this apartment/living on my own experience bring me? Well, it might get lonesome. I anticipate that, but I am very good at dealing with an excessive amount of solitude. I am sure there will be days when I am angry about having to pay rent, or listen to my roommate have sex in the room next door, or that I have no more food left to eat for the week… and it’s Tuesday. But I think there will also be a lot of good. I am sure I will love being able to traipse in and out without warning, permission or expectations. I will love my short walk to the Falmouth Heights Beach. I will love that the Dairy Queen is an even shorter, arguably more tempting, walk around the corner. I will love that I can live in my own filth and no one will bitch that I need to clean my room (although something tells me I will clean it on my own, more often than before.) I can’t wait to bake constantly. Let’s be honest–I just can’t get enough of it.
With no real certainty can I predict what will go down living in my own apartment. But I really like that there is no sneak preview.
We will see what happens, and hopefully things turn out well. (Is there any reason for them not to?) I know I have the ingredients to make a cake in this pantry, and I have made cakes before (although not one’s with crazy liquers and a dash of cinnamon like this recipe calls for)… So it should be okay. I’m a baker. I will figure it out.
In three weeks, I will have fulfilled 90% of the credentials of a full fledged adult. It’s scary, in theory, but I am really excited. Bring me my wooden spoon!
Filed under: College | Tags: all nighter, college, music, sleep, video, Violent Femmes
Blister in the Sun – The Violent Femmes
I am convinced that this song is the all-nighter anthem.
Notice the tempo: it’s pretty consistently upbeat, pounding on its usual familiar notes. The band sings with zest and purpose. Every word is meant to be there. Then, after about 4 sets of this happy yuppy stuff, the Femmes sing a little softer, and surely enough the tempo slows a little too.
But then ZOOM! They are off singing with just as much forte and playing with just as much gumption.
Before you know it, the song is over.
This mimics an all nigher, perfectly. You start out increasing your speed and working harder as you go. But at some point, you inevitably, hit a ditch. You start surfing the web or clowning around and you get groggy.
If you haven’t given up, at some point, you will jump start, get back into the swing of things. Sometimes it is as if the snail-pace distraction period never even happened.
Once the sun comes up, you always say “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that so soon. I thought I had more time.”
It’s the same thing over and over again.
Recently, I have been pulling one to two all-nighters a week. It’s probably been going on almost six weeks (I know for certain it has been at least four straight weeks.) But what is nice is that I have been able to deal with it pretty well.
Anyway, I want you to listen to this in the mind set of ‘I am trying to stay up all night and be productive.’ Try to ignore the loopy lyrics, although their zany randomness complements the deranged mindset that an all-nighter is undoubtedly associated with. Let me know what you think.
Filed under: Late Night | Tags: all nighter, breakfast, college, morning, night, sleep, Top Ten Lists
10. All the streetlights are flashing red.
9. Whatever message you inked on your hand is just as smudged as your eye makeup.
8. Channels 4 and 7 are still playing infomercials.
7. You didn’t even notice that your right heel was broken.
6. Yesterday’s outfit is becoming today’s ‘slightly-disheveled-chic’ look.
5. You are having illusions of grandeur, including a need to exercise as soon as the gym opens, random pancake cravings, and a shrinking to-do list.
4. You greeted the man who delivered the Wall Street Journal.
3. Coca-cola is an acceptable alternative to coffee.
2. The look like you have two black eyes and a fever, but it’s really just from too few naps and too many calories.
1. Your Crackberry vibrates incessantly as your roommate, bestfriend and boyfriend ask you where you are and if you’re alright.
UPDATE: Add somewhere on this list “You sent an important email to someone you corresponded with from Craigslist by accident.” I just did that. Idiot.
Filed under: College | Tags: all nighter, coffee, college, night, perks of college, shit list, slacking, sleep, Stress, work
College is excruciating. At least sometimes. Thankfully not always.
Every college student must master the ‘all nighter.’ While some students are better than others at planning out their studying and eating and internet surfing, it’s downright essential that everyone completes at least one, if not five, each semester.
Given my propensity to wait until the last minute (I’m convinced I work better under pressure,) I’ve pulled more than I can count. (Then again, my mind tries to block out the memories.) Tonight, for instance, I pulled an all nighter. An all nighter can only be considered excruciating, God awful, horrible pain when you reach that time when the caffeine makes you lightheaded, especially when you tilt your head a little to the left, and you feel as if the only way you could possibly keep your eyes open is by physically peeling your heavy eyelids open with your thumb-and-forefinger crane. Other than that, if you have an objective, a decent attitude and all the right materials, you can’t go wrong.
First things first: make a shit list. Make sure to write “SHIT LIST” in big letters at the top, and list everything that you need to do before the sunrises, in order of importance. Include check boxes next to each item so that way you can track your own progress. It will also help you feel accomplished once you can tick off ‘Read 6 chapters of macroeconomic theory’ at five AM (several hours after you began reading.) Little moral boosters like this are key to organization and a successful sleepless party for one.
Every all nighter needs all nighter provisions. What kind of caffeine source do you have? While coffee is your best bet, at most colleges, the coffee shop does close for the night. Lukewarm coffee is gross, so make sure you have a back up if yours gets nasty. I recommend Coke Zero. 
None of the calories of regular cola and just as much caffeine. It won’t leave you shaking like Monster and other energy drinks. It’s also the cheapest option, making it great for sustained intake. Snacks are also key to all nighters. Screw your diet for one hot minute. If it’s sold in a vending machine, it is fair game. Snacks serve as a great motivational tool, and eating serves as a great way to reel you back in to your studies. Bring something and keep it handy for the two AM munchies. (It happens every time!)
You might not think to ask yourself “what am I wearing?” But this can make your all nighter all the more effective. Make sure you are comfortable. No pants that cut, shoes that make your feet ache, or distracting accessories like scarves. The less you have to worry about yourself, the better. Make sure you layer in case you break out in hot flashes from all your anxiety or the room is so frigid that you wonder if you’re inside a meat locker. The boy scouts say be prepared, and I tend to agree, at least when it comes to clothes.
Pick your spot. Make sure it’s familiar enough that you don’t want to explore, yet not so familiar that you know exactly where that TV is hidden and a great place to practice for the wastepaper basketball tournament. A clean space, with few distractions and a minimal level of noise is ideal. Extra points to places without internet access. That virtually eliminates all possible distractions! Remember- if you are going to stay up all night to finish something, you want to get it done! Picking a space is key to your success. Avoid bedrooms, friend’s apartments, cafeterias, and other high traffic/high distraction areas.
The most important preparation for your all nighter: bring all your books! If you think you could possibly need it for whatever you are working on all night, bring it with you. Trust me when I say that you are not going to want to walk a third of a mile through the cold to retrieve a notebook or file at 3:38 AM. The only way you’re going back to your room is to jump into that warm, inviting bed of yours. If you can show yourself you’re actually prepared, then you will help motivate yourself to work.
If all nighters were easy, they’d call them “You after a bottle of wine.” Okay, maybe not. But really, it is difficult to stay on track while pulling an all nighter. My solution: give yourself time to fool around. You can’t realistically work for 8 hours straight without stopping for air. Give yourself ten minutes here and there to check your email, blog, tweet, or buy more provisions. If you think you won’t get back to studying, bring an egg timer or set that obnoxious alarm on your cell phone to bring you back to reality and force you to get back to work.
This might seem a bit elementary. Why Katie, of course we should stay hydrated and focused and… wh-why would anyone wear pants that are too tight? Well, there’s one thing people always forget: college students are children. We really are. Tell us that there will be a cartoon marathon or that they are giving away free cookies somewhere, and we jump right on that shit. So, keep that in mind when you’re pulling an all nighter; the more basic logic you use, the better off you will be. So if I reward my inner child I will succeed? Uhm, yeah, something like that. Just try not to put yourself up against standards that cannot be achieved. If you think the ever dubious but always satisfying 8AM all nigher nap will do you good, then go for it. Sleep for ninety minutes before your first class. Kids nap. And I’ve never met a college student who didn’t love to sleep…
Filed under: Serendipity | Tags: bliss, college, Mac'N'Matt, radio, simplicity, Villanova, WXVU
What ever happened to me being really into the little things in life? You know- those little things that make you happy? When did all that fall down the toilet? Was it around the same week as orientation? Or was it closer to Thanksgiving? Did it have anything to do with a drunken stumble down the stairs, a toaster in a bathtub, or catching SARS from an old toothbrush? I think the answer to all these questions is no, and I honestly don’t know when this part of me just faded away.
But here is what made me happy today: my radio show!
Some wonderful clash of fate and timing and yadda yah and I end up having a Wednesday night radio show with Goose.
It’s been a decent start for two freshmen noobs. We are good about sticking to our theme and sticking it out late at night.
But today, having more friends than usual tune in, submitting their requests for “My Favorite Song” night, it was fantastic. I could barely keep track of all the people listening, submitting requests, asking questions, texting me. And it was SO FUN. I like knowing that people like my crazy picks (a result of my “chipmunking” style of acquiring music over the years; term coined by my brother.) I like hearing people’s encouragement and their excitement at getting a shout-out over the airwaves.
The radio is only ninety minutes of my week. But it’s nice to know that I have the show to look forward to, especially after a hectic production night. I don’t know what weird twist of fate ended me up buddies with Goose, but Mac’N'Matt’s Wacky Wednesday Nights has been one of the best things that has happened to me this year. (Can you even believe it’s 2011?)
Filed under: College | Tags: college, day in the life, procrastination, slacking, sleep, StumbleUpon, Villanova
8:30 AM- Your phone alarm screams into your eardrum. Fuck this, I am way too tired, you think as you look down at the heap of books, dirty socks, empty Coke zero bottles, and frayed notebooks covered in your scrawl. You throw your phone with about the same accuracy and speed as any Red Sox pitcher against the wall (just enough to crack your phone, but not enough to consider it in the strike zone.)
9:45 AM- Somehow your phone was resurrected while you slept. But you are sleeping like a champ; the alarm is not loud enough for you to hear it, so you continue to sleep while you can.
10:45 AM- Your phone chimes again. Somehow it has made its way back to your mound of shit- must’ve been that roommate of yours. Half the favor, but never enough. You are late for your morning business class. You hop into the nearest pair of jeans, wrestle with a bra and sneaker laces, yank a shirt over your head, and throw your toothbrush into its new home in your backpack as you sprint down the stairs and out the door.
10:51 AM- You are late, but just in time for Bill to bust out his jokes. He marks you present as you stroll– albeit twenty minutes late– into business dynamics. Someone snickers as you plop into a seat, but you could care less. You open your notebook to compose your daily STD list– Shit to do.
10:59 AM- Your STD list is done. The limp notebook paper looks as if it has just been massacred with blue ink. You have enough check boxes to put any normal person into cardiac arrest. How the hell you will complete it all today, you have no idea, but considering you aren’t a normal person, chances are you will get a decent amount done. Maybe.
11:02 AM- You and Bill have your usual discussion- the one where you make a comment about something topical that he mentions in passing, a (successful) effort to make yourself sound intelligent, that gets him started on a mildly interesting tangent but also keeps you mildly engaged.
11:19 AM- Bill let’s the class out. You fight through the crowd in the hallway and book it down the stairs.
11:22 AM- Rip out some Rousseau to read while you wait in line at Conolly for your usual turkey-swiss-thousand-island-lettuce-tomato-onion-sandwich with a pickle-on-the-side.
11:27 AM- Sandwich in hand, you grab a seat on the upper-deck, then voraciously eat your sandwich as you attempt to digest Rousseau’s ramblings at the same time.
11:40 AM- You ate way too fast. Stomach aches. You hear your computer whispering your name from inside your bag. Knock it off, you say to yourself. But will power was never really your thing, so you throw Rousseau back in your bag and plug in to the fabulous world of the internet. God, it feels good to check your Facebook page for updates. It’s as if you’ve never done it before.
12:12 PM- Snake, Cityville, and random picture surfing has been enough Facebook. You curse yourself for wasting all that time. Class starts in fifteen minutes, and you have at least twenty five more pages of dense, philosophical garbage to comb through. Woops… Fuck it. You return to the wonderful world of the internet, this time to check Twitter and three GMail accounts.
12:27 PM- You close your laptop and sprint to class.
3:02 PM- Your last class of the day begins. You swallow hard as Suzanne begins her drone, that you know will never end. This is also an effort to choke back laughter in regards to Suzanne’s outfit. (Overall jean skirt. One of a kind, friends.)
3:03 PM- Fuck this, I am making Caroline a survey. So much more entertaining. ‘Survey for Carolion. Roar!!!’
3:17 PM- Pass complete survey to Caroline.
3:27 PM- Begin giant doodle of “Fuck it!” in block letters. Ignore Suzanne’s request for everyone to calculate GDP in 2005 dollars. You could not care any less.
3:35 PM- Note to Caroline. “I am so mad that if I were wearing a mood ring, it would burst into flames.”
3:36 PM- Ignore Suzanne’s glares from across the room as you snicker moderately loudly.
3:53 PM- Continue to doodle obscene faces.
3:57 PM- Note from Caroline. “I was going to wear that outfit tomorrow, but I guess Suzanne beat me to it.” Laugh again about how ridiculous she looks. The mock turtleneck really pulls it all together.
4:12 PM- Begin to rudely put books away before actually being dismissed from class.
4:14 PM- Stand up and put on your coat as the entire class begins to walk out the door, despite Suzanne’s closing remarks.
4:15 PM- Enjoy your freedom. You grab a coffee, hit up the mailroom before it closes, waste some time with your favorite extra-curricular activities, check your email, ignore a phone call from a family member, and generally catch up from the day.
5:49 PM- Grab dinner at the corner grill; who doesn’t love chicken fingers drenched in salad dressing with some vegetables on a wrap? Amen to calories, as you always say.
6:19 PM- You head off to some obligatory group meeting. It seems like there is always at least one.
6:44 PM- By now it feels as if you have beaten a dead horse. You get it. They get it. Enough already, let’s end this fucking meeting so you can get the fuck out of there!
6:52 PM- The group packs up. You bolt. That was fucking misery, you think to yourself.
6:59 PM- You descend to your usual hiding spot in Bartley. Opening your laptop, you check your email to help you make a game plan regarding homework for the evening.
7:02 PM- Homework? Who the fuck does homework? You deserve a break for all the hard work you’ve done today.
8:36 PM- Grab an iced tea from Holy Grounds. Too bad it’s not a Long Island iced tea, you think. You also think about how awesome the black girl looks with her blonde weave. She can actually pull it off a lot better than you could. You go back to your seat.
9:27 PM- You still haven’t started any homework. But Caroline calls, and you pledge you will study together.
9:58 PM- Caroline shows up, and you find a new, quieter hiding place that you can chit chat in. You hook your computer up to the desk and check your email.
10:07 PM- Someone posts a funny video on your Facebook wall. Conveniently enough, it is as also a link to StumbleUpon.
12:24 AM- You realize you have gotten nothing done, so you decide to make a ‘Shit To Do’ List for yourself. You get a little carried away writing on the whiteboard, especially when Caroline insists you write “19″ in Spanish, as well as several quotes from the day. (“Ahh! I broke my achilles!” ; “I am so mad, if I were wearing a mood ring right now, it would burst into flames!” ; etc.)
12:46 AM- Get distracted by another StumbleUpon link. Start reading funny lines to Caroline. Who doesn’t love dead baby jokes?
1:32 AM- You both pack up your shit and throw in the towel on getting anything done.
1:39 AM- Stroll into your dorm room, and immediately throw on a season of Three Sheets. You know you won’t fall asleep anyway.
3:00 AM- You have already watched three episodes. You turn off the tv show, but switch to surfing through Facebook.
3:36 AM- You turn off your laptop, hoping you’re tired enough to fall asleep.
4: 30 AM- After over an hour of tossing and turning and searching for the cold part of your pillow, by some miracle, you pass out. God only knows all that bullshit today was completely and utterly exhausting.
Filed under: Serendipity | Tags: college, Fay Beach, feels like summer, night, Villanova, walking
I like Villanova at night.
I like Villanova at night even more than during the day, on Fridays, or even when it’s a game day.
I like to walk through Villanova at night.
There is something weirdly enchanting about the blackened windows of sleeping students, the yellow light fluorescing from tall aluminum street lamps, the distant roar of speeding cars on 476.
Villanova in day light hours has too many people, too much laughter, too much French fry scent lingering near the Corner Grille.
There is something in the darkness of Villanova that reminds me of summertime, laying on Fay Beach with a beer in my hand; a towel under my head; toes in the sand, scanning the sky for stars. I could go back to those moments so quickly. I close my eyes one hundred times a day and I am back there. It is as if I will never leave that beach.
But walking, eyes wide open, cold creeping down my coat, I am back on that beach.
My shoulder might ache under the weight of my books, or my feet might suffocate from the cling of my white socks, or my forehead might wrinkle at the chiming of my cellphone; but Villanova at night is such a familiar feeling.
It is as if I have wandered the campus at night a million and one times already.
I like Villanova at night.
I like Villanova at night even more than during the day, on Fridays, or even when it’s a game day.
I like to walk through Villanova at night.
Filed under: Flash Fiction, Late Night | Tags: college, dorm life, drinking, flash fiction, friends, hunting knife, kids, ridiculousness, rules are meant to be broken, stranger than fiction, travel, video
Grease and cheez whiz dribbled down their fingers as Pat, the purported king of steaks, watched them through the window.
Katie Mac and Clyde Thornton happily discussed their holidays as they attempted to finish their massive cheese steaks.
“You met a vagabond in the middle of the desert?” Katie asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, he was asleep at the top of a sand dune in the Mojave. He seemed like a pretty cool guy,” replied Clyde.
They departed the Philadelphia landmark, driving down the dirty alleyways of south Philly, the sky dusting the air with dandruffy snow. It seemed like a moment appropriate for a remixed Beatles ballad, or perhaps some Creedence Clearwater Revival. But the radio remained silent, and the two chattered on, occasionally interrupted by the creepy woman narrating the GPS directions.
South Campus seemed eerily quiet when they arrived at Villanova. Few students roamed the grassy knoll or slushy sidewalks. The street lamps illuminated the falling snow like Christmas movies often do. Clyde grabbed Katie’s luggage and followed her to the dormitory.
“You lost your wildcard. Your banner ID is 00692443, if they ask. You study biology here. You are not a freshman,” Katie coached him before they walked in the door.
“Got it,” Clyde replied. Does she honestly expect me to remember that? thought Clyde.
The automatic door swung open with its familiar malaise.
“Howdy folks,” said the security guard upon their entrance into the building. They tried to keep walking in, but the guard stopped them. “You’re going to have to sign him in,” he said to Katie, gesturing to the grizzly Clyde.
Stupid all girls dorm in a Catholic school, she cursed for the thousandth time.
“I lost my wildcard,” Clyde said. “Here’s my driver’s license.”
The security guard was not amused.
“Are you confused? I know the rules are confusing. All guests, especially males, need to be checked in,” he stated coldly.
Clyde and Katie glanced nervously at one another. Of course there’s a problem, Katie thought.
The guard took another look at Clyde, back to the identification card, back to Clyde. Begrudingly, he took out the sheet of paper and began to sign Clyde into the dormitory.
“You know,” he said with a sly ‘I know you’re lying’ tone to his deep voice, “you really don’t look like someone who goes here.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Clyde replied in disbelief.
What is that supposed to mean?
“Well, obviously I can’t know everyone. I don’t know everyone. But I know I’ve never seen you around here before, and you really just don’t look like someone who goes here.”
Really now? What the fuck has gotten into this guy?
“Wow,” they said.
“So, Mr. Thornton, where do you live around here?” The guard would not stop.
Shit, shit, shit, I didn’t tell him what dorm he lives in!
“Uh.. I live off-campus.” It was a save, or at least as quick of a save as they could get. Whatever.
“Mhmm,” nodded the guard, as he handed Clyde his ID back. The two continued to walk down the hallway, silently.
A flight of stairs and the usual fidgeting with the lock to her room, Katie exclaim “WHAT THE FUCK?” with some notable exasperation. ”I had no idea there would be so much red tape to get you in here.”
They discussed their options. Clearly, Clyde needed to get the hell out of there once midnight rolled around. That guard was watching. A couple beers later, they emerged from the room, game plan set.
*******
She looked at Katie with wide eyes, pink Blackberry pressed to her cheek, mouthing “what are you doing?”
Don’t give me that, Barbie.
Katie knew she need not explain to the curly haired visitor. That chick knew exactly what was going down.
Katie opened the window to the laundry room, gazing back at Clyde, who carried a 4.5 inch hunting knife. It looked like a murder weapon, but apparently Clyde had already checked with the police years ago if that was the case. Clearly, it was just a weapon used for breaking and entering.
“You might want to move back,” he said as he thrust the dagger into the heavy-duty screen.
Their spectator looked on for a minute, then pledged to stand outside the door to keep a look out. She kept talking on the phone with her mystery friend about pie or something tragic.
Clyde was no match for the screen. Within two minutes he had sawed a gaping hole into it, his passageway into the building. Even John Madden would’ve been rendered relatively speechless (at least for John Madden standards) by Clyde’s dexterity with the knife. “Brett Favre is a guy where, he puts on his contacts and he can see better. But this Clyde– he doesn’t need any contacts!”
Clyde hoisted himself over the ledge, hopped down, closed the window and brushed himself off. It seemed like the perfect moment for the Mission: Impossible theme song to play for the near-celebration. Katie couldn’t believe their little plan had actually worked. He was inside (not a sex joke.)
Wow, that was easier than I thought (also not a sex joke.)
Now to just get him upstairs.
Before they made their way into the hallway, Clyde noticed a rip in his shirt.
“My favorite shirt! My Mom gave me this,” he said dejectedly. (Even rule-breakers love their Mamas.)
It took a while to creep Clyde up the stairs to the dormitory room. After all, anxiety rendered Katie half a moron.
There has gotta be another set of stairs, she thought a hundred times. (After twenty minutes, she found them.)
Clyde did make his way to Katie’s for an evening of card playing, boozing, and other stories of their respective adventures. He even got to take a hot shower to wash off some of that mountain-man.
Morning crept up on them like Christmas to a Jew, but it made no difference. No one ever suspected Katie of the torn screen, and the snarky guard never came to beat Clyde’s ass. (Like anyone could do that to Clyde– kid’s like Wolverine, Batman, and the Fantastic Four rolled in one!) Clyde completed his road trip, Katie finished her calculus homework, and no one died in a freak accident involving falling library books.
It was such a good day with good feelings, it would’ve inspired Katy Perry to write a song.
Filed under: College | Tags: college, Exams, Father Guido Sarducci, finals, finals week, Five Minute University, graduation, ridiculousness, sleep, St Augustine, Stress, video
It’s finals week. After a week of three or four too many all nighters, and two intense examinations, I crashed. I can honestly say that I slept for nearly twenty hours. Some people call it disgusting, but I just call it college.
It’s unfortunate that I have to go to such great lengths to get a B. It frustrates me- what the hell ever happened to the middle school grading system? If you did your home work, were polite, and did maybe an hours worth of studying for anything, you earned an A for the term. Spark Notes, YouTube how to videos, and asking Dad for help were sufficient study guides and reflected some honest effort from you as a student.
But now, I’m in college, a place only 6.7% of people world wide graduate with degrees from (Huffington Post). The old standards, they just don’t cut it.
The college philosophy is this: because we need scheduling to be efficient, and we only have a definite period of time in which we can fit everything in, we are going to hope and pray to God, Augustine, and the textbook companies that A) you haven’t died, ODed or dropped out by the end of the semester; B) you naturally have the energy levels of a meth addict; C) understand everything you’ve learned in all your classes; so D) we can give you two and a half hour long tests every day for a week right before we kick you out for a month.
In the worlds of Run DMC, it’s like that y’all and that’s the way it is.
I like the way Father Guido Sarducci refers to college: “It’s all memorization. And it don’t matter how long you can remember anything, just as long as you can parrot it back for the test.”
It’s true: in five years, I might remember the titles of the books I read. Probably not all of them. Maybe I will recall that Antigone is about some rule breaking girl, and that Inferno is about hell. But I am positive that I will never recall the contents of Gorgias. Hell, I can barely remember how to spell the title- and I read it maybe ten weeks ago!
If I had the opportunity to attend Fr Sarducci’s Five Minute University, I would definitely sign up. $20 is a very reasonable price for tuition.
For my foreign language requirement, I would hope they teach me how to ask for a beer at the pool bar in whatever language. No conjugations, like he said- just that one sentence.
Economics – I think I have that one down now. Supply and demand. Erasmus, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t need you anymore. Please don’t be angry with me. (I think Caroline might come too.)
If my business dynamics was Fr Sarducci’s definition, I definitely would not have left the exam yesterday stupefied, anxious and gaping like a cod fish.
I am taking theology next semester. (This time around I had to endure philosophy. SIDENOTE: I go to a Catholic school. Why can’t we just be like ‘Hey!… Believe in God.’ as opposed to beating around the bush with all this cock’n'bull ‘What are ideas?’ and ‘thingification,’ which is a real thing thank you very much, and ‘Where do we come from?’ I know you want me to respond ‘GOD MADE ME!’ so just tell me that at the beginning of the year, and then I don’t have to schlep my ass to class three days a week. Okay?) And I already know what a heap of BS they are going to throw at me. If only Fr Sarducci taught the class…
I think the Five Minute University is a great idea. After all these sleepless nights, there is nothing I would love more than for Fr Sarducci to hand me a cocktail and to tell me- hey! Don’t worry about those tests. You’ve already graduated!
And one last thing: when they made up the idiom “the old college try,” they were absolutely referring to Five Minute University. I have no doubts.
Filed under: College | Tags: call center, college, katieism, life, reasonableness, resilience, sucking it up, superficial, Villanova, work
Bank of America was calling to bitch at me. I overdrew. Again.
Penniless from book buying, random adventures, and excessive consumption of food, I decided there was nothing else I could do: I had to find a job. Fast.
But at the same time I knew I would be fucked; who wants to hire a kid with such limited hours of availability, no car, and impending trips back to Massachusetts to spend time with family for Christmas break? No one. My options were limited, so when an opportunity to work at the Villanova Phonathon fell into my lap, I applied.
I learned a little bit about the job. I choked my way through a painful interview. I somehow managed to get myself a position. I was shocked.
I was even more shocked as I went through a couple nights of training. I decided, for better or for worse, I had to keep the job and that I would continue to stomach a few shifts a week.
The day of my first shift came.
I braced myself for the worst. This might just be the shittiest job I ever have, I thought as I trucked across campus to the farthest possible building, in some swampy dark corner of campus.
But I sucked it up, even taking on extra hours for a Saturday “Blitz” calling day.
It took a few hours to pick up the gist of how a call goes, but I get it now. And I found myself pleasantly surprised. The call center job is not that bad. They feed us on occasion, and I have actually enjoyed talking to some of the parents. They have advice, and are just as interested in pretending to hear about your life at Villanova as you are interested in pretending to hear about their kid’s life at Villanova. I even have the opportunity to study or read or write while the computer dials my calls and whatnot for me. I don’t even have to get dressed to go to work.
Best of all, I feel no guilt about calling public safety to cart my ass across campus. Public safety hasn’t even said anything about my seemingly daily calls to their office, requesting a ride.
Is it the world’s best job? Hell no. Does it pay well? Not really. But, I am getting paid, and it does work with my schedule at school. They are sympathetic to finals, they pay on time, and they give you advice on your calling so you can make the school more money. Not too shabby, huh?
I am glad I haven’t quit yet.
Katieism #309: Resilience, fearlessness, and fierceness pay off, even if only marginally.
