Oh, the places you'll go...

I really must get some get-up-and-go from somewhere. Much as I'd love to, I can't just drift through life like I've been doing. All of the very few career-advancing moves I have made have involved an uncomfortable amount of unsolicited effort, and they've all been worth it. I've got to grit my teeth, get the CLEP tests studied for and taken, get a few scholarships applied for, and take a chance on a few of those great jobs that seem out of reach that mom keeps bugging me to apply for. I need to write a resume. I need to stop being spineless about a trip abroad. I let them talk me out of it this summer. I can't let myself get so scared about costs and being by myself and not knowing what to do. It's good to be careful, but at the same time growing always requires getting out of one's comfort zone a little (or a lot.) So many of my friends and people I know are studying abroad, or even joined clubs that involved studying abroad. They get involved with things and run things and manage to survive on tighter schedules than I've ever experienced. I've got to stop being scared of people and start hosting parties and reaching out to people I'd like to know. I've got to start my Etsy shop and stop being nervous about bad photography or whatever else it is that keeps me from doing it. I should join that Accounting fraternity and maybe set my goals a little higher. I've got to welcome leadership. It's about time I finally give in and take that long-awaited next step toward self-sufficiency. (I try not to make a habit of growing up too soon. Anyone who knows me can probably guess this, seeing how long it took me to get a job and a driver's license.) Which reminds me, I've got to get started on that boating license too, because I want to be able to pull dad skiing this summer before he starts getting too old to enjoy it.

Simply put, summer is not what it used to be. I will say this, though. It still beats school with a stick.

Ice, Ice Baby

Well... today was interesting. First of all, I'm on my winter break from school. Work has been slow for the past few weeks, so I haven't had to work. Which is good, obviously, because it means I occasionally have been able to sleep in during my break. It is also bad, however, because I'm spending money like a drunken sailor and have nothing to replace it with. Along with that, the schoolessness and worklessness has lured me into a false sense of freedom, to be brutally crushed next Monday. Well, possibly tommorow even, as I will be buying books. Of course, that isn't really as painful for me as it could be, since I still have scholarship overflow checks coming. Still, book-buying is about the only time college students ever see $100 bills. Well, anyway, as has been established, I'm on break.
So are other college students.
Including a lonely rocket scientist-to-be, who asked a friend to hang out, and then me (because I just had to have my tart remark, even though I could guess at the consequences). We are both to nice to openly refuse, but we are also not interested in quality one-on-one with the guy. Our solution? Maxmize the girl-to-guy ratio. Four of us ended up meeting him for skating downtown, which really was fun even though the skates were crappy. I like skating, and I wish I had some way of taking classes to get more skillz. That and gymnastics and scuba diving and body surfing and snowboarding and ballet and modern dance and the list goes on and on and on. All the things my parents didn't get me into as a child, dooming me to a life of "good enough to get by" in all things physical. So anyways, I've been distracted from the point of this post, which is, a rant about coffee shops.
So after the skating we all head for this coffee shop one of the girls knew about. This involved going the wrong way on a one way street, stopping for a red light in the MIDDLE of the intersection (with a cop directly behind us, fortunately going off-duty), several foiled attempts (due to construction-based road closures) to get across town, and another driving infraction commited in the presence of a cop.
Needless to say, we all were ready for a cuppa. Now, I'm a noob where coffee shops are concerned, especially when I can't read the menu behind the counter since I forgot my contacts (again). I've never been to a Starbucks. The most elegant coffee drink I had previously ordered would be the English Toffee cappucino at Russ's. Luckily for me they had a little flip-style specials menu thing out on the counter, and this mint mochachino thing sounded good. A friend promised me I could get it warm, as opposed to iced. I can't abide iced coffee. Any more than a quarter cup and I am nauseated, as also happens with any variety of tea or soy milk. Anyway, my turn arrives and I cheerily ask for a warm mint mocachino. The guy mumbles something involving "hot" into his headpiece, and the girl on the other end apparently has as much trouble understanding him as I do, as he was forced to repeat himself several times. He then turns his attention back to me, and says something about "Mint Condition" this I knew to be a drink with espresso, and I was (and still am) wary of espresso, since I don't like strong coffee. Is espresso a really strong coffee, or is it just extra caffinated? I was about to let it go, but then I decided that I should start standing up for myself, and should make sure I got exactly what I wanted. Isn't that what these establishments are all about? So I told him, wait, I asked for the Mint Mochachino, and proceeded to show him the picture. He muttered some more on his headpiece and then culled $4.55 from my roll of bills. I moved on down the line, anticipating a mouthfull of warm, minty goodness. Talk started up again, as it will between girlfriends, and somewhere along the way doubt was cast on my drink. The statement about being able to get a warm mint mochachino was retracted, and replaced with the idea that the "Mint Condition" was actually the warm version. Which meant that by insisting on the "Mint Mochachino" I had actually procured for myself a clear plastic cup of what turned out to be mint-flavored brown water textured with little chunks of ice and chocolate chips. I lasted for about half of it, mostly due to the chocolate chunks, but then stomachache and chills set in, from which I am still suffering as I write, even after a restoring bowl of piping-hot homemade potato soup. I feel robbed.
Moral of the story: When in coffeehouses, don't order any of those fancy schmancy drinks. Especially if you're like me--I have a little more experience after tonight, but ordering coffee is an adventure for me, since no matter what I ask for I will be at least a little suprised by the contents of what I end up getting. You will be much better off with a bowl of the soup of the day. Or if you are feeling bold maybe even a plain old mild/medium blend coffee with a hazelnut flavor shot and enough cream and sugar to incite comment.
With that I would like to wish every one a blessed New Year!!!!!! The blog (still) lives!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Back In The Saddle Again

Hmmm... It would appear that blogging is a strictly college-related activity, at least for me. 'Cause I didn't post all summer, and here were are, 2nd day of classes, with a new post! Very little has changed, actually. Looking back at my "What I've learned from College" post, I'm seeing some horrible similarities. Most pressing is the whole "walk into Manitou = developing sudden need to hit the restroom" thing. I'm also on track to beat last years towering list of embarassing moments. Envision this scenario:

I'm heading for the bus stop. Bus is there, but isn't moving. Therefore, I don't speed up much. I start to get nervous, and quicken my pace. Bus begins to inch forward. I run. Bus continues to move, I continue to run. Bus never stops, even as I run along side it for a second. This all in front of a mildly interested multitude of about 30 or 40 peeps.

In other news, the Padnos steps continue to be a menace, even without slush. Last year I believe the score was Steps - 3, Me- 60. A new year means a new score, and it is currently Steps- 1, Me -0. This time I was walking up the steps and I attempted a left dodge to avoid a stream of pedestrians heading down. As my eyes met the beautiful blue optics of a male of the aforementioned stream, I realized that they weren't leaving enough room for me on the left so a sharp, emergency duck right was in order, while at the same time my left foot hit smooth tile and almost (not quite) slipped out from under me. I stumbed, and a full collision with the blue eyed guy was avoided, but it was a near thing. If either of us had on one more layer... Then dialouge ensued:

Simultaneous: "Sorry!"

Him: "Are you alright?"

Me: (No bodily harm, but the pride is heading to the nearest E.R.) "Yep, I'm fine."

Oh, and it looks like this years classes are all hard and boring. Really. There isn't one class I'm pumped for. And I'm still going for Accounting. Hm. Not good. But then again, I haven't really gotten into any of them yet, maybe they'll improve. At least it doesn't sound like I'll have a whole bunch of papers this year.

So WhoooHooooo! New Post! The Blog Lives!!!!

All My Life's a Circle...

...sunrise and sundown. ~Harry Chapin.
I (although I could be doing more productive things like the homework I've been freaking out about all day, or, even better, sleeping) have been reading the archives. And I have come to the conclusion that my life pretty much runs in a circular pattern. It starts off with hope and happiness, goes to despair, stress, and a ton of homework, even more despair and stress, mostly brought on by my bad time mangagement (see first sentance), then things start looking up, hope returns and happiness ensues, until another crushing blow falls upon me. It is a viscious cycle, and no wonder I've gotten so cynical, pessimistic and escapist. And- since I'm a good little Anthropology and Sociology student- I know this isn't my fault, it's the result of the the horrible American culture creating an environment that is influencing me. Seriously- all those classes consist of is the implied understanding that white American culture is of no value, that no other culture in the world is capable of doing anything wrong, and that, quite possibly, nobody has a right to say anything is "right" or "wrong." Bah. A pox on college, and on American culture, which encourages people to attend it. And now to bed, where I should have been 2 hours ago.

There's some days even my lucky rocketship underpants don't help. ~Calvin, of Calvin and Hobbes

The fury of the blizzard had ebbed, leaving a deep coating of dusty snow to muffle a world frozen to the negative 4 degree. She pulled her coat on over her pajamas, stuffed her feet into a pair of shoes and slipped out of the dark basement. Few things are more beautiful than a winter sky. The air is dry and clear-- all the water has frozen and fallen, and the stars are at their most reachable. Orion was the only recognizable constellation; a waxing moon and the nearby city blocked out lesser stars. The snow crunched as she angled for a better view. She thought about perfection, and how man had so completely ruined God's perfect world. Even now, in all the beauty of the black sky and the white snow, moon and stars, lay man's smudging, marring fingerprints. The city light blocked out the stars, and it's toxins lay in the glittering dust. Breaking the silence of the snow was the hum of the highway and the crunch of a snowplow across the woods. Woods (don't think about it) that had (it hurts, but I can't help it) more or less been doomed to be sacrificed on the altar of urban sprawl and human greed. It was, and is, a thought that panicked her. Her childhood, the precious memories that made life livable, chopped down, buldozed, and replaced with the proposed 20-house development where people would make memories of their own, never realizing that they had destroyed hers. The fragrant patch of wild lilly-of-the-valleys, the various forts she had built with the friends she no longer knew, the place she had buried her pets, and fled to when all seemed wrong with the world. She remembered how it had felt when another woods, equally precious, had been destroyed, and a few tears flowed down her face for the old pain of the little girl was, and the present fear that little girl had never anticipated.
To some people, change is a friend, but to her it was always an enemy, forcing her forward when all she wanted was to stay where she was, then retreating for awhile and lulling her into a false security, before whipping her world around again. It even had the gall to change her. This was why--although by most people's standards she was young--she felt old, defeated, and helpless, unsure of where she was going, what she was doing as she tore herself away from the world of snow and stars, and headed back into the house.
"Help me, Lord. Please... just help me."

Back at it...

There is one thing I like about returning to college. One thing, and one thing only. They always start things off on Mondays, as opposed to my high school, which would start things off on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and occasionally Thursdays. It just really throws things off when you don't start on Monday. Monday- even though it remains a "no man's land" of unpredictability- is also the day for starting things. It just makes sense starting on Monday. Perhaps it's a cultural thing, like in my Sociology 101 class. Maybe for my culture-breaking experiment I can start my week on a Tuesday!

Anyways, the good news first:
~It snowed!
~As far as non-class life is concerned, nothing has changed.
~I'm still having frequent sightings of the Language Lab tech and a Writing Consultant. Although that might not be good news. I'm gonna say it is though, b/c it's something familiar.
~I'm getting better at knitting.
~I'm not going to have any big tests/projects/papers/exams in Ant 204.

Bad News:
~It snowed~
~I'm hungry.
~There's no one to talk to in any of my classes. Yet.
~People I sit by tend to have 1 or 2 friends in the class with them, eliminating any possible chance of them talking to me.
~So far I have speeches in 2 of my classes. Gulp.
~So far I have chronic group discussion in 2 of my classes.
~So far I have constant readings scheduled for 2 of my classes.
~I've got a ton of pesky 3 pager essays slated.
~I still have 2 classes to go.
~I have to do a "breaking social norms" project for Soc 101, which involves, well, breaking social norms. Seeing as my life's mission is to blend in, this does not sit or bide well for me.

I can't dance... trust me, I'm not just saying that.

So yeah... the third to last first cousin was safely married off today. I wish nothing but the best for them, I've always been on friendly terms with her, and the guy she picked always has a smile and a friendly greeting for young in-laws. Even AFTER going out to eat with all of us MORE than one time. This requires a certain degree of good-naturedness, patience, and manly fortitude, as the wait for the food seems to bring out the worst of the sick humor in the Vanderbeanies.

The ceremony was cute, quick, and everything Non-Netherlands Reformed that a ceremony presided over by a youth pastor of a mega-church with a shiny eagle on the back of his tux would be expected to be. (Note to self: strapless dresses are not fit for human consumption.) The church was HUGE- think VanAndel. But anyways, we got through all right. Then came the reception. I...survived. They say time heals all wounds.

We rode with our aunt, the mother of the bride, so we arrived first. It was pretty, so once we had the seating arrangement settled, I got down to business with my cameras. I wanted to get the whole scene in the picture, so I climbed up to the second story balcony. I flipped over my camera case to get it out, forgetting I had batteries for the digi-cam stored in it, leading to a battery-based carpet bombing of the ground floor. Luckily, nobody was there yet, and they fell harmlessly. With that encouraging start, I decided to sit down, shut up, and wait for the food. Nothing, I repeat, Nothing (except perhaps a baseball game or Chicago traffic) goes slower than a wedding reception. After 20 minutes, the bridal party showed up. There was a mad rush for the cash bar, then a formal seating of the bridal party. 20 minutes later the white-uniformed servers brought out water. After another 20 minutes we were given bread baskets. Then a couple ding-and-kiss sequences, and the salad. A twenty minute wait, broken up by some scattered camera fire and more ding-and-kiss, and the main course. Garnishing the stuffed lasagna??? was some sliced summer squash and zucchini. If there is one thing you can't accuse me of, it's being vegetarian, and to kill time during the seemingly endless wait for the dessert buffet, I amused myself by pushing all the slices into a green-yellow pattern around the edge of my plate. I was one of the first to patronize the "coffee station," and was just relaxing with a pretty strong cuppa when I hear a rather droll, "Nice design." I had forgotten about that, and was rather embarrased as the bald, Simple-Plan bassist look-alike waiter smiled indulgently and asked me if I was through with my plate. Heh-heh... "Yup, thanks." Anways, the Cannoli and Tiramisu course passes peacefully, until the sound guy throws in a left turn. "Okay folks, now it's time for Mr. and Mrs. D's first dance as a married couple. This would be my first dancing wedding, btw. Next was the bridal party, then *shudder* snowballing time. Everyone on the floor had to grab someone from the tables. Unaware of my peril, I laughed when the super-tall bridesmaid grabbed some little boy of her aquaintance. Then came the second snowball round. I had a slight apprehension, and was keeping my gaze focused away from the dance floor, my attention concentrated on my water glass. Then *BAM!* Two hands on my shoulders and an unfamiliar male voice, "Okay darlin, let's go!" (OH NO, NONONONONONONO, ^&*()*^, PLEASE, PLEASE, NO! GAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!) "Heheh... ahahaha... I really can't dance..."
"Oh, that's okay, I can't either!" *Grins* (GAAAAAHHHH!!!! WRONG RESPONSE BUSTER!!!! I'm NOT kidding... I've never danced in my life- at least not successfully, or in public. Apparantly he was one of the twins in the bridal party who were next-door neighbors to the groom.)
"Uh, okay..."
So I get up in a daze and we sorta bounce around to "Me and My Gang", I go for a twirl thing, which we kinda pull off, then he tries the 'ol country kick thing, with some success, I half-heartedly try it, then I guess he realized I hadn't been kidding him, and we sorta just shuffled around for a while and watched the 3 or 4 people who were actually dancing, and kinda joked around about not being able to dance. Then the song changed and he nicely let me go sit down. "Thank you!" Soon after we left, with me totally freaked out. I mean, I'm not really used to the whole dancing thing. As I told the dude, most people's dancing ablility is direcly correlated to blood alchohol level, and mine wasn't elevated. Also, I've seriously never danced before, at least not with non-brother guys anywhere near, much less WITH non-brother guys. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! But oh well, several key witnesses told me I did fine, and I shouldn't ever run into the dude again because he lives in Chicago, and, of course, time heals all wounds. Still, I can't stop laughing at myself, him, and the whole shebang.

After that we left, watched the skaters downtown, and took a look at Gerald Ford's memorial, which was kinda cool, first time I've ever seen a full-size general-public tribute up close like that.

GAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! How am I EVER going to get to sleep again with that whole episode playing around in my mind?! It's bad enough with all my high-school memories.