Let's talk about this week, seeing as how it's only Monday... *crowd moans*
I have two tests to prepare for: Accounting test and Microeconomics test. Accounting shouldn't be bad since our teacher tried to make the test easier this time so that the class average this time wouldn't be a D (I got an A-). I just need to go over a bunch of silly questions with numbers. That's the perfect description of accounting, silly things with numbers. I'm so brilliant. Moving on--micro will be a little more challenging. I need to learn more terms that I neglected to learn in the beginning but other than that I'm fine. I always feel awkward when the kid next to me talks about how hard this class is and how he needs to study more with the formulas. I get the formulas so I can either lie and reply with: Oh yeah, this class is soooo hard... *hides test score*, or I can try and explain what we're doing. I've done both.
Onto English. I don't know if I mentioned before, but I got a B+ on the last paper I turned in. You know, the one about digressions? Well apparently my digressions weren't digressy enough. My teacher failed to see what they had to do with the overall theme of the paper...I also failed to see what they had to do with the overall theme of the paper as I don't even know what the overall theme of the paper was. As our last small paper, I decided to wing it and see what I got. Not bad Ryan...not bad. Only thing about English that's still stressin' me a little is my big research paper. But I know I'll get it done if I stop. drop. and stop freaking the hell out.
Next semester approaches! I signed up for classes this morning and got into everything that I wanted. But is it everything that I need to have my associates by next Spring? NO. What am I going to do? Do maymester. What might I also do? Take 20 credits for Spring semester. ...and with a click of his mouse, Ryan's head exploded... I actually don't think it would be terrible since 5 of those credits are really not even classes, just silly things that I have to sit in to say that I did it. I'm also going to go ask someone with more knowledge than me if I can just test out of these silly things so that my head won't explode. I think they'd actually help me more if I phrased it like that. Although, they might just think I'm a terrorist.
In weird news, I stopped drinking milk.
That's all that's coming to my head at the moment other than that my She & Him Pandora radio station is the BEST THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. That is all.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Bleeeeggghhh
That's the sound my face makes as I put both hands on it and pull down. It's rather disgusting, but that's how I feel at the moment, k?
I'd like to quickly thank my body for getting over that nasty cold I had. Also, I'd like to thank whoever made ibuprofen as I can take lots of them and not die. Thank you little red pills, my body hurts a lot less.
I promise there's a point to this, I'm just deciding what's more important to write about at the moment. I'm eating an apple in the library, that's pretty important, right? No? Well then I guess I'll write about English again.
Can I start off with how awesome my teacher is? Seriously, the man is great. First, I like that he isn't a Utah local and he suggests that during our research time we get a cup of coffee and sit down and work. The look on the majority of the kids faces is just priceless (you can see the judgment in their little eyes). Second, I love his grading. If you mess up enough on your paper, he'll tell you exactly what you did wrong to and will sit down with you to figure out everything. Then he'll actually let you turn it back in and you can get FULL CREDIT. Yes, FULL CREDIT. I just recently had to do this due to my bad habit of sentence fragments cause. I. Sometimes talk. Like that. After my little mishap, I got an A and his comments were "I love the tone of this essay, plus you do an excellent job of analyzing the relationship." Bam. Score one for Ryan. I got an I love on my paper, not an I like. It makes me feel super awesome as you can tell.
Well the problem I'm having with my class right now is our research paper. Ten pages on a nature artist/writer on an aspect of their work. Now, the ten pages doesn't scare me, it's the aspect that I'm going to write about that scares me. Choosing Ansel Adams, I figured that it would be easy enough. Actually, it should be and I'm just overthinking this whole thing a bit. I guess I just wanted to say what I'm doing. Well, there you go.
Well, would you like an embarrassing moment in Ryan's life to make this a worthwhile read? Why not? I'm feeling generous today.
Once upon a day, I was at the swimming pool at my high school well...swimming. It so happened that after my workout my coach wanted me to work on my push a little push (push being how I pushed back the water in my stroke). He thought it could be a little bit stronger so me and a few other teammates gathered around a machine where you lay face-down and push two handles with your arms simulating a stroke with both arms. I let all the other kids go first, each one smoothly pushing back and forth as they slid up and down the machine in a smooth rhythm. Eventually, it came to be my turn.
NOTE: This is minutes after I got out of the pool so my body is still dripping with water, but back to the story. I lay down on the black plasticy pad and put my hands in both handles and pushed. It was smooth, easy, nothing unusual. "Come on, push a little bit harder," my coach urged. So I did. "Harder!" he let me know once again. So I pushed harder and harder with smooth movement.
SEGWAY: This machine is also positioned so my head is directly aimed towards the concrete diving blocks, you can probably guess what happened.
Squeee! "WOAH!" One final HARD push and my slick body propelled off the machine like a man from a cannon. The world quickly turned upside down as I flipped over and landed on my neck (not painfully, don't worry) at the base of the diving block onto the tiled deck. I just sat there for a moment, my legs twisted behind my body in some weird failed somersault pose, and then I couldn't stop laughing. Mostly because of the look of concern on my coach's face which cold be described as a gaping mouth and two eyes that screamed "OH SHIT, NOW I'VE GONE AND KILLED ONE OF MY SWIMMERS." He is one of the quietest and kindest people in the world, so killing someone probably doesn't sit too well with him. In his defense, I really could have been seriously injured with a metal edge going into my skull, but let's ignore that. He apologized again and again but I assured him I was fine and just went and took a nice hot shower, laughing the whole way there.
Yet another day that I dodged death and/or maiming due to my own lack of foresight. Yay me. I can't say I ever used that machine again.
I'd like to quickly thank my body for getting over that nasty cold I had. Also, I'd like to thank whoever made ibuprofen as I can take lots of them and not die. Thank you little red pills, my body hurts a lot less.
I promise there's a point to this, I'm just deciding what's more important to write about at the moment. I'm eating an apple in the library, that's pretty important, right? No? Well then I guess I'll write about English again.
Can I start off with how awesome my teacher is? Seriously, the man is great. First, I like that he isn't a Utah local and he suggests that during our research time we get a cup of coffee and sit down and work. The look on the majority of the kids faces is just priceless (you can see the judgment in their little eyes). Second, I love his grading. If you mess up enough on your paper, he'll tell you exactly what you did wrong to and will sit down with you to figure out everything. Then he'll actually let you turn it back in and you can get FULL CREDIT. Yes, FULL CREDIT. I just recently had to do this due to my bad habit of sentence fragments cause. I. Sometimes talk. Like that. After my little mishap, I got an A and his comments were "I love the tone of this essay, plus you do an excellent job of analyzing the relationship." Bam. Score one for Ryan. I got an I love on my paper, not an I like. It makes me feel super awesome as you can tell.
Well the problem I'm having with my class right now is our research paper. Ten pages on a nature artist/writer on an aspect of their work. Now, the ten pages doesn't scare me, it's the aspect that I'm going to write about that scares me. Choosing Ansel Adams, I figured that it would be easy enough. Actually, it should be and I'm just overthinking this whole thing a bit. I guess I just wanted to say what I'm doing. Well, there you go.
Well, would you like an embarrassing moment in Ryan's life to make this a worthwhile read? Why not? I'm feeling generous today.
Once upon a day, I was at the swimming pool at my high school well...swimming. It so happened that after my workout my coach wanted me to work on my push a little push (push being how I pushed back the water in my stroke). He thought it could be a little bit stronger so me and a few other teammates gathered around a machine where you lay face-down and push two handles with your arms simulating a stroke with both arms. I let all the other kids go first, each one smoothly pushing back and forth as they slid up and down the machine in a smooth rhythm. Eventually, it came to be my turn.
NOTE: This is minutes after I got out of the pool so my body is still dripping with water, but back to the story. I lay down on the black plasticy pad and put my hands in both handles and pushed. It was smooth, easy, nothing unusual. "Come on, push a little bit harder," my coach urged. So I did. "Harder!" he let me know once again. So I pushed harder and harder with smooth movement.
SEGWAY: This machine is also positioned so my head is directly aimed towards the concrete diving blocks, you can probably guess what happened.
Squeee! "WOAH!" One final HARD push and my slick body propelled off the machine like a man from a cannon. The world quickly turned upside down as I flipped over and landed on my neck (not painfully, don't worry) at the base of the diving block onto the tiled deck. I just sat there for a moment, my legs twisted behind my body in some weird failed somersault pose, and then I couldn't stop laughing. Mostly because of the look of concern on my coach's face which cold be described as a gaping mouth and two eyes that screamed "OH SHIT, NOW I'VE GONE AND KILLED ONE OF MY SWIMMERS." He is one of the quietest and kindest people in the world, so killing someone probably doesn't sit too well with him. In his defense, I really could have been seriously injured with a metal edge going into my skull, but let's ignore that. He apologized again and again but I assured him I was fine and just went and took a nice hot shower, laughing the whole way there.
Yet another day that I dodged death and/or maiming due to my own lack of foresight. Yay me. I can't say I ever used that machine again.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Questionable questions
It's another night in the library and I'm doing that stupid thing where I question decisions in my life. Or sometimes just why things are...or happen--whatever, just life.
One pressing thing I must address is why my pandora radio station for Britney Spears' song "Till The World Ends," is playing Jack Johnson. Come on people, this is a life and death thing. Bad pandora, bad.
Why am I taking English? Or rather, why am I putting any effort into it anymore. I turned in a paper today that procrastinated to do all weekend and finished at 2 o'clock this morning. Needless to say, I was tired and sick of typing away so I slightly improvised a little on my paper. By improvise, I mean told downright lies. Well, I'll justify it by saying they weren't lies, the paper was just a lie when I combined multiple events into one single event (the paper being on an excursion through nature). I'm proud of myself for not making the whole thing up as I was tempted to do and see what grade I would get. Come on, wouldn't that be an awesome story? I'd definitely be in some foreign jungle fighting gorillas and stealing ancient artifacts from sacred temples. Although, that one might be a little obvious.
Hey body, why are you getting sick? Why is your right nostril eternally flowing with snot that makes the kid next to you cringe. I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop. I was fine yesterday. No symptons, no aches, nothing. So stop. Just stop it now. If you do, I'll reward you with a donut (sidenote: it really bothers me that it says I spelled donut wrong, its a donut, duh) that I said I wouldn't eat until after Halloween was over.
Why is my accounting homework always stuff that we learn in the class after we turn the homework in? Does that make sense to do? Absolutely not. Stop it teacher. I'll stop sleeping in your class. Also, another thing. Why, at the end of every chapter in my accounting book does it say things like: "Everything you just learned for the past two weeks is now done by a computer program! Good luck getting a real job loser!" *punch book in the face*
Serious question time: What am I going to do next semester? I have a couple days to go find an adviser I can speak to who will fill me in on what the other majors I'm interested in pertain. I'll get on that.\
Basically, all these things make me just end up face-palming and crying into my pillow with a spoon of ice cream in my mouth. Oh, also: Why does ice cream make you fat? I really want to eat it all the time world. If Halloween wasn't coming up and if I didn't want to be an Indian, I'd eat you all the time ice cream. I'm sorry that we have to break up for a bit. I promise I'll be more faithful next time, I'll even bring the chocolate syrup.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Small Revelation
Short things to write about:
I'm really ecstatically happy that the weather is getting colder. Do I like snow? No, not one bit. Do I like long sleeved, warm shirts? Yes, very much so. The majority of my wardrobe consists of long-sleeve shirts and jackets and now I can finally wear them without wanting to die of heat. Can I get a hallelujah? (the little things that make me happy, I know I'm crazy.)
I was laying on my bed procrastinating writing my English paper--an ordeal I know will take at least an hour of rough writing, another hour of adding things, and then more editing)--when I realized what the paper was about. I mean, I know what it's about, but I finally realized what it meant. The paper is about an excursion through nature where we're supposed to digress all the time and talk about random things. *Light bulb!* I am so good at getting distracted, it's ridiculous. Most of these blogs I get off topic and rant...hopefully that'll be fine. As you can tell, I even blogged about it instead of actually doing it.
I'm definitely going to get an A. A victory for my wild mind.
I'm really ecstatically happy that the weather is getting colder. Do I like snow? No, not one bit. Do I like long sleeved, warm shirts? Yes, very much so. The majority of my wardrobe consists of long-sleeve shirts and jackets and now I can finally wear them without wanting to die of heat. Can I get a hallelujah? (the little things that make me happy, I know I'm crazy.)
I was laying on my bed procrastinating writing my English paper--an ordeal I know will take at least an hour of rough writing, another hour of adding things, and then more editing)--when I realized what the paper was about. I mean, I know what it's about, but I finally realized what it meant. The paper is about an excursion through nature where we're supposed to digress all the time and talk about random things. *Light bulb!* I am so good at getting distracted, it's ridiculous. Most of these blogs I get off topic and rant...hopefully that'll be fine. As you can tell, I even blogged about it instead of actually doing it.
I'm definitely going to get an A. A victory for my wild mind.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Decisions, decisions...
So lately I've been questioning the point of why I have a Facebook profile. I've even thought about terminating my account with the website (I can almost hear Facebook screaming out in pain...). Why would I do such an atrocious thing? Well, let me explain:
First off, Facebook is starting to annoy me. Well, not really starting to annoy me since it has for awhile, but I'm getting to a breaking point. There are too many people, or so called "friends" of mine who post passive-aggressive things an/or self-pity posts. Some made up examples being: "I wish people wouldn't be so RUDE and MEAN!" or, "So sad today, I wish life could be better..."
Look, I know that sometimes we all have to get things out, but a person who uses posts close to my examples are obviously looking for something. Usually sympathy. With these posts, you'll almost instantaneously be getting asked by your "friends" what is wrong, or what's going on. A lot of the time, you'll also be getting nice compliments and words of encouragement from people, such as: "You're such a great person and so cute!!!!!!!" *shudder* For a person like me, I'm not going to go around the internet posting how I feel when it's something important in my life. Usually I just want to respond in a snarky way (ex: "Dang, that sucks bro-ham, I guess you should stop getting sick so often."). To me, when people put things like this, they're seeking the attention of anyone who will look--especially with backhanded passive-aggressive posts to get back at someone. From my point of view, I wouldn't go around campus telling people I've met once and "friended" how I feel that day. Do you think they'd care? No, they wouldn't. Also, they'd probably just walk away really confused and weirded-out. PLEASE, go talk to friend or just go drink some orange juice, don't go spreading your diseases virtually. In REAL life.
Second reason why Facebook might die in my life: Why is there so much stuff?! Seriously though, there are so many things on a page every single hour that I honestly don't have time to sit and look at everything. Most of the time, they are things that I could care less about like a picture album of your cousin's wedding. I don't know your cousin, their partner in marriage, your family, or for that matter, you very well. I know there are people that are glad you put up those pictures, but to me, it's just junk that I have to sort through to find anything of worth to me. Sometimes, I don't even find that. I realized that the people who are constantly commenting on things and uploading things are the people are who are constantly on Facebook (duh). Perfect example being the kid in my accounting class a row in front of me. What has he learned in accounting? Heaven knows. I know that he likes to update his status a lot, and also likes to comment on everything his friends put up. Do I know this kid, no. I'm just a creeper like that. I honestly don't have the patience for all that.
Third reason why: Facebook really doesn't want me to leave or delete anything ever. Over the summer, I kind of forgot I had an account and didn't log onto the site for over a month. Over the period of that month, I received some tearful e-mails from Facebook himself (herself?) about how much they missed me there. The site was cold and lonely without my sunshiney presence warming up the cold servers that were my homepage. I even got an e-mail once where Facebook threatened to kill itself if I didn't come back...ok, maybe they didn't go that far, but you get my point.
Facebook has become my clingy boyfriend. Whenever I try to rid the site of embarrassing pictures of myself, I must go through a series of questions of why I'm doing it. Shouldn't the reason "I just don't want this picture up," be enough? Why the ninth degree Facebook? The worst part is, even though I can't see the picture anymore, it's still somewhere on the site. Like a crazed lover who saves all the hair from your brush and used tissues in a box in their closet. They're not going to give them up without a fight and/or restraining order.
Especially when you try and break it off ("It's not you Facebook, it's me...in the fact that I hate you so much."), Facebook makes it really hard to leave. "Are you sure you want to leave? Are you really sure? Positive? You have to be really positive, because once you leave you can't come back...ok, you can come back, I was kidding." *sobbing* "Why?! What did I ever do to you?! I'm going to kill myself I hope you're happy!"
Yeah...
There are obviously the good things about FBook (connecting with long-lost friends and talking to people impersonally), but I don't want to expound on that really. If someone wants to talk to me, they can contact me in real life, so there goes that argument. I'm just thinking about what I might do. Also, I'm lacking on time, so this is going to end now without me having looked over this and editing anything. I might regret it later with bad sentences and spelling, but judge me.
*I looked over this, and fixed a spelling error, and can't think of what else I would say. I got off the crazy train I was on and just have to wait for the next departure.
First off, Facebook is starting to annoy me. Well, not really starting to annoy me since it has for awhile, but I'm getting to a breaking point. There are too many people, or so called "friends" of mine who post passive-aggressive things an/or self-pity posts. Some made up examples being: "I wish people wouldn't be so RUDE and MEAN!" or, "So sad today, I wish life could be better..."
Look, I know that sometimes we all have to get things out, but a person who uses posts close to my examples are obviously looking for something. Usually sympathy. With these posts, you'll almost instantaneously be getting asked by your "friends" what is wrong, or what's going on. A lot of the time, you'll also be getting nice compliments and words of encouragement from people, such as: "You're such a great person and so cute!!!!!!!" *shudder* For a person like me, I'm not going to go around the internet posting how I feel when it's something important in my life. Usually I just want to respond in a snarky way (ex: "Dang, that sucks bro-ham, I guess you should stop getting sick so often."). To me, when people put things like this, they're seeking the attention of anyone who will look--especially with backhanded passive-aggressive posts to get back at someone. From my point of view, I wouldn't go around campus telling people I've met once and "friended" how I feel that day. Do you think they'd care? No, they wouldn't. Also, they'd probably just walk away really confused and weirded-out. PLEASE, go talk to friend or just go drink some orange juice, don't go spreading your diseases virtually. In REAL life.
Second reason why Facebook might die in my life: Why is there so much stuff?! Seriously though, there are so many things on a page every single hour that I honestly don't have time to sit and look at everything. Most of the time, they are things that I could care less about like a picture album of your cousin's wedding. I don't know your cousin, their partner in marriage, your family, or for that matter, you very well. I know there are people that are glad you put up those pictures, but to me, it's just junk that I have to sort through to find anything of worth to me. Sometimes, I don't even find that. I realized that the people who are constantly commenting on things and uploading things are the people are who are constantly on Facebook (duh). Perfect example being the kid in my accounting class a row in front of me. What has he learned in accounting? Heaven knows. I know that he likes to update his status a lot, and also likes to comment on everything his friends put up. Do I know this kid, no. I'm just a creeper like that. I honestly don't have the patience for all that.
Third reason why: Facebook really doesn't want me to leave or delete anything ever. Over the summer, I kind of forgot I had an account and didn't log onto the site for over a month. Over the period of that month, I received some tearful e-mails from Facebook himself (herself?) about how much they missed me there. The site was cold and lonely without my sunshiney presence warming up the cold servers that were my homepage. I even got an e-mail once where Facebook threatened to kill itself if I didn't come back...ok, maybe they didn't go that far, but you get my point.
Facebook has become my clingy boyfriend. Whenever I try to rid the site of embarrassing pictures of myself, I must go through a series of questions of why I'm doing it. Shouldn't the reason "I just don't want this picture up," be enough? Why the ninth degree Facebook? The worst part is, even though I can't see the picture anymore, it's still somewhere on the site. Like a crazed lover who saves all the hair from your brush and used tissues in a box in their closet. They're not going to give them up without a fight and/or restraining order.
Especially when you try and break it off ("It's not you Facebook, it's me...in the fact that I hate you so much."), Facebook makes it really hard to leave. "Are you sure you want to leave? Are you really sure? Positive? You have to be really positive, because once you leave you can't come back...ok, you can come back, I was kidding." *sobbing* "Why?! What did I ever do to you?! I'm going to kill myself I hope you're happy!"
Yeah...
There are obviously the good things about FBook (connecting with long-lost friends and talking to people impersonally), but I don't want to expound on that really. If someone wants to talk to me, they can contact me in real life, so there goes that argument. I'm just thinking about what I might do. Also, I'm lacking on time, so this is going to end now without me having looked over this and editing anything. I might regret it later with bad sentences and spelling, but judge me.
*I looked over this, and fixed a spelling error, and can't think of what else I would say. I got off the crazy train I was on and just have to wait for the next departure.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
A few more sentences
I thought I'd talk about my life. You know, the things that are happening RIGHT NOW!
I applied and just had (two hours ago) an interview with the new cupcake place in town. It probably won't be anything steady since they're brand new and have little to no business, but it's a job. We'll see if I can score it and get fat eating cupcakes all day--I mean, working.
I finally chose what I'm going to write my final 10-page English paper on: Rachel Carson. It has to be some sort of environmental artist/author/person so I thought that would be a nice one. I'm actually not to worried about getting to 10 pages since there are a billion books about her and even more things since she's dead. Note: If you're researching a person, you're going to find a whole lot more about them when they're dead. Just a fact.
Halloween quickly approaches and so does the exodus of my grandmother's house. I'm actually thinking within the next week or so. Not Halloween in the next week or so, my moving. Sidenote: I'm being an Indian for Halloween. I guess to be politically correct, I'm going as a Native American, but that's just so many syllables. Either way, it's just so I can wear as little clothing as possible.
As for my Biology class (which I've never talked about before), I'm pretty sure the girl that sat next to me, doesn't like me. Sat being the key word. After never talking to me when I tried to make conversation, the next class, she proceeded to move to the row behind me leaving me all alone, front and center. I have now resorted to moving to the back row where the funny black kid that sat next to me previously traveled to. Despite the fact we sat next to each other for half a semester, I just learned his name today. Good job Ryan, look at your social skills bloom.
Cedar City has prompted me to finally get my winter things brought down here by my family. It lightly snowed and dropped 20 or so degrees, then warmed back up to the 70's. This small town really likes to screw with people. I think it really is just giving us a tease of what it really can bestow upon us very soon. It's basically saying, "Muahaha, look what I can do. You think that's snow? Wait until November and then I'm going to dump so much frozen precipitation on you that you'll wish you'd never traveled here due to the cheap tuition." At least, that's what I hear in my mind.
I just recently purchased Heather B. Armstrong's book It Sucked and Then I Cried off of Amazon.com. I already frequently read her blog (which is hilarious, dooce.com) and so I looked up her book and read the few free pages that amazon will give you. Needless to say, it got me hooked so I bought it. Now I just get to wait until it gets here and then I can write about that.
But what am I literally doing RIGHT NOW? At this current moment, I sit in the library listening to my Feist radio on Pandora and also listening to that guy across the room and noisy headphones. I just finished my accounting homework on time. It was something we hadn't even been taught in class yet and I got everything right, shows how much I need to go. As I even type now, a girl just sat across from me with a pink macbook. I think it's probably my time to go then. I really have no other reason to be here as now I'm just wasting time writing about my life as it happens. Not terribly exciting, I know.
New artist of note: Youth Lagoon
I applied and just had (two hours ago) an interview with the new cupcake place in town. It probably won't be anything steady since they're brand new and have little to no business, but it's a job. We'll see if I can score it and get fat eating cupcakes all day--I mean, working.
I finally chose what I'm going to write my final 10-page English paper on: Rachel Carson. It has to be some sort of environmental artist/author/person so I thought that would be a nice one. I'm actually not to worried about getting to 10 pages since there are a billion books about her and even more things since she's dead. Note: If you're researching a person, you're going to find a whole lot more about them when they're dead. Just a fact.
Halloween quickly approaches and so does the exodus of my grandmother's house. I'm actually thinking within the next week or so. Not Halloween in the next week or so, my moving. Sidenote: I'm being an Indian for Halloween. I guess to be politically correct, I'm going as a Native American, but that's just so many syllables. Either way, it's just so I can wear as little clothing as possible.
As for my Biology class (which I've never talked about before), I'm pretty sure the girl that sat next to me, doesn't like me. Sat being the key word. After never talking to me when I tried to make conversation, the next class, she proceeded to move to the row behind me leaving me all alone, front and center. I have now resorted to moving to the back row where the funny black kid that sat next to me previously traveled to. Despite the fact we sat next to each other for half a semester, I just learned his name today. Good job Ryan, look at your social skills bloom.
Cedar City has prompted me to finally get my winter things brought down here by my family. It lightly snowed and dropped 20 or so degrees, then warmed back up to the 70's. This small town really likes to screw with people. I think it really is just giving us a tease of what it really can bestow upon us very soon. It's basically saying, "Muahaha, look what I can do. You think that's snow? Wait until November and then I'm going to dump so much frozen precipitation on you that you'll wish you'd never traveled here due to the cheap tuition." At least, that's what I hear in my mind.
I just recently purchased Heather B. Armstrong's book It Sucked and Then I Cried off of Amazon.com. I already frequently read her blog (which is hilarious, dooce.com) and so I looked up her book and read the few free pages that amazon will give you. Needless to say, it got me hooked so I bought it. Now I just get to wait until it gets here and then I can write about that.
But what am I literally doing RIGHT NOW? At this current moment, I sit in the library listening to my Feist radio on Pandora and also listening to that guy across the room and noisy headphones. I just finished my accounting homework on time. It was something we hadn't even been taught in class yet and I got everything right, shows how much I need to go. As I even type now, a girl just sat across from me with a pink macbook. I think it's probably my time to go then. I really have no other reason to be here as now I'm just wasting time writing about my life as it happens. Not terribly exciting, I know.
New artist of note: Youth Lagoon
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
A Library Story
So once upon a time, 6 year-old Ryan (large glasses and all) accompanied his mother to the local library to check out books. Yes, even at that age, I was a nerd who liked reading and playing video games rather than actually interacting with society, judge me.
The trip went rather normally as library trips always did. I would wander aimlessly through the library that, at the time, seemed like a labyrinth of books. I usually never found anything on my own, but it was still fun to look at everything. Especially the crabs. Instead of a fish tank, my library had crabs. Did they ever move? Not that I can remember. But in the eyes of a 7 year-old, were they amazingly and breathtakingly cool? Hell yes.
Finally, after spending what seemed an eternity (probably 15 or so minutes), my mother had found suitable books for me and we waited in the line to check-out. Lo and behold, directly in front of me was an old man carrying an oxygen tank along with him. Well, as you can probably tell, I was fascinated. A shiny foreign object, almost as tall as me, whose properties I didn't understand. I knew that there was probably air inside (I really had no idea, I was just guessing), but what were these knobs? The shiny silver container had several knobs of red and brown all along it with the long plastic tube heading up to the old man's nose.
What would happen if I touched these knobs. Nothing? No, if turned one the wrong way, the canister would surely explode and kill us all. If not that, then too much air would escape and send the old man flying throughout the library. I could even see it...his green sweater whizzing past the piles of books and him yelling in his old man voice, like a deflating balloon.
I had to touch it though. Why? Because it was shiny, and I was 6. I thought to myself, "Don't touch any of the knobs, or you know what will happen." I reached up, my desire to feel the cold metal greater than my fear of destroying him. My hand softly touched the metal and -- Whack!
Ah, What?! What had happened? My head was sore and I was sorely confused. I glanced upwards only to see the wrinkled face of the old man glaring down at me, with hard-back book in hand. Then, he proceeded to simply walk away. Really? He really hit me? He should have known that I only wanted to feel it, not tamper with it. I mean, what child would do that? I sat there, stunned, not even knowing what to say. If only I could have explained to this old man, he would have been kinder and possibly even felt bad for his actions. But no words could come out of my mouth.
We then headed home, my mother confused as to why the man had swatted me with his book as she hadn't witnessed anything. Hopping in the car, I sat and thought. Instead of feeling sorry, I was actually peeved at this old man. Was it really necessary? Being aged and wizened, he should have known I had no ill-intent, I was just a kid. Even if anything bad had happened, it would have been quite a scene to watch an old man fly through the air. I moved on, as this old man clearly wasn't worth my time, and dove into my new book. Surely, Arthur knew everything there was about living.
The trip went rather normally as library trips always did. I would wander aimlessly through the library that, at the time, seemed like a labyrinth of books. I usually never found anything on my own, but it was still fun to look at everything. Especially the crabs. Instead of a fish tank, my library had crabs. Did they ever move? Not that I can remember. But in the eyes of a 7 year-old, were they amazingly and breathtakingly cool? Hell yes.
Finally, after spending what seemed an eternity (probably 15 or so minutes), my mother had found suitable books for me and we waited in the line to check-out. Lo and behold, directly in front of me was an old man carrying an oxygen tank along with him. Well, as you can probably tell, I was fascinated. A shiny foreign object, almost as tall as me, whose properties I didn't understand. I knew that there was probably air inside (I really had no idea, I was just guessing), but what were these knobs? The shiny silver container had several knobs of red and brown all along it with the long plastic tube heading up to the old man's nose.
What would happen if I touched these knobs. Nothing? No, if turned one the wrong way, the canister would surely explode and kill us all. If not that, then too much air would escape and send the old man flying throughout the library. I could even see it...his green sweater whizzing past the piles of books and him yelling in his old man voice, like a deflating balloon.
I had to touch it though. Why? Because it was shiny, and I was 6. I thought to myself, "Don't touch any of the knobs, or you know what will happen." I reached up, my desire to feel the cold metal greater than my fear of destroying him. My hand softly touched the metal and -- Whack!
Ah, What?! What had happened? My head was sore and I was sorely confused. I glanced upwards only to see the wrinkled face of the old man glaring down at me, with hard-back book in hand. Then, he proceeded to simply walk away. Really? He really hit me? He should have known that I only wanted to feel it, not tamper with it. I mean, what child would do that? I sat there, stunned, not even knowing what to say. If only I could have explained to this old man, he would have been kinder and possibly even felt bad for his actions. But no words could come out of my mouth.
We then headed home, my mother confused as to why the man had swatted me with his book as she hadn't witnessed anything. Hopping in the car, I sat and thought. Instead of feeling sorry, I was actually peeved at this old man. Was it really necessary? Being aged and wizened, he should have known I had no ill-intent, I was just a kid. Even if anything bad had happened, it would have been quite a scene to watch an old man fly through the air. I moved on, as this old man clearly wasn't worth my time, and dove into my new book. Surely, Arthur knew everything there was about living.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Quick Rant
I'm going to quick rant here because I can't focus on studying during my hour break without getting this out first.
So, being a business major, I have a few classes with a lot of the same people. Deciding that I didn't want to be a loner in class my entire semester, I befriended some people. Occasionally, we study together in the library when a test approaches.
A couple days ago, the day before our economics test, a boy I had never met joined our little study team. Sitting at a small table on the third floor of the library, we quizzed each other on questions that were on the study guide. It was quite routine, nothing unusual about it. Until, that is, we got to a very specific questions.
What role does economics play in the discussion of global warming?
You might have thought I had talked smack on this kids grandmother by the way he started going off. First, he complained that this was a "gay" class and he didn't even have to take it, he just was. Wow, good job kid. I can handle derogatory comments here and there since I live in a small town and people are still using terrible slang and I also didn't want to raise an argument that would make me lose my new class friends. Here is where he lost me. "Duh, global warming is just something that politicians like to argue about." I starred, wide-eyed at him and asked seriously, "Are you serious?" He responded with something along the lines of, "Yeah, it's just another thing that they can argue about, politicians are so stupid." I just kept staring at him. What? Was he really this serious? My hand almost subconsciously back-handed him. Of course, he then complained about how hard this class was because our teacher was the "gayest" teacher ever and didn't know how to teach (I like my teacher by the way, he's hilarious in the fact that he makes fun of everyone).
I just had to write down my frustration. Back to work now.
So, being a business major, I have a few classes with a lot of the same people. Deciding that I didn't want to be a loner in class my entire semester, I befriended some people. Occasionally, we study together in the library when a test approaches.
A couple days ago, the day before our economics test, a boy I had never met joined our little study team. Sitting at a small table on the third floor of the library, we quizzed each other on questions that were on the study guide. It was quite routine, nothing unusual about it. Until, that is, we got to a very specific questions.
What role does economics play in the discussion of global warming?
You might have thought I had talked smack on this kids grandmother by the way he started going off. First, he complained that this was a "gay" class and he didn't even have to take it, he just was. Wow, good job kid. I can handle derogatory comments here and there since I live in a small town and people are still using terrible slang and I also didn't want to raise an argument that would make me lose my new class friends. Here is where he lost me. "Duh, global warming is just something that politicians like to argue about." I starred, wide-eyed at him and asked seriously, "Are you serious?" He responded with something along the lines of, "Yeah, it's just another thing that they can argue about, politicians are so stupid." I just kept staring at him. What? Was he really this serious? My hand almost subconsciously back-handed him. Of course, he then complained about how hard this class was because our teacher was the "gayest" teacher ever and didn't know how to teach (I like my teacher by the way, he's hilarious in the fact that he makes fun of everyone).
I just had to write down my frustration. Back to work now.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
My Writing Process...Or Lack Thereof
Well, I'm back again for more. It's always the times when I'm supposed to be doing something else that I sit and think to myself, "You know what I should do right now? Write something down on my blog. It'd be much more productive than writing out your cat analysis paper for English." I'm not joking about the paper by the way.
Something that I do enjoy writing about here though is my English class. It's the class this semester that has given me the most to talk about in terms of the weird things that go on there. The official title of my class is: English 2010, Writing From the Environment. When I signed up for this class, I envisioned that it would be something along the lines of going to a specific environment, say a bakery, and writing about the experience somehow. I didn't think that it literally meant the environment. Nature environment. I've spent the last month and a half writing about how leaves dance in the wind or how the majestic mule deer flies through the untamed brush of the really really really tall mountain. For me, this class is a little bit of a struggle. I am a person who definitely appreciates nature in its many forms, but when it comes to expressing that appreciation in the form of a very poetic paper, I'm at a loss. To compensate for my lack of poetic nature writing skills, I fake the paper, mostly to myself. I become a different person altogether. My papers end up sounding like a cheesy greeting card since I sit there and use thesaurus.com to help me find words that sound more intelligent/pretty.
The end result, my papers are complete and utter garbage, but so is everyone else's in the class. After reading over other's papers and seeing what they've written, I cry a little inside. Every single person tries to use as many poetic phrases they can in trying to describe their topic. In my mind, I always just picture fluffy little bunnies running around in a cliche forest. Yet, our teacher eats it up. He goes on and on about these papers and how some are wonderful and some could use a little work. I recently just got an 'A' on a paper that I thought for sure would be ripped apart because it was so utterly ridiculous. My plan had worked. All I had to do, was write for the teacher. I write ridiculous papers on nature and everyone wins.
Is this the proper learning process for writing well? Probably not. The only thing I've learned so far is that I'm good at writing silly things in a short amount of time. I can also write in great detail about trees. Those things are so riveting sometimes. Is it bad to write just to please the teacher and give up things that actually sound sane and written by me? Or am I just going to have to get used to learning what gets you a good grade? I guess I'll have to wait and see.
Something that I do enjoy writing about here though is my English class. It's the class this semester that has given me the most to talk about in terms of the weird things that go on there. The official title of my class is: English 2010, Writing From the Environment. When I signed up for this class, I envisioned that it would be something along the lines of going to a specific environment, say a bakery, and writing about the experience somehow. I didn't think that it literally meant the environment. Nature environment. I've spent the last month and a half writing about how leaves dance in the wind or how the majestic mule deer flies through the untamed brush of the really really really tall mountain. For me, this class is a little bit of a struggle. I am a person who definitely appreciates nature in its many forms, but when it comes to expressing that appreciation in the form of a very poetic paper, I'm at a loss. To compensate for my lack of poetic nature writing skills, I fake the paper, mostly to myself. I become a different person altogether. My papers end up sounding like a cheesy greeting card since I sit there and use thesaurus.com to help me find words that sound more intelligent/pretty.
The end result, my papers are complete and utter garbage, but so is everyone else's in the class. After reading over other's papers and seeing what they've written, I cry a little inside. Every single person tries to use as many poetic phrases they can in trying to describe their topic. In my mind, I always just picture fluffy little bunnies running around in a cliche forest. Yet, our teacher eats it up. He goes on and on about these papers and how some are wonderful and some could use a little work. I recently just got an 'A' on a paper that I thought for sure would be ripped apart because it was so utterly ridiculous. My plan had worked. All I had to do, was write for the teacher. I write ridiculous papers on nature and everyone wins.
Is this the proper learning process for writing well? Probably not. The only thing I've learned so far is that I'm good at writing silly things in a short amount of time. I can also write in great detail about trees. Those things are so riveting sometimes. Is it bad to write just to please the teacher and give up things that actually sound sane and written by me? Or am I just going to have to get used to learning what gets you a good grade? I guess I'll have to wait and see.
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