An update? Can it be?

First off, HELP! I'm drowning in skads of homework...which I should be doing, but don't judge me. Seven hours of math is quite enough, thank you very much. A few people I once thought to be quite wise advised me not to worry because college only gets easier. Yeah, NOT WHEN YOU'RE TAKING A HYBRID COURSE! It's 18 weeks of math squished into 9. Chew on that for a while, especially if you're not a math person. So, why am I sitting here typing when I have literally a mountain of math on my desk? Yeah, I'll get back to you on that. ( Or not.) If you're just going to sit there and judge me though, then you can go ahead and click the little "x" button on the top right-hand corner of your screen. I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.

Oh, who am I kidding? No one even reads my blog anymore...(excepting, of course, of my three saintly friends Emily, Laura, and Sarah) AS EVIDENCED BY THE THREE MEASLY COMMENTS THAT I RECEIVED WHEN I PRACTICALLY POURED MY HEART OUT TO YOU IN MY LAST POST. IF IT LOOKS LIKE I'M YELLING AT YOU IN PRINT IT'S BECAUSE I AM. Did you catch the hint? I all but threw it at you. Honestly, not commenting on peoples' blogs is insensitive, irritating, and displays an almost imponderable lack of social refinement! One puts so much time and effort into achieving that perfect blend of witticism and satire known as a blog post, only to discover that the symphony of words and phrases that distinguishes ones' art from mediocrity isn't good enough for some people! In fact, it's beneath the audience to even LEAVE A COMMENT. You trample some poor, honest souls' self-esteem into the dust, and spit on it for good measure every time you refuse him/her the courtesy of a comment. If you are one of these people, go crawl under the rock from whence you came.


Seriously though, I'd have to be a complete hermit, or pathetically sensitive, for your comments (or lack thereof) to affect me so deeply. Oh wait...


(watch me waste my words on your heart of stone and receive no comments for this post.)

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Anyway, school has been going great. I can't wait to start my last class, accounting, in February. Fun stuff. :) One thing, though, really bothers me while I'm on campus. I just feel like addressing the issue. On some days it's bad, and on others it's worse. The language. I haven't really interacted with strangers on a daily basis before, so I was shocked. This is how people "in the world" communicate with each other? What happened to actual talking, as opposed to swearing at one another? Not that I stick around long, just the bits and snatches of conversation I pick up while going to and from class. It's still enough to burn my ears off. I realize that most of you don't have to deal with all of these sordid details, but since I don't have a journal anymore, bear with me. It grates on my nerves. Not every day, because like I mentioned I don't stay, but sometimes it's overwhelming. I just feel so sorry for those kids! There they are, at college and studying hard, presumably to get a decent job, and using such awful language. Who's going to hire somebody who can't form a complete sentence without using dirty expletives? Nobody. To say nothing of how skewed their moral compass must be. It's sad and depressing that you can't have a decent discussion with people anymore. Of course, not everybody is like that...I've met, so far, seven nice, decent people. I'm thanking the Lord that I've made a few friends there. :) Sometimes I wonder if it's okay to just go up to people and tell them to clean up their mouth. The urge to do that is slowly becoming uncontrollable. One of these days I'm going to get so offended its going to pop out. *sighs*


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At last count I have 31 pairs of shoes. It's gotten to the point where even I realize it is a teeny, tiny bit over the top, so I'm going to try and find time to revamp(read: throw out the contents) of half my closet. Most likely, it'll be a very emotional, painful process that I'm going to medicate with Andrea Bocelli and a whole lotta chocolate. In other news, I passed by Life guarding Final! All I have to do is show up on Tuesday and get my card. Boy, am I ever thankful and thrilled. I'm also qualified to give emergency oxygen. So, if you ever feel the need to pass out and stop breathing, do it in front of me. I figure if I need to practice, it might as well be on you. ;) How does that rate on your comfort scale? Pretty high? Yeah, didn't think so.

That's all the news I have for this post. Thanks for stopping by!

Now go do something productive, you've wasted enough time as it is.

I'm a Cerritos Falcon....and I've a good mind to buy a cheesy sweatshirt displaying it.

I so should not be posting right now....I should be in bed, sleeping, or doing homework. But you all know me, so of course, I'm not doing any of those things. Plus, as it's the first week, I don't have much homework. Homework. I'm a college girl! It's pretty exciting. I was surprised, to say the least, by my first couple of days on campus. I've talked to some people about college, and about their experiences...so I came expecting the worst. I loaded down my backpack in self-defense, just in case Jimmy, at 6 foot and barely 15, wouldn't do the trick.(My backpack is now lethal. Be afraid, be very afraid.) I steeled myself to meet the druggies and thieves I knew would be lurking around every corner; fully expecting the campus to be crawling with creepy, bug-eyed creatures complete with horns and tails.


Boy, was I ever dissapointed! These people were normal! And nice! Well, some of them were, the ones who'd learned to mind their manners and their language. What a relief to discover that a shred of moral decency still existed within the hearts and minds of these young people! No monsters OR aliens. (If you don't count a certain someone in a black hooded sweatshirt with some questionable items on his person.) Anyway, I was pleased.
My algebra professor is really great. She's a plump lady in her late thirties, the mother hen type, and she knows her stuff. This is going to sound awful, but it's great fun for us when she yells at students for being late. Jimmy and I sit at our desks puffing out our chests with pride, because we're never late. (At least, we haven't been the last two times.) She hates tardy kids. "If you're tardy twice, I will drop you. If you're absent once, I will drop you. If you're extremely tardy, I will count that as an absense and drop you." This one kid showed up today right after everyone had sat down. Like, right after. She had barely begun talking when she saw him and stopped. "If you're late like this one more time *insert whatshisface name's here*, I will drop you. Go find a seat." I like her. :)We're going to get along great, I can feel it.


Volleyball. Me loves it! The first day of class was interesting. Jonathan Stevens had suggested I enroll in the Intermediate/Advanced class as opposed to the Begginer class. From what he saw, the begginers were pretty awful. He thought I would probably do better in something more advanced. From now on I'm going to take Jonathan's good advice with a grain (or 5) of salt. These kids were good. Scary good. A couple of the guys even played as well as Jonathan. (I'll stop saying your name now, Jonathan. Ok, done.) I mean, I was confused. "Janette, pass!" The ball swoops through the air in a perfect arc. "Andy, set! You got it man!" He sends the ball high, but not too high, the perfect distance from the net. "It's all yours, Chad! Spiiiiike!" POW! We score. I was like, Woah! I'm slightly out of my league here. I learned real quick not to ask too many dumb questions, either.(What do you use to spike the ball, your whole hand, or just your palm?) Our volleyball coach was quick to inform me that this here was not picnic volleyball, and basically told me that little girls should go to the begginers sandbox to learn how to play. I wasn't having any of it.


"Look, ma'am, I'd like to try and stay in this class. If I try and I'm not good enough, then please, by all means kick me out." She gave me a whole little spiel about not wanting to kick anybody off the team, but I still felt a little discouraged. Anyway, I went back to playing, and in the end I had a lot of fun. (Even when I messed up, which was often, my team mates didn't get mad. I've never received so many high-fives in one day.) So I talked to her afterwards, and she saw I was sweating, and I told her that even though I hadn't actually "played" before, I thought I could do well. She just looked at me. "All right kid, it looks like you've worked hard, so I'll give you a shot. Good hustle." I got a pat on the back and a spot in the class for my efforts. Someone cue that "Remember the Titans" theme song. I guess you-know-who was right after all. In any case, playing real volleyball is a lot more fun than tossing the ball around in a circle on the kiddie side of the fence. :-)

I'm starting to like this whole college thing. I'd appreciate your prayers for me, that I would be a godly example to the people who get to know me, and a diligent, responsible student. Starting right now, as I'm going to go hit the sack. Thank you everyone for your support!

"Oh give thanks unto the God of heaven, for His mercy endures forever."
~Psalm 136:26