Of College and Test Results

Hello my dear, sweet, lovely, beautiful readers! Welcome to you too, you handsome, rugged...thing...you... (One of the perks of coming on my blog: you come away feeling absolutely fantastic; in much the same way you would if you were to visit a nursing home on a sunny Sunday afternoon.) By the way, if you don't do that too often, make it a priority. So, I took a test last Monday.



I hate tests.

I went in, fully prepared, or so I thought. I figured, I've got 90% of my score already, for the other 10% I'll just have to smile and look pretty. Fat chance. I took one look at my test and passed out. Correction: I took one look at the second page of my test and nearly passed out. It was as if I had studied for an English exam and the professor handed the test to me in Greek. Not all of the problems were hard, but there were a couple of head-spinners in the bunch. So I was ambling along, doing the best I could, and stressing because the minutes were flying by way faster than they had any right to. I snuck a glance in Jimmy's direction; the small plume of smoke and the acrid smell of burning paper emanating from his corner of the room irritated my sensitive nasal cavity. I sighed, returned to my stubborn math problem, which still hadn't solved itself, drew a little arrow pointing to the question, and moved on.

One hour and twenty minutes into the test, this scrawny kid with curly black hair left wild(not brushed, and most probably unwashed) strolled up to the desk nonchalantly. He hitched up his pants with one finger from each hand after handing in his test. "You're finished?" asked Miss Mariani, with an incredulous look on her face. By " an incredulous look", I mean a look that clearly implied: "Kid, based on your behavior in class so far you're really not smart enough to complete this test in a half hour, so I suggest you grow a brain and review your answers before you fail this class with a 'W'." Really, I felt insulted at that moment. In a weird way, I felt insulted that he didn't care enough about this class to put in more effort than a paltry 40 minutes.


Do you know HOW I know this kid was lazy beyond comprehension? Because Jimmy wasn't done yet, and Jimmy is a genius. Not to brag about how smart and awesome my brother is (fail) but Einstein doesn't hold a candle to him. Seriously. Forget the fact that I'm his sister, Jimmy is lighting fast. Then this kid has the audacity, after being one of the most ill-behaved kids in the class, (when you're not paying attention, how can you possibly learn?) to hand in his test early!?? His test results will not be high, which goes to prove all kinds of points.


I was practically the only student who got up to clarify a problem and ask a few questions. Hey, I don't care if I look dumb, if I score a little higher, then its worth it. So, I'm getting to the end of my test, with a couple of problems left, and Miss Mariani announces that we have 5 minutes left. Then and there I made a decision. I really didn't care that the test was timed, Miss Mariani would have to pry that test from my cold dead fingers to get it back, because I wasn't turning it in until I was good and ready. That's how I had the honor of being the last person to turn in my test. After an agonizing week-long wait....we received our results. Jimmy scored 99.5% and I scored a respectable 89%, missing an 'A' by two points. I'm still thankful though, because I've gotten 100% on everything else she's given us, so I'm fairly confident that I'll end the semester with an 'A'. Jimmy had the nerve to voice his disappointment that he didn't score 100%. hah. Half the class shot him dirty looks.



**~**~**~ TOP TEN WORST THINGS ABOUT COLLEGE~**~**~**

* Guys who think they look incredible, strumming away at their guitars while humming soulfully off-key in the amphitheater, need to think again.

* Every day I witness the merciless slaughter of the English language.

* If I close my eyes, I can smell a Fohawk-wearing guy 300 ft. away, his hair has more product in it than a girls'. (Easy on the Pantene for Men Spray Gel, guys. Specifically, easy on the Fohawks.)

* Please explain to me how blond dreadlocks became legal.

*If you are girl, you shouldn't wear skinny jeans...if you are a bigger girl you should ABSOLUTELY never wear skinny jeans...it takes a staggering amount of self-discipline NOT to throw up on a GUY wearing skinny jeans.

* If I have to run after another bus yelling and screaming like a crazy person only to miss it by 20 feet, I cannot take responsibility for my actions.

* I sit next to a guy, and my nails aren't painted, but his are. *_*

* There's enough bass in the Techno R&B they play live on campus to bounce me from class to class.

*I get the feeling that if I pull someone's earbud out, their ear will come off with it. That's what happens when you never remove an object, the body adopts it.

* My backpack is so heavy, I'm going to have shoulders bigger than Shaq's by the end of the semester.


~**~**~**~**~**~

Our teacher Miss Mariani immigrated from Crete. If Italians are from Italy, Romanians are from Romania, and Indians are from India...shouldn't it follow that Cretins come from Crete?
Sorry, bad joke. I really like her, but she gives us too much homework.

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