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Today is Jen's 6-Month 100 Words Anniversary!
March marked the completion of my 6th consecutive month of supplying the masses with a daily dose of yours truly, eloquently (and sometimes not) put into HTML. This means that I have written 18,300 words about me and my opinions.
Isn't it great to be an American?
I would also like to interject that my DB (I figured since DH for Dear Husband has become so mainstream, I would start a new trend) bought a perfect blue-striped shirt from Ralph Lauren today that looks absolutely smashing on him.
Isn't it great to be Jen?
I was a little nervous about Abby meeting Christi. I was a lot nervous that Christi would be drunk, which wouldn't be a great first impression. I've never made my own friends before, I always make friends through other friends. It's a little nerve-wrecking, because I don't want my lifetime best friend and my college roomie to dislike each other.
Luckily, Christi came home completely sober and the great meeting took place. I hope Christi and I will stay friends after college; it'll be nice to have a friend that so intimately went through this part of life with me.
Walter Industries should have tipped us off, but Abby was convinced the 7 mile stretch of water must've been the Hillsborough river. After driving off the map and back, we finally arrived at the Convention Center. It was very surreal being there but not
. We heard stories of seniors that were to be bid good riddance, instead of the tearful goodbyes our exit rendered, of performances gone very wrong, of couples never expected, and of Drama State as usual. We put our dollar into the Higgins Attire Pool, and felt oddly missed and important for those 4 hours.
When I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, I realized how odd last night had been. Abby was mildly tipsy (she'd held liquor better then I'd expected) and talked incessantly. I met some new people at Danny's, including the ever-hilarious token big black guy Keith. I've never been so close to pot in my life, in fact, never close at all. It smelled nice billowing around the hookah mixed with jasmine tobacco. Keith, never having smoked a hookah, took a hit and sighed "Ooohhh…that was…wonderful!" He converted from joints to hookahs with just one smooth puff.
The driver's seat of my mom's car now has permanent Homer-Simpson-style grooves. After trading cars in Jacksonville, I drove home to Tampa, to Orlando Tuesday, back to Tampa Wednesday, back to Orlando that night, from there to Gainesville Friday, to Ybor and back Saturday night, back to Gainesville Sunday to drop off Abby and immediately back to Tampa, then to Orlando again that night and home this morning. I have put nearly 1,000 miles on her car in a week, as well as around $150 of gas on her credit card.
Was I a truck driver in a previous life?
I have been having sleep issues lately, and it reminds me of junior year. I have a very hard falling asleep at night. I can nap during the day, but it just makes me groggy. Once I fall asleep, I wake up often. Sometimes I don't know why, sometimes it's because I had a weird dream. Sometimes I just can't sleep at night no matter how tired I am, and don't hick the sack till early morn.
Last night I was up thinking about Kyle and our latest fight, and how much better the sex is when we're making up.
Now that I'm an "adult:"
I have to send a letter to the clerk of courts explaining why I can't attend my jury summons on the first day of summer-term.
I have to figure out why my payment for my parking citation is due in 14 days but the response to my appeal is returned in 30 days.
I have to remember that I'm here primarily to get a degree so I can get a job so I have money to help support a family, not to see if Aftershock will make good jello shots.
I have to grow up.
I asked him if he'd still mind if I went out as long as I restricted the dancing to line and not dirty, which I'm much better at anyway; he said that was fine. Then he confessed that it was really flirt that was bothering him, presumably because it's a gay club. I explained to him, almost laughing, that there were all of 3 hot people in flirt. It's more of a middle-aged club, and we only go because the drag shows are funny. And with those simple explanations, I was content and he was relieved. It's all about communication.
Today I did nothing. I mean that in the most literal sense it can be meant in. Obviously, humans are incapable of literally doing nothing; at any given moment we are performing multiple activities such as breathing, digesting, and circulating. But aside from those (luckily) involuntary actions, I did nothing. I woke up late, I laid in bed, I migrated to the couch, I laid there, I lost enough brain cells doing nothing to forget how to properly conjugate the word "lay." I have plenty to do, but today all I had to do was a whole lot of nothing.
When I told Abby that I still talk to my mom every day, she looked a little surprised and confessed that she was lucky if she talked to her mom once a week. Christi gave pretty much the same response, and her parents live here.
Maybe we're both afraid of junior year reoccurring, or maybe she's just making up for time she should be spending with my dad right now. I call every couple days, but she calls every couple hours. I can't fulfill what my dad or her friends should. I'm sorry, mom, but let me be the kid.
I awoke around 6:30 to an unfamiliar alarm clock. It took a few minutes to realize that it was Christi's, and I'd never heard it because she gets up so much earlier. I went in her room, turned the clock off and felt a fear creeping over me. I knew I shouldn't have let her drive. If she was hurt, I knew I would feel horribly guilty for the 3 shots I watched her take.
She finally called me, still drunk (but safe), at 7:30am. I don't know what to do or say. I don't know how to help her.
I needed yesterday. I was upset with Christi, tired, and stressed out over my impending B's in my nursing pre-reque's. So mom and I embarked on Easter Funday at my Uncle's. I spent the first half of the day playing with my adorable 1 y.o. second cousin, and trying to reconcile the damage my mean uncle had done at my grandma's birthday party last month. The second half of the day we spent on the boat, with my feet dangling in the Gulf of Mexico. We swam in the springs, and I had a little serenity restored in my brain.
It's hard to explain my sleeping patterns to a normal human being. I tend to suffer from mild insomnia, mostly involving extreme difficulty falling asleep and often difficulty staying asleep all night. Maybe it's worse because I used to sleep like a log (I once slept through a fire alarm. My parents COULD NOT WAKE ME, so they grabbed the cat and WENT DOWNSTAIRS). Maybe it's because I had so many nightmares during junior year, and again after my dad died, that I shun sleep now. Maybe it's because I worry too much.
Maybe I just need more fucking sleep.
As I spit off sentences for each of Christi's 50 vocabulary words faster than she could even figure out what part of speech they were, I had to wonder how I ever managed to fail English. When I asked her why she didn't go to USF, she said she wasn't smart enough. Her SAT score wasn't much better than mine from 7th grade, but my 2.7 GPA was hardly comparable to her 3.3.
I know I'm smart; I know what I want out of life and how to attain it. Why I am so damn disinclined to work for it?
I'm a little stressed out about impending exams and applying to HCC. My chem teacher failed to announce the last exam online, so I missed it. That means that the old 40 is no longer my dropped grade, and my pretty A in chemistry just dropped to irreparable B.
I've finally got my HCC forms rolling, and when I get back from DC (yay!) Monday, I'll be able to apply and get that off my chest. On a more exiting note, Kyle and I are leaving for DC tomorrow! We're going to be true to our dorkdom and tour everything.
I plan to book all my future flights possible on Delta Song. Besides the whacky colored seats and the crazy salsa version of the safety instructions, there was free TV! I got to watch _A Baby Story_ twice, and it made my flight. I think I scared the old lady next to me when she looked up and saw the placenta.
We met this hilarious black guy on the bus that told us which metro line to take to our hotel. We met mom at the hotel and went to a swanky, delicious pan-Asian place. It was a good night.
All I remember about the two Smithsonians we visited is the flight simulator. We switched between gunner and pilot during our three minutes of $6.00 fun, and spent most of our time up-side-down. We decided shooting the enemy tanks was much more entertaining while hanging, blood draining to our heads.
We decided to take a nighttime monument tour, because DC is pretty at night. We didn't know it was going to be FOUR HOURS LONG. When we got back to the hotel, we split 3 entrees and ate for 30 minutes straight. Our waiter must have thought we were nuts.
Last time we attempted to go to the crepe place, dad was in the wheelchair and we had to push him three miles from the metro. When we got there, it was closed for repairs.
Luckily, this time it was a short walk and the restaurant was actually open. The food was delicious, but couldn't hold a candle to the deliciousness sitting across the table from me. When we were at the Georgetown flea market and he was oooing and ahhing, I had flashbacks of the rugs in Morocco. The day was romantic in a hot, dozy sort of way.
Each for our own reasons, none of the three of us slept last night. Literally. Kyle and I trekked downstairs at 6 when Starbucks opened and venti-ed out. We divvied up my mom's fucking luggage (Kyle and I had one suitcase, one backpack, and his laptop bag. My mom had a duffle bag, a hanging bag, a laptop bag, a cardboard box, and 2 seminar bags), Kyle and I had been working on his papers for hours, and continued on the plane. I felt bad leaving my mom at the airport with 7 bags and no ride, but sleep prevailed.
I was supposed to go home last night, but I was too tired. I was supposed to go home early this morning, but I was too tired.
I couldn't leave. It's harder every time. We've slept together for almost a week, and it's difficult knowing that if I leave I'll be sleeping alone tonight. Now I'm staying till tomorrow afternoon, when I really do have to go home to turn in my journals. With the exception of one brawl Saturday morning, the weekend was perfect. It was an "adultish" weekend, and I hate leaving him when it's so damn good.
Today was one of those fun days where I was in a pissy mood for no real reason. I could blame it on PMS, but I tried blaming my chocolate binges on PMS until Christi pointed out that they were more than once a month.
I had to go home today; I have to sleep alone tonight. It's silly, I suppose, to get so attached to sleeping with Kyle when I know we probably won't be living together for another 4 years. It's silly to get so attached because we had a "good week." It's like our relationship is schizophrenic.
Today was my Life Cycles final, on which I needed at least a 98 to get an A in the class. Talk about pushing it to the wire. So I studied like hell last night, and marked every one of the 50 questions I wasn't absolutely sure of. There were 7. I marked my best answers, and there was only one I had no clue on. The others were a safe guess. I checked my answers as soon as I walked out, and 5 of the 7 were right. The other 2 I couldn't remember.
Everyone pray for that 98.
Today was one of those days that sucked the energy out of my body because I did so little. I got about 10 hours of sleep, which was a nice change from what I've been getting. I got up and drove to HCC to turn in my application, and was told that because I'm a transient student, I can't register online AND I can't register until May 10th. I will be so unhappy if my classes are full. Unhappy and screwed. I didn't go out again tonight, because I knew they'd be hanging out at Danny's, drinking. I'm over it.
Two of my classes are already over with. All I have left for Human Sexual Behavior is a test I know I'll ace. Having said this, it should be obvious that studying for my chemistry final (which I need a 70 on to get a B) should be easy. Top of the list. Despite the fact that _I Love the Eighty's_ is on all weekend, despite the fact that _A League of Their Own_ is being re-released this weekend, I should have no problem buckling down one last time, right?
Wrong. Meet Jen, the eternal procrastinator. I never buckle down.
I get complaints that my writing isn't as good, that it's dull, when I only list what I did during the day. Unfortunately, when I do nothing to stimulate my brain, I have no interesting things to write about. I know, I know.
I had to make up one of two swimming classes today, though I could be done had I just made them up Friday and Saturday. But I'm always true to my procrastinating self. I'm glad I got the exercise; my swimming has gotten faster and stronger. I wish I could say the same of my studying skills.
Even as I'm writing this I'm falling asleep; it's 2am. My chemistry final is in 13.5 hours, and I've yet to study for a lick of it. Of the six chapters that will be covered, I know approximately 70% of two of them, 40% of another, and 0% of the other three. Tomorrow will be a typical mad cramming session. I'll probably get the 70 I need, I'll probably retain everything long enough to spit it onto a scantron. In the meantime, I'll be cranky, stressed, exhausted, and baffled as to why I do this to myself every damn time.
So I've done it. I have to admit, I managed to screw up college faster than high school; though not proportionally. I had three years before I had to start applying to college, but only one and a half before I start applying to nursing school. I'd done well with all-nighters and the like last semester, and managed to pull off close to a 3.5. But today I failed my chem final, which gave me a C in the class. I need at least a 3.5 for my nursing pre-reqs. Today hit me like a brick. Today I jeopardized everything.
Another failure milestone- I missed getting an A in Life Cycles by 4 points. Had I gotten any two more questions right, on any of the three tests, I would've gotten an A. TWO QUESTIONS. It almost would have been better had I just gotten a miserably low B. So now my nursing pre-req GPA is about a 2.9, and HOW IN THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO START APPLYING FOR SCHOOLS WITH THAT???
I can get A's this summer. I can raise it.
I'm just very, very, very mad at myself right now.
What if MUSC doesn't want me?
I have this to say about Mac Stores: it is impossible to leave them. In fact, it's 2:30am and I'm still secretly sitting in the Mac store, typing away. While Kyle ogled the 23' flat-panel HD monitor, I went into shock over the glowing disco mini Ipods. After we perused the disturbingly shiny, perfect store, we settled into the kiddie computer beanbags to try our luck at I Spy. After being unable to find the black and white feather to rescue the princess from the dragon, we left, dejected. Damn you, Macintosh, damn you. I feel like I betrayed Microsoft.
I thought the knock on the door was just our laundry, but then we heard it again. It was 3am, and we opened the door to one of Christi's friends, sobbing. I brought to her my very sleepy, disoriented roommate, where she sobbed out the story- she was leaving a party downstairs, drunk, and was cornered by some guy. He talked to her while holding her down and groping her. Some people walked by, and she got away. She talked to the Avalon security guards, but I'm sure he'll never get caught. What makes guys think that this is ok?
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