Did the "great" have a sarcastic edge to it? You be the judge.
So, I'm home again.
And it only took one five hour car ride, four frantic phone calls to my mother, and my dignity.
Lesson number one: don't give people over 70 directions. They can't understand you through their "new-fangled cellular device," they are very easily disoriented, and they are too stubborn to listen to your carefully-planned-as-so-they-don't-get-stuck-in-much-holiday-traffic-and-you-can-get-home-to-see-your-friends-because-let's-be-honest-that's-the-real-reason-you-want-to-go-home-for-Thanksgiving-so-badly directions anyway.
This is just one of the many things I learned yesterday--the day I travelled home for Thanksgiving.
My Grandmother calls me at 7 in the morning, despite me telling her the day before that, yes, I was in fact planning on sleeping late and, if you could, please don't call me until after 9.
Anywho, I could have ignored the phone call. I could have thought, "Fuck it," and just rolled over and went back to sleep. But no.
I am a responsible adult (who went to sleep the night before at 3). I answer the phone.
Grandmother: Molly? Molly, can you hear me?
Me: Qudekadf... wha? Yuh...
Grandmother: Molly you need to speak up, sweetie. I don't think you're speaking into the receiver. You need to speak into the receiver.
Me: Nah, yah. I'm spakeh entah ma-ma-my phone. (Speech through yawning is fun!)
Grandmother: We'll be there around 4:30, okay?
Me: Okay.
Grandmother: Be ready to go at 4:30, okay?
Me: Okay.
Grandmother: Your grandfather won't be happy if you're not out there by 4:30, okay?
Me: Okay.
Grandmother: What time do we need you out there?
Me: Oh, I don't know. 7:09?
Grandmother: Molly, can you just be serious just this once? I mean, for once in your life you need to learn how to behave like an adult. Can you do that for me? Please, just during this phone call. At least pretend like you know how to act like a grown-up.
Me: Sure. 4:30. I'll be there.
Grandmother: It's nice to know you can pull it together, dear.
*Click*
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
It smells like sweat and beer...
And other reasons I don't belong at frat parties.
The night before last, my friend and I went to AEΠ for their black out (blackout?) party. Yes, I convinced myself for one glorious hour (the hour it took for me to get dressed, get pretty, and walk there) that I was, in fact, exactly the kind of girl who goes to frat parties. Once a quarter, I get this idea that I've "got what it takes" to stay out partying and drinking all night long.
In case anyone out there is wondering, I do not "have what it takes," nor have I ever "had what it takes."
Sadly, this realization didn't dawn on me until I was in the middle of a room (it usually doesn't) lit only by black lights, with a stomachache from the stench and a headache from the heat. I should have left as soon as I recognized that I was not, in anyway, having a good time.
But, because I'm such a hardhead, I was sure that I could--no, determined to have a good time. That night was a new day... er, you get what I mean.. a dawning of a New Molly. Gone was the girl who stayed up all night in her room writing essays, doing French coursework, and arranging Broadway tunes for her a cappella group.
No.
That isn't what happened.
I wish I could tell you that I stuck it out and ended up having a fabulous time. I wish I could tell you that I met some hot guy and we danced the night away. I wish (oh, how I wish) I could tell you that Friday night really and truly was a turning point--that I became this new person who will continue to party and still manage good grades.
My night (the night that was supposed to go so swimmingly) went a little something like this:
10:30 Arrive at frat, ready to party-hardy (Do people still say that?)
10:40 Get into party, find dance floor, awkwardly start swaying to to the music (because, really? Do you think I can dance? The answer to that riddle is "Of course not.")
10:57 Drunken frat boy starts to chat me up.
11:01 Saved by roommate's hot guy friend.
11:02 (Awkwardly... because that's all I know how to be) Attempt to talk to roommate's hot friend.
11:05 Realize I'm failing beyong epic proportions and excuse myself from the conversation with "Um. Yeah. That's uh, cool... and er, yes? Yes. I've got to go to the restroom... You know... bladder calls. Er, so, yup. Later." (That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Smoothness, thy name is Molly).
11:06 Try and find roommate.
11:10 Recognize the act as futile and go stand outside because, let's be honest, it's so hot I can barely breath.
11:20 Roommate becomes aware of the fact that I've been gone for 23 minutes. Finds me outside.
11:21 Complain of a stomachache.
11:30 Finally break through the mass of people still huddled around the frat's entrance.
11:45 Walk into dorm room, tired and cold because I am wearing a miniskirt, button up and no jacket and it's, well, November.
12:00 Decide I can't sleep and turn my Mac on. I think I'll just finish up that arrangement of "She's in Love" from "The Little Mermaid."
Do I fail at life? Maybe. But did I accomplish something?
You bet I did.
The night before last, my friend and I went to AEΠ for their black out (blackout?) party. Yes, I convinced myself for one glorious hour (the hour it took for me to get dressed, get pretty, and walk there) that I was, in fact, exactly the kind of girl who goes to frat parties. Once a quarter, I get this idea that I've "got what it takes" to stay out partying and drinking all night long.
In case anyone out there is wondering, I do not "have what it takes," nor have I ever "had what it takes."
Sadly, this realization didn't dawn on me until I was in the middle of a room (it usually doesn't) lit only by black lights, with a stomachache from the stench and a headache from the heat. I should have left as soon as I recognized that I was not, in anyway, having a good time.
But, because I'm such a hardhead, I was sure that I could--no, determined to have a good time. That night was a new day... er, you get what I mean.. a dawning of a New Molly. Gone was the girl who stayed up all night in her room writing essays, doing French coursework, and arranging Broadway tunes for her a cappella group.
No.
That isn't what happened.
I wish I could tell you that I stuck it out and ended up having a fabulous time. I wish I could tell you that I met some hot guy and we danced the night away. I wish (oh, how I wish) I could tell you that Friday night really and truly was a turning point--that I became this new person who will continue to party and still manage good grades.
My night (the night that was supposed to go so swimmingly) went a little something like this:
10:30 Arrive at frat, ready to party-hardy (Do people still say that?)
10:40 Get into party, find dance floor, awkwardly start swaying to to the music (because, really? Do you think I can dance? The answer to that riddle is "Of course not.")
10:57 Drunken frat boy starts to chat me up.
11:01 Saved by roommate's hot guy friend.
11:02 (Awkwardly... because that's all I know how to be) Attempt to talk to roommate's hot friend.
11:05 Realize I'm failing beyong epic proportions and excuse myself from the conversation with "Um. Yeah. That's uh, cool... and er, yes? Yes. I've got to go to the restroom... You know... bladder calls. Er, so, yup. Later." (That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Smoothness, thy name is Molly).
11:06 Try and find roommate.
11:10 Recognize the act as futile and go stand outside because, let's be honest, it's so hot I can barely breath.
11:20 Roommate becomes aware of the fact that I've been gone for 23 minutes. Finds me outside.
11:21 Complain of a stomachache.
11:30 Finally break through the mass of people still huddled around the frat's entrance.
11:45 Walk into dorm room, tired and cold because I am wearing a miniskirt, button up and no jacket and it's, well, November.
12:00 Decide I can't sleep and turn my Mac on. I think I'll just finish up that arrangement of "She's in Love" from "The Little Mermaid."
Do I fail at life? Maybe. But did I accomplish something?
You bet I did.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Does this PT belt make me look fat?
So, the Army called me fat this morning.
Failing the weight section of this morning PT's test was most definitely a low point for me. I maxed my push-ups, though. Went from just barely capable of performing the minimun (19 reps) to being able to knock out 42. Also, I did 76 sit-ups--more than respectable--and pretty well on my run. All in all, I ended up with a 274 of of 300. That puts me in the top 90 percent.
Still, I weigh too much.
I don't look like I weight 146 (which is what the scale said I weighed at 6 AM). I really don't. But, I guess I carry it well. Anyway, I need to be 141. My goal is to hit 135; that way I can be comfortable and not worry about just going over. That means, between now and the middle of January (our next PT test), I need to lose 11 pounds. Doable? Maybe.
I feel that cutting carbs will be the best way to go. I need to lose weight without losing strength.
My favorite things (all of which will be forcibly removed from my diet):
1) Pasta
2) Bread
3) Corn
4) Potatoes
5) Fried foods
Those foods pretty much make up my meals here at WashU. Lifestyle changes suck, but it's a necessity now. I don't really have much of a choice.
Failing the weight section of this morning PT's test was most definitely a low point for me. I maxed my push-ups, though. Went from just barely capable of performing the minimun (19 reps) to being able to knock out 42. Also, I did 76 sit-ups--more than respectable--and pretty well on my run. All in all, I ended up with a 274 of of 300. That puts me in the top 90 percent.
Still, I weigh too much.
I don't look like I weight 146 (which is what the scale said I weighed at 6 AM). I really don't. But, I guess I carry it well. Anyway, I need to be 141. My goal is to hit 135; that way I can be comfortable and not worry about just going over. That means, between now and the middle of January (our next PT test), I need to lose 11 pounds. Doable? Maybe.
I feel that cutting carbs will be the best way to go. I need to lose weight without losing strength.
My favorite things (all of which will be forcibly removed from my diet):
1) Pasta
2) Bread
3) Corn
4) Potatoes
5) Fried foods
Those foods pretty much make up my meals here at WashU. Lifestyle changes suck, but it's a necessity now. I don't really have much of a choice.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Well, it's November...
And that can only mean one thing-
Thanksgiving Break.
It arrives at the perfect moment, too. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Everyone is sick of everyone and missing their friends from back home. Sure, it was awesome meeting all of these new people, but it's not like high school. You don't get to go home at three o'clock. No, you live with them. They're there when you walk into your dorm. 24/7. There is no break. You used to love the novelty of random visiters dropping by. Now, all you want to do is work on that paper due in three hours, finish your WebWork (of which you only understand 2 out of 7 problems), and figure out how you can dupe your professor into believing that your printer really did break, and the computers in Danforth's lab really were all taken, and can't you please, please email her the paper after class.
Do not consider yourself a bad person for feeling this way. It happens to everyone.
Anyway, I am roughly 80 days into my first year at uni. And I am very much looking forward to this break.
Don't get me wrong; they've been an awesome 80 days. But they've been tiring. These three months have pretty much been a crash course on time management, and the only things I have to learn from are my own screw-ups. No one told me college would be this hard.
Here are some things that surprised me about life at good old Washington University.
1) I don't party very much.
I was always pretty tame in high school--I didn't drink, I didn't do drugs, I didn't have sex. I don't know.... I was always in the mindset of, "I'll do that when I'm in college." Or, "Just wait, it will be so much better when it's a college party." From the movies I'd seen and the stories I'd heard, I thought college would be a place where I would work hard and party harder.
This is, as I quickly found out, not the case.
I work alright. I work hours upon hours upon hours in my dorm room plugged into iTunes or Pandora and take breaks only to check my Facebook and use the restroom.
There is fun, but it's scheduled and "responsible." Think the "good, clean" kind.
2) ROTC takes up a lot more time that I was originally told it would.
I was told it would be (to quote LTC Griggs) "a class and a half." Again, not so.
Not one of my other classes issues 60+ pounds of equipment on the first day. Not one of my other classes makes me shoot weapons I'm obviously entirely too small for (although, that was awesome, and I think I want to join rifle team). Not one of my other classes forces me to wake up at ungodly hours and do mindless exercises.
But I like ROTC about 70 percent of the time, which is more than average (so sayeth an MS4 who spoke to me at Lab today). I guess there's that to be thankful for. (See what I did there?)
3) I have only made a few really good friends.
College was this place where I was supposed to make my "forever friends." And I think I have made them. But their number is much lower than I anticipated. I've met a ton of people, but I only hang out with a select few.
However (and this is the really remarkable thing), I'm really happy. That insecure little girl I used to be is still inside me, desperate to please everyone I come into contact with--but she's muffled. I am more than content with the close friends (small though the amount may be) I have here. They're amazing people, good people, and I'm lucky to know them.
That's it for tonight. I've got so much homework to do (but then again, so do most college freshmen/procrastinating champions).
Oh, one more thing.
4) I feel really stupid a lot of the time.
I know I'm smart. I wouldn't have gotten into this place if I wasn't. But sometimes I can't help thinking... did the admissions committee make a mistake in taking me? Because they must have. I couldn't possibly have been as qualified as the 1500 other people in my class.
Thanksgiving Break.
It arrives at the perfect moment, too. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Everyone is sick of everyone and missing their friends from back home. Sure, it was awesome meeting all of these new people, but it's not like high school. You don't get to go home at three o'clock. No, you live with them. They're there when you walk into your dorm. 24/7. There is no break. You used to love the novelty of random visiters dropping by. Now, all you want to do is work on that paper due in three hours, finish your WebWork (of which you only understand 2 out of 7 problems), and figure out how you can dupe your professor into believing that your printer really did break, and the computers in Danforth's lab really were all taken, and can't you please, please email her the paper after class.
Do not consider yourself a bad person for feeling this way. It happens to everyone.
Anyway, I am roughly 80 days into my first year at uni. And I am very much looking forward to this break.
Don't get me wrong; they've been an awesome 80 days. But they've been tiring. These three months have pretty much been a crash course on time management, and the only things I have to learn from are my own screw-ups. No one told me college would be this hard.
Here are some things that surprised me about life at good old Washington University.
1) I don't party very much.
I was always pretty tame in high school--I didn't drink, I didn't do drugs, I didn't have sex. I don't know.... I was always in the mindset of, "I'll do that when I'm in college." Or, "Just wait, it will be so much better when it's a college party." From the movies I'd seen and the stories I'd heard, I thought college would be a place where I would work hard and party harder.
This is, as I quickly found out, not the case.
I work alright. I work hours upon hours upon hours in my dorm room plugged into iTunes or Pandora and take breaks only to check my Facebook and use the restroom.
There is fun, but it's scheduled and "responsible." Think the "good, clean" kind.
2) ROTC takes up a lot more time that I was originally told it would.
I was told it would be (to quote LTC Griggs) "a class and a half." Again, not so.
Not one of my other classes issues 60+ pounds of equipment on the first day. Not one of my other classes makes me shoot weapons I'm obviously entirely too small for (although, that was awesome, and I think I want to join rifle team). Not one of my other classes forces me to wake up at ungodly hours and do mindless exercises.
But I like ROTC about 70 percent of the time, which is more than average (so sayeth an MS4 who spoke to me at Lab today). I guess there's that to be thankful for. (See what I did there?)
3) I have only made a few really good friends.
College was this place where I was supposed to make my "forever friends." And I think I have made them. But their number is much lower than I anticipated. I've met a ton of people, but I only hang out with a select few.
However (and this is the really remarkable thing), I'm really happy. That insecure little girl I used to be is still inside me, desperate to please everyone I come into contact with--but she's muffled. I am more than content with the close friends (small though the amount may be) I have here. They're amazing people, good people, and I'm lucky to know them.
That's it for tonight. I've got so much homework to do (but then again, so do most college freshmen/procrastinating champions).
Oh, one more thing.
4) I feel really stupid a lot of the time.
I know I'm smart. I wouldn't have gotten into this place if I wasn't. But sometimes I can't help thinking... did the admissions committee make a mistake in taking me? Because they must have. I couldn't possibly have been as qualified as the 1500 other people in my class.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)