I'm going to take a tiny little time-out from my 100-day countdown to give a shout-out to the person from Cuba City, Wisconsin who reads (or at least visits) the blog almost every day. I have no idea who you are except for the fact that you have awesome taste in blogs. So thanks!
By the way - sorry if I creeped you out. I have a hit counter that allows me to see where my readers are visiting from geographically.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
82 days and counting
I'm reading The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith in one of my eighty English classes this semester and the first line is as follows:
"He has the ability to imagine himself a minor incident in the lives of others."
We began to talk in class about the idea of being "a minor incident," and I became kind of fixated on the idea. Minor incidents.
We've all been minor incidents in someone's life. The stranger you hold the door for - minor incident. The friend-of-a-friend you talked to at a party once (but then, of course, friended them on Facebook) - minor incident. The intimidating person who grilled you at your job interview - minor incident.
Stuff like that works both ways, too. I'm a minor incident to the stranger and the stranger is a minior incident to me. It cool and kind of weird at the same time.
It also made me think about minor incidents beyond just random people I've encountered. Like, what about the actual incidents? It makes me wonder what exactly matters after all of this is said and done.
In high school there was always something to panic about, you know? I can't memorize this marching band music. I have a calculus test on Friday and I don't know anything about calculus. I left my vocab book at home. Nobody is turning in their stuff for the yearbook. (Yes, marching band AND yearbook - that's how cool I was). The list goes on.
The point is, all of the stuff I was entirely consumed with in high school didn't matter hardly at all in the end. I memorized most of the music (and flubbed my way through the parts I didn't). I probably got a D on that calc test and lived to tell the tale. I'm sure I looked off a friend's vocab book. People did, in fact, eventually turn in their stuff for the yearbook.
But even stuff I wasn't necessarily stressed about turned out to be minor incidents, too. Winning the locker decoration contest. Wondering if Homecomming is really rigged so the seniors always win. Book club meetings over the summer when we all got together to watch movies, eat our weight in salty snacks and gossip. Using thousands of bottles of sunscreen at band camp.
The problem with minor incidents, of course, is that you usually don't know at the time that it's a minor incident. If only we knew that. Then we'd be able to have maybe a different perspective on things.
Although, I suppose it could be argued that life is filled with nothing but minor incidents, you know? Except, of course, for the things that are major incidents like graudations and births and weddings and stuff that's kind of a big deal.
At first I thought it was kind of horrible to think about it that way. For example, anybody who has ever read this blog in the last 3.5 years (so... all three of you) knows that I am heavily involved in APO - the community service fraternity on campus. I spend almost every weekend doing service, I've held a variety of leadership positions, most of my closest friends are from APO... It's been a huge part of my life.
But lately I've been wondering what it amounts to on the outside. I have put all of myself into this thing for a really, really long time, but after I'm gone and graduated, what happens to all that?
Does that make sense?
I'm sure my committments will be otherwise distributed to work or finding work or a whole new organization (likely the Jaycees, should I stick around), but I can't help but fear that all the hard work I've done is a minor incident, too. It'll be a minor incident in chapter history and a minor incident in my life.
In some respects, I don't believe that. Sure, I will definitely be a minor incident in chapter history. No doubt. But in my life? I don't know. Certainly for a while post-graduation it'll still be a big deal, but it'll fade with time, I'm sure. Just like high school did. But maybe only the little things will fade like particular service events I took part in and having the leadership roles and ALL THE DRAMA that went with it (please let that be the first to fade). Maybe other things will stick with me, though. Like the ability to speak easily in front of a group of people. The confidence I gained. My sense of duty and responsibility to my community.
Hopefully those are the things that will stay with me.
I do believe life is made up almost entirely of minor incidents. But I don't think that should stop us from doing or going or caring. "This won't matter ten years from now," isn't a good enough reason not to do something, I don't think. Maybe all these minor incidents are just how we pratice being passionate about something.
And why do we all have to be so focused on the future, anyway? Can't we just have the here and now? Can't we do something because it makes us happy TODAY? Living only for the future seems foolish... and endless, really, if you think about it.
"He has the ability to imagine himself a minor incident in the lives of others."
We began to talk in class about the idea of being "a minor incident," and I became kind of fixated on the idea. Minor incidents.
We've all been minor incidents in someone's life. The stranger you hold the door for - minor incident. The friend-of-a-friend you talked to at a party once (but then, of course, friended them on Facebook) - minor incident. The intimidating person who grilled you at your job interview - minor incident.
Stuff like that works both ways, too. I'm a minor incident to the stranger and the stranger is a minior incident to me. It cool and kind of weird at the same time.
It also made me think about minor incidents beyond just random people I've encountered. Like, what about the actual incidents? It makes me wonder what exactly matters after all of this is said and done.
In high school there was always something to panic about, you know? I can't memorize this marching band music. I have a calculus test on Friday and I don't know anything about calculus. I left my vocab book at home. Nobody is turning in their stuff for the yearbook. (Yes, marching band AND yearbook - that's how cool I was). The list goes on.
The point is, all of the stuff I was entirely consumed with in high school didn't matter hardly at all in the end. I memorized most of the music (and flubbed my way through the parts I didn't). I probably got a D on that calc test and lived to tell the tale. I'm sure I looked off a friend's vocab book. People did, in fact, eventually turn in their stuff for the yearbook.
But even stuff I wasn't necessarily stressed about turned out to be minor incidents, too. Winning the locker decoration contest. Wondering if Homecomming is really rigged so the seniors always win. Book club meetings over the summer when we all got together to watch movies, eat our weight in salty snacks and gossip. Using thousands of bottles of sunscreen at band camp.
The problem with minor incidents, of course, is that you usually don't know at the time that it's a minor incident. If only we knew that. Then we'd be able to have maybe a different perspective on things.
Although, I suppose it could be argued that life is filled with nothing but minor incidents, you know? Except, of course, for the things that are major incidents like graudations and births and weddings and stuff that's kind of a big deal.
At first I thought it was kind of horrible to think about it that way. For example, anybody who has ever read this blog in the last 3.5 years (so... all three of you) knows that I am heavily involved in APO - the community service fraternity on campus. I spend almost every weekend doing service, I've held a variety of leadership positions, most of my closest friends are from APO... It's been a huge part of my life.
But lately I've been wondering what it amounts to on the outside. I have put all of myself into this thing for a really, really long time, but after I'm gone and graduated, what happens to all that?
Does that make sense?
I'm sure my committments will be otherwise distributed to work or finding work or a whole new organization (likely the Jaycees, should I stick around), but I can't help but fear that all the hard work I've done is a minor incident, too. It'll be a minor incident in chapter history and a minor incident in my life.
In some respects, I don't believe that. Sure, I will definitely be a minor incident in chapter history. No doubt. But in my life? I don't know. Certainly for a while post-graduation it'll still be a big deal, but it'll fade with time, I'm sure. Just like high school did. But maybe only the little things will fade like particular service events I took part in and having the leadership roles and ALL THE DRAMA that went with it (please let that be the first to fade). Maybe other things will stick with me, though. Like the ability to speak easily in front of a group of people. The confidence I gained. My sense of duty and responsibility to my community.
Hopefully those are the things that will stay with me.
I do believe life is made up almost entirely of minor incidents. But I don't think that should stop us from doing or going or caring. "This won't matter ten years from now," isn't a good enough reason not to do something, I don't think. Maybe all these minor incidents are just how we pratice being passionate about something.
And why do we all have to be so focused on the future, anyway? Can't we just have the here and now? Can't we do something because it makes us happy TODAY? Living only for the future seems foolish... and endless, really, if you think about it.
Monday, February 22, 2010
83 days and counting
Mood: annoyed >:|
Did you ever have two very separate groups of friends in elementary school? Like they were so different that they didn't get along at all? But you found you liked both groups and were "in" both? So like if you made a ven diagram of these groups you would be that stupid purple section in the middle?
That was me. Kind of a lot, actually. And I always found that that weird purple section made you the messenger in a war zone of sorts. I distinctly remember using phrases like "No, I totally agree with YOU guys. I'm a spy PRETENDING to be on their side," and other stupid stuff like that.
Hey, I'm not proud of it. I was a kid... and stupid... and would avoid confrontation at all costs. Little did I know that I was just stoking the fire of playground drama and confrontation.
Anyway, the point is that the last time I did any of that I was, in fact, on a playground. But now I'm finding myself in the middle, yet again, trying to support two different parties who have chosen to butt heads instead of compromise. Both are equally right. And both are equally stubborn.
And I'm feeling equally as awkward.
The worst part is, of course, that I'm dealing with adults now. So, really, they both deserve slaps upside the head. Maybe they should grow up and start handling the situation like the adults they are.
Until they do, I think I'm going to go hide by the swing set.
Did you ever have two very separate groups of friends in elementary school? Like they were so different that they didn't get along at all? But you found you liked both groups and were "in" both? So like if you made a ven diagram of these groups you would be that stupid purple section in the middle?
That was me. Kind of a lot, actually. And I always found that that weird purple section made you the messenger in a war zone of sorts. I distinctly remember using phrases like "No, I totally agree with YOU guys. I'm a spy PRETENDING to be on their side," and other stupid stuff like that.
Hey, I'm not proud of it. I was a kid... and stupid... and would avoid confrontation at all costs. Little did I know that I was just stoking the fire of playground drama and confrontation.
Anyway, the point is that the last time I did any of that I was, in fact, on a playground. But now I'm finding myself in the middle, yet again, trying to support two different parties who have chosen to butt heads instead of compromise. Both are equally right. And both are equally stubborn.
And I'm feeling equally as awkward.
The worst part is, of course, that I'm dealing with adults now. So, really, they both deserve slaps upside the head. Maybe they should grow up and start handling the situation like the adults they are.
Until they do, I think I'm going to go hide by the swing set.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
84 days and counting
I talked to a friend tonight and realized that one of the biggest factors in what I like to call the Second-Semester Senior Stress Syndrome (I'd like to request a gold star for the alliteration) is CABIN FEVER. Plain and simple.
Generally, I'm the type of person who loves to spend time outside. Over the summer I would go on long walks and explore the area. Or I would just walk to the grocery store or the gas station to get a newspaper or something. It was wonderful.
And fall was just as wonderful. It was cool and bright and the leaves seemed particularly beautiful and I could just meander for hours and take pictures.
Now, however, we're breaking the all-time snowfall record (or something crazy like that) and last time I caught a glimpse of the sidewalk, it was covered up again in only a couple of hours. It hasn't entirely stopped me from going on walks all together, though. But it has shortened them drastically.
So I think a big part of my problem right now is that I'm COOPED UP LIKE A CRAZY PERSON. I bought a bike in November and I haven't been able to ride it at all. And every day I come home and look at my poor bike all ready to go and it makes me sad that I can't go ride it. I have an awesome trail area right near here and I've been a few times to explore it Calvin and Hobbes style, but I want to hop on my bike and just let it take me wherever it goes.
Deep down somewhere I know that winter can't last forever. I know that one day the sun will shine and the birds will chirp and the flowers will bloom and the fireflies will sparkle (goodness, I sure do love the fireflies) and the fields will be green and wonderful and the air will be warm and the days will be long. I know it. But I can't feel it.
I know we have a while left to wait, but in the meantime I'd like to ask God or Mother Nature or Channel 8's John McLaughlin or who ever is in charge of our current situation for just ONE beautiful day to hold me over until spring. PLEASE let the sun shine. PLEASE let the mercury rise over 40. PLEASE leave at least some of the sidewalks clear. If we could do it on a Monday, that would be splendid.
Generally, I'm the type of person who loves to spend time outside. Over the summer I would go on long walks and explore the area. Or I would just walk to the grocery store or the gas station to get a newspaper or something. It was wonderful.
And fall was just as wonderful. It was cool and bright and the leaves seemed particularly beautiful and I could just meander for hours and take pictures.
Now, however, we're breaking the all-time snowfall record (or something crazy like that) and last time I caught a glimpse of the sidewalk, it was covered up again in only a couple of hours. It hasn't entirely stopped me from going on walks all together, though. But it has shortened them drastically.
So I think a big part of my problem right now is that I'm COOPED UP LIKE A CRAZY PERSON. I bought a bike in November and I haven't been able to ride it at all. And every day I come home and look at my poor bike all ready to go and it makes me sad that I can't go ride it. I have an awesome trail area right near here and I've been a few times to explore it Calvin and Hobbes style, but I want to hop on my bike and just let it take me wherever it goes.
Deep down somewhere I know that winter can't last forever. I know that one day the sun will shine and the birds will chirp and the flowers will bloom and the fireflies will sparkle (goodness, I sure do love the fireflies) and the fields will be green and wonderful and the air will be warm and the days will be long. I know it. But I can't feel it.
I know we have a while left to wait, but in the meantime I'd like to ask God or Mother Nature or Channel 8's John McLaughlin or who ever is in charge of our current situation for just ONE beautiful day to hold me over until spring. PLEASE let the sun shine. PLEASE let the mercury rise over 40. PLEASE leave at least some of the sidewalks clear. If we could do it on a Monday, that would be splendid.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
85 days and counting
I have a fundamental problem with college boys.
They're stupid.
Ok, ok. I won't make that blanket statement and suggest that EVERY SINGLE MALE who is currently attending college is a vacuous moron. But I will say that 97% of the ones I've come into contact with absolutely are.
I saw a group of junior boys drawing penises in the snow with sticks. Really? Are you a fourth grader? Is that a bathroom wall? I don't think so.
And just tonight a guy from my high school marching band, someone I haven't spoken to in easily three years, logged on to AIM and sent me a message that said "penis." It was evidently supposed to be some sort of greeting and, in Idiot (a language I'm proud not to be fluent in), it apparenlty translates to "Hey, Meagan! Long time no talk! How are things going for you?" Either way, I didn't respond. In his case it was just astounding to notice that he hadn't changed the least bit since high school.
I just don't understand the male obsession with their own genetalia, I suppose. My roommate would argue that there's some sort of subconcious homoerotic desire stifled by societal norms or something fancy-sounding like that. Maybe that could be it. Or they're just stupid.
I don't think I'm wrong for expecting guys to grow up between high school and the later half of college. No, that doesn't even just apply to guys. That's just all people. Because girls are just as irritating and immature.
And I'm apparently an elitist for putting myself above all that. And that's fine with me, really. I'd rather be haughty than an idiot.
They're stupid.
Ok, ok. I won't make that blanket statement and suggest that EVERY SINGLE MALE who is currently attending college is a vacuous moron. But I will say that 97% of the ones I've come into contact with absolutely are.
I saw a group of junior boys drawing penises in the snow with sticks. Really? Are you a fourth grader? Is that a bathroom wall? I don't think so.
And just tonight a guy from my high school marching band, someone I haven't spoken to in easily three years, logged on to AIM and sent me a message that said "penis." It was evidently supposed to be some sort of greeting and, in Idiot (a language I'm proud not to be fluent in), it apparenlty translates to "Hey, Meagan! Long time no talk! How are things going for you?" Either way, I didn't respond. In his case it was just astounding to notice that he hadn't changed the least bit since high school.
I just don't understand the male obsession with their own genetalia, I suppose. My roommate would argue that there's some sort of subconcious homoerotic desire stifled by societal norms or something fancy-sounding like that. Maybe that could be it. Or they're just stupid.
I don't think I'm wrong for expecting guys to grow up between high school and the later half of college. No, that doesn't even just apply to guys. That's just all people. Because girls are just as irritating and immature.
And I'm apparently an elitist for putting myself above all that. And that's fine with me, really. I'd rather be haughty than an idiot.
Friday, February 19, 2010
86 days and counting
Mood: tired
Goals for this weekend:
Get caught up on school stuff
Make poster calendars so I have a very clear visual of what I have going on
Finish applying for a variety of jobs and internships
Take guinea pig to ARL to get his talons cut
Clean my room
Do laundry
Put away laundry (yes, those have to be two separate goals)
Go to the bank
We'll see.
Oh, I'll also add recover from my panic attack . I don't always panic, you know. Most days I feel pretty normal. But then I'll break and go crazy, which kind of releases it all, and then I can go back to being normal. I think that's OK for the most part. Right? Am I the only person in the world who isn't allowed to go crazy every now and then? Am I the only person in the world who has to have it together all the time?
Goals for this weekend:
Get caught up on school stuff
Make poster calendars so I have a very clear visual of what I have going on
Finish applying for a variety of jobs and internships
Take guinea pig to ARL to get his talons cut
Clean my room
Do laundry
Put away laundry (yes, those have to be two separate goals)
Go to the bank
We'll see.
Oh, I'll also add recover from my panic attack . I don't always panic, you know. Most days I feel pretty normal. But then I'll break and go crazy, which kind of releases it all, and then I can go back to being normal. I think that's OK for the most part. Right? Am I the only person in the world who isn't allowed to go crazy every now and then? Am I the only person in the world who has to have it together all the time?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
87 days and counting
Last week I got a class assignment. Four page paper about the two books we have read so far. I chuckled a little under my breath.
Four pages? Puh-lease. I can write that in my sleep.
Turns out, I CAN'T write it in my sleep. Or when I'm awake for that matter. It took me a grand total of seven hours to write that blasted paper and, frankly, I don't think it's very good.
First of all, I've really moved away from doing the analytical thing the past couple of years. I've been taking classes more on the creative side of writing and going back is difficult. My AP teachers from high school would no doubt be ashamed.
But, more to the point, I feel like I've been trained to be a marathon runner and can no longer compete in sprints (if you'll allow me to use an impressive metaphor that makes me feel like I have killer athletic talent). Seriously. There was a gradual build up over the last three years that took my four-page-paper writing skills and made them 10-15 (or 20 or 25)-page-paper writing skills.
I attempted this four page paper and had barely reached my thesis before I realized I was already two and a half pages in. *Head desk*
In the end I got it done, but I can't feel like there are holes in the argument... mostly where I literally deleted whole paragraphs.
Four pages? Puh-lease. I can write that in my sleep.
Turns out, I CAN'T write it in my sleep. Or when I'm awake for that matter. It took me a grand total of seven hours to write that blasted paper and, frankly, I don't think it's very good.
First of all, I've really moved away from doing the analytical thing the past couple of years. I've been taking classes more on the creative side of writing and going back is difficult. My AP teachers from high school would no doubt be ashamed.
But, more to the point, I feel like I've been trained to be a marathon runner and can no longer compete in sprints (if you'll allow me to use an impressive metaphor that makes me feel like I have killer athletic talent). Seriously. There was a gradual build up over the last three years that took my four-page-paper writing skills and made them 10-15 (or 20 or 25)-page-paper writing skills.
I attempted this four page paper and had barely reached my thesis before I realized I was already two and a half pages in. *Head desk*
In the end I got it done, but I can't feel like there are holes in the argument... mostly where I literally deleted whole paragraphs.
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