Friday, October 25, 2013

O Newsie! My Newsie!

So first off, I lied.

I told you that my history teacher looked and acted exactly like John Goodman when I totally meant to say John CANDY, the coach from Cool Runnings, which just happens to be one of the best movies of all time.

Now that that's cleared up, here is a paint depiction of what happened in history class this morning when discussing labor unions.

 It was like Newsies and Dead Poets Society all in one. The Dead Newsies Society.

Hmm. Maybe that's not the message I want to send.

Anyway the moral of the story is that Emilyn rediscovered paint, and SUU Professors really know how to get students to come to morning classes.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Fully *Cough Cough* Colleged

I thought I was done with all my "college firsts".

I had had my fill of thrilling grocery store trips, study time in the library, a non-existent curfew, and using my very own, personal dishes at mealtime. Not to mention my first college tests, quizzes, papers, homework, and the procrastination of all of the above. I had even experienced the feeling of walking back into my apartment with my duffel bag and pillow after visiting the family back at home.

What I hadn't experienced, was the college sick.

At home, the mother rushes in with tissues and Advil in one hand and a cup of orange juice in the other while cooing soothing words like "Aww baby" and "Shh, lay down".

At college your roommates offer you vitamins and mentally rate you on a level from one to contagious, while standing at the corresponding distance. (see chart, and click for better view)

I have to say though, the first part of my day was as productive as any other. Yep, those first sixty seconds of awake time before sliding back under the quilt, I was like, gonna go to class, put in some library study hours, work on my personal essay, I was all up in that.

What can I say? Eight o'clock just wasn't doing it for me.

Who am I kidding. Eight never does it for me. 

Anyway, I failed to get up for History, which slept me halfway through math, and by the time I'd made it out of bed and into the bathroom, I found myself barely carrying out a raspy doe-re-mi, so there was no way in Cedar I was first soprano-ing it up in Choir. 

Sooooo sick day. Made myself some nice, white chicken chili (without the milk because one, I am quite knowledged in the fact that dairy is quite counter-productive those suffering from a cold, and two, I'm out) and cuddled up with my leopard print blanket to watch iCarly and Top Gear. 

As sick days go, it wasn't so bad. If nothing else, I've got a whole Tupperware of left-over soup to show for it, and my roommates all actually went to class today. 

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Children, Poetry, and a Cup of Tea

I'm not sure why they're here, but I see little elementary kids walking around on campus almost every day.

Last week I saw a whole line of them pass by in the hallway as I waited for my ten o' clock math class. They quietly followed the teacher three times their size and six times their age, some with their eyes glued to the feet in front of them, lining themselves perfectly in step, others with folded arms and big, wondering eyes. One little boy with a blue t-shirt stopped in the line and protested to the children in front of him, "It's not that way!" When he saw them all filing through a door held open by their teacher, he realized his mistake and hurried back to his place in line, slightly embarrassed. The boy behind him followed un-fazed, chewing on his shirt collar.

Ah. Youth.

Actually, I've been thinking a lot about childhood lately. Mostly in light of the personal essay I've been working on for my English class, but also because...actually...I think that's probably it. Hm. Well that explains it then. Creative projects always seem to find their way into one's daily activities.

Speaking of English class, wanna hear some feedback from my English teacher on my final poetry project? (Rhetorical.) Of my piece Sue Elle's Aunt Margaret he said, "Remarkably good final stanza. I read that one and I thought, here is some fine poetry, so I read it out loud to wife. That good stuff because it is vivid and it plays with the contrast that you set up. (sic)" A comment on my least favorite poem Tangled Up; "I do, given the class, appreciate the fact that you immediately set up and engaging situation and draw me as a reader. (sic)". And of the project as a whole he said, "It was nice to read some poems that worked very hard to create vivid images and to allow those images to stand on their own. I hope you continue to write poetry. Your talent shows through in these poems."

Just to change the subject one more time, I have a random story for you.

A few days ago I switched my Google language to English (UK) and I just freaked out for like ten minutes because my spell check just told me I spelled "favorite" and "math" wrong. I also found the red squiggly line under "english" ironic, but after capitalizing the 'E' all was well again.

Moral of the story: trust the slobber-shirt kid, Emilyn's poetry is wife-reading worthy, and any Britain's favourite English word is "Mathematics".

p.s. I can't remember how to change the language back. Blast.

Oh, and feel free to feed the fish on the sidebar. So much entertainment. Cheerio!