I Promise To:

always believe in the best.
live for more than just me.
get my hands dirty.
get excited about life, even though it isn't cool anymore.
listen to "Such Great Heights" regularly.
learn how to cook.
stop waiting for the best time.
never decide anything on fear.
drink good coffee every day.
always remember July 9, 2006.
keep writing.
love.
have standards.
vote.
make choices I'll be proud of 20 years from now.
never get drunk.
give up on trying to seem worldly. I'm not.
wear color.
be a good Green Bay fan.
always love the snow.
forgive myself when I mess up.
live. I promise to live to the full, every day I'm alive.

More Time

My poly sci professor once mentioned that there comes a point in someone's life when they realize that they do not have time to do everything that they want. She said that it usually does not hit until middle age, but I am having mine now.

I want to be a columnist. I want to write weekly installments that make people laugh, maybe cry, give them something to relate to. I want to blog for a living.

I want to be a foriegn corresponent. I want to travel instead of tour, I want to see things no other American gets to see. I want to see and touch our universality of human kind, I want to inspire people to make this world a better place. I want to expose bad things, and bring in good people. I want to see it all.

But then I also want to report for a town. I want to find the stories of triumph and tragedy that happen right at home, that are just as amazing as stories in the Congo or the Middle East. I want to drive to the store to get milk, and see people that I have talked to and learned from, doors that I have knocked on.

I want to teach sixth grade English. I want to teach kids how to read and write, and how to think. I want to be that teacher in that person's life that makes the universe explode with potential, maybe the first person to believe in them. I want to show the twelve-year old girls that there is more. I want all of the ADD boys that no one else does.

I want to adopt kids. Something in me thinks that making new people while there are children already in existence, already without much hope or future is ... I dont know. I want to give someone a second chance, I want to give them love and hope where there was none. I want to be able to give them all of the time that they need and deserve.

I want to write books. Books for kids that are almost teenagers, but still not little kids. Books that tell the truth, that kids will read over and over until the spine is broken in and the front cover falls off.

And I don't know. I know that I would love doing all of these things, and I know that I have been gifted with these talents. If I lived for 600 years, I don't think it would be enough time- I don't think I could get or give enough even then.

What A Whirl

It's coming up on my first batch of college finals. This week will be cram-packed with not only studying, but last-minute end of semester business to take care of. I'm glad I only have an opinion piece to write this week - I am booked solid. My first final is English, on Friday morning. 9:00 am, she will give us a prompt and we will write our essay in 50 minutes. Of course, the newspaper party is the night before. Am I going? Oh yes. Is it irresponsible? Yes. Well, my professor should have thought of that before she gave me a "C" on an excellent paper, all because I had trouble following directions she did not fully understand herself.

Then I have my Poly-Sci take home exam. Not too shabby, I know. I just have to turn it in next Tuesday before I leave for home, and I'm golden. I'm guessing it will only take up about eight hours of my week, but we'll see, it could be more. I have to study for Comparitive Religion, and that will actually be a challenge. Mostly because my professor spends most of the class time rambling about middle-east crisis, how messed up America is, and how great summering in London is. He then proceeds to test us on things like the potential relationship between Jesus and Mohammad, how President Truman's faith influenced WWII, and the subtle historical differences between Hinduism and Buddhism.

As for math, I will write down the formulas for our non-cumulative final on my 8"x11" cheat sheet, take the test in roughly twenty minutes, and score an A.

Then, after my last exam and before I leave, I have to pack for three and a half weeks. I have to take inventory on food and toiletries so I know what to stock up on over break, and either throw out or bring home things that I never have used and never will. I will vacuum, I will dust major surfaces and the blinds, I will wash every dish. I will clean out the fridge and scrub the microwave until it is squeaky clean. I will clear out the mailbox, adjust the heater, and remove anything illegal that could be noticed during an inspection (remove sandwhich griller, scrub crayon off walls). Then, as I leave next Wednesday morning, I will repeatedly beg my roommate to remember to lock the door when she goes. Who knows, she might.

I'm not stressed.

Where Did My Day Go?

Augh! I got no work done today. None. And in ten minutes I have to go to Chi Alpha, and I won't be home until 8:30, which leaves me just 1.5 hours to work before Inside the NFL is on.

Instead of being productive, I have done the following.

- Spent 2 hours on the phone with a best friend, and 30 minutes with my mom
- Watched half of a Gilmore Girls episode
- Browsed a library for the first time in nearly four months
- Picked up two books, one on journalism, the other a collection of Pulitzer Prize-winning stories from the 1900's
- Ate nine choclate chip cookies

Wait, no, I do have some research here for my article, which leaves only the following for tomorrow:

~ Go to two classes
~ Revise an English essay
~ Read 20 pages for English
~ Read 50 pages for Poly Sci
~ Math problems
~ Actually write the article (600 words)
~ Revise and submit my Comm reflection
~ Be at the newsroom by 6:30

Well, today was really nice. But tomorrow I pay.

Let it Snow!

Winter has arrived in Erie. And it has arrived with a vengence, I can say that much. Yesterday the power was out for seven hours. Four of those hours were after daylight hours, so roughly 50 girls were sitting in the hallway, the only place with lights and still held some heat. We played Scattergories and got Chinese food, and then flopped around and complained about how dirty the carpet was and how our phones were all dead or dying. We had conversations like con artists would when fantasizing about their future fortunes.

"What are you going to do when the power comes on again?"
"I'm going to call my boyfriend."
"I hope it's on in time for The Hills."
"Guitar Hero, hands down."
"I'll bring my milk in from under the porch."
"I want to microwave something. Anything. Just because I can."

When the power came on at 8:30, there was one giant cheer and every resident jumped up, ran into their rooms, and slammed the door. I didn't see anyone for the rest of the night.

This morning I woke up to howling winds and snow swirling from every rooftop. The ground is officially frozen, and the entire campus - grass, walkway, road, and parking lot was white. I wore my favorite green sweater, the scarf my mom made me, and busted out my heavy-duty winter boots and new socks. I discovered that I have left my leather gloves at home, but pockets proved to be an easy fix. I am proud to say that even though I have to walk 10 minutes to class, even though it robbed me of electricity yesterday and I got nothing done, even though I cannot have a car on campus until spring, I love snow. Madly. Anything below the Mason-Dixon line is just not for me.

2nd Semester vs Defending Champion- Jr Year!

Most of you have probably known this for a while, but I have just discovered this about myself - I'm a bit of a workaholic. A neighbor will come into my room and ask what I'm doing, and sometimes I'll answer "Procrastinating!" And they'll say something like, "No, you're not, you're blogging." Or I'll be decorating my room, or writing letters or thank-you notes, or trying to knit. I'm productive even when I think I'm wasting time.

This semester, 15 credit hours, the newspaper, chi alpha and hall council are not enough - it's the most spare time I've had in year. So I end up starting extra blogs, going to the gym almost every day, writing a couple of short stories, take a stab at knitting, and spend hours decorating my room. I even get 7, sometimes 8 hours of sleep per night, and spend the average amount of time on the phone and visiting neighbors.

But I think next semester is going to rival even the infamous junior year of high school. I'm taking an RA class in which we have two or three, sometimes four major and complex projects going on - and it's all completely independant. Add the standard reading, papers, and exams and you've got easily two classes' worth of work. I will also have my own page for the paper, which will require a ridiculous amount of newspaper-reading, planning, delegating, and writing. And then I will still have Chi Alpha, Hall Council, and four other classes - Algebra, Earth Science, the second half of American history, and lifeguard training. I would still like to try out the sailing club.

I'm OK with this. I love working for the paper, so I don't care how many hours it takes up. And the RA projects are actually useful, like raising money for Make-A-Wish, or helping out a current RA with programs, meetings, and incident reports. Even the classwork is about people - crisis management, conflict management, and development. Hopefully by May, I will be a successful page editor, a lifeguard, an RA, and have 39 total college credits under my belt. Although come to think of it, I might have to drop Hall Council...

Only 24 Hours Until The Kids Go Back To School

Her alarm went off at 8:05. She was so tired that she tried to shut off the ringing in her dream before she actually woke up. Groggily she sat up, sleepy and disoriented - the kids had absolutely refused to go to bed last night. The minute she thought that they were safely asleep, one of them would run out into the hall, slamming doors and laughing. This would, of course, bring out the entire set, and she would have to trudge out of her room and beseech them to please, please, go to sleep. They only obeyed when she threatened their very lives, and she was sure that they would wake up angry at her.

It was Sunday morning, and church wasn't for a couple of hours. She could still be resting, but 8 am on a Sunday morning meant a long, hot, uninterupted shower, with all of the heat and water pressure to herself. Before the children, she used to sing in the shower, but now silence was so rare that she soaked it in with the warmth and clean-smelling soap. On her way back to the room, she allowed herself to see the things that she had glanced over just a few minutes ago. The hallway was covered in broken bits of popcorn, and she supposed that the kids were old enough to clean up after themselves. Later, she thought, she would hand them a vacuum, and lecture them on responsibility. Oh, and there was urine in the urinal. She would also have to explain to her boys that flushing is necessary, or it would stink the entire house up.

She settled into a hot cup of coffee, anticipating a Sunday morning at church. She loved church; getting out and spending time with other adults was bliss. Entertaining conversation, talking about something from outside of her kid-centered life. She loved talking to women whose children had grown - it was proof that she had a shot at surviving raising her own. Imagine her horror when she looked out of her window to discover that the roads were covered in a treacherous, solid layer of ice. Frantically, she dialed the number to the church, all to hear that service was cancelled on account of the weather. She was trapped in her house of child-hell - she would have to go an entire week without her favorite lifeline. She wasn't sure if she could make it.

No, this is not the story of a young, hassled mother stuck with nightmare children. It is the story of a college freshman.