Being poor builds character…right?

You know it does.

Ergo, I have lots of character.

I get my paycheck tomorrow. WAIT, BACK IT UP

Okay, so, I got a job at the end of July…a nice little teddy-bear stuffing job. Indeed, that’s what’s I do. I work at a little toy store in the Wausau mall, and they stuff bears. It’s quite morbid. Actually, it’s really creepy. I don’t understand how watching taxidermy is good for kids. But at least it prepares them for the real world of embalming, should they want to pursue a career in funeral directing. By the way, I’m just saying words. Stuffing bears is totally cute and you should try it. Yeah.

But in the meantime, I’m wondering why the heck my car sucks up so much gas. Maybe it’s compensating for the fact that it makes TERRIBLE GRINDING NOISES. This has pretty much been going on for two months. I pray every time I get in the thing and drive. So it’s like a rosary. Only with what seems like 10 miles per gallon.

So…I think if I planned this out right, I’ll have just enough gas to drive to Wausau and secure my paycheck, fill up my car, and then drive back. This plan wouldn’t be any more brilliant if Barack Obama came up with it. You know I wasn’t typing that with a straight face.

It’s alright, besides all that, I’m loving life right now. It’s hard not to.

Even if there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about how desperately I want to be an English teacher with a salary and not having to worry about filling up my tank.

Pet conservative soapbox time!!!1!1

I’ve happily accepted my role as “pet conservative” on any college campus nationwide. You see, in any given classroom, you’ll have a roomful of liberal junkies – young people fed by propaganda. But me? Nah. I’m that stuffy, stiff, hard-nosed conservative that will disagree with, like, everything you say. Isn’t that fun?

So once that’s known, usually by the end of the first day (I like to get my dirty little secret out there), I’m always called upon, in 5 seconds or less, to give conservative opinions on everything so the class can be fair…and balanced. And that’s why I’m a pet…or token…conservative. Like a potted plant – except I water myself. You know that would be cool.

So now my 5 seconds or less.

*sighs are heard*

Look, people. Conservative or not, politics hasn’t taken a break after Obama got elected. Not by a long shot. I’m almost afraid the influx of superfuel regurgitated by the young vote has run dry. People! The political process does not end on November 4th. You can’t expect the guy and his cabinet to do a perfect job once elected, although he’d love it if you looked the other way. Then he can quickly pass extreme bits of legislation riding on the seat of his popularity. Heck, I would.

What do you really think about this healthcare bill? None of this, “Something needs to be done about it” crap. Everyone knows that, Sherlock. What do you really think about the changes that will be made to privatized insurance and how it will effect you? If you agree with government-run healthcare, okay. At least you thought about it, maybe in line to order a sandwich.

You may be young, fresh, and made of awesome – but you’ve also got intelligence in a government that doesn’t seek to suppress it. Work it! 2010 is around the corner…where even more beautiful people get elected…and your future depends on their decisions.

Darn, my 5 seconds is over?

Alright. But still. As much as it pains you, throw up your favorite news page and even just skim it. Adults take control of their own lives, and this aspect of it is no exception.

Coffee at night: for good or for awesome?!

For awesome, duh.

I’ve  never been SO AWAKE IN MY LIFE. Okay, here goes.

Things I should be doing: studying for a test tomorrow.

Things I’m actually doing: blogging, running around the dorm filling my coffee pot, listening to Wonderwall by Oasis (AMAZING), eating Sun Chips, watching random Bill O’Reilly clips, imitating Bill O’Reilly to myself, giggling at nothing.

It’s so totally awesome being a good mood, folks. I mean, we just had the voter’s meeting from hell up in this joint. I don’t know if we’re going to be living here next year. I should be pulling my freakin’ hair out.

But, yo, I’m not. Because God provides. Also, (which I typed as aslo, which I thought was the Jetson’s dog’s name, but it isn’t), I have a TON to be happy about. The cup overfloweth. The good Lord gives me WAY more than I deserve and certainly enough to be joyful about this side of heaven.

After next semester, I’m transferring (again. well, sorta). I’ll have my associates degree, and I can go to my university of choice and basically bypass every general education requirement there is, and jump right into teacher classes. Yay! Aslo…allso…ALSO…I’m going to be volunteering like crazy next semester at the humane society AND the Literacy Society here in Wausau for adults who can’t read. And I might be a writing tutor for monies. And I’m ecstatic.

Go ahead…ask me…am I okay?! Hell to the yeah I’m okay. My dad’s call may cause him to sacrifice everything for the parish we’re in right now, for the sake of doctrine. And that’s the nature of the call. We’ve moved enough, nothing’s really a shock anymore. And as a family, we’re at peace with that. God will provide for us anywhere we go…or anywhere I go. I may be in Colorado or Texas in a few for all I know. Bring it on. Life isn’t anything if it isn’t random.

Oh, am I okay because of the coffee intake thing? Psssh yeah. Sleep? Whatever.

Life moves quickly

Here’s a picture of Wausau at night – where I’m taking classes for one more semester.

Aspects of my life have really changed quickly since I started at Wausau last semester, working a full-time job and then night courses. I finally started to feel as though I was accomplishing something good, that my efforts were worth it, and that I was worth it too. Plus, I met Russ, who has been incredible to me, and together I think we have something worth it.

It feels absolutely amazing to be moving quickly, on track, towards my future career as a teacher. I don’t know what will happen or where I’ll be after Wausau, but for right now – I’m simply enjoying the ride.

I find it special that, in this pinnacle of my life, I’m spending it here. Over 8 years ago we moved to Wisconsin to be near Wausau and my grandma before she died. This city has deep-rooted memories for me as certain buildings and streets trigger thoughts of how a large slice of my childhood was spent there. Phlox road, the ice cream shop, Emma Crumbies, Rib Mountain – for once, it’s like I actually feel tied to a spot on the globe. We moved too much to make it seem as though I had a real hometown, but we always came back to Wausau.

So now, I came back to Wausau. And as I drove down past my grandma’s house, wondering who’s living there and how they use each room, I can’t help but smile – because now, new memories are quickly being made.

Word.

At the moment, I get to chill out at my dad’s aunt’s house while watching her two Maine Coons. You’ve never seen a cat until you’ve seen these, folks. They’re about the size of a small beagle.

School is going as well as could be expected when the two courses are Women’s Studies and Speech. The Women’s Studies professor is actually quite tolerant of me being a conservative. I got the class to stop ragging on Sarah Palin – because that’s a little anti-feminist to do, if you think about it.  I had mixed feelings when she announced her resignation today, but I eventually came to the same conclusion she did. Where she goes, the media barrage goes – and she’ll be able to take the media away from Alaska and let the Lieutenant Governor do his job.

I don’t understand, though, why people feel the need to come out of the closet/graphically reveal their childhood rape in a Women’s Studies course, because it’s been happening, like, every day. Really, people…is that necessary? Sure, we talk about tolerance and all that jazz, but people are a little too eager to admit their demons.

I’ve noticed this in a dorm environment, too. You meet a person, talk for awhile, but give it a couple hours – and suddenly you might know their childhood issues, sexual history, and emotional instability. Or maybe people just tell me everything.

Word.

Either way, I’m still up in the air as how to spend my Independence Day. Or Thanksgiving, if you’re in Europe. So, yeah. I’ll probably grab some ground beef and my RA and I will grill some burgers. And of course, there’s always fireworks in the city. And 49 cent cones at McDonald’s.

I love America, but isn’t it a bittersweet day? Men gave their lives years and years ago for an ideal that’s being challenged in Washington under the current administration…and people are becoming less and less independent with each bill passed.

Nap at 7 PM: BAD PLAN.

You might as well just keep sleeping at that point.

So yeah, here I am…it’s almost 2 in the morning. I’m noticing fairly quickly that you feel kind of grungy at this hour. You also think shockingly deep thoughts. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I’m thinking,

“Confucius had it all wrong. Forget injuries, but never forget kindnesses? Confucius, man, what if your leg is cut off. You can’t really forget that.”

And then…

“I really want ice cream.”

Anyway, story of my life. I’m in dorm once more for summer courses. It’s a bizarre dorm situation. On the first floor, where I am, there’s me, the RA, and like two other people I never see. On the second and third floors, there are all these Asian high school students earning college credit. Rock on. Except that they’re always misplacing the kitchen key right when I want pasta. Shame.

Pretty sure I’ll look back at this and laugh (probably)

If anything could go wrong on a college move-in experience, it did, doggonit.

Here’s how the scheiße hit the fan, in sequence.

1. When I got to the dorm building, I could not get into my room. Apparently the use of a “key” never really occured to these people, who built the doors with passcodes. Okay, so that’s fine, a problem easily fixable by a janitor.

2. But no janitor’s on duty on Sunday afternoons, obviously. Plan B: check ALL the doors’ passcodes to see if one works.

3. One does work, hot dog! But it’s on the guy’s wing. I meet my neighbor for the first time while he’s in a towel.

4. I pack up like I’m going to Grandma’s house – toothbrush, pajamas, smelly dude repellant.

5. I use my computer for a bit, shut it down, and then it won’t start again. Not even for safe mode.

6. In absolute boredom, I drive to Shopko. On the way there, I hit a curb, because to get to the Wausau Shopko, you have to go through a maze. Also a series of challenges, such as manuvering over concrete. And slaying a dragon.

So there you have it…how to make a frustrating day in 6 easy steps!

As of now, I have no working computer and literally nowhere to live. So I’m kind of chilling at the library right now, hoping maybe the homeless guy under the bridge will scoot over and let me take up residence.

I hear that housing market has an astoundingly low interest rate.

I live out of a box.

So tomorrow I move to Wausau to complete even more credits towards a degree that seems to be further and further away. I’m done taking breaks. Pretty sure I’ve mentioned this before. This means I won’t really be in Antigo too much. But Antigo, see, besides having my family in it, is a useless chunk of space. It’s not as though jobs are opening up like crazy around here.

Anyway, it’s becoming more and more clear to me that I really do pack up and move around a lot, especially so in the last year. I guess this is only more motivation to take credits like mad until I can graduate and live somewhere permanently.

In other news, I just got my first recommendation letter from my old job…it warms my heart and is a very good end to a successful job and semester. I also get a bunch of letters from the little 4th grade girls I worked with, which is adorable and reminds me of a time when I actually…wrote letters…to people.

No, no. Actually. It reminds me of a time where Rachel D and I would send each other pages of a gigantic Star Wars/Dora the Explorer story of awesome. And those were GOOD times.

So now what?

Thought: should men really be cutting hair if they’re not gay?

I’m thinking no.

I ended up getting my hair cut twice today because the first man, who was scary as hell anyway, didn’t really…cut my hair at all. I think he wet it down once. And then he talked about the air force. So I had to go to another hair salon to finish the job. Woops.

Yesterday was my last day at work. I’m generally a robot but I did tear up a few times, especially when the trouble kids said they’d miss me. I’m sure they won’t miss me yelling at them, though, but it’s nice to feel missed. I got so many adorable little letters and gifts. I’m going to be scrapbooking again, I decided, otherwise I’ll lose it all.

So now what.

Well, this I know for sure:

1.) I’m moving to Wausau on June 14

2.) I’m taking more courses

And that’s about it. I’m applying for jobs like mad, trying to see if my resume sticks somewhere. It would actually not be a bad idea if I worked for a grocery store, considering I’ll be responsible for my own food. While working inside a grocery store, I will probably be much more aware of sales and whatever.

In book news, I started reading The Giver, which is a middle-school level novel about what a society would be like if there were a utopia, like a socialist’s dream. I’d like to be able to teach this book when I begin my career. It’s a brilliant representation with so many talking points that are applicable to political theory today – plus it’s an easy  read – so hopefully it could get young minds to think critically. Anyway, I recommend it.

Measured in hours.

Two and a half hours – The length of an incredibly tense work meeting this afternoon trying to refer a child to special education.

Five hours – How long I spent in Starbucks with a great guy last weekend.

Three hours – The entirety of the Praxis test, the first in a series of tests for teacher certification, of which I passed with way above average scores. Allow me to squeal like schoolgirl for just a minute.

A half hour – The amount of time it took to convince a young boy that putting snakes in the girls’ lockers is not the greatest plan.

Approximately 10 hours – How long it took me over the weekend to finish my 50-page English portfolio. Allow me to cry for just a minute.

Less than an hour – That’s how long it’s going to take until I get a TACO BRAVO.

Here’s to another shot in the arm!

Taco Bravos are just my brand of GREASY FRIED HEROINE.