Blog Archives

Set me free… sleep come free me.

A Summation (of a sort):

Good: Jessica, Graduated, New House, New Roommates, No more “Oh Conan” or “Do you want me to eat it.”, Language Arts Middle/Secondary Grad Program, IVs and drugs that put me to sleep, Ems games, The Sun Also Rises, ENG 300 (Literary Criticism), ENG 392 (American Lit.), 3.22

Bad: Jessica in Redmond for the summer, summer classes, Vanity Fair (900 pages), Wuthering Heights (500 pages), Jude the Obscure (500 pages), Middle March (400 Pages) ENG 322 (Victorian Lit.), duck e. coli, dehydration, vertigo, work, ENG 322

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Like you own them just because you bought the time…

I should have named this entry “You know it don’t come easy.” In the spirit of a more ‘happy’ entire I’ll stick with what I put. Its a Dar quote, so I have to like it. So, I got into Graduate School… I’ve been accepted into the Middle/Secondary (read that as: middle and high school) Education focusing on Language Arts. Personally, this is astounding, I am sure that I will be the only entering grad student with a astoundingly low GPA, but I’ll take what I can get–no complaints.
Of course, anything good is coupled with a trial; a couple of days after I found out that I was accepted to grad school, I receive a letter from the University registrar which roughly said: Come the end of Spring term you will be 7 credits shy of the 180 needed to graduate, so we’ve canceled your graduation application. [enter fit of rage and unmentionable words] The reality behind this situation is that I am currently at 169 credits and taking 16 credits currently, anyone who participated in elementary level math could tell you that 169 and 16 equal 185 (185>180). How ever here is the registrar’s math: 169 +16 = 173. So after a sleepless night, I called the woman who had the unfortunate opportunity to have her named signed on the letter. She said “Oh, well, initially when we checked your records it said you were only taking 11 credits.” my response was, “yeah, well that still equals 180, not 173.” all I got back was a “Oh, yeah, i guess it does.” It just goes to show that the Universe is conspiring against me, but in only a lazy half-attempt to do so.


In our next issue: House? Summer School?

Same bat channel.

I’ll be a good boy… from now on

It has been a long while since I’ve written here, in my defense, winter term was the hardest/ most intense/ most stressful term I have ever had. Through a battery of tests (PRAXIS I, GRE, PRAXIS II, MAT), a full schedule of classes, sixty hours of working at Edison, and working at Carson–I was everywhere but where I wanted to be. However, because of last term I think that I do best when my time is taken up… by some grace, I actually got two A’s this term. I find this astounding as I am notoriously a B (if I’m lucky) student. Of course the courses I did well in where SPED classes, but that just leads to my next point: rejection! I started off my spring break with a letter saying that I didn’t make the cut for the graduate program in Special Education. Oh well, I think I was naive to expect to have a chance at one of the top school in the nation. I am still waiting to hear about the Middle/Secondary Grad program–if that falls through, it should get interesting (read that as: I’ll be mowing lawns). I’m stuck between a rock and apathy… not getting in would put me in a pinch, but at the same time, what does it matter? At worst it would just delay my plans. Oh well.

In other news: my spring break was very good. I was in the car for well over 1,200 miles. I think I have a permanent imprint of my wallet. First I went to Hoodriver for the wedding of my RA from my freshman year. It was a nice wedding, it was good to see Bowlby after a couple of years. The reception was in the Columbia Gorge Hotel, which was amazing. The only bad thing about going to the wedding was that Jessica couldn’t come with, she loves weddings–especially the reception.

The next day, my dad and I drove down to Ashland. It was great just to talk and listen to music. Once we got to Ashland, I got see my dad’s old dorm rooms. He told me stories of his college days, I am somewhat disappointed, because his stories makes my college days seen pale. Overall, it was a very fun time, I definitely don’t hang out with my dad as much I would like to, but the tripped assured me that if my dad and I were the same age, I’d probably would have hung out with him.

After a few days back at my parent’s house, seeing family, roto-tilling, and watching tv, my family (the four of us, not our whole family) drove to Victoria, B.C., in my younger days my family would go to British Columbia every summer to camp. We saw various different spots where we used to camp, or the bakery we used to go to (best baked goods, ever), and the beach where we used to go clamming. Of course this induced tears, not mine–my mom’s, I do have to admit that it does feel weird to see these spots from a new angle (and I don’t mean because I am taller). It brought back a lot of good memories about going Canada, even though some of them did involve fires, drunks, and stolen toys. It is weird to realize that I have grown up, I can’t be bathed in the Prince William Sound any more. The perspective has changed but the boy hasn’t.

There’s a hole in the prettiest life, so the lawyers and prophets say

I think this has been the longest gap in updates that I have ever committed. Well, I should be more considerate… I should. Well I have been under all different kinds of stress lately, mostly due to Grad School: applications, essays, letters of recommendations, and expensive-long-hard-tests. But that aside, I have been working in a special ed class room at a local elementary school and it is one of the best experiences I have ever had. I can definitely see kids who were as big of a pain as I was at their age. I witnessed something today that made me laugh the rest of the day; while monitoring a kid on the playground, I heard the faint sounds of regurgitated lunch hit the blacktop. As kids are known to do, this one boy had let loose his lunch. The funny part was that no sooner had the kid been rushed off to the office, that other kids start bounding toward the newly formed puddle of up-chuck. “I am going to throw up now, too” was the common phrase that was uttered from palm-capped mouths. My favorite comment was, “Oh man, that is so cool.” You’d think kids would have the common sense to not step in vomit, but I had to play vomit patrol I found myself saying “No, don’t touch it,” or “No, we all don’t need to try and jump over it.” Anyways. I like this, I could do this for a job… the working in a school, not the vomit patrol.

Another update to come when (if) I get some free time (ha.)