Life in the Slow Lane

What of the good things about school is that it is like having a cold. I know many of you probably were unable to follow that logic. But if you may recall that one of the good things about having a cold is the ability to get instant sympathy from people (I would actually go fetch the link to that list if I had a wee bit more time, but you will have to suffice without it for reference), maybe this will clear up the small matter. School is like that. People always remember the rhythm of school, the procrastination and stresses, the huge fat papers that are unlikely to ever be as huge and fat and paper-like as they are intended to be. Yes, complaining about school is a great way to bond, and that, I think, is a good thing. =)

It is a great reason to guilt people into posting more on their blog! I should try this more often.

Today I discovered another good thing about going to school. It can get you on national (and international) TV! You see, if I had not gone to school, then I would not have known how to look like I was in a classroom when I was asked to pose as a student in a classroom. And I did such a good job acting (nodding my head and looking appropriately interested), that not only was I used in the publicity photos and recruitment footage, but I also get one or two whole seconds (not just me in the background walking to the printer or sitting at my desk or even the sound of me coughing, but a bigger-than-life face shot) in the most recent episode of the TV program that aired last week (and mostly likely will air again, but I don't know when). So stay in school, always dress ready to impress, and you may only shriek lightly when you are surprised by your face on widescreen TV.

When in school, you have an amazingly good reason to buy books. Even better than that, you have a perfectly legitimate excuse to carry a book around (and not a national best seller) without being labeled a nerd or anti-social. Of course, being in school is awfully nerd-like and regularly anti-social, but you can always make the excuse that you are a nerd because you are in school and if it weren't for the fact that you had a huge paper due, you really would be so open to watching the final inning (or whatever it is called) of American Idol with everyone else... too bad about that school thing.

Another good thing about going to school is that there is actually some variation between summer time and the rest of the year (in addition to the weather).

Going to school saves money. Of course there is the small detail of tuition, but here it is, a holiday weekend with LOTS of sales going on, and I am not out shopping. QED going to school saves you money.

How am I supposed to continue procrastinating when all of the blogs I check are lacking in new content? Back in my college days, I devised a simple plan of finding small entertaining things to read as breaks from studying and writing: I called it Mad Week and I tried to write one witty thing a day that I could later go back and read. Sometimes I think this blog was birthed because I no longer had any Mad Weeks to look forward to. I might be wrong, but I think this week classifies as such. You have been warned.

I'm writing my paper, don't you see? I have five pages, not four and two lines, I have five full pages. And I'm done, except for the minor detail that the paper is supposed to be ten pages. Maybe if I changed the format a little bit, you know, went with size 14 font and 2.5 line spacing, double spaced after a period. I could change the margins or add a header and footer with my name, the title of the paper, the semester and year, the page number (although if I don't make 10 pages, it is better to leave this filler out, no need to make it obvious). Then I could include full citations in the body of the paper instead of a footer or works cited page. Maybe I could use the technique of stopping every small subject change to add a subheading or I could do periodic summaries and small introductory paragraphs about what I will be talking about in the next four paragraphs. Maybe I could somehow squeeze in a cute kid story (those always slip in without any hard feelings, righ

I'm supposed to be writing. I have a ten page paper due next week, a thirty page paper the week after that, and somehow, I was supposed to have managed ten minutes of journal writing every day for the last month and a half. The problem of ten minutes of journal writing every day is that frequently in ten minutes of journal writing my greatest efforts net me "Friday, May 16, 2008." Of course, in the following ten minutes I may just be able to pull off two or three pages, but those first ten minutes usually leave very little to show. So yes, I have quite a bit of writing to do. And that isn't even taking into account the letters sitting on my desk at work. This week was not nearly as productive as some weeks, I think I only managed maybe 25 letters. And all week long, as I peaked into my file drawers to take stock of the piles tucked away or I made up another reason as to why I should go check the level of paper in the printer, I heard the sound of many excuses march

There is an organization by the name of National Odd Shoe Exchange (or NOSE), where people who end up only having need of one shoe can exchange shoes with people who happen to need the other half of the pair. I have my eyes open for an organization by the name of National Odd Plasticware Exchange. For most of you, I am sure this is completely self-explanatory. For those of you who are not quite as kitchen-conscious, I had the misfortune of taking my lunch to work in a mis-matching plastic container on Friday. I noticed too late that the lid didn't quite fit the base, but I didn't think it would matter in the long run. And then I forgot that I had brought leftovers for lunch. And Fridays our work refrigerators are cleaned out by the anti-leftover elves. And Monday morning I realized that the borrowed plastic container and unmatching lid had made their way to the great landfill. (Don't get mad, get Glad!) Forget trading for baseball cards, marbles, and Chocolatina Jet B

A free tip to all of my dear readers: Your email address should not be longer than this sentence.

On Friday I copied out a page from a writer's magazine about picky editors and passed it around my department. I wanted them all to see that they should be thankful that it is only I who edit their work and not Mr. Whoever-it-was. I'm hoping this creates a change for the better. In other words, I am hoping it will make me feel less guilty about all of the red ink I spill sometimes. My co-workers all claim that it is only because I am half their age that I can see so much that needs changing. They grumble about the times when I circle a period that is a bit too bold. But when all of the words are in normal font, yet the period at the end of the sentence is in bold, it really is worth marking . See? Can't you tell? I almost feel bad that they all now keep magnifying glasses on their desk. (I would feel bad except that now when I am feeling particularly sleuth-like in solving a mystery, I can borrow one to pose with.) Red ink scrawling across staid Times New Roman dishear

In the three quarters of a semester that I have been back in school, I have many times thought "I am insane for having signed up. I am going to fail. There is no possible way for me to do all that is named in the course syllabus." I have been right about everything except for that second sentence. I am insane for having signed up, and there is no possible way for me to do all that is required, yet somehow, so far, my grades have stayed in that range that even a straight-A-student (except for trying to fail math to spite the teacher) can live with. Well, except for the grade I just got back on my reflection essay. If I remember how to do percentages in my head (I only tried to fail one math class) the grade comes out to be 85%, but it is the principle of the thing that makes me begin to doubt. Any displeasure with a grade less than an "A" is always about the principle of the thing. I considered arguing this very important issue with the teacher (I haven't qu