Define: Undefined

I was trying to think of a good way to tell people I'm not coming back to Spring Arbor next year, but last night at Bible study Clare asked if I knew what I was doing, and I didn't want to say no, so...there it was.

Sometimes I'm excited to do something new. Sometimes I am really scared. I don't quite know yet.



Next year is going to be very different.

Define: "Green"

I just watched someone turn off all the computers in the row in front of me. Which I thought was weird.

Then I looked around, and realized he turned off EVERY computer not being used. In the entire library lab. And in the quiet lab.



Uh, thanks for trying to be 'green,' but now there are only six computers on in the whole library, and they're all being used. Oh, and the computer lab is still open for three more hours.



....who does that?

Define: Weekend

This weekend was hard in quite a few ways.

*Notice: This is incredibly long. Just so you know.

I'm not going to go into detail about everything, because I'll just get worked up about it again, and now that I've been able to get away from things, it's a little less bad than it seemed at the time.

My stepbrother's girlfriend has been kicked out of her house, so she's staying at my house. My parents didn't want her there, but when she got kicked out, what else was there to do? She didn't have anywhere else to go, and what would they have said to Wesley? "Nope, sorry, your girlfriend has to live on the streets." I understand why my parents let her move in after talking with them about it.

Now, onto the girlfriend, Izzy, as she prefers to be called (Isabelle is the real name). She moved into my bedroom.

Sort of.

By sort of, I mean that clothes and things were strewn EVERYWHERE. I'll be honest, I am not known for being a neat-freak, but I got about three feet past the door of my room, and could go no further. It was a total mess. And then there was the smoke smell. I had a headache in 10 minutes. It bothered me that it smelled like smoke, and it bothered me that now everything of mine that's in there smells like smoke. Sure, clothes can be washed, but it's got to be in the carpet, mattress, everything. There are also some things I'm not putting into the wash, like the dress I wore as a flower girl in my aunt's wedding in third grade. My stepmom smokes, but she is very careful about the smell of it. She doesn't smoke in her car, and she never smokes in the house. I'm not sure if Izzy smoked in the room or not. I know that my stepmom wouldn't let her if she knew, but I did find a cigarette butt in there.

I was also upset to find some of my things mixed in with Izzy's. For example Izzy has a doll collection. A doll that my grandmother gave me was sitting on the desk with hers. I know that this may not have been malicious, she may not have been intending to take it, but that's still a very threatening thing. To come into your disaster area room that smells like smoke and to see that it looks like the person whose things are everywhere has gone through your things and taken out what she likes is really...well, I was mad.

I was also upset that a candleholder had been broken. I know, I know, a candleholder? Really? But it was my mom's. I know that she didn't know that, but she still should have been more careful because they weren't her things. The worst part was that she'd taken it apart, kept the base out, and then thrown away the broken pieces. I was not happy while sifting through the trash, looking for shards of glass. I don't know if I'll be able to fix it, but I was really, really upset that she had thrown away something that did not belong to her. (I know it's terrible and cliché, but she had no right. There, I said it. I'm pretending that it's less corny because it's in the parenthesis. Don't judge.)

The mouth on that girl is something else. She said things that were completely, completely inappropriate. My parents said they'd talk with her, and that they've had to do it before. It was just...yikes.

I didn't really get homework done this weekend, which was the worst part. I had a TON of stuff to do, and I didn't accomplish anything while I was at home. It's hard for me to work without a desk, and the desk in my room was covered with Izzy's stuff (I also couldn't get to it, even if it was useable). But after staying up late a few nights, I'm down to my last assignment for this week (which is due tonight, so I should probably not be blogging).

I also found out that my sister isn't talking to my dad. He sold our horses, and she way overreacted. I was sad that he sold them, but I understood why: he's the only one that takes care of them, it's expensive, no one rides them, etc. They were going through $100 of hay a week. I'm sad that they're gone, but I think he did the right thing. They should be somewhere where people will be riding them and taking care of them. My sister, though, flipped out. She is convinced that my dad sold them to the butcher (I am questioning what in her 23 years of existence on this planet made that idea pop into her head. I cannot think of anything that happened during our childhood or adult life that would have even possibly made that thought cross her mind, let alone believe it). My dad gave her the number of the man he sold them to and told her to call him if she didn't believe him. He wrote her a letter, but she's still not responding. I told my dad I would talk to her, but I'm not sure what to say. I think she's being really immature about this. It doesn't bother me if she gets mad at me over it, because I think she's wrong. She's overreacting, and she's really hurting my dad. But not caring if she's mad at me probably isn't the way I should handle it. I just don't know what she thought would happen. By the time she and Sean get settled and could take care of them, the horses would be like 30 years old! They wouldn't be rideable anymore, if they even lived that long! She can't keep them at her apartment, and there's no way they could afford to keep them at a stable. I understand that she is upset, but I think that she's taking it too far, and I don't think she really thought about the reasons behind what my dad did.

I talked with my parents about my educational plans. I am having a hard time choosing whether I should keep going to Spring Arbor (I'm at LEAST 2 years away from a communications degree), or transfer to a community college (I could probably get an associates in something in a semester). I'd rather be here, but it's a lot of money to be here. This is where all my friends are. If I transfer, I don't know how I'll actually get to classes, because at this point, I don't have a car. I also don't want to be living at home if Izzy is going to be there. I can honestly say that before last weekend, I was considering going back home, which is a thought that hasn't crossed my mind in a long time. But community college would be a lot cheaper, and I'm so close to an associate's degree.

My dad told me that if I wanted to stay here, they'd support that, but they need me to pick a program and stay with it.


I've got some decisions to make. But first, I need to finish reading the Inferno.
Ugh.

Home

I've got a whole post typed up about this weekend so far, and in particular, my stepbrother's girlfriend, but I'm not sure I should post it. We'll see.



This weekend is not going as I had envisioned it.

Attn: Athletes

Wearing shorts under your sweatpants does not make it acceptable for you to let your butt hang out of the sweatpants. Seriously.

Define: Dread

Dread: when you're finally done helping people actually physically present at the Help Desk, and must now answer the phone that's been ringing for the last 15 minutes.

Define: Light at the end of the tunnel

I met with my new advisor today, and we pretty much planned my next two years of college with a major in drama.

I'm not entirely sure this is something I really want, but it falls under the communications department, which is something that will probably be useful. And at this point, I just want to graduate.

I still need to pick a minor, though. She suggested art, since I seem to like that kind of thing, or maybe writing, but I'm thinking that whatever I already have a lot of credits in is probably what I'm gonna go for. It's a squeeze to get all the requirements for a drama major in in the next two years, so it's not going to be easy to cram a minor in there as well.


But at least I am making progress.



I'm not as caught up on homework as I'd like to be, but I'm not behind yet. I just wish I wasn't so tired! I've been ready to pass out since about 9:30 tonight, and shortly after finishing this post, I think that's what I'll do.

We watched a short video about Dante's Divine Comedy in my world literature class tonight, and they showed a very, very, very, very x 8 unnecessary to show scene. I'm afraid I'm going to have nightmares. Really.

I think that the screening process for new instructors at Spring Arbor University (if there is one) needs some drastic, drastic changes. A woman called the other day, trying to make her course available to her students online. She needed to go to the control panel of the course on the website on Blackboard, and she was telling me she couldn't find settings after opening the control panel. I asked her what she saw when she did open the control panel, and she read me off a HUGE list of things, including, but not limited to: Internet connection, mouse, sound, printer, etc. After she finished reading me the list, I asked her if she could open up Blackboard and click on the link in the browser that said control panel, instead of clicking on Start and going to the control panel listed there.
This woman is supposed to be TEACHING. And she's called back with similar issues, which would take more time than I want to take to explain.

I've got an unopened bag of potato chips, and 11:06 pm is probably not the time to be opening them, but I imagine it's going to happen. Pretty sure I can live with it.