Homage to Finals Week

For your viewing pleasure.  A sweater a day everyday of finals.  The older/uglier/Christmas-yier the better.

Monday:

This gem was found in the closet of my great grandmother's house.  The house that my roommate Jordan has (endearingly I'm sure) entitled "DI: THE HOME"

The people in the study desks behind think I'm nuts for sure.

It has shoulderpads people.  Shoulder pads softer and pad-dier than any push-up bra you've ever owned.

Yes Ryan.  Even yours.

When Things Get Busy

Sometimes, the only time I can make it to anatomy open lab is at seven.  And sometimes that means I get dressed in the dark because my roommate is still in bed - apparently grad students have the luxury of sleeping till noon?  Yeah I hate her.  And because turning on the light would probably zap my tired eyes into little raisins that get sucked back into my brain (Optic Nerve I), leaving me tragically blind and disgustingly eye-less.  Think the fates in Hercules.  So sometimes I don't realize my shirt is actually inside out until now.  Approximately 10 hours and 3 classes later.

Also.  This is not the first time.

The Good

Look at that.  Three posts in the SAME. WEEK.

Are you suprised?  You shouldn't be.  I promised I would write.  And now that I'm at BYU my promises are soooo much more meaningful.  Like Karl G. and the Honor Code, I'm bound by my word of honor. Draw a line in the sand!  I shall die in this blogging circle with mine honor intact!  Read that with chariots of fire playing in the background.  Way inspirational.

Filthy honor code.

In order to write this much, it means that I'm putting off other things.  Like schoolwork.  Which you know is probably not that important anyway.  Except when I fail my classes and can't get into my program and have to drop out because school is too expensive it's going to be YOUR basement I'm living in.  Yeah I'm talking to you Marleen.  I hope that with all your urging for me to write more you factored in the possibility of having a hobo trying to sneak into your basement, filching bits of your food, and scaring your children.  It'll be so much fun.  You can make sure I have fresh cardboard every week and in return I'll write clever clever things.

But on to the good.  With all the tests and scheduling problems and unhelpful advisors I've gotta remember the good.

The size. I thought living at this huge school with all these people would kill me.  Except for the few time I did hide in the library shelves to avoid crowds though, I was wrong.  I love the anonymity.  Yesterday I watched a guy walk across campus with a legit boombox on his shoulder.  Didn't even phase anyone.

The resources.  Last year to study for biology I, ok Slamdon had to buy a recording device to record lectures so we could review them over and over.  This year, my anatomy teacher records his lecture on his own and puts it online where I can listen to it any time.  On top of that there's about 800 TA's that hold lecture reviews several times every week.  Last year in my science lab I went once a week for two hours and then didn't return until the next week.  This year in lab, there's a two hour lecture and a possibility of four hours of open lab offered from as early as 7:00 am until 11:00 pm.  There's an accounting lab, a chemistry tutoring center, which I've basically set up camp in.

The people I'm living with.  I explain the difference it makes to live with girls that I actually know and like.  They're so dang cool.  Here's something that'll really blow your mind.  They actually cook.  Like prepare meals for themselves.  Like human beings.  This instead of buying $40 of groceries and then leaving them in the back of the fridge to rot and eating fast food instead.  Weird right?  They make homemade applesauce, they train for half marathons, play the violin in a band, edit applications for grad school.  They also dog pile on the top of the bunk bed while I'm trying to sleep.

Wait I'm making it sound like I live in some superhuman sorority house.  It's really not like that.  They've only thrown bologna at me while I sing Celine Dion ONCE.

There's just a million little things.  It's the walk to school.  It's the prayer before anatomy class - not nearly as pod people as I thought it would be.  It's the extended library hours, the international cinema, the window conversations with the neighbors next door.  It's being able to give my dad a heart attack by jumping out at him when I see him on campus.

I just love it here.  I love life.

Goodbyes

Three weeks. Three weeks exactly. I'll be officially released as an RA, finished with my finals, and out of my apartment. My dear parentals and I will drive out of this little college city ostensibly (if I'm feeling melodramatic) never to return again. At least, not in the same capacity.

I don't know if I believe in fate or destiny guiding my experiences and leading me to people I had to meet for some grand cosmic reason, to save my soul or permanently alter the direction of my life.* But I do know that what and where I am is not a result of only my efforts. There's a lot of people that went in to the making of this odd, introspective, hard-working, intimidated, bold person that I am today. I'm not the same gal that left Salt Lake two years ago, thank goodness. Wouldn't it be awful if people never changed, never learned confidence, never expanded their world view or thought, really thought about ideas and philosophies? It'd be selfish really if ignored how I got here. Journal keeping isn't my talent and sometimes thank you notes don't do a person justice.

To begin. Janelle. (best said in a really low voice, hhhhhheeey juhhh-nehhhllle.)

My very first roommate - with the exception of my stuffed spotted dog Spot.** I had no idea what to expect. I'd heard my fair share of horror stories about roommates. I believe it was made into a great movie. On the flip side, I'd also heard about instantaneous bonding. The Saturday's Warriors kind, where we knew each other in a previous life.

Janelle was neither. She was on the track team, a thrower I think. Shoot I'm a crappy roommate. Even after two semesters I couldn't remember what the even was called. Just know it was a field event. She was buff stuff.

She was also pretty independent, and disciplined (something I knew very little about.) We didn't hang out every weekend, or braid each others' hair. But we got along and I learned how to share a room, and be considerate of another person. I think that was really my biggest fear, being forced to share a room with someone really self-centered and inconsiderate, to the point where I didn't feel comfortable coming in.

I watched Janelle juggle early morning practices, after school practices, classes, and church and came away feeling pretty impressed. This girl was solid. (Not just because of her rocking muscles.) From Janelle I learned consistency, and the benefits of good habits. She wasn't perfect mind you. Sometimes she snored and kept me up. And after a few failed attempts at ear plugs, I learned to say her name*** janelle. Janelle. Janelle Janelle! until she woke up. Then I'd quickly be quiet, pretending nothing happened and trying to fall asleep before she could. Luckily she has a good sense of humor and we laugh about that now.

We went hiking. And carved pumpkins of the first presidency at FHE together. And saved our change until we could take ourselves to a movie. Yes Janelle dear. You were a very good first roommate indeed.




* Think Wicked song lyrics. BECAUSE I kneewwwwwwwwww YOOOOUUUUUU.......

**He was a dalmation and I was a VERY creative child.
***I also slammed drawers. Passive aggressive I know.