There’s no more denying that school is officially back in session, and it seems I’d forgotten how jam-packed busy the first couple weeks of each semester are. I only have two classes Monday-Thursday, none on Fridays, which I haven’t since sophomore year. I’ll only have to work four days a week in the real world, right?! Those aren’t very difficult as of yet, homework is minimal, and to say that I’ve gotten faking concentration, skimming, and summarizing down to an art form in this last semester would be an understatement. The thing that’s got me feeling exhausted only two weeks in, however, are my extracurriculars (and no, I’m not talking about those that involve elevating my blood alcohol content.) In addition to class, I have a job, an internship, and am on the executive board of a pretty big student org on campus. I realize there are scads of my peers who are in the same boat, if not even more busy, but these three things demand a lot of my attention a lot of the time. Thankfully, things for PRSSA will die down after the large event we’re putting blood, sweat and literal tears into gets over with in February. Sometimes I feel bad that my time isn’t spent focusing as much on my marketing internship as it should because I’m so busy at my actual job where I’m busy promoting our newest program, planning events, and sitting on a team to create and implement a very big pledge campaign to be revealed this summer. (And no, this isn’t meant to be bragadocious, I’m just keeping my grandma all up to date on what’s going on with my life.) I find myself not only being excited for graduation just because I’m still under the illusion that I’ll magically feel like an adult come May, but because once I do get a full-time job, there will be only one big picture item on which to devote my energy. I’m not really complaining about all the various projects I’m currently filling my time with– if anything, it’s a really great feeling to check lots of things off my to-do list every night and see concrete results once something is finished. Just letting you know, that’s what’s on my my mind.

…and for all of you Millenials over there, head on over to The Next Great Generation where it’s 90s week and you can read cool posts about Hey Arnold and stuff. I really, really liked Hey, Arnold!

“Well it’s over,” I told Kayla about five minutes post-first midterm of the semester. “And by that I mean my academic career.”

Ok, so it wasn’t that bad (though I guess we won’t know til I get the score) but it was pretty bad. So bad in fact, that one of my short answers literally included “…clearly I’m drawing a blank. Sorry.” The question, or rather given phrase we had to elaborate one was “Conciliation Committee.” The course is on the European Union, so I knew it was part of one of three legislative bodies. I started to write that it was part of the council– crossed it out– put down that it was part of the European Parliament (the correct answer, though to get full points it would have needed a lot of back-up information that was most likely in the assigned readings that I chose to think were optional) then crossed even THAT out and wrote, “The conciliation committee is part of the commission… clearly I’m drawing a blank. Sorry.” My other four short answers weren’t leagues better, and my essay answer was possibly worse, especially since I referenced how “the leader of Luxembourg was probably a nice guy” in the early 1950s. For the record, the course does not at all cover or care about the demeanors of EU member state leaders.

My professor bid everyone a cheery “See you Thursday!” when turning in their exam since he’s the same masochist who sent us a good luck email about two hours prior to the exam. After glancing at mine though, he added, “Wow, you have nice penmanship.” Duh, sir– I’ve been writing for pleasure since the age of five. I thought of bidding him a sarcastic, “At least you’ll enjoy the handwriting while you read those shit answers!” or telling him up front that my oft-practiced print/cursive combo was the only semi-decent thing he’d have to say about my test. Perhaps later I will get the opportunity to explain myself: “My handwriting’s so pretty because I’m a journalism major who’s never taken a political science course before, but apparently thought I could run with the big dogs in your upper-level, nearly graduate school level course just because I needed some credits for my second major and this was the only class that didn’t meet on Fridays.” Hopefully if that opportunity does present itself, I’ll learn how to breathe through the run-on and smile charmingly.

“Whether you think you can or or you can’t, you’re right.” –Henry Ford.

Well I can’t do it. I was apparently being optimistic when I ballparked my inevitable mid-semester breakdown to come sometime during October. It’s happening now, and it makes my brain throb, and it makes me want to hurt people and kick things and scream and cry and stay in my room forever. It’s not my job or my internship, those are currently existing in a wonderful symbiosis under the category of Thing I Care About. Things I do not care about however, things I just can’t care about are my classes. Specifically my international studies ones, which cover topics I have zero interest, that my brain simply can’t and won’t wrap itself around. I’ve given far too much of myself academically in the last seven years to keep trying in these last two semesters over things that will 100% not matter once I enter the job market (no seriously, I’ve been told that by multiple people in my job market.) I originally wanted to minor in International Studies, but my passive, doormat self let my advisor upgrade it to a major. Looking back and at my schedule currently, my college life would be a hell of a lot different if I’d stuck with my original plan. Granted, I wouldn’t have gone to Germany (because I wouldn’t have needed to for my language requirement) and it’s not too late to just take the minor, which I already have. I’m just burnt out. There are more important things in my life right now that don’t deserve me having to split their needed attention with Languages of the freakin’ World aka “What kind of embedded/ subjunctive clause do we find in this little-spoken language recently discovered in a small South Pacific island?”

I realize I’m complaining and wallowing and could definitely do it, but I don’t want to.

Yep, I said it. I feel old. Today is the last day of my last summer vacation ever, and I’m not sure it even counts because I have a meeting later for which I’ll have to at least shower and leave the house. Iowa City is once again overrun with just bodies: bodies in the streets, bodies in droves pouring out of the liquor stores, tomorrow bodies getting lost, meeting for Mesa, cramming the Cambuses. I refuse to believe I’m one of these bodies, that I’m some how removed from the masses and am better than their mundane summer stories and 21-ordinance griping. I have a very “been there, done that” attitude, and I’m secretly kinda let down that I’m old enough to buy my own beer. We’re now entering the Get a job, get a job, get a job phase– no, thanks. If I’m told one more time that the job market has us all fucked from the get-go, I will scream and secure my sleeping bag space under the Benton Street bridge. I hadn’t given class starting tomorrow even a minutia of a thought until I had an inbox full of emails from professors with attached syllabuses. There’s so much reading. One of my professor is taking attendance. I have to give a speech on my first day of class tomorrow. Apparently I’m quite enjoying the bold HTML function today. Quite frankly, I feel completely overwhelmed. Three months of carefree summer loving has been beaten to a bloody pulp by course packs, a schedule already full of appointments, and general chest-gripping panic attack-inducing anxiety. So basically I’ve gone from feeling old (yes, I wrote the first part of this post this morning, pre-wheretheeffdidsummergo breakdown) to feeling incapable and infantile and stressed. I promise that was my last bolded word for today.

Happy birthday, Ben!

I’m watching Say Yes to the Dress, a show on TLC about this wedding dress shop and their many whacked-out patrons.  When I was younger, I was ob-SESS-ed with what my wedding dress would one day look like.  Now?  Meh.  I know one thing: it will not be a strapless white gown.  So overdone.  And I don’t look good in strapless things.  Even though I’ll be getting married in Vegas, I’m sure a wedding dress of some sort will still be involved.  The ladies on this show bring an army of their friends and family to give their input on which one they pick.  Um, no.  I suppose T-Bone will get invited along, perhaps Neil for a manly perspective and Kayla because she’s never had a problem telling me when I look fug as a bug in a rug. 

Mondays are the creation of Satan. 

Tomorrow is my half birthday!  Six months til the big two-one.  Weird… 21 is like adult.  I am nowhere near being an “adult.” 

The season premiere of Intervention is on tonight (this post makes it sound like I watch a bunch of TV.  This is not the case, it just seems I don’t have much going on this evening and I am in a POOP mood.  Harumph.)  Do they ever show interventions where the people don’t agree to go?  And then die?  I’d like to see that episode.

My life is not that stressful, yet I’m finding as I get older I deal with even slightly stressful situations really ridiculously.  Perhaps I should get some strong anti-anxiety medication.  And then get hooked on it so I can be featured on Intervention.  How’s that for a life goal?