The Beginning of the End, and Other Unintentional Morose Stuff

It is, I intone in my mind, the beginning of the end. It sounds very gloomy-- appropriately, it reminds me of the only Smashing Pumpkins song I own (The Beginning is the End is the Beginning). It also fits the...well, fits of melancholy I've been subject to over the past few days.

But there is so much to do. I've already begun packing; my books, knick-knacks, and winter clothes have been tucked away in my various plastic Super-bins. I've emptied some of my drawers into my long-neglected (for once) suitcases. I've shoved a miniature mountain of paperwork into our hapless recycle container.

And there are exams to study for!!! Haha...no. I have started a study guide for Statistics, but then I got distracted. Not only did I do some packing, I've also ensured that all of my iTunes albums have the correct album art, made lunch, did some work, and am now writing this entry. And I'm still nursing the cup of coffee I made at 9:30 this morning. Gross.

I have to return to studying. But, because I need a bit of color and sunshine to warm this entry up, I will leave you with some tulips:

A Slow Convergence

For the past few days, I've been talking to my mother on my cell phone. Now, this may seem like a commonplace (even annoying) experience to others, but for me, this marks a significant change. Because, for the past three years, I have been separated from my parents by a little pond, popularly known as the Atlantic Ocean. Skype and email has been the go-to method of communication, sparing my parents exorbitant phone bills. As amazing as they are, though, they aren't perfect.

Over the past three years, I have had my car break down, gotten pertussis, crashed my computer, figured out three years of financial aid, been stuck in four airports and a train station, and broken my nose. I have also gotten four jobs, traveled in seven countries without them (with two more coming this summer), maintained a high GPA, and, most importantly, made many friends. In the highs and lows of these times, near-instantaneous communication is a luxury I've been without.

But today, my father finally arrives in the States. It's been almost a year in the making, beginning with my brother's return to study in Georgia and ending tonight. My family, the stable core that has been my only continuity for over twenty years, is going to be not only on the same continent but also in the same time zone. Today, I can pick up my cell phone and call them past 4 PM.

So I am excited about it. At least for now.

A Study of Gray Matter, or The Oatmeal that is my Brain

It's that time of year again. The sun is shining, but my face is still more often bathed in the luminescent glow of my computer screen. The paper is (pretty much) done, yes, but my trials are not yet over. This morning, yours truly took two tests, all the while lacking both caffeine and motivation.

And this is the result:

I think I need a nap. Or some brown sugar.

A Meditation on Word Counts

This past weekend, I curled up on various comfortable surfaces to write my last major assignment of the semester. The required word count was 2,000-2,500 words, or around 8-10 pages, double-spaced, Times New Roman size 12. I try not to think about length when I write, because I only procrastinate when I am intimidated by the apparent size and difficulty of the task before me. So, in order to prevent the hysteria that ensues when I am down to the (barbed) wire of a due date, I am forced to trick my own brain. Somehow, this is much easier than it sounds.

First, I type my name, the course title, and the date. "Haha, I have words on the page," I tell myself. "Good job, Alicia. Jolly good show." And then I come up with a suitably impressive-sounding title. This title must include a colon. For example:

Small Stories and the Postcolonial State: The Portrayal of Liminality and Identity in Midnight's Children and Between the Assassinations

Classy, isn't it? It helps when you read "postcolonial" with a snobby British accent. I never fail to do so.

Now that I've wasted all of my creative energy on the title, I save the document and close it. The real writing comes a day or two later. Armed with coffee, baggy sweatpants, and a couch, I do battle with my short attention span. Because I am far more wily than accident-plagued Wile E. Coyote, I have learned how to trick my mind into thinking that I am not working nearly as hard as I actually am. And it involves TV.

I wouldn't recommend multitasking to the faint of heart; many people have spouted facts about the detriments of multitasking, but I have twenty years of anecdotal evidence that it works for me. This habit led to my being dubbed "The Homework Ninja" by the girls of First Timmer my freshman year. The real trick is not the multitasking itself, but the choice of TV show. Usually, I choose action shows. The dialogue isn't fascinating enough to thoroughly distract me from the task at hand, but there's usually a nice explosion or two to lighten the mood.

For my Postcolonial Literature paper, I continued my marathon of 24 with my across-the-hall neighbors. I watched Jack Bauer save Washington D.C. whilst I pounded out 2,497 words of a paper exploring the role of multiplicity in the identity of both individuals and postcolonial nations in Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children and Aravind Adiga's Between the Assassinations. (Both are fantastic books, by the way. Consider them recommended.) 

There was also much hat-wearing in honor of Queen's Day, or Koninginnedag

Normally, I find myself comfortably in the center of the necessary word/page count-- just enough length to satisfy the assignment description (with some wiggle room), but not too close to the upper limit to repel stressed-out and possibly vindictive professors. This time, however, I found myself abridging my conclusion immensely (and I am the queen of lengthly conclusions, as well as the great land of Denial) in order to fall within a reasonable interval around 2,500. Maybe it's the topic I chose, or maybe it's because I actually enjoyed the books I had to write about, but it was especially difficult to leave my paper with such an anticlimactic farewell. But sacrifices must be made for the sanity of all involved, so I saved my work (for the 200th time) and closed Microsoft Word with a sigh of contentment and relief.

And then cheered as Jack Bauer saved a metro station from a biological attack.

Aren't we all under the weather?

West Michigan is known for its spastic weather. Known, at least, within West Michigan. Three years ago, as a young freshman hailing (sort of) from the thick red clay and saturating humidity of North Georgia, I was completely unprepared for the mood swings of a temperamental Mother Nature.

The past few weeks have given us sun, snow, rain, hail, thunderstorms, tornado warnings, wind, giving both body and wardrobe an aching whiplash. One day, I pull on my daisy-covered rain boots, the next my hat and gloves, and the next we're opening the patio door for some refreshingly sweet air. And as I fight headache after headache with caffeine, heating pads, Excedrin, and naps, I am humbled (and slightly annoyed) by the power weather holds over me. A single sunny day after months of gray can send me into a tizzy of energy and optimism, while a coming storm can turn me into an hurting, groggy beast of a being.

While I'm sure there is some medical explanation for my responses to the changes in barometric pressure and whatnot, I enjoy my bizarre connection to nature. Because even when I am overloaded with turmoil and stress, wishing that I didn't have to stare at my computer screen for another second, it reminds me to look outside.

An Unintentional Cliffhanger

So, in my haste in writing my last post, I neglected to mention my hard drive. For those of you holding your breath, you may now exhale.

Last semester, my Mac died a sudden death. Because it was in the middle of midterms, I was understandably distressed. (Read: hysterical for nearly a week). What was more heart-breaking was my abrupt loss of pictures, including many from my semester abroad in York, England. However, thanks to the work of some IT help, they were returned to me.

On a tasty note, I made curry chicken pasties today. And they were delicious.

Though I was loathe to share any of my precious pasties, how can I resist that face?

Hopefully, my next post will include a picture of me without a nose splint, and the nose I asked for at the doctor's. I brought in a magazine clipping of Angelina Jolie to make sure they knew exactly what I wanted.

Just kidding. But the idea of bringing a magazine clipping to a doctor's office like you would do for a hair salon is bizarrely humorous to me.  

Fractures and Hard Drives

I have returned safely to Calvin and to the daily grind of being a boring co-ed. Lots of time has passed since my last post, and I'm sure you're thinking: If she's so boring/bored, how can she not have found the time to write a measly blog post?

Mitigating circumstances, my friend. That's what. Because, over a week and a half ago, I found myself staring at a softball. It was coming closer and closer and all I could think was: "Oh shit." My friend took me to a walk-in clinic, and the x-rays confirmed that I had, indeed, broken my nose. And I'm sure you're wondering: How can this simple procedure of rectifying a broken nose have taken a week and a half to resolve?

Having been told to wait until the swelling had gone down before having it fixed, I was forced to wait. I was also forced to fight the bureaucratic system known as military insurance. There were tears, appointments, phone calls, and much begging for rides. But finally, on Thursday of this week, I went into surgery.

Nose broken before surgery...

...and now repaired, held together with spring's hottest new accessory.

So, between that and homework, quizzes, midterms, papers, friends, gym, fun, etc... I found little time for a post. But here it is. And on Thursday, I'll have the splint taken off, and we'll see how it looks. Until then, I try to remain not cross-eyed.

It is also unseasonably warm today. Everyone is in skirts and shorts and T-shirts and tanks-- I haven't seen this much skin since August! It was so nice, in fact, that after church I went for a walk in the nature preserve with a future roomie. I also had a dance party with present roomie Heather and continued my descent into obsession with 24. Kiefer Sutherland will soon be on our Man Wall, hopefully alongside President David Palmer. 

With no motivation to do any more Statistics homework, I will now go work on my opus magnum, my sword-and-sorcery masterpiece. Whatever will my characters do next?

-Momo