I uploaded my full archive. The blog now starts during the finals period of my first semester in college. You can start at the beginning or see the highlights below. Caution: bad writing ahead.
I uploaded my full archive. The blog now starts during the finals period of my first semester in college. You can start at the beginning or see the highlights below. Caution: bad writing ahead.
One thing I will not miss about the University of Miami:
Impromptu visits by a guy in a duck costume who claims to be a Ibis. At least he can’t talk.
The thought hadn’t occurred to me.
It seemed like a silly question and I still don’t understand it. I couldn’t be successful at a career if I didn’t have the nerve to go through the training.
Am I going to walk into law school and find the casebooks quick and thrilling as a James Patterson novel? Am I going to draft amazing essays with ease, know the answer every time the professor calls on me, and be in bed by 10pm every night that I’m not at the clubhouse?
Well, there was a bowling alley. Last week (or the week before?) Matt and I dropped about $70 at a boutique bowling alley – which, for college students, is unacceptable.
$42 for one hour. $5 (x2) for cover (yes, the bowling alley charged a cover), $10 for soda. $4.50 (x2) for shoes.
Memorial Day Weekend in Miami: Rain. And not that nice London rain either, but that explosive “the world is pouring down” Brazilian-rainforest type of rain.
If Miami had mountains there’d be mudslides. Für sure.
Went to Little Havana and got some food from Mom’s.
“When you need a refill just call me a day in advance.” – Mom’s the business. I love going back to the neighborhood. People’s cars chink and clank just like mine. There are fruit carts, Botanicas, grandpas drinking on stoops, and chickens in the road. It’s a nice break from the sterile streets that surround school.
Visited a few old haunts in South Beach and South Dade…There’s a definitely a few Edie Sedgwick complexes going around. (And by-the-bye Community College does not mean you’re Indie.)
South Beach and Downtown are beginning to resemble something from lastnightsparty.com. I’m going to leave it alone for a while and stay in the Gables.
I’m finally in the new dorm!
I graduated today. Well, sort of.
My last final-exam was today. I’m not going to commencement, so, for undergrad. That’s it.
I’m sure Angela Lansbury will forgive me for skipping out on her speech.
I’m facing some hardcore resistance writing my last history paper. It needs to be all of three pages. I’ve done all the research. I’ve read over 300 pages for this thing. I’m so just so incredibly bored with the subject that I can’t stop whining about not writing and just write it because I don’t want to write it.
And well, I need to. The FTS (F-this-S) hormones have arrived. They need to go away for the 45-or-so-minutes this thing will take to write.
I even entertained the idea of not writing the paper for a while, but when I mentioned this to Miss Pao she threw a fit. Seriously. Stomping and all.
She might stab me if I don’t turn it in.
Today Matt and I went to the mangrove swamp.
The swamp. I ran face-first into a web with a huge-huge spider up in there yonder.
We were stalked by the pelican with the greedy eyes.
I don’t trap hermit crabs in random Heineken bottles…but someone does.
This week eletronics failed me: I lost my phone, broke my mp3 player, ran into a card-eating ATM, and sent my laptop to Gatewayland for repair.
I also lived in the library for the better part of the week: 6 papers and one group project. Yes. Indeed.
The website, and twitter have new designs. I kept it simple since the the last design was a bit gaudy.
She asked me to be specific, and she asked me to write in great detail.
The theme of the class is: Counter Cultures of the 20th and 21st centuries.
On the Second day of class, my German professor was mortified when she found out we had no “causes worth dying for” or “burning issues” deserving of protest.
I have had several professors who are convinced that students should spend the majority of their undergraduate years protesting. These professors want us to be incensed at the injustices of the word.
They want us to be idealistic.
They want us to start a revolution.
…and they probably want us to smoke pot too.
