I throw truffles in your general direction

So, I got the flu. And because of the CDCE, it was considered the "Swine Flu" (which I have always thought of as being a thinly veiled cover for some sort of zombie virus) , but since I did not feel like eating either brains or truffles, I'm pretty sure I just had a run-of-the-mill, pain-like-nothing-you've-ever-experienced-before, sexy-doctor-asking-you-why-your-fever-got-so-high flu.

And yes, he really did ask me why I let my fever get so high, like I suddenly came down with the flu and thought, "Hey! let's see how high I can get my body temperature to rise before my brain boils in its own fluid!"

And yes, he was totally sexy. I think he was Persian, and he had an accent, and he was all dark and mysterious with piercing purpley-brown eyes. I mean, I was near death. I wasn't actually DEAD.

And then I joined NaNoWriMo, and I have no more time to write anything, let alone essays that actually are read, or blogs that no one reads.

Also, I'm getting depressed because my grandma died in June, and I'm really starting to miss her a lot now. It's been months since I heard her voice, heard her call me "honey" or "sweetheart." She's not going to call me this year and ask for an official Red Ryder carbine action range-model air rifle. I'm not going to tell her that she'll just shoot her eye out.

So...yeah. this is probably the stuff that I should be writing about. But I haven't been.

Anyway, that's life.

Is this thing on?

So, at the beginning of the school year, I had this great idea to blog and share my life with the ether of the internet, just in case anyone was looking. I had googled "College at thirty" and all I could find were newspaper articles about people going to college at thirty and changing their lives, blah blah blah, aren't they special cakes. I also thought I would want to tell everyone in my classes about my blog to try and get more readership, and one of my teachers even has us post on a message board and her blog, and I could write in my blog's name, but...I don't know, I guess I prefer anonymity. And it's not like I talk about them, either! I'm crazy, I know.

School is kicking my butt. It's HARD. It's challenging, but I like it. We've finally gotten to a point in my Algebra class where I don't feel completely lost. In fact, I think I'm doing pretty well. We'll see; I took a quiz last night.

I have to give a presentation in my English class about grass-fed beef, which is a passion of mine. I tried to give it last week, but the disk wouldn't work, and I couldn't download it from my e-mail, and the more I tried, the more nervous and upset I got, and then I started shaking and sweating and feeling like an idiot. The professor told me to just do it this week instead, so that's what I'm going to do tonight.

And then I'm going to sleep. A lot.

Yeah, I'm totally into this...

If someone was looking for a blog to follow because they're thinking of going to college at or after the age of 30, I probably totally let them down (sorry) these last few weeks. Stuff happens. I had a birthday, I've been studying for mid-terms (my college starts in August, so this week we have mid-terms), and I look at this blank screen and can't think of anything to write that's even remotely interesting. My life is really boring right now. Work, home, school, gym, lather, rinse, repeat...

Anyway, this morning as I was getting ready for work, I remembered that I wanted to bring some running shoes with me to keep in my locker because my co-worker and I have decided to jog during lunch. It was raining really hard this morning, though, so I thought I'd wear the running shoes (they're white, so I hardly ever wear them at home) to work and pack my cute little ballet flats in my gym bag. I decided to throw on my windbreaker, too, since I'll need it for this afternoon's jog. I saw my reflection as I stopped for gas, and I decided to text my mom about it with the final comment of "I'm turning into my mother!"

She wrote me back with, "That's nothing. I couldn't find my glasses. Guess what? They were on my head. I don't know WHO I'm turning into!"

How high, how steep?

If there's one thing my college campus does really, really well, it's incorporating the natural curves and hills of my region of California. To get to both of my classes, I have to hike up steep hills, or take the stairs up the same hills. I tend to take the ramps because I think they'll give me more exercise, which I need desperately. The ramp on the way to my math class is by the botany lab, and there are plants growing everywhere with little placards that state the name, genus, species and phylum of the plants/trees. There are these purple plants that smell heavenly, but no placard so boo botany lab. These ramps are actually really, really steep, and if I were in a wheelchair, I'd do some serious complaining because I don't see how someone could push themselves up those hills. Dang.

Anyway, I went hiking up last night, and I got to taste how out of shape you become after missing a scant week at the gym. I don't get it. It takes weeks, months, to build up your strength, and days to tear it down. I didn't even pretend like I was going to the gym last night because my cold has settled down into my chest which makes deep breathing rather difficult. Also, after a day at work, I feel like hell on toast. BUT, tonight I will be back in the gym. If I only manage 20 minutes, I won't get down on myself. I will celebrate the fact that I went and did it.

And then I might eat some veggie fajitas, con crema.

The Passholder Smugitude

On Saturday, my friend and I went to Disneyland in the evening specifically to see Fantasmic (or is it Phantasmic?). We, like a lot of people, got to the spot and set out our blanket. We sat down and talked and took turns shopping or getting food. We had snacks with us. Some lady came by and asked me what we were all waiting for. I told her. She asked when it started. I said 9:00. She looked at her watch and realized that what we were waiting for was four hours away. Naturally, she wanted to know if you really have to line up this early, and I shrugged and left it up to her. I mean, there's a reason we're all waitng here, you know? This couple was sitting on the other side of me. Apparently they thought what they were waiting for was coming soon, rather than just a few hours before the park closed. They asked if it was worth it. I tried to be as neutral as possible as I explained that, well, I live very close, and I have a season pass, so sitting around and waiting for a show is no big deal to me, but that if they are pressed for time, maybe it's something they can wait on until next time. I suggested the fireworks in front of the castle.

I'm thinking that next time I'm going to do what a lot of people did, and just leave my blanket on the ground and go off and do other stuff. I really wanted to ride Big Thunder because it's one of my favorites, and my friend really likes Indiana Jones the best. I was just worried that people would move our stuff around, but I have to say that no one really moved anyone's stuff or tried to steal territory. It's definitely a thought for next time.

After the show (SO not worth sitting on the ground for four hours, in my opinion), we went on Pirates because it was National Talk Like A Pirate day. As we were leaving, about 10:00 at night, this little kid behind us said that he was tired. My friend and I smiled at each other for a second because, yeah, even after sitting (and sometimes laying) on a blanket for four hours, we were tired. Then our mood turned sour when his mom shot back angrily with, "Well, you've been sitting in your stroller all day! I don't want to hear about it."

Happiest place on earth indeed.

Wow

Well, this week is almost over. I can't wait to watch Fringe tonight. I've been waiting for new episodes pretty much since it started. I love sci-fi, and Fringe is one of the first that really puts the "science," no matter how shaky, before the "fiction." Every episode holds a question and a puzzle, and I guess people said that about the show with the people stranded on the island, but I never got into that show. Anyway, I'm glad I get to watch Fringe tonight. I don't know what I'd do without TiVo. What did we do before TiVo? Oh, yeah. Video tapes. *cringe*

Anyway, I took my first math test this week, with a scantron and everything. And this was after missing a class, so part of the test was something I had only sort of peripherally figured out from reading the book and asking the teacher for an example before class started. I really hope I do well on the test. Really, really hope.

I do have a tutor now, a friend who subsidises her income tutoring. She really helped, and we went over all the areas where I make mistakes. Hopefully, I didn't make any of those mistakes this time.

Anyway, Disneyland this weekend. I think we're going to bring books and pretend to read when the cameras take pictures. No, that never gets old.

I've changed my mind...

My cold is really bad. It's a virgin that can't drive. It's trying to make orange the new pink. It's horrible and it can't spell good.

Argh!

I'm fine, really

So, Saturday night, I wasn't feeling too well, but I chalked it up to doing algebraic equations all day. I was supposed to go out with friends that night, but they weren't feeling well either, and we all came to the conclusion that we had colds. On Sunday, I went for a hike and then to church with a friend. When I got home, I fell asleep for five hours and then my mom woke me up, very apologetic, but I had stuff she really needed me to do, and when you live with your mom rent-free so that you can go to college, you do what she asks you to do. Yesterday, I stayed home from work. I should probably be there again today, but I have work to do (a lot of it that I can't motivate myself to do), and I've asked for tomorrow off so that I can go to some appointments, so I couldn't stay home and feel good about it. Luckily, I have a new boss, and he's pretty cool about just leaving us be. As long as we get our work done, he's happy.

Anyway, I'm okay. I get waves of not feeling well, but it's not a persistent thing like it was yesterday. Currently, I'm chewing on a piece of Pan Dulce, one of the perks of living and working in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood.

Tomorrow is my dad's birthday. I haven't sent him a card yet, so I'd better do that tonight.

Deflated hopes

So, I took a quiz in Algebra last week. I was really hopeful because I had been paying attention so well and doing my homework and taking notes...but I got a really bad grade. I would say it was probably a C-, depending on how she grades (curve, straight, etc.).

I was so very, very disappointed. I really thought that hard work and application could help me, but I just have no aptitude for math. Or maybe I'm a panicky test taker. If I check my answers in the back of my book, they're generally correct. If they're not, then I can figure out what I did wrong...

I'm just scared. Math and science are the two major components of getting a degree in Zoology and Animal Sciences. It's called a "Bachelor of Science" degree for a reason, yo.

My friend is going to come over and help me out. She's a professional math tutor and whatever she charges, it's worth it if she can help me. Maybe I rush through things. Maybe I overthink it. All I know is that if my GPA isn't as close to 4.0 as possible, I can pretty much kiss my hopes and dreams goodbye. :-(

Jane Austen Rules

Last night, I had my composition class. I'm supposed to write a definition essay about something that is difficult to define and therefore subjective, like love or support, or in my case, finding entertainment from something that is not entertaining. For reference, and to give her a bit of background on loving to hate something, I gave my professor a few examples of websites that capitalize on this idea, like cake wrecks and go fug yourself, and of course, Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. She sort of tried to talk me out of writing the paper, but then conceded and recommended that I check out the psychology section of the Library and look up morbidity. She then suggested that if I really like trashy romance novels, I should try reading Jane Austen.

In her words: You should try Jane Austen. Her books are older, but they're good, and they're in the romance genre.

I must have been looking at her like she had lobsters crawling out of her ears. Jane Austen? Is she kidding me? Am I a single woman over the age of thirty? Of COURSE I've heard of Jane Austen. I've practically memorized Pride and Prejudice, and my favorite book pretty much ever is Emma. One of my friends pointed out that we're still in the "get to know you" phase, and I realize that and will cut her some slack, but oh my heavens, since when is Jane Austen a bodice-ripper?

Now I want to read Persuasion again. Dang.

I don't always have to post about college, do I?

Last night, one of my friends said that he doesn't think parents understand how much power they have over their children, and how much their opinion means to their children. He has a father who sounds very...well, narcissistic might be a very strong word, but I've been reading about narcissistic parents through morbid curiosity, and the things my friend was describing are very keeping with narcissism. Because he, my friend, is doing things that his father doesn't agree with, his father is withholding rewards, or love and affection, and no matter what, my friend feels that he is wrong, and that he needs to apologize. He is defensive.

I wish my friend's dad could really see my friend the way he is. He is someone to be proud of. He is responsible, a homeowner, a teacher, and he has a heart that is so beautiful and loving, he almost seems unreal. He is a people pleaser because he's spent so much time trying to please this unpleasable person, and I wish I could show him the image that we, his friends, see of him so that he no longer sees himself skewed by this man.

But I can't because this man is his father, and let's face it: the entire world can think you're Superman, but if your dad looks at you like you're Gollum, you will always feel like you're Gollum.

Parents don't understand the power they have over their children. They don't see how their opinions affect us.

I met a girl the other day who was going to college for the exact same thing that I am (hey, I worked it in!), and she asked me if my parents were upset that I won't be making as much money as if I became a full-fledged veterinarian. I told her that my parents would rather have me making less money, but being happier than making more money and miserable. She smiled sadly and said she wished her parents would feel that way, too. They want her to be a lawyer or a human doctor. I laughed and reminded her that human doctors aren't rich anymore, and that she's better being a veterinarian. She thanked me for reminding her about that, but I know it has to hurt.

My dad still sees me as an immature little girl. Not a teenager, but a little girl. He will acknowledge that I'm thirty, but if you ask him about my tastes and hobbies, he'll mention the things I did at the age of five or eight. How do you grow up when one of your parents is convinced that you are a little girl?

Dizzy Land

I went to Disneyland on Saturday with my friend. We've made a pact that we are going to go once a month in order to not waste our passes, and we're really keeping to it. Disneyland is a great place for people watching and eating unhealthy food without feeling guilty. It was just so dang hot...my fringe was plastered to my forehead and I now have spots like a teenager due to the heat. Two little girls on two separate rides mistook me for their mother and tried to hold my hand and snuggle up, only to look up confused because I clearly am not their mother.

I never watch the fireworks show any more, but we heard that Dumbo now flies over the castle, so we camped out and got a good seat and some ice cream and waited for the show to start. It was totally worth it.

But when do I sleep?

I was complaining to my co-worker today as we were on our way to buy coffee (from Not Starbucks) that I haven't been to the gym all week, and what if I get really, really fat this semester? Like, forklifts to take me out of my house after I expire from the weight of my own chest pushing down on me fat? The only time I could go to the gym is at 9:30 at night, or 5:30 in the morning. She gave me a really unsympathetic look and said, "Well, then that's what youv'e gotta do."

I think she was just jonesing for caffeine.

So, okay, I decided to go after class tonight, and I just checked the schedule. I don't get out tonight until 9:50, and that's just too late to go to the gym. It's too late to get home. But, at least next week I'll be prepared to go straight from class to the gym without stopping at home or collecting $200.00. Maybe I'll even go to the gym this weekend. On Saturday, I'm taking my geriatric guinea pigs to the vet for a check-up. You just haven't been glared at until you've been glared at by a guinea pig with a thermometer up its derrier.

So, how was it?

All one of you are probably riveted by what my first day of college this semester was like. Well, the good news is that I actually found my class pretty easily (it helps to remember that the numbering system is wonky and that there is no actual "front" to the building), and that I'm doing okay with math so far. I mean, it's only been one day, but yeah. I took notes and paid attention and did all that stuff that I never did in high school like taking notes and paying attention. It helps when you actually get diagnosed with ADD and get medicine for it, rather than being told that you're just a daydreamer who needs to buck up and apply herself. Thanks, California School System!

There were a couple of couples where one member of the couple had gotten into the class, and the other half was attempting to get in too. Clearly, being in the same class as your SO is the biggest requirement for college classes. At first I was snarking on them in my head, because seriously? And then one of the girls told me how cute my shoes are (and they are-purple ballet flats with little ruffles and a bow. Twee!), so I decided that she couldn't be that bad. She had a bird on her bag, too, so we might be kindred spirits.

There was some other chick standing next to me while we waited for the previous class to let out, and she was complaining to some other chick about how they see peeps from HS, but no one acknowledges them, and that just sucks. How hard is it to say hi? Naturally, Complainer didn't say hi to anyone, either, so maybe, just maybe they thought she was being unfriendly, too. But that's just a theory I have.

Today is my niece's birthday. She's five, and she's beautiful and she's smart and she keeps getting in trouble at school for talking too much. I love her to death and all I want to do is give her a big hug and kiss and a sparkley My Little Pony. Happy birthday, Baby Bear!

First Day of School, Last Day of Freedom (fair trade)

I used to dread the first day of school. This will come as a huge shock, I'm sure, but like most people on the interwebs, I was not incredibly popular. This was due in part to my own personality, I'm sure. When you're superior to the rest of the world, it really is difficult to get along, but I won't absolve my classmates, either.

Anyway, who cares about them? I'm sure they're all living happy lives now, but I'm...um...on an adventure! Yeah! Adventure. And stuff.

And let's face it; the first day of college is hella more fun than the first day of high school. For one thing, you know that 75% of the people in your class won't be there by the end of the semester, and out of that 75%, probably 85% of them are those complete hose bags that you hated in high school, so laugh at them as they ruin any chance of transferring to a reputable university. The other 15% probably had a horrible thing happen to them, like cut funding, illness, or death in the family.

The first day also gives you this mad confusion, as though you had never been on that campus, or any campus before (or maybe I'm just projecting onto you).

The first day is fun. Everyone wants to know if you're in their class. "Pre-calculus? Are you going to pre-calculus?" "What about pre-trig? Anyone?" We all want someone else to look for the classroom with. "Please tell me you're trying to find Chemistry 2!"

Misery loves company, and the maths building goes from 101-110 on one wall of classrooms, and then 135-145 on the next wall. Don't tell me the administrators dind't have fun with that design. If you're looking for 125, it's on the back wall, right after 146-150. I'll be three floors above you.

175 bucks. Dude.

I went to pick up my books tonight. I already had a rough day, I had to have a few growths removed at a dermatologist, and then one of my fillings was coming out, so I had to get it fixed, and then I picked up my books for 175 smackers. How many books do you get for 175 dollars? You get two. Two books.

Yeah, I know. It's all worth it, blah blah. Whatever. That's a lot of money. And you're only eligible for student aid if you're full-time, so it all came out of my pocket, and thank God I can afford it. Still, it hurt.

Oh well. My niece's birthday is next week. How's that for a jarring change of subject? Anyway, point being that I would drop five times that amount on her if she needed it, so I should be happy to spend it on myself.

Doubt

I had one of those moments last night, when I was discussing my classes with my mom. I saw the future ahead of me, and I wondered if I could really do it. If I could follow through and actually, you know, go to college at the age of thirty, competing against teenagers for the college that I want to go to, and then competing against younger people for the job that I want. It's scary. What if I have a degree and never do anything with it? What if it's all for nothing?

I haven't really gotten past that. I'd like to say that even if it's all for nothing, it's the fact that I'm doing it that counts. But that's not true. I have an idea of what I want my future to be. I want to make it to that!

I don't believe in time

Last year, I had two classes like I do this year. However, last year I went two mornings and one evening. I had to work extra hours to make up for the morning classes, and that was hard, but I've got to say that it was nice to have most evenings free. I had time to do homework, time to go to the gym and eat healthy, homemade dinners. I'm so worried that Christmas will find me ten pounds overweight, and so full of fat that my red blood cells will be apologizing to each other as they try to squeeze through my veins.

I honestly don't know how single parents, and parents in general manage to go to school and work with kids. There always seems to be a single mother in at least one of my classes. I really admire these people, but at the same time I'm sort of thankful that I don't have those burdens. I know that I suck for thinking that, but sheesh. Thank God I don't have kids. There's just no way I could do this. Kudos to you, single mothers.

Anyway, I'm picking up my books on Wednesday, and I'm going to check on where my classes are. I also really need a tutor for my math class. Know any single, straight, hot guys that know their way around a graphing calculator?

Yeah, I don't either. :-/

Why am I here?

Like many people, I have decided to start a blog. Just one voice, crying out amongst several million. I don't really expect to have any readers, but I'm hoping that if just one person decides to go to college after they have finished their 20's, that they'll see they're not the only one.

I'm not going "back" to college; I've never been to college in the first place. I am a humble civil servant who is fed up with their job and ready to move on to something else. That something else is a bachelor's degree in zoology. I'm currently attending a community college with hopes of transferring into a university. Now that I'm sort of too invested in my dream to give it all up, though, the economy has gone "Boom." However, I'm only taking two classes a semester, so hopefully by the time I can transfer to a university, the economy will be better. I guess it doesn't make much of a difference, but universities and colleges are the victims of massive cutbacks, and they're starting to get choosy about who they let in. I'm a straight "A" student at the moment, but what if the university of my choice doesn't want to take a chance on a 30-year-old?