First year of college comes to a close

With the end of my first year at school quickly coming to a close, I’m finding myself getting frantic once more.

The end of classes mean finals. The end of the school year means what the heck is The Daily Beacon and Tennessee Journalist going to write about? The end of the school year also means much shorter deadlines, and, if you don’t write the articles and get them in before April 24, they won’t be published. And that means less exposure to potential employers…. not exactly what I want.

The end of the school year also also means moving out of the dorms and into another apartment, which means paying rent, which means finding a job that pays more than just minimum wage with more hours, all the while keeping up grades in math classes over the summer. Bah.

Sound fun? You’re smoking crack if you think it does. Perhaps I need a hit of it, just to get me through it all.

Or not.

Let’s not throw in trying to coax professors to let you into their superior classes, either. Especially when you’re not majoring in that department, or have at least 3 years ahead of you to get them later. They don’t care. Dang big university.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth all the trouble, then I think that I could easily be working in Wartburg at Partner’s living off tips of one dollar a table instead of challenging myself to reach the goals I’ve set so high.

I’m supposed to get an internship at Teen Vogue, Elle, Vanity Fair or Marie Claire, dadgumit. And I’m going to get there, and no one… NO ONE will stop me.

Except the editors of those prestigious magazines… maybe them. But mark my words, I’ll be living in NYC even if I’m just an artistic hobo living on the streets. At least I’m there. Maybe I’ll be discovered while starving to death and become a model, earning millions just by walking down a catwalk in $1,000+ clothing. Effortless.

How awesome would that be? Oh yeah, you’re jealous now. I can tell.

Whatever it be that I choose to do, to become, to write, I’m sure it’s going to serve a purpose in God’s divine plan for my life. The trick is, I just got to figure out what it is…

Could someone give me his number? E-mail? I’d appreciate it. Thanks.

Have a great day, guys. And for those of you choosing to read my blogs, thanks. It makes my day when I see that people really do read this thing, kind of like someone is listening.

I appreciate it. 🙂 It’s for, and because of, people like you that I keep writing.

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True colors shine through

Fitting into a place sucks. Let’s just be honest. No matter where you end up in life, you’re bound to be different and absolutely HAVE to find a way to fit in somehow, someway, without changing who you are.

Lately I’ve been reading Prep, a New York Times Bestseller that Lance had to read last year for English. When he passed it on to me, I wanted to read it, but naturally would rather be on the Internet.

Anyways, about a year later I’ve opened the cover to discover (like the rhyme?) that it’s hard to put down…
…and stop thinking about how I feel just like the main character. Or at least I can relate.

We’ve all been in that position…

…new town, new school, new people

It’s intimidating, especially if you’re from a small mid-western town moving to the East Coast to attend a boarding school the last four years before college. To make matters worse, let’s throw in the money aspect, you know, the hierarchy where whoever is the prettiest with the most money gets it all.

That’s how I felt when I came to college, minus the high school part (I’ve already been through heck and back in high school, and I’d like to not go through it again). Small-town girl goes to a big university, middle-class and trying to keep up with everybody while maintaining a 4.0 that waved goodbye with my first astronomy exam. Sound familiar? Join the club. I can be president.

It’s hard trying to fit in these days. Like I said before, you have to have money, smarts and looks. Not all of us have that, but I know most of us have a great personality that shines through the dirt and grime…
…while others’ dirt and grime covers the glossiness of their hierarchal status. You know?

Bah, anyways kids, the moral of the story is to be true to yourself. Only God’s judgment counts, not everyone else’s. And if you’re cool with God, then everything else falls into place.

Like perhaps choosing the right major for you. Bah. Let’s not go there…

My how time flies. 1 a.m. and I have a 9:40 class….

Writing is addictive in the same way alcohol is. Tastes bad at first, but it’s an acquired taste.
Hmm… maybe that’s not the best analogy in the world… but it’ll do.

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