The One True Elder Fish

This class, guys,

This claaaaaaasssss.

It is so boring. I've been in here for thirteen weeks. Three hours a week for thirteen weeks...that's like a lot of hours. 39 hours, according to the Google search I did just now.

I mean, I've only been in class for like 30 of those hours, but still. I've been in here longer than a full day and I have yet to learn like anything. I've learned that this professor is horrible and that negative learning is a thing that is possible.

I have lost knowledge in this class. It has had a negative impact on my brain.

It's bad too because I feel like this guys is legitimately trying to do well. If he was being lazy or whatever, I would feel perfectly okay sitting in my corner and resenting him. But I've come to realize that this is him trying his best.

So now I have to sit in my corner and feel awkward.

It's not all bad. There's a certain type of solidarity that you form with a room full of other people who have to endure a terrible professor with you. Like, I don't really talk all that much to the other people in my classes, but in this class you can just catch someone's eye and they'll nod at you with a look in their eye that says, "I understand, fellow student. This guy is the worst. This class is the worst. Let us suffer in silence together like the brave soldiers we are."

One of the guys in my class is literally a former solider. So he is really good at that look.

Ugh.

I just hate being here. Sad thing is, this is far from the first class I've had like this. In my three and a half years of college, I've had like three professors I legitimately liked, a lot I was more or less ambivalent about and then like at least a third who were just staggeringly incompetent.

(I'm aware I went from numbers to guesstimation to, like, fractions. Shut up, my school sucks.)

But, yeah. Ball State. Mediocrity redefined.

I'm thinking that after I graduate I might write them an angry letter and demand my money back. College has a thirty day money back guarantee, right? Or am I getting it confused with sweaters again? Yeah, I think the money back thing is about sweaters. Never mind.

Speaking of graduation, that is a thing that is happening soon. Like, that's about six months away. Then I am supposed to join the adult world. With, like, a job and things. And hey potential employers for sociology students who I know read my blog...I am totally available.

Seriously, though. I only have this degree because I kept changing majors, but also kept taking sociology electives. I realized this summer that the only way I would be able to graduate on time would be with a sociology degree.

So, now I have this degree almost?

And I have seriously no idea what I am supposed to do with it.

It's not like there are sociology shops on every corner. I can picture myself now, begging by the highway with a sign that says "WILL EXPLAIN SOCIOLOGICAL CONCEPTS FOR FOOD."

Errrruuuuugggghhhhh.

This class is still going on. I think that we've slipped into a black hole. Time has stopped. We've reached the event horizon.

I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored.

I went fishing this weekend. I'm aware that there was no transition there, but I couldn't come up with one and I wanted to talk about fishing.

So, fishing. Yes.

My dad was with me. He makes a big deal about all of the fish that we catch. It's very nice, especially for my little brother. But he makes an even bigger deal about the fish that we don't catch.

According to my father, every fish that we don't catch is roughly the size of malnourished elephant.

Like, if  we catch a fish he'll be all like, "wow! great catch, this fish is literally the biggest fish I've ever seen, excellent work everyone, we really came together as a team."

But if a fish gets away it's like, "too bad, that was the spawn of cthulu, the one true elder fish. the fish of legend and myth. forever we shall be haunted by the fishy glory that was almost ours this day!"

Yeah, my dad is great.

But, anyway. I am not skilled at fishing. I was not aware that there was any skill involved. But based on the results that I had, there is skill involved and I do not have it.

 I also do not really enjoy fishing. I mean, I've been fishing before, but not for the past couple of months. And I completely forgot how insanely boring it was.

This happens all of the time. I do something, think it's boring, stop doing it and forget about. But then a couple of months will pass, I'll forget about it and then I'll decide that I need to try again. It's a vicious cycle.

This has happened with knitting, drawing, playing piano and waking up early enough to curl my hair. And probably a lot of other things. We've established that my memory is not the most reliable thing.

This blog is fairly short. But class is over in like five minutes and I have important things to go do. Like more classwork for this stupid school. I am going to graduate. I don't care how stupid things get. I don't care what sort of insane shenanigans I have to put up with.

I will graduate and then never, ever come back to Muncie ever again.

Day 146 of College: Escapades at the Ice capades

Today...


Welcome back, everybody. I hope you are all having a lovely 2012. I'm not, but that is beside the point. Wow, I haven't written a blog since LAST YEAR (see what I did there? Huh? Huzzah for terribly puns!) So, yeah. Classes began today and, really, that's it. 


I'm not in one news class right now. Not a single one. Is it a bad sign that I'm happy about this fact? I'm more excited for my Economics class than I am for anything related to news. Maybe I should major in economics. Math. Hmmm. Perhaps not. 


Anyway. I bought fishes. Well, new fishes since my last fish, Captain Morgan, died. I have three of them. I'm waiting a week to name them so if they die I won't be too upset. 


And by that, I mean that I'll only cry for a couple of hours instead of my usual having a fish funeral/one to two months of mourning. 


Yeah. 


I'm thinking of naming them after historical figures or superheros. Or perhaps a mix of both. Having Batman, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and Captain American all in the same tank would help me reach a new level of wackiness in my college-related-escapades. 


Most college students get drunk and then pass out on weekend. I sit in a laundry room make snarky commentary about my drunken peers. Perhaps I need to start having some more wacky escapades. 


Say "escapades." It sounds like "Ice capades," doesn't it? No? Well, I think it does. 


This is all getting rather pointless. I better go or I might start rhyming other things with escapades. Like mess-capades. Which is a work I made up. It means having escapades...that are messy. 


Oh, the awful-tastic-ness of my puns. 


Danielle OUT. 

Day Fifty-Eight of College: Much Ado About Animals

Today...


I skipped journalism class. Mostly because I just hate journalism. But also because I needed to write papers for my Music History class. And yes, you read that right. Papers. As in the plural. One paper wasn't good enough, no. I've got to write two. 


Speaking of two, that's what time I was up to in the morning last night (or is it morning? I can never be sure). Hardly an uncommon thing for a college student to be sleeping at unusual and unhealthy hour, I know. But, seriously, I'm wicked tired. And because I've got those Music History papers to finish, I assure you that I will be up at least that late tonight. 


Homework is the devil. I'm forty-three percent certain. 


Moving on to other things...my fish died today. It was depressing and awful and I cried over his lifeless little fishy corpse. And then I flushed him. It was all very sad. 


May you rest in peace Captain Morgan. 


I'm thinking that I should get a boa constrictor next. I could name him Winston and we would have the best of times together! But...boa constrictors are notoriously picky eaters. According to this website that I saw this one time, they only eat pine cones, extra virgin (like me!) olive oil, partially-frozen deer meat and small children. And while I have small children in no short supply...the rest would be difficult to obtain. 


Damn. All these plans for naught. 


Also, Pope John (who I recently found out is a girl turtle, not a boy turtle) would probably be jealous. He/She was already jealous or my fish...I suspect a poisoning plot perhaps (oh, allitteration!). But, no seriously, now that I've discovered that Pope John Paul is a Popess should I rename him/her? Should he/she now be Popess Jean Penelope?


Nah...that's idiotic. He/She should remain Pope John Paul. All the coolest girls have boy names anyway. Like...Charli (my sister) and DANielle (that's me). So...PJP he/she shall remain. 


I still feel weird about the whole thing. Seriously. It feels like my turtle got a sex-change. I failed as a mother. 


And that seems like a good place to stop. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Thirty-Five of College: Tattoos and Gibberish

Today...


The math behind these blogs is getting rather difficult. You know, I have to figure out when I wrote the last one and then figure out what day it is today and then add on days so its accurate. Oh, the things I do for all seven or so of my loyal readers. (Then again, I write these more out of self-pity than anything else.)


Moving on. So far, college has prompted me to make one life-altering decision. I'm never, ever, ever, ever getting a tattoo. Seriously. Every trampy girl here has a tattoo. A lot of the non-trampy ones do to, but...the trampy ones are winning on that front. I swear, I have never seen more chinese characters or different languages inked on people's skin. It's like a freaking mutli-culti ink-fest up in here. If you speak that language, then it's one thing. Then it's sort of okay...because at least you know what it says. But, seriously, if I was a tattoo artist, I'd just write curse words on people. Or the word "fish" over and over and over again. And then I'd laugh about it. 


How do you says "You're a total idiot" in Chinese? Cause I think the girl sitting next to me has it written on her freaking arm. Oh, and how do you say "If you can read this, punch me in the face" in Hungarian because I swear to God, there is a girl in my Journalism class who has it inked all over her neck. 


It makes you wonder...do people in other countries have random English words all over their bodies? Can't you you just imagine the chinese guy in a circle with all of his friends, proudly displaying his new tattoo? 
      "D-O-U-C-H-E-B-A-G." Then he'd nod all cool-like. "Yeah, it means 'courage' in English." 
Sure it does, foreign boy. Sure it does. 


So, seriously, before you get a tattoo, something that will be on your skin FOR ALL OF TIME, please, check on Google Translator and make sure that it says what you think it says. Or, crazy idea here, but bear with me, maybe you could get a tattoo in a language you ACTUALLY KNOW. 


Unless it's a tattoo based on the Twilight book series. Then, you get it in whatever made-up language you want. Because maybe it will keep people from finding out YOU GOT A TWILIGHT TATTOO. I've seen them...they're real, I swear. You know the girl with Hungarian on her neck? Yeah, she's got "and so the lion fell in love with the lamb" inked up on her lower back. There's also a picture of a lion. And a picture of a lamb. In case the words alone weren't enough for us. 


Good Lord, some people are dumb. Seriously, how did you get into college? Oh, wait, I forgot. 


This is Ball State. 


Right. 


Now everything makes a lot more sense. 


Danielle Out.