Day 226 of College: Thinking is the WORST

Today...


Blogger changed its format. Only very slightly. They added a spell-check button. 


I hate it. 


I'm freaking out. It's like chicken little up in here. The sky may or may not be falling. It is yet to be seen. 


And, come on Blogger..We both know that Google Chrome does my spell checking, thank you very much. 


Though, let's be honest here...Google Chrome does a really, really terrible job. 


So maybe it's best that there's now an alternative. 


Whatever. 


So...I'm being indecisive again. (It's kinda my thing. That, blogging and being really, really poor.)  I keep changing my major. Stupid college. Why can't I just major in eating, sleeping and, you know, thinking and stuff? 


Oh wait...I could...it's called philosophy! (Ba-dum, ching!) 


Ball State really does have a philosophy major. You can major in...thinking. Then again, you can also major in psychology which is like majoring in thinking about other people thinking. 


Meta. 


My unreasonable hatred toward thinking aside, I really do hate this whole "choose a major" business. Why can't they just, like, pull a China and assign us careers? I'd be more than cool with that. Unless, of course, my career was something math-related. Or spanish-related. Or thinking-related. 


Whatever. Once they build time machines, I'll transport myself back to the pre-Cold War Soviet Union and be a wheat farmer. I'd be such a cool wheat farmer. They'd call me Danielle, the slayer of all that is wheat and...


I think this is getting out of hand. 


Also, I had a fish die last week. So I'm allowed to be mostly insane and rambly. 


I'm not over his passing yet. 


I tried to use "my fish died" as an excuse to not turn in a paper. It did not work. I had to write the stupid paper. 


I tried to use "Captain America died" as an excuse not to take a test (because Captain America was my fish's name and all). It did not work. And now my history professor thinks that I'm a lunatic. 


So, now only Archduke Franz Ferdinand remains alive in the tank that was once also home to Batman and Captain America. Sigh. Why do all the fishes I love leave me? 


I should buy a shark. Sharks never die. Well, I mean, they do...but I understand they are much more hardy than, you know, goldfish and the like. 


Most things are more hardy than goldfish and the like. 


But, sharks. I would buy a shark and name him or her Fredrick Douglas. Because my whole "name-all-the-animals-after-only-dead-historical-figures" thing. And also my blatant disregard for the animal's actual gender (as can be evidenced by my naming a girl turtle Pope John Paul). 


...I miss Pope John when I'm a college. If only he was allowed here with me. Oh, all the wacky escapades that we would have together. 


Danielle OUT. 

Day 205 of College: Gossip Girl and the Flu Stole my Title

Today...


Was basically the worst. Actually, this whole week has been the worst. So...you know how I have "spring break" this week? You don't? Your life has more important things in it than my school schedule? 


Ha, right. 


But, anyhow, this week is spring break for me. And this week my entire family, literally all of them, decided that it would be ideal week to come down with a crippling case of the stomach flu. Awesome timing, family. Really, really AWESOME TIMING. 


Apparently, I am immune to this particular strain of flu. And you'd think that it would be a good thing, me not getting all pukey like rest of the Renckly clan. That is a hideously erroneous assumption, blog readers. I'd much rather be throw-up-y all week than forced to play nurse for my entire freaking family. 


My family are all stupid whiners. 


And I have exactly zero maternal or caring instincts. Those things are for wussies. 


So, in conclusion, my spring break has equaled up to a huge, festering pile of suck so far. Mostly, when not caring for the sick and whiny, I've been sitting on my couch watching the entire first through fourth seasons of Gossip Girl and eating unhealthy amounts of ice cream because it's my spring break and I deserve to have some fun, dammit. 


Don't ask me why I thought watching Gossip Girl of all things would be fun. I don't know. And it wasn't. 


It mostly made me painfully aware that I am nineteen years single and none of the characters on Gossip Girl are. Also, that I hate the rich. Stupid, selfish one percent. 


Speaking of my struggle to remain in the lower middle class, I've decided that I'm going to say screw it to getting a useful college degree and major in writing. 


Goodbye, last leg to stand on when taunting art and psychology majors! 


But, anyhow, that's happening. I'm basically an idiot! Yeah! 


But, we already knew that, didn't we blog readers? 


Yes, yes we did. 


Well, I'm off to ignore the calls of my unwell family members and watch the fifth season of Gossip Girl. 


I hate Gossip Girl. 


So, so much. 


Danielle OUT. 

Day 155 of College: Vodka Wal-Mart

Today...


I've noticed some things about college. College girls in particular. To be particularly particular, the college girls who go to Ball State. To put it plainly...


They're all terrible people and I don't like them. 


Yep. There are reasons. Some Most of the reasons are terribly petty. I am a teenaged girl after all. Pettiness is kind of a reinging theme in teenage-girl-dom. 


There are 4 kinds of girls that I've noticed during my time here. I will list them for your reading pleasure: 


1. The Fake Alcoholic


The Fake Alcoholic is one of the most annoying types of college females. She will go out  between the hours of eight and midnight and go somewhere, presumably Wal-Mart, for an hour or so. Then she will go back to her dorm, apartment or cardboard box and slur out the claim "Omigod, I am so wasted."


NO YOU'RE NOT, YOU FAKER! You can't get wasted walking around Wal-Mart. You can get sad. You can get very, very sad. BUT YOU CAN'T GET "SOOO WASTED." You don't smell like vodka...you smell like a combination of sweat, desperation and sample cheeses. WE KNOW. WE ALL KNOW. 


2. The Real Alcoholic


This one is sad. Just like Wal-Mart. She will go out, procure liquor (lick her? I barely know her!) and drink it alone in her room. She doesn't go to class. She does go to parties. She goes to A LOT of parties. More parties than me! That's just crazy-talk! (Expect it isn't. I went to one party this year and spent most of it watching the history channel. Woo.) 


The Alcoholic will usually smell suspiciously like Wal-Mart. But not normal Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart smells like sadness, sweat, desperation, sample cheeses and imagination. Because it isn't real. I wish it was. 


3. The Super Streetwalker


Her name says it all! If it stays still long enough, she will try to hit it. Not in the violence way. In the streetwalkery way. She likes parties and boys. And girls. And the occasional canary. 


Why a canary? CAUSE SHE'S A HOOKER, THAT'S WHY. 


Also, she may be a stripper. We may never know. 


4. The Psychology Major


Yes, there are some people out there who actually want to get a doctorate in psychology and pursue it as a career. These are not the people I'm talking about. That all cleared up? Yes? Good. 


Now, the psychology major is your typically dumb high school girl except now she's in college. She can't decide what to major in. "Well, psychology sounds sorta fun...and I'm super good at giving all my BFFs dating advice...I have a gift!" 


No you don't. You don't have a gift. You don't even have a fully functioning brain. And, sweetie, you shouldn't be majoring in something YOU CAN'T SPELL. 


(Little known fact...that's why telecommunications majors call it T-Comm. Multisyllabic words don't go over well with the T-Comm crowd....I hate my major.) 


So...this list started to get unwieldy. We'll finish it in the next blog, shall we? 


Don't answer. You don't get a say. Now fetch me a turkey leg and some feta cheese, will you? 


I TOLD YOU NOT TO ANSWER. To Vodka Taco Bell with you! (Vodka Taco Bell is not a happy place. It sounds like it would be...but it really isn't. Mostly it's just normal Taco Bell.)


In other news, I'm currently on the I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train once again. I hate the stupid I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train. It's unfun and stressful. My stupid family. They're all teachers. You know how people have "family professions?" Yeah, well, my family's profession is teaching. THEY ALL THINK SPENDING COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF TIME WITH CHILDREN IS A GOOD IDEA. They're crazy people. 


Woo woo


Oh, sorry. That was just the  I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train letting me know that it's getting ready to leave. I better go get on else I'll be stuck at McDonald's station. 


Or majoring in Psychology.


Hahaha. I jest. 


(Or do I?)


Danielle OUT.