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. 

16 Days Until College: Land Sharks

Today...


is day 2 of SHARK WEEK!!! I love shark week. I love shark week to an unhealthy degree. I have watched at the very least five hours of shark-related programing today. Psh...of course I have friends...psh. Whatever. You don't know my life. Anyway...my extreme love of all things shark week was born from my INTENSE FEAR of sharks. Seriously. I got, like, twenty-two minutes into Jaws before I flipped out. 
     I'm aware that most people who are deathly afraid of sharks do not spend the entirety of Shark Week on a couch watching Shark Week. But, unlike many people who have shark-related phobias, I live in a land-locked state. And have always lived in a land-locked state. So HA sharks. Try and bite me now. That is basically my mentality behind watching Shark Week. Mostly, it consists of me laughing because sharks cannot come get me on my couch. 
      When I was a child, however, my dad convinced me and my brother that there was an exotic breed of shark called  Land Sharks. He said that Land Sharks come and knock on your door and ask for orange soda and oreo cookies. If you didn't comply with a Land Shark's request for orange soda and oreo cookies, he'd eat you. I was understandably upset at the notion that a shark might come to my door and steal my cookies and soda. 
     I'm pretty sure i believed in Land Sharks until at least second grade. No wonder I'm still terrified of sharks. It took a ridiculous amount of courage for me to poke a shark at the zoo. No...i didn't have oreos and orange soda in my purse in case the shark-poking went bad. Ha...that'd be stupid....
     Anyway. 
    I'm unsure why Shark Week is so fun for me. Maybe cause they've never done a special on Land Sharks. I swear, if I ever turn on the TV to see "Land Sharks: Innocent Orange Soda Lovers or Ruthless Killers?" then I'm finding some way to move to Mars. 
    Land Sharks don't have thumbs...so I doubt they could fly a space shuttle to Mars. 
    Or at least that's what I tell myself. 


Danielle OUT.