Confetti's More Fun Than Paper

It never fails.
The Friday I have something major due, directly followed up by something else, is always the Friday that Katey can't work.
Now, I'll forgive her cause she's nice...well, except for that one morning she scheduled off because she was going to the premiere of "New Moon".

Regardless, my day began at 5:30.
Mmm 20* darkness. How I love you.

Fridays are kind of a hectic day down at ol' Barracuda. I can never remember if "Friday On" or "Friday Off" is more busy. Whichever one today was, that's the one.

The end of this story that I'm trying to get to is that I had a paper due today. And by paper, I mean, freaking-mass-of-boring-crap-and-way-too-long-requirement-to-ever-benefit-mankind. I was less than thrilled. It doesn't help that I really don't like the prof. Usually, if I like the prof at all, or just have a general respect for them, I'll put a good amount of effort into it. This guy is kind of a jerk. He's probably one of the most brilliant people I will ever meet. No lie. But he's pretty full of himself and his scholarly ways. And he likes Russia. Really, I think that's where my fundamental fountain of dislike for him stems from.

So, I'm "a history major". I like history. People sometimes gag when I admit that. I'm used to it.
If I were to pick one place and one time of history to NOT study, it would probably be Soviet Russia. Guess what my entire semester of "Writing History 300" has been about?
Did you guess? Eastern Polynesia during the Age of Imperialism, you say? Nope. What is Stalinism and Soviet Russia, Alex?

I could go on complaining about this man and how the other class I'm taking from him (a 102) is probably 9.4x harder than any other course I've yet to take in my entire academic career, but I won't.

So this paper. It was due electronically at 5 PM. I sent it in at about 5:03.
It was crap.
I'm kind of ashamed. But what am I gonna do? I felt no interest, no tie, no inspiration to this paper. It was probably the most cut and dry assignment I've ever had to do. And oh yeah, it was supposed to be 12-15 pages.

It wouldn't surprise me if I get a 'C'.
That'd be new.

What is surprising is how done I am.
I'm so tired of school. Fifteen years is so long. Too long. The majority of my life has been spent in education.
Now, I have nothing against education. I rather enjoy learning. I just wish we didn't weigh our futures so heavily upon what we learn within the first quarter of our lives. Shouldn't all of life be a learning process? Why do we have to have it all done, in the formal sense, so early on?
The quandaries of a third-year college student.

After the paper-which-shall-not-be-named, I drove off to Ralph's for yet another APNC dinner. This time I bought the beans. My hamburger was burnt. So eventful.
Mostly, I went upstairs with the chill'uns. I actually got little Rebecca K. to smile and play with me! That right there was a feat I never expected to accomplish.

Let me just say how awesome it is being around the kids and youth at events such as these. Not APNC in particular, but any such function. Don't get me wrong, I love me a little "Adult Time", but being around kids is just so much more rewarding. As long as you're goofy and willing to be on their level (which vertically I easily am), they'll take you in. They're agendaless! They won't ask, "so what did you think of this" or "so how was your day", but not really care. There's little need for awkward, forced conversation.
Therefore, most of my post-dinner time was spent catching ribbon butterflies shooting out of an elephant's trunk and playing hot-potato with various balloons. And I enjoyed myself.

Now, what says Post-APNC-dinner-after-party in KaraLynn's mind?
I'm glad you asked.




Crashing a 14-year-old's birthday party, duh.


Don't you just love it when you think your entire evening is going to suck and it actually turns out way better than you thought possible? I know I do.

Although it was kind of ironic that at this after-party, we watched Anastasia. I did however inform the naive girls that in reality, Anastasia was brutally murdered with the rest of her family. No one escaped. Even the evil Rasputin was poisoned, drowned, shot, and thoroughly hypothermiated to the death.
Now that's enjoyable history at work.

Cheers to the immensely inaccurate animated portrayals of historical events which will forever be etched into the future generations' minds (Disney's Pocahontas, this means you!),
-KL

Wrap Me Up, Unfold Me

SCANDAL!

Today I did something very un-KaraLynn.
I didn't do something I was expected to do.
I didn't do something other people wanted me to do.
On one hand, I feel guilty.
But on the other, I feel kinda rebellious and relieved (can those two go together?).

Today was just one of those days. The kind where you just feel like crap and don't want to do anything but lie in bed and listen to sad music.
But that's not what I did.
I did everything I was supposed to do today except, I skipped the APNC BBQ.
There, I said it.

Following Youth Worship Band practice (which is another matter entirely), I drove home to pick up the baked beans I was bringing and my mom had amazingly volunteered to make for her busy daughter. Then I set off for Ralph's with every corner of my heart dreading another 2 and a half hours of my time spent under other peoples' expectations and control.
When I was about 3/4 of the way to Ralph's, I decided to re-check the schedule and make sure the dinner hadn't started at 5:30. To my further displeasure, it had started at 5. I was pissed. Just another rotten cherry on my melted ice-cream sundae (the food imagery = I was hungry, duh). So there I am, with like a gallon of baked beans, I am tired, and pissed and altogether ready to throw in the towel on all things WS.
And then, in the form of a mystical chime, I was given an out. Jake texted me, inviting me over for monopoly at 8. I quickly responded I might be able to make it, then typed out my dilemma while turning the corner to Ralph's (driving and texting, something I swore I would never do...). Jake then invited me over "whenever".
That was all I needed. There was no way I could have been pleasant at that dinner. Well, I could have, but it wouldn't've been honest.

Even though I feel guilty about more-or-less purposefully skipping the dinner, I feel even more guilty about the vast quantity of baked beans which now reside in the fridge. I suppose I'll tell madre tomorrow.
As for the rest of the committee, I'll see them in less than twelve hours. I don't know exactly what I'll tell them...

I'm just so spent.
My plate is too full. The baked beans are sloshing out.
I admit it.

Solution: TBD.

Fartin' Barton,
-KL