Every semester, I start with high hopes for my classes. I have this wonderfully optimistic view of the world where I truly believe that my classes will stimulate me, prepare me for the real world, and teach me lessons that will be useful for my career and life. As I'm nearing the end of my degrees, I feel the full impact of my disillusionment. Not only am I fairly miserable in several classes, but I have hit that stage where I'm pretty sure I don't even like what I'm studying.

            Maybe I would like it if my professors didn't make such simple subjects seem like brain surgery. For example: Managerial Accounting. I can sum up this class in two words: Basic Math. But dear god, you would think that this was calculus the way our teacher tries to teach it. This sudden realization just came when we were doing a practice problem. For the last two weeks I have paid little to no attention to this class because a) she writes illegibly on the board, b) I can't understand her half the time through her accent anyways, and c) the amount of paper she wastes printing out slides that are completely useless when we're in a budget crisis annoys me. So the last one is a little superficial, but you get the point. This was our first actual written down practice problem, and upon writing it all out, it suddenly made sense as to what the hell she's been talking about for the last 3 weeks. And all it is is very very simple addition and subtraction.
   
             This is an ADVANCED accounting class and, I kid you not, we are going over the difference between fixed variables and variable variables. If you can't figure that out based on a minimal understanding of the English language, you should be able to understand it after 3 years of business courses. Regardless, I am certain we will spend the remaining 30 minutes going over it in great detail as if there is some kind of exception to the rule that a fixed variable does not change.
 
                I am beginning to understand why people change majors 20 times. This is a serious waste of an hour and 15 minutes of my life and I demand she give that time back to me. Worst part? When a professor obviously doesn't know how to teach their own subject, chances are they won't know how to test in it either. So the chances of me getting an A or a B are 50/50. Why....why must they hire people who may be good in their field but have no concept of expressing that field to students?!

                I'll look on the bright side...when I look up from this computer screen in 5 minutes, I still won't know what the hell she's going on about, but at least I will know what she's trying to teach already.

                Every semester I make some kind of grand plan in my head where I manage to handle the shitload of projects I decide to take on in an orderly and timely fashion. This would probably be the optimum way to ensure a stress free 4 months. The first week always starts out promising, with me writing down everything I must do and when in a planner. Perhaps this is the first step in the art of procrastination. See, I have come to believe that many people write these lists. We claim that it keeps us organized and aware of some semblance of a schedule. But lets be honest. It's a way to put off actually doing anything on the list. Sure it looks great and may to some degree actually be useful, but it really is more for show than purpose.

                 By the second week if I'm still using my planner, it's probably a fluke moment where I remember my goal of being on top of things. This semester I lucked out (well I guess that's in the eye of the beholder) to have work at 7 AM before my most time consuming class. My job requires very little effort or skill out of me. In fact...that would be where I am right now. So it is the ideal place to get all of that nasty homework out of the way. At least I keep telling myself that. Again, this is a moment where there is an excellent facade of productivity going on. Instead of getting ahead on my homework, I find myself finishing the homework due in the next hour. So what do I do for the other 4 hours I'm at work since clearly I'm not getting ahead in my school work? 5 words: Myspace, Facebook, AIM, Email, Club. I would add xanga in there, but we'll see if I actually manage to keep up on this. On the upside, if I'm doing work for the Breakdance Club at my school, at least that is legitimate.

                  So I don't get my homework and studying done at work like I plan, even though I spend 17 hours a week of my life chilling here, mostly getting paid to do nothing. That leaves the rare hours that I'm at home. ha...hahaha...hahahahahahahaha. Yeah, the second I get home I turn on a computer and it's a combination of the 5 words above + youtube. And lets be honest again. If I could have sound on my computer at work, "club" would be replaced by "youtube" and all sense of productivity would cease to exist.

                    I guess this semester I should just face the facts early rather than delude myself for a good 3 weeks into thinking that I will be ahead of the game and organized. Instead, I will most likely sleep in my classes, play at work, and cram at the last minute...but I will still probably get better grades than half my peers. lol. Life works out.

          Holy crap it's been a while. Life has been relatively insane lately...but it will pass. All things pass. I found something I wrote back when I was 16 or 17. At the time I wrote it, I think I was a little mentally warped. I seriously thought I was in love, and in retrospect, I was in the only kind of love I knew. I think love changes and develops with each relationship, therefore it is entirely possible to love more than one person in your life completely and fully. However, also in retrospect, the "relationship" I was in was not only extremely unhealthy, dangerous, and void of physical contact, it was only half of what love even has the potential to be. Nevertheless, as the "relationship" was coming to a close, I wrote this, never realizing that I would come back to it again and again hoping so much to believe it's true. If I could believe this when I was 16, I can believe it now. Life will not make me cynical. So here it goes. Enjoy if you care to read:

Sometimes

Sometimes, you just have to hate love a little. Seriously, think about it. When you're falling into it, you have no idea where you're going, and you're just praying someone is going to be there to catch you. But logically, they're probably praying you'll catch them too. So you're both falling slightly faster than the speed of thought (for the slow ones out there, maybe you stand a bit more of a chance, or maybe you're just as doomed as the rest of us.) and both hoping to be caught, so...who's supposed to catch you?

         One of you gets to take the fall first and the other lands painfully on top of them. Great start if you ask me. Now, if you make it past that, the rest of the falling in love stage is pretty damn awesome. Your head is so high in the clouds that if you're driving, you could hit a pedestrian and not really notice or care. Your smile is so bright that you're causing further eye problems to the already blind. You talk so incesently about the one who's always on your mind that your friends have managed to start inserting ear plugs into their ears without you noticing, and what do you care? The world is a wonderful place.

           Then you finish that temporary stage of excessive bliss. Yes, that whole little matter of staying in love. You both start wanting more. More of what? I guess it is different for every couple, but it still happens to some degree. Now the good, promising couples manage to compromise between letting each other have everything or nothing, but the ones that are rather doomed from the start fight each other all the way.

            For example, I was walking through a supermarket and I hear this couple in the other aisle. It started out with the girl saying, "Hunny, can't you get it for me just this once?" and in a matter of minutes it became an all out war. People were running for shelter, children were left standing around crying by their cowardly parents, toothpaste was flying while shaving cream was being sprayed! Okay, not quite. But they were yelling and cussing quite loudly. Finally the woman screams, "Fine! If you're going to be such a fucking asshole about it all, then I'll just buy my own God Damn EPT test!" I sincerely hope that woman isn't pregnant, not just because if the father is too stingy to buy an EPT test then I can't imagine he'd make the best parent, but because the woman felt the need to create a complete scene over something as small as that. If couples these days can't even talk out a simple situation like that, then how do they really expect to make it? We'll ignore the fact that he may have thought she was cheating on him, or she asked for one every week for the sake of this little splurg.

             I think a lack of communication is the number one thing to really fuck up a relationship. I know it's a novel idea, but if couples actually attempted to talk out their problems rather than ignore them, they might last slightly longer than 3 months. I'm not saying they have to have these "lets spill our guts to each other nightly" conversations. Girls, you have your girl friends for that. And last I checked, most guys avoid that at all costs. Just, when the situation arises, dealing with it is always a good start.

             Then, if you can't learn to get along, you go through what I refer to as the pre-break-up blues. Things are great for a couple days, then they're hell for two days. You'll be driving around, narrowly missing little old men in walkers, for weeks just debating, "Do I stay or leave?" "Are things going to be better for good this time?" "Am I starting to like someone else or is it just because I'm not getting what I need out of this relationship?" "How do Oompa Loompas procreate when they were all male in the first movie?" This lasts until one of you finally has enough and decides it's over. That experience in itself is rarely pleasant. But what's even worse is moving on...learning to be alone again...evaluating your self worth day after day...if you still care about them in some way, how they are doing...if you don't care about them at all, how they are doing...how to get by without anyone realizing that your whole world has just disappeared, and your heart is screaming, "You stupid moron. You broke me again."  And life goes on around you. And sometimes, you seem to forget that you're not the only one to suffer a broken heart. You're not the only one to feel that horrible pain that can't be described unless it's experienced. You have friends, and you don't always have to be strong. Even to the guys out there, crying isn't such a bad thing. It often makes the world hurt just a little less. But if you start crying at sunsets, then there might be a problem. So sometimes, you really do have to hate love.

            After all that, it must seem like love should be avoided at all costs. It must seem like those fairytale stories are really just that, stories meant to taunt you and to make you search for something that can't be found. But that's hardly the truth at all. I truly believe that being in love is one of the best feelings and experiences anyone can ever have. The words, "It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all" are so true. It's practically impossible to see when you're in the middle of  having your heart being ripped out and violently stomped into the ground, but I hope everyone sees it at least once. If you can remember those moments when the world seemed perfect, when they held you close and told you that you meant everything to them, that you were amazing in everyway, that you were their angel, if you can remember that, then isn't love worth it? Isn't a little heart break worth that feeling of being complete just for a little while? And maybe when you've grown enough to see, that a break up isn't the end of the world, rather, a chance to start your world over again with a smarter and more understanding heart, then maybe things can be repaired between yourself and your lost love. But sometimes, things just aren't meant to be. And if you reach that point, you'll understand that as well. I think my point is to say, the world is an amazing place, with amazing people. Perhaps if we didn't always rush to find our soul mates, we'd accidently bump into them just a little faster. People can surprise you every day if given a chance. So, if you're feeling broken hearted, and alone, remember, you really aren't alone at all. There's someone else who knows that pain. But it won't last forever.