Work! Work! Work Sonora!

I have become a palindrome: poop...ed.

I guess that doesn't count, but I was trying to think of a clever way to use pooped. And it didn't happen.

Even if all I was doing was attending elementary school, which some class days it feels like I am, I am still walking around a very BIG, crowded elementary school on alternate days from *working* at a very...smart elementary school where there is no recess and there is no story or nap time and I'm starting to wonder if there is a God.

Just kidding. I know there is a God. I was playing hockey with Jesus, just recently.

I think my elementary school metaphor has met its end.

Mercifully.

See? There is a God.

I have a couple of good posts coming your way soon. Seriously.

I'm Starting to Wonder

...how many of my 17 visitors per week are me looking to see if any of my presumed 16 other visitors have left me a comment on my really old entries.

That's a sad story.

The Cure for the Common Undergraduate

I mentioned in my most recent posts, and I use recent loosely (but I'm here now, deal) that I was returning to school. Though I am no stranger to the ways of formal education, I was indeed a stranger in a strangeland when I started at UH, but two weeks ago. Often I was given directions to buildings on-campus in relation to other buildings on campus. Though UH has thoughtfully posted bright red signs identifiying each building at every possible entrance to that building, a far cry from the barely legibly chiseled cornerstones of Rice whose names often bear little resemblance to the student nomenclature of them, I still wore my Neophyte Cougar status as a scarlet letter. In fact, on my cougar1 card, I have a bit of a startled look, as if someone said as they took my picture: quick! the bookstore people are actually being helpful! Or so I thought.

On my first day, I was herded along with the 29,999 other students (No kidding. E. found that UH stat in a book yesterday. And books, like this blog, never lie. Besides, if I wanted to exaggerate, I would have said a MILLION.) from building to building, and amazingly, I did not even look remotely lost compared to some people. Actually, several people who owned up to being UH seniors appeared more nonplussed and bamboozled by the whole school experience than I have ever appeared in my life.

But there was a constant theme to the day that seemed at the root of the confusion and exhaustion: the crowds. There were so many people every single place I turned, in line for any of a hundred different campus "services," that I waited and waited and waited for books, for fee bills, for information, for email service, for admission to school (seriously), for academic advising/branding. And suddenly, it was all clear.

The way to beat the crowds and the riotous masses, the throngs of teenagers sporting fresh boob jobs and painful fashion trends was so obvious.

Get up early.

Any good vampire stays away from garlic and crucifixes. Any authentic undergraduate does NOT select an 8 am class, nor are they desirous of being on-campus at such a God-forsaken hour, when recent real world attendees like me thrive and cackle bemusedly pondering: who are all these vagrants in baggy clothes? Don't they have jobs?!

And so my friends, I am on-campus every Tuesday and Thursday by 8:15am. I don't really need to be anymore (my first class is at 10). But I get great parking and some quiet time away from the ubiquitous jingle of cell phones which will no doubt permeate the rest of my day. I take in the sights. I do a little reading. I talk to other people who have chanced to be awake at such an hour*. Basically, I do it because I can.

"I am not a homogenized 18-22 year old undergraduate. I am a post-bacc and I will not be marginalized!" How's that for the vocal grad student**?

*And my, are they interesting.
** Unlike other "vocal grad students," I do not feed on sci-fi. Sorry.

The End of TPS Reports

So I mentioned earlier that I quit my job. Well, they asked me to stay, so I am. BUT, I have a spine! I am only working part-time while I attend classes at UH to get up to speed with where I need to be to begin my master's in social work. This part time thing is probably good because I will see what it's like to work my ass off, at least part of the time doing something I like a lot, and make about half as much money as everyone else.

Ah, public servants. I (heart) them. I really do.

P.S. To all of my friends who read my page as a means of keeping up with my life, I do apologize for the lack of updates. It's sad that I have major phone phobia and find myself almost incapable of filling you in on the minutiae you are chomping at the bit to discover. I am about to write more on new year's resolutions, but know that I do resolve to be a better correspondent this year, especially via the phone which literally scares me sometimes. Sad story.

For Whom the Death Tolls

I just noticed on My Yahoo! the headline "Death toll rises to 6 in California Mudslides." I tell you what: Yahoo has been completely obsessed with death tolls since the tsunami on December 26th. The funny thing is that they're trying to use sensationalism to sell this mudslide story when 6 deaths is nowhere NEAR as sensational as the 150,000 bodies that are quite literally littering the land in Southeast Asia.

I mean, can you imagine your parents being like "Here is a check for $150,000," one year on your birthday. And the next year they were like "Here is a check for $6--aren't you impressed?" You'd be like, "Couldn't you at least have gotten me some gel pens?"

My parents got me some gel pens for my 23rd birthday. Golden indeed.

P.S. I see that the readership of French Roast has sunk to even lower lows--if that's possible. But there's good news for people who love bad news! I have quit my job and will hopefully have more free time to distract you from doing all the things that you should be doing instead of reading my stupid ass web site. Further, my sister (i.e. Noonan) is re-designing French-Roast, in order that I might deliver my hot cup of smug to you in an extremely fresh way. Phresh, even.