So, I'm having some scheduling issues for next year, and these issues are being made more urgent by the fact that next year is The End. This is It. I'll be a senior. And assuming things go well and I'm not put on surprise!probation by the MLK Program, I should be on track to complete my final year at Ithaca College and graduate in roughly a year from now (what!).

Which brings me to the Problem.

I do not, under any circumstances, want to take 18 credit hours (the maximum) again. Ever. I can do it, and I have been doing it and pushing myself to the absolute limits of sanity since sophomore year. Spring of freshman year was the last time I took 15 credits; which I vowed never to do again because I found it extremely boring. I was taking mainly intro courses. Taking 18 credits above the 200 level? Different story. Spiritual death. I'm sick of giving myself too much and hysterically crying because I don't manage my time well enough and create disaster scenarios for myself. This has been the consistent pattern since sophomore year. But I keep doing it.

Why?

Partly because I'm a perfectionist/I have gotten by thus far doing it/I have gotten this crazy idea in my head that I need to be "practical" and have been balancing courses I want to take with courses I think I need to take to increase my profitability as a potential member of the workforce. This is why I have subjected myself to such curricular fare as "Writing for the Workplace," "Proposal and Grant Writing" or "Feature Writing." This is not to say I haven't learned valuable skills from these classes - I have. But I can't help but wonder if I would have been happier if I'd taken classes dictated by my interests, rather than dictated by what the capitalist marketplace presumes are the best courses?

I say this because next fall, I'm cramming in courses I need to graduate from the Writing Program (a creative senior seminar), which I'm complementing with Writing the Short Novel. There is another course being offered I am really interested in on an experimental basis, Food Writing. I'm signed up to take this course. I'm also signed up to take Magazine Writing and two politics electives why didn't I do that politics minor.

However, this puts me up at 18 credits, which I swore never to do again.

Magazine Writing is not being offered again, as far as I understand, in the Spring semester. This is the last opportunity I may have to take this course.

But in light of a discouraging internship search, the largest question on my mind right now is: Why bother?

The whole reason why I'm taking these writing courses is because they're "resume boosters." Supposedly, they'll increase my chances of getting a job. But, judging from my abysmal internship search, these classes can't even get me an internship. So now they're supposed to help me get a job? Somehow, I don't think so. And I'm seriously doubting Magazine Writing's going to be a huge game-changer.

The politics course I want to take, Unthinking Eurocentricism, is exactly the kind of intellectual work I've been yearning to do for about a year now. That aching has been getting stronger in recent months. I won't have a chance to do this again -- especially since it's a special topics course (and I'm a senior). And after college, when will I get to do this intellectual work and think about what's important to me? Probably never...

Right now, I'm signed up for all six courses. Eighteen credits.

Part of me wants to take the hedonistic route and drop Magazine Writing well, actually, all of me wants to drop Magazine Writing. I'm really not sure how it's going to benefit me. I already go to a liberal arts college in Central New York in an unprofitable major...I'd say all chances of post-collegiate employment are already shot. Maybe I should just do what makes me happy for a change.

I saw this "Writers' Block" and I just had to do it. You know, instead of starting my research paper that's due tomorrow. Clearly, nostalgia is the most logical course of action.

Anyway.

I think my twelve year old self would be pretty disappointed with me right now. Disappointed because I don't blog regularly (back in my day, we had invite codes, even for UJournal, and it was a privilege to even get on a site running the LiveJournal engine, she'd growl and grump, arms crossed). She'd see it as a betrayal of my introspective person. She'd be disappointed because I don't write unless it's for a class - I'm writing fewer things on my own (but maybe she'd have mixed feelings because I'm actually studying Writing? But I don't think she'd compromise).

But most of all, she'd be disappointed because I sold out. I joined up into the ranks of the idiots seeking happiness. She'd feel betrayed. Wasn't being alone enough for you? she'd ask indignantly. You were supposed to be the only person you needed; why'd you give that up? Don't you remember the log cabin you'd build yourself? What happened to that? Did you forget about that? She'd be seething. She'd be heartbroken.

She'd be upset that I wasn't keeping in touch with my online friends - the people who made my teenage years bearable at a time where I felt ostracized, both at school for not being a skinny white girl, and at home for not being a skinny, "normal" black girl who doesn't realize how lucky she has it in America. She'd be upset that I was wasting my time on Facebook feeling jealous of people I just barely know when I could be wasting my time learning Photoshop and making icons and banners or writing more stories.

She'd be pissed the magazines were wrong about all-girls schools.

She'd be confused about my political consciousness. I can easily see her being disgusted. Really? You became one of those adults? she'd ask. She always thought those people were idiots. Why be passionate about anything? Everything's fucked anyway, right? She'd be amazed I even had language to describe the subtle racism and pressures to assimilate she experienced and silenced back then. Maybe she'd even be surprised I was still alive. Suicide was looking pretty hunky dory back then.

She'd wonder why I curse so much. So this is where your high stances about "degrading the English language" have gone, right?

She'd be upset I wasn't a ~hxc anime otaku~ that gave myself honorifics and back-translated both my name and my friends' names into Japanese anymore.

She'd be surprised that I'm going to college on, more or less, an affirmative action scholarship. That'd boggle her mind a lot. What'd boggle her mind even more is that someone ended up actually liking her for being her, something she deemed impossible, a cold, hard, uncontested, scientific fact; easy as gravity.

I think/hope she'd be glad I'm finally thinking for myself.

So, you know how only 2% of the population has a flat stomach? Well, apparently, they all go to Ithaca College, because I'm the only person with a convex belly.

I hate it. I wish I liked my belly/thought it was normal but it's hard to feel that way when there are so many skinny girls wearing two-piece bikinis or running in sports bras, unashamed of their flat stomachs that oh-so-conveniently conform to the flat-stomach norm. I could never do that! I'd be laughed at for the rest of my natural life at IC (which, fortunately, is only a little over a year, but that's besides the point).

I'm participating in an experiment for a friend's Creativity and Madness class - she created a separate LJ for me to update in and I update every day for the rest of this week. I'm quickly learning...I'm fairly depressed. Or, at least I'd be perceived that way. It's a combination of being a rough week and a week where I'm being particularly hard on myself. I basically fucked up any chance I may or may not have had to be an editorial intern at Bitch Magazine. I'm keeping up a conversation with the current intern, and a little part of me is hoping, maybe, just maybe, but considering I applied for a feminist organization and most feminists present themselves better verbally than I do, getting it now is kind of like winning the lottery: it's never going to happen.

Also, updating on Safari and don't have any ad-blocking, but this shit where I have to be subjected to a 30-second spot before viewing someone's userinfo? Oh, hell no. Shit like this reminds me why I don't update here anymore.

Picking up my prospie in a couple of hours...and all I got done in this (failed) all-nighter was a really shitty Buzzsaw draft that Jacquie will laugh at/be disgusted by (along the vein of, "...And how is this girl a Writing major again?") and sent out a few e-mails. Fail.

And I haven't showered in two days. It's amazing how personal hygiene becomes less of a priority as you advance further in my undergraduate career.

Today (Friday) was a nice day even though I underdressed (Ithaca's still cold). I had one of those conversations with my Watching Race professor that I'm always so intensely jealous of - you know, the ones where you engage with the material after class and you sound ~oh so intelligent~ (even if it was mostly her speaking).

I feel really strange updating here because I have absolutely no context to draw on...a semester of my life is essentially "missing" from this space. Just for the record, I failed at every goal I set for myself in the fall except the first and the last one. Surprise surprise.

Life Updates:

- Naomi Klein (my hero) will be coming to Ithaca College, omgicandiehappynao
- I found somewhere to live next year
- J. Swafford is still love
- April = Hell Month (everything is due and my brain implodes)

Because they think it's a swell idea to hand out free copies of Maxim. To women!

However, to its credit, Maxim is a great magazine to dissect, to see how they portray/construct hegemonic masculinity. After perusing the magazine, I propose they change their name from Maxim to Erect Penis because every punchline and end result seems to hint as that being of prime importance. Ultimately, Maxim does the same thing to men that magazines targeted at women do: attempt to convince them if they don't have a repository of naked women, have sex 24/7 (unless you've cut out five to ten minutes from that to read Maxim, of course), own trendy clothing, smell a certain way, or use the right deodorant (because god forbid you have deodorant residue) they're useless as human beings. It's not exactly a shocking revelation by any means, but the mainstream mentality simply reminds me precisely why magazines are essentially dead to me.

I don't remember how I stumbled upon it on Wikipedia, but, now, for the first time in years, I want to subscribe to a magazine. The magazine in question? Bitch (www.bitchmagazine.org). I want to learn more about feminism, and after browsing a few articles on this site, Bitch has successfully earned a spot on my list of awesome. And, they make me wish I came of age in the early-90s so I could've snagged a subscription to Sassy instead of Teen and YM like I ended up doing. Man, was I sold to advertisers (side note: I'm kind of writing an essay about the topic).

My interest in feminism stems from my Men's Lives class, of course; but more immediately, it's taken root from Emily S. (not using full names on this blog anymore because people Google themselves), a girl that lived in my residence hall last year. We're friends on Facebook, and she identifies as a feminist. Anyway, she's doing an internship with Ms. Magazine and has been posting all these wonderful links this summer that I've been clicking on, learning more. Feminism used to be something I avoided (along with any discussions about race) because I thought it was a touchy subject, because of the negative stigma attached to these words, these topics. But now, I feel like I have to learn as much as I can, just because there's so much I don't know, so much I wish I knew when I was younger. I wish I had known earlier. I earnestly believe I would have been a better person for it. I really want to intern for Bitch next summer.

Is it just me, or was LJ down for the past two days? I kept trying to visit, but my browser/Internet connection was not having it.

Oh, did I mention: Now, thanks to MLK-threatening letter sent earlier this month, I actually volunteer somewhere. Who woulda thunk it? I work at a food pantry in Bed-Stuy as an intake worker, meaning, I put people's names and info in the database so they can get food and give them job referrals if they want/ask for it. I really like it; both because it requires me to use WINDOWS LOL (which is pretty easy to troubleshoot if anything goes wrong), and I interact with people that I normally wouldn't interact with. Of course, no healthy food in the area, so I bring in a lunch box, lol (mostly because I haven't used a lunch box since eighth grade). I've been off refined sugars/enriched food for so long that my body can't process junk. Even if I had the desire to eat it (which I don't, thanks), I just end up feeling like shit for days.

Life's been going well. I'm ready to go back to school and give it my all (even though that sounds totally tacky), but I don't feel a particular aversion to Long Island. To be honest, I don't hate being here. There are aspects of the suburban lifestyle I don't like, such as being completely dependent on gas-guzzling cars to get pretty much anywhere, and, yes, I would rather live in NYC, but LI's close enough to NYC that it's not a disaster and a half to live here. Once I let go of my pretensions, it's not so bad here. And there are high-speed Internets

I don't know what my "best" or "all" will entail, but I will make a list about it:

My Goals for the Fall 2009 Semester

• Find a volunteer opportunity I have Habitat as a backup, of course, but I want to find something I love, something I'm passionate about. It'll matter more to me, I'll be more passionate and engaged. I'd love to do something with food policy; but the Cornell Co-op Extension is the only thing I can think of at the moment and I get the sense that they only do seasonal things. Maybe I can volunteer at Planned Parenthood?
  
  
• Don't make everything about grades Yes, I have a scholarship that is requiring me to maintain a 3.3 GPA. But I'm obviously doing well for myself outside of that requirement. I don't want to fret so much about grades and worry more about craft (which I guess I have to, since four out of the five main classes I'm taking this semester are writing courses). If I worry about things in terms of grades only, that becomes reductive, an encumbrance to learning something like how to write a feature, for instance. Yes, there are classes I'm taking as prerequisites for other classes or because it's required for my major, but they're still opportunities to learn new things. That should be my final objective. Plus, I am taking the least amount of credits since...Spring 2008 (15 credits), so that should be something, at the very least. My classes are in a horrifying cram sandwich that starts at 9:25 AM and doesn't let up until 5:15 PM, so I am a bit scared.
  
  
• Live I don't do a very good job at this, I let myself get absorbed in my work and don't do much else outside that. I'm scared because many of the people I talk to regularly are moving off campus and I'm scared I'll either limit or completely cut off interaction with them AND THE HUMAN RACE minus my professors because of it. So I think I'll go out to at least one event a week and work out hanging out with people for lunch/dinner, especially on my free days.
  
  
• Spend less money I spend money so frivolously, it's ridiculous. I think logging my expenses as they happen will hopefully put my ridiculousness into harrowing perspective.
  
  
• Stop being so passive Being passive gets me in a lot of unnecessary situations. I really need to become an advocate for myself, for my own good above anything else.

I think bed is going to happen. I'm feeling the telltale marks of sleepiness.

I moved my wisdom surgery up to this Friday.

That's two days from now.

I'm scared.

Twenty-two years and a B.A. degree in Political Science later, my mother has finally decided that it's okay for my sister to sleep over at someone else's house. It might just be too little, too late for that, mom.

I really don't enjoy it when my mom tries to talk to me because it too often devolves into lecturing me over what I should and shouldn't do. During these exchanges, I can't help but think snarky thoughts, like, "As if I needed your help," but I just feel all too aware of how much of an entitled asshole I'm being. And when I think of how little maintenance of the relationship with my parents actually requires, I wonder if I'm just getting out of line. I feel like the spoiled kid, blinded by her own privilege. At any rate, this is the last summer I ever stay at home, doing nothing. Long Island just invites too many opportunities to be frustrated, caged in.

Yesterday was just one of those quintessential nights that I would have updated LiveJournal about the second I got home if I was sixteen years old and not disillusioned. It was the first time I felt comfortable conversing in a large group. It was just an undeniable combination of good people and good food on a good night.

I've become quite the health nut recently; surprising even myself. I've become just the kind of person I'd have been uneasy about a few years prior. I feel like I'm alienating my family with my views because no one really wants to engage with them; and the "way things are" is the way out. It's frustrating.

I would really like to travel this summer; but with tickets getting as expensive as they are, I'm not sure how realistic that goal is. I'm scared my life is going to stagnate, that I'll just be contented with the "Long Island mentality."

I've got so much crap in my room I really just need to part with. Old notebooks from high school? Don't think I'm going to ever use those. But I've been avoiding cleaning for a number of weeks, because I don't want to confront the reality of throwing those away; the fear I'm making a big mistake.

WHY WAS JOHN CLEESE AT CORNELL AND I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT IT

My favorite pair of comfortable jeans are deteriorating at a steady rate. There was a little tiny hole when I first intercepted them from my mom, that is now gaping.

This would be totally great, and I wouldn't mind if the hole wasn't adjacent to my crotch and I wasn't going to college somewhere where the average high is six degrees.

Damn it.