I dislike being sick. I used to love being sick, in fact.
It meant I didn't have to go to school and I hated school until college.
Of course the only class I like that I'm currently in right now is my Crime Scene class. The rest of them seem completely pointless to me.
Becoming a doctor exposes me to sick people, and where there are sick people there are sicknesses... meaning that I will eventually get sick.
Hopefully not badly.
Anyways I'm sick right now.
Like the sniffly, sneezy kind of sick. The kind of sick that mucus loves.
Mucus.
My arch enemy. It and I never see eye to it.
It wants to drain out of every orifice of my body. It wants my eyes to water with pressure in my sinuses. It wants me to be miserable every time I shower by dripping all over me.
Mucus and I just aren't friends. If mucus and I met on the street our conversation would go like this:
Mucus: "Hey! What's hangin'?" Then he would laugh and chortle about his stupid, gross joke.
Me: "Go the heck away!" Then I would blow my nose and he would fly away.
That is how I feel.
Showing posts with label teachers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teachers. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Les Miserable (Lay Miz-er-ab)
When you were in college there was always that one kid in your class that you hated more than anyone else.
Be they obnoxiously self satisfied, or just plain obnoxious, they got on your nerves.
That kid is also the kid that likes to interrupt the teacher in order to make a statement that has nothing to do with what you're talking about... it's usually an anecdotal analogy that will most likely start some kind of a back and forth conversation between the professor and this "intelligent person".
You always assume that these people are attempting to boost their self esteem because they are trying to make others look stupid.
It's usually these people, however, that make themselves look stupid, because they don't seem to understand that NO ONE CARES!
No one cares that your grandmother from Russia came to America and then went back and left all of the stuff behind.
No one cares that your uncle is from England.
NO ONE CARES THAT YOU ARE UNEDUCATED!
Unless your story has some tie in to the story, or helps qualify your statement, no one cares about them.
If I say "The conditions were rough in Vietnam." And someone asked me how I knew, I could say. "My dad is a Vietnam vet."
I would not go into some long winded round-about story.
You know those stories, right?
The ones where at the end of the story you wonder what they were talking about before the story started?
Yeah, those are the stories these people come out with.
Of course as I'm saying all this I start to realize that this is exactly what I am doing.
Once you get to the end of this post you will be wondering why you wasted your life reading it...
Maybe that's what I planned... :)
Be they obnoxiously self satisfied, or just plain obnoxious, they got on your nerves.
That kid is also the kid that likes to interrupt the teacher in order to make a statement that has nothing to do with what you're talking about... it's usually an anecdotal analogy that will most likely start some kind of a back and forth conversation between the professor and this "intelligent person".
You always assume that these people are attempting to boost their self esteem because they are trying to make others look stupid.
It's usually these people, however, that make themselves look stupid, because they don't seem to understand that NO ONE CARES!
No one cares that your grandmother from Russia came to America and then went back and left all of the stuff behind.
No one cares that your uncle is from England.
NO ONE CARES THAT YOU ARE UNEDUCATED!
Unless your story has some tie in to the story, or helps qualify your statement, no one cares about them.
If I say "The conditions were rough in Vietnam." And someone asked me how I knew, I could say. "My dad is a Vietnam vet."
I would not go into some long winded round-about story.
You know those stories, right?
The ones where at the end of the story you wonder what they were talking about before the story started?
Yeah, those are the stories these people come out with.
Of course as I'm saying all this I start to realize that this is exactly what I am doing.
Once you get to the end of this post you will be wondering why you wasted your life reading it...
Maybe that's what I planned... :)
Friday, November 5, 2010
Crazy Drivers and Yelling at Grandma
I drive. A lot.
It's ridiculous how much I drive, for example: in the past week I've driven to Kansas City Friday night, back to Columbia Monday morning, back to Kansas City Monday afternoon, back to Columbia Tuesday afternoon, back to Kansas City last night and back to Columbia this morning.
So I see a lot of crazy things.
I see people driving at 40 mph on I-70 and people getting pulled over by State Troopers left and right.
I've seen two hour long traffic back-ups, usually because of someone making a stupid decision, like texting while driving. I've also clocked 1:32 to get into Kansas City, which is the approximate time it takes to get from Columbia to Kansas City, barring slow drivers and road hazards.
This morning I was driving along and suddenly someone slammed on their brakes. This meant I had to slam on my brakes, I wasn't going to rear end this stupid human being, and immediately slap the hazard lights (that's what those blinky lights are called, if you don't know).
Of course the semi-truck that had been following behind me fairly closely nearly totaled my car. I could feel the adrenaline, I was scared that I was suddenly going to be crushed. Fortunately he swerved off into the other lane before he hit me, but there for a moment it looked like I was going to die.
Wouldn't that be sad, no more entertaining posts for all of you. :)
But my point is this: WHY DO THEY GIVE THESE PEOPLE DRIVERS LICENSES!?!?
Do they pay the officer? Because I couldn't get away with anything with my lady-cop that was riding with me. (I wanted to say something else, lady cops are really mean... if you're a nice lady cop please come talk to me, I'd like to meet you.)
But because they give these people licenses I am forced to sit in my car, fuming about how stupid people are.
Honestly.
If you're going to turn RIGHT turn your RIGHT signal on.
Oh? You don't know where your signal is?
YOU SEE THAT BLACK BAR ON THE LEFT SIDE OF YOUR STEERING WHEEL? THAT ROUND THING YOU HOLD ON TO IN ORDER TO MOVE YOUR CAR?! YES! THAT! IT'S CALLED A TURN SIGNAL! IF YOU PUSH IT UP THE RIGHT LIGHT COMES ON! IF YOU PUSH IT DOWN THE LEFT ONE DOES!
USE IT!
I shouldn't have to tense up every time I see your brake lights come on. I have this intense fear the idiots around me are going to turn or stop or do something else equally stupid.
I don't mind people that speed. Really I don't, at least I know they won't stop suddenly. They're trying to get somewhere. And REALLY trying to GET somewhere!
However, there is one group of drivers I refuse to let myself become upset over.
These are seniors. There is something wrong with shouting obscenities at a senior citizen.
Teenagers? Fine. Young adults? OK. Adults? Yeah.
Seniors? I don't think I'd like someone shouting at my grandmother. Even if she did drive at 15 miles per hour in a 35. I mean honestly, you'd be mad at someone shouting at your parent... but your grandma? She's 92 with a handicapped sticker! You must want to be taken off of Santa's nice list!
I'm pretty sure shouting at old people should be outlawed.
It's ridiculous how much I drive, for example: in the past week I've driven to Kansas City Friday night, back to Columbia Monday morning, back to Kansas City Monday afternoon, back to Columbia Tuesday afternoon, back to Kansas City last night and back to Columbia this morning.
So I see a lot of crazy things.
I see people driving at 40 mph on I-70 and people getting pulled over by State Troopers left and right.
I've seen two hour long traffic back-ups, usually because of someone making a stupid decision, like texting while driving. I've also clocked 1:32 to get into Kansas City, which is the approximate time it takes to get from Columbia to Kansas City, barring slow drivers and road hazards.
This morning I was driving along and suddenly someone slammed on their brakes. This meant I had to slam on my brakes, I wasn't going to rear end this stupid human being, and immediately slap the hazard lights (that's what those blinky lights are called, if you don't know).
Of course the semi-truck that had been following behind me fairly closely nearly totaled my car. I could feel the adrenaline, I was scared that I was suddenly going to be crushed. Fortunately he swerved off into the other lane before he hit me, but there for a moment it looked like I was going to die.
Wouldn't that be sad, no more entertaining posts for all of you. :)
But my point is this: WHY DO THEY GIVE THESE PEOPLE DRIVERS LICENSES!?!?
Do they pay the officer? Because I couldn't get away with anything with my lady-cop that was riding with me. (I wanted to say something else, lady cops are really mean... if you're a nice lady cop please come talk to me, I'd like to meet you.)
But because they give these people licenses I am forced to sit in my car, fuming about how stupid people are.
Honestly.
If you're going to turn RIGHT turn your RIGHT signal on.
Oh? You don't know where your signal is?
YOU SEE THAT BLACK BAR ON THE LEFT SIDE OF YOUR STEERING WHEEL? THAT ROUND THING YOU HOLD ON TO IN ORDER TO MOVE YOUR CAR?! YES! THAT! IT'S CALLED A TURN SIGNAL! IF YOU PUSH IT UP THE RIGHT LIGHT COMES ON! IF YOU PUSH IT DOWN THE LEFT ONE DOES!
USE IT!
I shouldn't have to tense up every time I see your brake lights come on. I have this intense fear the idiots around me are going to turn or stop or do something else equally stupid.
I don't mind people that speed. Really I don't, at least I know they won't stop suddenly. They're trying to get somewhere. And REALLY trying to GET somewhere!
However, there is one group of drivers I refuse to let myself become upset over.
These are seniors. There is something wrong with shouting obscenities at a senior citizen.
Teenagers? Fine. Young adults? OK. Adults? Yeah.
Seniors? I don't think I'd like someone shouting at my grandmother. Even if she did drive at 15 miles per hour in a 35. I mean honestly, you'd be mad at someone shouting at your parent... but your grandma? She's 92 with a handicapped sticker! You must want to be taken off of Santa's nice list!
I'm pretty sure shouting at old people should be outlawed.
Monday, November 1, 2010
SQUIRRELS!
I have always wondered why they put a giant wall of windows in classrooms.
I have ADHD. Giving me an open window with trees and grass and squirrels is a terrible idea, you expect me to choose which is more interesting to look at?
You, professor, or SQUIRRELS?
I think you know who would win.
Squirrels demand more of my attention. I have to focus in order to watch them coil their tiny bodies to jump onto the tree in the foreground of my sight. I need to pay attention in order to have a staring match with it as he clings to the side of the tree, moving his jaw back and forth like a rabbit with palsy.
You, on the other hand, stand in the same place and drone about fiction.
I know all about fiction. I read it... all the time...
Of course at least I can look at squirrels and other interesting furry creatures in your class, fiction teacher.
You are far better than economics teacher that prefers to stand at the bottom of a little, dark auditorium and talk.
HE TALKS.
I know this seems normal, oh, professors talk all the time.
But when you talk for 50 minutes straight in a dark, warm room... most likely I'm going to sleep. Because those are the conditions to make me sleep.
Do you honestly think anyone pays attention in your class?
Hmm?
Oh you're asking a question? We're all shopping online for shoes or a new coat or maybe a new way to remove you from your position as economics professor.
Me?
I spend all 50 minutes either sleeping or posting on this blog. Sometimes I even catch up on the sleep that you deprive me from when I have to teach myself what you fail to.
I have ADHD. Giving me an open window with trees and grass and squirrels is a terrible idea, you expect me to choose which is more interesting to look at?
You, professor, or SQUIRRELS?
I think you know who would win.
Squirrels demand more of my attention. I have to focus in order to watch them coil their tiny bodies to jump onto the tree in the foreground of my sight. I need to pay attention in order to have a staring match with it as he clings to the side of the tree, moving his jaw back and forth like a rabbit with palsy.
You, on the other hand, stand in the same place and drone about fiction.
I know all about fiction. I read it... all the time...
Of course at least I can look at squirrels and other interesting furry creatures in your class, fiction teacher.
You are far better than economics teacher that prefers to stand at the bottom of a little, dark auditorium and talk.
HE TALKS.
I know this seems normal, oh, professors talk all the time.
But when you talk for 50 minutes straight in a dark, warm room... most likely I'm going to sleep. Because those are the conditions to make me sleep.
Do you honestly think anyone pays attention in your class?
Hmm?
Oh you're asking a question? We're all shopping online for shoes or a new coat or maybe a new way to remove you from your position as economics professor.
Me?
I spend all 50 minutes either sleeping or posting on this blog. Sometimes I even catch up on the sleep that you deprive me from when I have to teach myself what you fail to.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Considerations
When you are thinking about doing something like changing colleges it always comes down to what it is you want to do.
Me?
I want to be a doctor.
I don't know what kind of doctor yet.
But a doctor.
Why do I want to be a doctor?
Well that's an interesting one. You see... I don't have a straight answer.
Perhaps it's the think I feel most comfortable with. I'm a tender heart. Which can be bad for someone who wants to be a doctor. I like to take care of people. Taking care of people makes me feel needed and it boosts my self esteem.
And being a doctor means you have the respect of anyone who meets you. They know how hard you worked to get there. Or how hard you should have worked anyways.
I want to be a doctor because it will make the people I love the most proud.
But most of all I want to be a doctor to show everyone that I can be anything I want to be. I was always browbeaten in high school, even my History teacher told me that I wouldn't be a very good doctor.
That makes you feel good? Doesn't it?
You high school teacher telling you that you can't do something.
It's sad really. Someone that you look up to telling you that you can't do something.
Anyways I'm going to prove him wrong. And everyone else wrong that said I couldn't do something.
Of course the most important reason is this: I want to. I want to be a doctor more than anything else in the world.
Me?
I want to be a doctor.
I don't know what kind of doctor yet.
But a doctor.
Why do I want to be a doctor?
Well that's an interesting one. You see... I don't have a straight answer.
Perhaps it's the think I feel most comfortable with. I'm a tender heart. Which can be bad for someone who wants to be a doctor. I like to take care of people. Taking care of people makes me feel needed and it boosts my self esteem.
And being a doctor means you have the respect of anyone who meets you. They know how hard you worked to get there. Or how hard you should have worked anyways.
I want to be a doctor because it will make the people I love the most proud.
But most of all I want to be a doctor to show everyone that I can be anything I want to be. I was always browbeaten in high school, even my History teacher told me that I wouldn't be a very good doctor.
That makes you feel good? Doesn't it?
You high school teacher telling you that you can't do something.
It's sad really. Someone that you look up to telling you that you can't do something.
Anyways I'm going to prove him wrong. And everyone else wrong that said I couldn't do something.
Of course the most important reason is this: I want to. I want to be a doctor more than anything else in the world.
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