Just Another Cottage in Blogville

University

A quick update before I do some late night studying. Actually, it isn't studying, it's writing - I have a creative writing course which I thought I wouldn't like, but so far, absolutely love. Of course, my peers and professor haven't critiqued anything yet in our workshop, so that is subject to change.

I've got loads of literature courses. In fact, that's ALL I've got. I do feel that I will be facing a LOT of criticism, but all in the process of learning. I am prepared - my favorite teacher, who was my mentor all four years in high school for the school paper, my Brit Lit course, and every writing contest, finished product or even scratch ideas, was blunt and critical. Sometimes beyond tact. But I appreciate it, and I am stronger for it.

Already I've pulled the college-kid-with-their-own-mind move of switching courses - I went from Spanish to French, which I've longed to do for years. My parents can't complain, because I'm the one paying for the textbooks. By turning in my Spanish books and a research book for a course I tested out of (hooray!), the French books came to $64. Not bad if you peek at textbook costs - and these are NEW bad boys. My professor is the most old-school teacher I've ever encountered; she refutes the notion that she is 'old as the pyramids,' but she is certainly a stickler. She has taught us the precise mouth, lip, throat and nasal movements for French pronunciation, which we are to practice. That was Day 2 of class.

Dad suggested I look into Farsi if I am so bent on international law, which I am considering. I know they offer it here; I met a girl who is currently in the course. Farsi is actually quite melodic, but I adore French. Honestly, on the first day of classes I rushed to my advisor's office, who told me not to hold back on changing courses if I truly preferred it, and it would facilitate my schedule anyway. 'Your parents will be thrilled,' he said in his usual tone, which comes out in a commonplace way, yet holds a great deal of sarcasm that some people may miss. I recognize it because it is precisely my sense of humor, dry, and derived from my British roots. Alas, French is my favorite subject - quite tied with creative writing. I am considering switching majors.

You'll all be so proud, I've behaved, and I am staying safe in the big city. What a big girl I am. I haven't gained any weight (yet) either; this I know because I brought my scale.

My roommate and I have gotten along swimmingly so far. Day 1 we sat down and laid out the rules - five simple ones, which we discussed in greater detail. Obviously we have to allow for flexibility - our room is tiny, so sometimes personal space is limited. But we have the same values and share an astute sense of people, which we share with each other after we meet people at outings and socials. We have supported each other - I coming to support her as much as possible for her medical tests for sports, and she staying with me on a particularly bad night. While we are thrilled to be here, and not homesick, there are moments of nostalgia, which hit at random times. For me, it isn't even nostalgia that caused my poor night - it was frustration with some of the surrounding culture. I am Sarah Palin, with small town values, placed in a world that is terribly removed from such simple, yet commonsense, sense.

The community bathrooms aren't as bad as I thought they'd be. Nor are the smallness of the dorms. Roomie and I managed to (somewhat) comfortably unbunk our beds, and have the room set up in such a way that it looks as if it is really two rooms - divided one way, we each have separate rooms; divided the other way, it looks as if we have a bedroom and then an office area. Honestly the worst bit is not being able to place something down - my backpack, for instance - and unload it without creating chaos for navigating around the room. We have a tiny fridge with a tiny freezer section, a small old-style microwave, and a television that is supposed to have two hundred-ish channels, but as we are still waiting for the Comcast guy to show up after we put our names on the list, we have but C-Span. Fabulous.

The workload would be overwhelming, but I am used to a slammed schedule, two years of AP history, and I enjoy most of my classes. All but one, really, which is thick with left-wing slant. I'm not resentful toward opposite political ideology, but I'm not fond of the 'teaspoon-of-sugar-and-medicine' mix of factual textbooks containing blatant and/or subtle yet powerful influence to feed the sugar and slip in the medicine of political doctrine. Growing up in a home in which half of my family is unbudgingly left-wing, and the other is adamantly right-wing, I have no problem with opposing views, and I am fascinated by both sides, but my goodness, could it be any more biased, even indoctrinating at times?

Alas, such is university these days. Of I go to continue reading Homer in case of a quiz next week. Ah, and let's not forget those essays, and that creative writing prompt... and more readings... and more... But I love it.

Hope all is well with you.