Let’s see…I got out of my history class early today. Came home around 3:30. Immediately checked on White Sox season opener; at the time, Sox were up 14-0. Also ate some leftover pinto I made last night.

So really, I gave myself about a half hour to wind down from the day. Meant to jump back into studying around 4:30…but for a good 2.5 hours, I either laid in bed daydreaming or avoiding my homework. I managed to start studying for my sociology exam Monday at around 7:20…and am now taking a break from it.

Rather upset with myself now. I was doing SO good this week. Not only did I manage to survive my first week of schedule hell (as previously mentioned, I am now burdened with a 19-hour courseload, work, and a new internship), I got all my homework in on time. And it was all quality work, too. Then yesterday I hit a bit of a snafu. I passed out immediately when I got home from my last class at 4, and didn’t wake up until 8:30ish. Figured I’d relax for an hour before hitting the books again.

Then, lo and behold, my friends started blowing up my phone around 10, 10:30. I ended up going out with them to a couple bars. One thing here I should mention: when I thought I wasn’t going out, I took an Advil around 10pm to relieve a headache I’d been having all day. I inconveniently forgot all about this, naturally, as an hour later I began taking shots, double fisting, and accepting free drinks from others. Needless to say, I was very very close to vomiting my brains out. My body is still reeling from the effects of last night, lol.

And now it’s almost 8pm on this Friday night. Whilst I had no plans of going out (was hoping to go to a gymnastics meet with my roommate since I can’t go tomorrow, but oh well), I am feeling rather lonely. It’s 8pm and neither of my roommates are home yet. I don’t quite like this, I don’t like feeling alone!! And what is it they can be doing without me?!

Definitely have just spent the past hour wasting time and reading miscellaneous things on the Internet: CNN, ESPN, TheYBF, blogs. And now here I am, inspired to write again in my own. Despite the fact I have mountains of work to do for the next month or so — pretty much up until the semester ends.

My life has gotten quite busy, hectic, and dramatic since our trek to Florida the first part of spring break (a tale that will have to be told another time). I have a second 8-week class that started the week before spring break; it’s a 3-credit hour course, required for my Global Studies minor (which, lo and behold, I’ll be able to complete on time for graduation this semester!), and is actually really super interesting (about world history from mid-century to present) despite the fact that I seem to already know a lot of the material and have already seen the first two movies required to watch in a previous class. Did I mention it meets for 6 hours a week? So in effect, my courseload at the moment is heartily full at 19 hours.

In addition to classes, I’m still working at my school newspaper. Three nights a week: three shifts of web posting and one of those nights also for copy editing. The pay is pretty much nonexistent, but I do love the people and the work, so I can’t bear to leave.

Aaaaaaaand, dun dun dun, this week I started my new internship with a non-profit book publisher on campus. I’ve been wanting to dip my feet into book publishing really really bad for a really really long time (ever since I first fell in love with Bridget Jones’s Diary, heh), and I was lucky enough to be picked as an intern (unpaid, oh wells) by this Press, which is somewhat on campus and affiliated with my school. At the moment it seems I’ll only be working there two mornings a week, which isn’t too bad, but still…my schedule is full.

Life is busy, I am poor, things suck at home as usual, and alas, I must return to my 7-page research paper draft that is due Thursday.

“Anak…please, don’t be tanga tanga!!” (Anak = child, tanga = dumb)

Ah, the parting words of wisdom my mother offered me tonight on Skype. I’m set to leave tomorrow afternoon with my roommates for our spring break trip. The plan is to drive to St. Louis to meet with our friend, who lives in the area and went home there earlier tonight. Then it’s off to Daytona Beach for the weekend, and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando on Monday! Then I’ll be back in Champaign Wednesday, and home in the suburbs Thursday,

Whoooooooooooo!!

The story goes like this:

My roommate and I are in line to enter the bar, our third for the night. We’re in the door and my roommate proceeds to hand the guy behind the cash register money. I watch nonchalantly as he hands her change, and then out of nowhere these two blondes cut in front of us, telling the guys working that they’d already paid cover earlier. Immediately the guys demand to see their stamps, because in order to re-enter the bar without paying cover again you had to have had your hand stamped before leaving. Meanwhile, my roommate and I are standing behind these girls, waiting for them to get through so that she can get through and I can pay my cover.

The blondes go in, and my roommate follows after them. Well lo and behold, the guy at the cash register immediately stops her and demands payment. Flabbergasted, my roommate says she literally just paid him, seconds before the girls had rudely interrupted. The guy doesn’t believe her and asks to see a stamp. Again, my roommate insists that she had literally just paid the cover and never moved an inch. This guy, whom I shall dub D.A. (for Dumb. Ass.), says she can’t go in without a stamp, and if she doesn’t have a stamp then she’s gotta pay up.

This is when I explode. I start telling the guy that we’ve been standing there the whole time and that I saw him hand her change just minutes ago. Things get a little hazy, mostly because of the adrenaline and alcohol that rushes through me at this point. I’m arguing with D.A., and he eventually stands up and starts intimidating me and gets into my face. For a moment I think about retaliating, but I restrain myself from doing something physical. The other guy working behind the door, handing out raffle tickets, sides with D.A. and even the boys behind us in line say they don’t remember her paying either. I am livid, furious, beyond pissed off at this point and try really hard not to start busting shit up around the place (I know I’m a “short little Asian girl” but don’t fucking mess with me like that). D.A. proceeds to try and kick us out, shouting, “Get these bitches out of here.”

Finally I go back outside to where the bouncers are. I go to the one who gave me my wristband and ask him, “We just got here, right? We literally just got our wristbands!” I explain, somewhat, the situation and they point me to a guy dressed in a black peacoat, who goes inside to fix the problem. He tells D.A. to let us in; D.A. eventually agrees to let my roommate in but not me. The guy in the coat basically asks me to placate D.A. and just apologize for “yelling” at him. I flat out refuse at first, then give him a halfhearted “Whatever, sorry” before shoving money in his face and storming into the bar.

I hate the male species. I hate this town. I have never been more ready to get the fuck out of college.

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to write something without spewing out a handful of whines, complaints and the like. Because I don’t want it to seem like that’s all I do. Nevertheless, if you can’t rant on your blogs then where can you rant, right?

I received the results of my take-home exam last week in my EPS class, which I’m not too happy about. Or rather, I’m not sure how to read the results, because it goes off a 15-point scale rather than the usual % grade, which I’m a much bigger fan of. I was marked down points for not elaborating enough, which in all honesty I find a tad ridiculous considering I basically repeated the information from the handout word-for-word and therefore could not have left out any important details.

Whatever.

Lately I’ve been getting angrier at this American lifestyle I’ve been socialized to live. Americans seem to thrive off stress; people always need to be on the go. You go to college and take classes and do extracurricular activities and basically are expected to not sleep at all. No time for rest. At the moment I’m not feeling it too much; rather, sometimes I feel guilty that my life isn’t fast-paced enough, and that’s the part that angers me, especially now that I have to start looking for jobs and whatnot. Why should I have to make my life stressful? I know hard work leads to success, but I miss the relaxed atmosphere in Costa Rica. Less worries, less panic over things not getting done. You do what you do and let life be. I miss being able to sleeeeeeeep.

This is not what I originally meant this post to be. See what school and this dumb life does to me? I can’t even blog properly anymore.