MY FIRST TUTORIAL! WOO!

HELLO READERS. And welcome to my tutorial on:

How to Change Your Major!

or

Changing Concentrations

or simply:

Saving Your Sanity.

If you're anything like me, you probably subconciously picked a major in a field that you thought would eventually bring you loads of money and success. AND, if you're anything like me, you spent a minimum of 2 a maximum of 3.25 Semesters in this field and ABSOLUTELY HATED IT. (cheesy smile and a thumbs up)

If this is the case, and you are indeed a cunning young student like me, HEED MY WARNING.
This is a sign of S.H.I.T or Seemingly Happy But You're Not. Now, I know what you're thinking: "That is extremely accurate, makes sense and WOW! That's the best acronym I've ever seen!" Well, friends. YOU'RE RIGHT.

What you need to do is what I like to call a self-happiness evaluation. To do so, ask yourself the following question
(Drum roll please.)

"Am I Happy . . . ?"

If your answer is "eh? I don't know. . . " continue this evaluation with a close scrutinization of your attitude in class, your work ethic, and your outlook on what your future holds as far as these elements in future classes in semesters to come.

If your answer is "HECK no. I can't stand being hogged down by work all the time, work that I feel is seemingly pointless and won't bring any value in the near future," Or A) Can't see how the major you're affiliated with now will ever pay off, and/or B) look at future semesters/classes with a sense of fear or dreadfulness, you need to contemplate pursuing a different field to major in.

If your answer is "yes, I'm relatively happy. . . " Return to step 1.

Please understand that I in no way am promoting the change of majors for the simple sake of a change. As some of you may have noted from past facebook statuses (statii. . ?) I am now a Psychology Major. I just felt that the English Major, although a B.A. in this field could be rewarding in the future, was simply not me. I found myself thinking that I liked the idea of being an English major and not the reality of being one. What I mean by this is, I always loved the thought that people thought "oohh, an English major. . . what an intellectual human being" when the mention of my major came up. Eventually, I began to realize that it's simply not who I am -- I couldn't continue to lie to myself and try to convince my subconsious that I can handle the work, let alone succeed in the field.

I came to the decision of Psychology because I have taken upper level Psych classes as electives in the past and found them extremely interesting and generally fun to take. (This is another point - don't change to a completely foreign major; always always always have some simple experience with the department you want to major in.) And WHO KNOWS, in the process of pursuing a B.A. in Psychology, I may even find out whats wrong with family members (This, of course, is a joke. I am not a Psych major for the joking matter of potentially - and falsely - diagnosing friends and family members with severe psychological disorders.

In addition to my interest in the department and the positive experiences with a few of the professors in the department, I also understand that a Psychology Degree can be used for virtually anything in terms of Grad School these days. WHICH IS ALWAYS NICE.

Well, friends hope you enjoyed my tutorial and my reflection on the use of this tutorial myself.

Peace out, my home skillets.

Wafts of Wet Dog and Bounce Dryer Sheets

For those of you who take regular Education classes at Belmont Abbey College, you may eventually encounter the Computer Lab on the first floor of Sacred Heart's main academic building.

Not only is this the creepiest hallway I've ever walked down in my life, but the people inside this dungeon of a computer room were extremely frustrated about something. . . .

and it also smells of wet dog and "Bounce" dryer sheets. . .

After I put my things down and began working on a project that was due in 15 minutes, I realized that the women in front of me (around 35 to 40 years of age) were both working in Microsoft Excel, and that the man behind me was their instructor. I was sitting in on an ADP [Adult Degree Program] computer class on how to use Excel. I was beyond terrified.

Every five minutes or so, these seemingly innocent women would let out terrifying grunts at the computer and yelling things like "MERGE!" and "DEAR-LORD-JESUS!" and every now and then the usual "WWRRAAGGGHHHHH!!!" of inevitable frustration.

I sank a little in my chair and continued my work, fearing that if the women behind me discovered that I'm computer literate or that I can type at about 90 WPM -- or if I breathed too loudly -- these women would tear me to bits.

Not too long after I slouched, I had to sneeze.

Yes. a sneeze.

Almost immediately, the three women in front of me turned around in a frenzy and yelled.

Yes, people. YELLED. "GOD BLESS YOU."

God bless.

I was graced with the presence of this today on Facebook. . .

Amidst my daily routine of Facebook Stalking, I came across an ad for a "page" on the book of face which I found rather interesting.

Racist . . . .yet interesting.

That's right, readers. APPARENTLY, those people who usually like Wendy Williams also like Tyler Perry. . . . WHO KNEW?!?!

Twilight Saga: Total Eclipse of the Fart

I hated the new twilight shit.

Crappiest 2 hour girly movie I've ever not paid for and sat through in its entirety.

You think they're going to do the grown up and they let you down with morals.

Blegh

What's worse? Is that I was lookign forward to going to the movies tonight to see the allegedly EPIC HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS TRAILER

not only did they not SHOW said trailer, but they only showed trailers for other crappy Summit Entertainment movies.

$0.00 and no Harry Potter? I don't-fucking-think-so, movie theatre.

Life is like a box of crayons. . . when you're FIVE.

You know, I've been thinking lately. (I know, always a dangerous passtime for me, esp. when I'm brewding on something) And now that I'm a junior in college, I'm starting to appreciate the smaller, mroe juvenile things in life.

And so we reach the point of my post:

Why can't life be simple, and all 'easy-bake-oven' like it was when we were in 1st grade?

Seriously, people. Why can't life and all of its answers be handed to us on a plate? I'm not asking for a gold-plated plate. . .that's too much plate. Just a simple plate, a platter if you will. I'm just not in the mood anymore to be worrying about what I want to do with my life! I just need a mentor to come along (not unlike the genie from aladdin, or the bitch in the bubble from Wizard of Oz) to just guide the way for me. . . . Or just hand me success and be done with it. Whichever's easier.

I mean, look at it this way. When you were five, you probably spent most of your days playing with crayons and play-doh. You never had anything to worry about, and if you did it was whether or not you were going to make it to the bathroom on time before you pooped yourself - and even that didn't matter because you were five!!! If you messed up on something (which would be next to impossible, just because I. . I mean we . . were so damn cute that you could essentially do nothing wrong) you were just told what was wrong with it, and you chuckled about it - most likely going back and doing it again. NOW, if you do something wrong, you're slapped in the face and handed a packing box to put your ficus and your picture of your dog in and told to move on. Really? That doesn't seem like the life of success I was promised when I was told that going to college would guarantee me omnipotent power in the business world.

I just wish I could sit in a college class with a box of crayons (taking notes of course) and bring my Lion King "Hakuna Matata" lunch box and matching thermos and just not worry about having to do something with my life. I want to eat pudding packs and Crust-less PB&J for lunch again, with a side of animal crackers - and you cna hold the grown up shenanigans. Instead of this life of simplistic paradise, I'm constantly plagued with the thought that after graduation, I'll be facing the real world, with no academic advisor to say "ehh I don't know, just take whatever you want." and no steady, low-paying job on campus. I'll be in it to win it (and not just for a minute like that awesome show on TV - sidenote: did you see the chick that stacked 5 apples?! insanity.

Anyway. . . I'll be using my time here on campus, aside from taking summer classes, to think about what I want to do with my life. . .and if I come up with any cool ideas, I'll be sure to let you know.

Plus, also - does anyone remember that awesome feeling when you cracked open a new box of crayons? HOW GRATIFYING WAS THAT?!

Question

First post in a long time. . .

A friend of mine brought this to my attention.

A student was sitting in front of us in class today, donning a Heart Disease Awareness shirt. The phrasing was interesting.

UMass Memorial Walk

A Walk for the cure

"We are beating Heart Disease"

Now, readers. My question to you is this:

Is it "We *are* beating heart disease" ? or "We are *BEATING* heart disease."

FOOD for thought. . . hope it doesn't clog your arteries. People might beat you . . .

I thought it to be quite poetic.

Several thigns in the past few days have happend that I think to be extremely poetic and melodramatic.

Instance one:

A certain dice game was played with alcohol. The di were your standard 6-sided, but had commands like "animal sound," "in20 seconds" or my personal favorite: "skanky chair dance." The other di had different drinks on it. Well, one person decided to try to appeal to the crowd that she didn't want to do a skanky chair dance while downing a beer in 10 seconds, when I found it poetically necessary to yell "Eff (sic) you! THE DICE HAVE SPOKEN!" Now, for this to have full effectiveness, a gong would be needed, but i thought it worked quite well.

Occurance 2 was this mornign when I was getting ready for class, I had Michael Buble playing on iTunes, while connected to facebook. (GREAT combination, b-t-w) Moving on, my dad decides to facebook chat me. At that very instant, HOME started playing. I thought it was wonderfully precious. I really hope he finds his shoeshine kit.

Dear Members of the Female Population,

Why must you constantly insist that leggings, in 40 degree weather, can be worn or used as a pair of pants. I just don't see how they can serve as any protection whatsoever to the cold. That being said, I don't think that leggings can serve as pants period; they don't "cover up" at all, in fact they just conform to your body, so that if there is anything you don't like about your body from your belly button down, it basically just acts as a sheer, conforming covering.

I'm speaking to you, random girls in the mall who wear leggings, a tank top, a hoodie and high heels on blustery days of 47 degrees.

I do understand that some people can wear those long dress-y type things over leggings, and that's fine.

In that case, leggings are not being used as a pant, and are then used as actual leggings. Props to you, proper dressers.

If you, readers - whoever you are - are sitting there shaking your head and pretending that your exercised and toned legs are the exception, then think again. No one likes to see the crevices of a stranger’s lady bits while walking down the street. No one likes to see the inevitable shake of an unharnessed booty (well, most don’t) while at Publix. No one likes having to awkwardly avert his or her eyes at the sight of an uncomfortable-looking camel toe on the horizon. It’s simple, people: No one likes seeing someone else’s nether regions during normal, day-to-day interactions. Also, how do you plan on bluffin' with your muffin if everyone can SEE your muffin. I mean. . . come on.

Thanks,

Management.