somewhere only we know

I haven’t written for months.  I haven’t had the time.  My spring semester was filled with more of my gen-ed classes, so they weren’t classes I particularly enjoyed.  I did well in all of them, even math, but I just did not enjoy my schedule.  Even my history class-Historical Methods and Interpretations 270, wasn’t much fun.  I didn’t actually learn any history-just how to write it.  Which is good, I guess, but boring as hell most days.

I’ve been home for fifteen days now.  Jesus.  Fifteen days.  Feels like an eternity.  Two weeks at school would fly by-but two weeks at home have dragged.  According to the countdown I have set up, there are ninety days left until the glorious date of August 21st, which is the first day of band camp.  I find it sad how badly I want summer to be over.  Summer is supposed to be a fun time of relaxation and vacation.  I shouldn’t want to pack my car up right now and drive back to school.  But I do.

Things have picked up a little bit since I started working.  I went around the first Monday I was home to find a job.  I got really damn lucky, when the second place I walked into said that they were looking to hire.  I’m getting at least thirty hours a week there, which is awesome seeing as I have to come up with $1500 dollars for the Germany trip next May.  Work is good.  I keep busy so it goes pretty quickly and my bosses are really nice.  I like working with cute dogs all day long.  I’m already scheduled to work over breaks which is a relief to know that they want to keep me on through the school year.  It keeps me out of the house and it’s keeping my finances afloat.  My schedule is flexible enough so that I do have a few days off a week, but I’d almost rather be working almost every day and making money.

Being home has made me thankful for the people I met this year at school.  My friends from college are the most amazing group of people I’ve ever met.  Amanda and I talked about this once when we went to Dunkin Donuts one day.  How we feel closer to the people we’ve met here only months ago than we do to the people at home that we’ve known for years.  And for the most part, I do.  I do still have friends at home, but there’s a lot less of them that I count as close.  It’s also made me realize how little I mean to many people back here.  I’m sick and tired and done with people that only talk to me when they need me or when they have problems.  I realized that when I got a phone call one day from someone I considered a friend.  She had gotten hurt and wanted me to tell me what was wrong.  I myself was sick from my allergies and was suffering from a double ear infection.  She didn’t give a damn about me or what was wrong with me.  When she asked how I was, I said I’d been better, because anyone that’s ever had a double ear infection can tell you that’s the truth.  Her exact reaction was “Oh,” before she dove into her own issues.

Really now?  Really?  I’m done putting up with people.  Friendship is a two way street.  And I fully believe that.  I still have friends from high school that still care about me; I know that because they also put in an effort to keep our friendship alive while I was at school.  From my high school class, that didn’t happen with the people I once called friends.  I’m done with being the only one trying to have a relationship with people.  I’m done.  I don’t care if I sound like a bitch, but I’m really over people that don’t care enough to text or call just to see how I’m doing.

This is why I miss the people that really count.  My best friends from school.  We’re all strewn out about the area that it’s going to be hard to all get together because gas is so damn expensive and we’re all poor college kids.  But I know we’ll get together at least once to go see Deathly Hallows Part II, and there will be MusikFest and other things we all want to go to.  So hopefully they happen.  And if not, we’ll just pick up where we left off, going to Johnny’s for breakfast during band camp and actually knowing what we’re doing a little bit better this time around.  And in my suite next year, with nine awesome people.  Being neighbors with the best neighbor ever, for the second year in a row and getting into crazy misadventures with her.  Having a single on the top floor, in the best building on campus.  I can’t fathom what’s going to happen next year, but I know it’s going to fly.  And I’m excited for it to start, but scared for it to end.

And I think the summer will get better once my high school friends are done for the year.  They still have a month left, but now that things are starting to wind down they’ll be around more and we’ll be able to hang out properly.  I miss them all, so much.  They’re what still matters to me in this town, because not much is keeping me here any more.  They’re closer to me than everyone from school, so I’ll be able to see them on a more regular basis.  We’ll be able to laugh and play and swim and drive around with the windows down just doing the stupid little things that create memories and strengthen friendships.  And I’m so excited for that.

Being home and pretty solitary has made me truly realize what I have.  My relationship hasn’t suffered from the distance between us, although thankfully it’s not too far.  We’ve already seen each other twice, once for Emma’s birthday party and the other for commencement celebrations.  The next time we’ll see each other is Memorial Day, so I’m hoping this week goes by quickly.  We’re going to try to make time for each other, but we’re both working and he’s got things to do and so do I.  I’m not one for sap or gush, but this is real.  I love every moment together and apart.  We don’t have a ‘song’ or anything, we have like thirty.  We’re both not perfect people, and we accept that about each other.  We had a strong friendship going into the relationship, and we still have that.  We can talk to each other about anything.  He’s one of the few people I feel comfortable completely opening up to which is the first time that a boyfriend has made his way into that category.  He understands that my last…whatever you call it…convinced me that I was worthless, that I was nothing, that I was just some stupid whore.  Kevin knows my story and he accepts me for the good and the bad.  He’s made it his goal to fix me and get me to believe what he tells me, that I am beautiful, that I am the best, that I am amazing.  I know his story, the good and the bad, as well.  And I’m so lucky to have him in my life.

I’m looking forward to the future, but I don’t want to completely skip over the summer, despite every desire I have to make it August.  I want to have a fun summer with friends I haven’t seen in a while and make the memories like I had last summer.  Here’s to an amazing freshman year, and to the years that are gonna follow.  Soon enough, it’ll be time to collect my things and head home.

reviews

The ‘New Year’ post!  This year, I won’t be posting my resolutions (although if you so desire, you can ask me and I will tell you them in private).  All in all, 2010 was a pretty great year for me.  I won’t bore all four of my readers with the month by month play back, but it was a year filled with more positives than negatives for me.  Maybe it’s because I actually did follow some of my 2009 resolutions, of being more positive, focusing on myself.  Maybe it’s because I’m in a new part of my life, where I can forget about the people who don’t give a damn and surround myself with the people who do.  Maybe it’s because 2010 made me a stronger person, so that I was able to take on the challenges life handed me.

The big one, of course.  High school is over.  I’m quite glad of that.  I fell like we parted on a mutual note, both of us knowing that my time was over.  I finished strong, but I didn’t encounter what many of my graduating class felt.  I didn’t feel the connection to the school or the class.  I’ll visit, every once in a while.  I’ll go see the marching band and the jazz band.  But even when I feel the small pangs of missing it, I know I don’t want to be back there.  College has shown me where I really belong.  In one semester, I learned a lot about myself.  I grew, a lot.  I met some pretty amazing people who love me for me.  I feel like now, I can follow my dreams and not have to deal with the limitations of coming from a small, public, but very religious high school.

2010 was change.  It was the definition of change.  I became an adult in the eyes of the law, graduated one school and started another.  Those who were once enemies became friends, and those who were once friends became enemies.  Some people close to me faced the biggest challenges that any of us had ever seen, challenging all of us.  Life became real, for everyone involved.

I think 2011 is going to be a big year.  I hope so, at least.  I knew last year that 2010 was going to be a big year, and I was right.  After all, any year filled with life changing events can be considered big.   2011 has the potential to be huge, even better than last year.  We can move past the tragedies of last year, the ones that were international, national, local, and personal.  We can become better, stronger people.  We can become better members of a global community that needs our help.  We can all find that thing that makes us passionate, that thing that makes us believe in hope and change again.  We can all be helped and healed and saved.  We can all be the helper, the healer, and the savior.

The beautiful thing about a new year is that it gives us all the new, blank page to write on when we think that our last piece can’t handle anymore of our scribbles.  There is a great vastness about a new year.  It can become so many different things, many of which are whatever the writer decides to make it.

room 5

My dorm room has been my home for a while now, and I feel completely comfortable calling it that.  It feels completely natural.  I love my room and how it looks-it’s very me.  My suite has become home for the sixteen of us, a very dysfunctional but wonderful family; a group of people who I both love and want to strangle at times. 

But recently, a girl in some of my classes came over for help on an essay.  I invited her up to my room, because having a single room means less distraction…or so I thought.  Rather, she complained about how my room was a distraction to her.  Already annoyed by previous events in the day, I offered to move us over to the suite’s study room.  There she complained about the lack of tables and chairs, because they were stacked into a pyramid.  We sat on the floor and I bit my tounge.  When she finally left, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

I was rather offended when she ragged on my room, because my room is mine.  I love my room.  The walls are grey and it looked a little like a prison cell when I first moved in, or, for those reading whom I went to high school with, a teacher’s office in the new school.  The floors are a darker grey tile and FREEZING cold if you step on them in the morning.  There’s a closet, desk, dresser and bed.  I made a collage on the wall next to my bed, it’s among my favorite things in my room.  Made up of letters from home, pictures of my friends and family, and writings from various news magazines about feminism.  Above the head of my bed I hung my whiteboard.  It has important messages, like combinations to things and reminders about history club and to go to the library.  It’s also where my friends write little messages when they’re over.  I get a small reminder that Amanda <3’s me, and I feel a little better.  

My windowsill is home to picture frames depicting my best friends and I at parties and as superheros.  There’s my favorite picture of Emma, looking up at a bubble with the most innocent and amazed face.  My silver Kanyes’ and an empty bottle of Pumpkin Juice add to the decor.  My desk is a constant mess, covered in weeks worth of Newsweeks and Times, which eventually I’ll sit down and read.  That’s one thing I dislike about college–I feel so very out of the loop when it comes to the news, and I hate that feeling.  But anyway, back to the desk.  It has a lot of books on it; my textbooks sit in a pile at the end of my desk, my reference books and a few DVDs from home sit behind my laptop.  My printers sit on the small shelve above my desk along with my change jar and my statue of Dobby holding up a sock.  There are more Emma pictures.  And post it notes.  Lots and lots of post its.  My multi-colored stickies have my favorite song lyrics written on them in different designs.  They’re all posted around my desk to keep the space cheery and a little less black and white.  

Next to my desk is my dresser, which contains most of my clothing.  On top are things like hair gel, contact solution, and various other similar items.  My camera’s over there, along with the Butterbeer glass from Wizarding World and a small plastic giraffe.   More pictures; my gift from Alyssa of us, Kate and Ally from my New Years party and one from Natalie’s graduation party during the foam cannon madness.  My second dresser is a plastic white thing that my mom insisted on buying.  It has towels and stuff in it.  It’s home to my evil hairdryer, which smokes whenever I try using it.  On top are, as usual, picture frames, along with the books I got out of the library yesterday for my history essay and my research paper. 

This wall is home to a hodge-podge of posters, my favorite being the Rosie the Riviter one posted over my desk.  My calendar, filled with events, is nearby my door.  My mirror is carefully attached to the door, not wanting to end up like the first one, which shattered on my second day here.  There’s a light next to the closet, but it sucks.  My mini-fridge and microwave are underneath.  My closet has my nicer clothes in it, along with random things like my band uniform, my graduation gown, and my jazz band gown.  My massive supply of food is on top, along with my Harry Potter books and my laundry stuff.  The basket sits next to the closet, partly hidden by my bed and the red ottoman that hides my binders when they aren’t in use.  My massive, overflowing bag of yarn normally sits tipped over on the black shag carpet, and several half finished scarves float around the different corners of the room.

My room is my home, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Except the temperature.  That can be raised twenty degrees.

the music our collisions would make!

I think it’s really interesting how people can be in a mood for music.  Lately, I’ve been listening to a lot of mewithoutyou.  How music is able to make someone feel is amazing.  In going to college, I’ve easily gone through one of the biggest transitions in my life.  I didn’t predict this to be a difficult change for me, and it wasn’t.  But music was one of the things that kept me sane in high school, and it’s keeping that up in college.  I do believe that music is a uniting factor; it’s what has introduced me to my best friends here. 

It’s also strange how music can be used to describe things.  There’s a reason why “Details in the Fabric” by Jason Mraz is my top played song.  There are reasons why I have only recently been able to listen to certain bands and songs again.  There are reasons why I will never be able to listen to certain things again.  It helps me to understand things going on in my life, and things that happened to me.  High school got dramatic at times.  It really sucked some days.  But one thing that kept me going was the music, the knowledge that there was someone who went through what I went through and clearly they survived because now they’re singing about it. 

I really don’t know what I’m trying to say here.  I’m trying to be witty and philosophical while really I’m just sitting on the floor of my room surrounded by half-finished knitting projects.  I guess I’m just rambling.  I have a lot to say but I don’t know how to say it.  Maybe that’s what music’s about, what it’s meant to say.  It was created by people who didn’t know how to say what they wanted, so they made it melodical. 

This doesn’t make any sense.  It really doesn’t.  And I get that.  But I feel as if I have something that I want to say, but I just don’t know what yet.  I really want to find out what it is so I can finally say it.  And when that day comes where I know what I’m saying, I’m not going to hide it from the world like I did back in high school.

cadets

At the collegiate marching show a few weeks back, I signed up for more information about the Cadets Drum and Bugle Corps.  It was kind of done on a whim, although marching corps has been something I’ve wanted to do for years.  It’s been in the back of my mind for a few weeks, nagging at me.  I have a lot of doubts of ever being able to make it as a member of a DCI world class corps.

Everytime I go out onto the field and mess up, I think to myself, how could I ever march with a world class corps?  They have to be on, one hundred percent of the time.  While I think I have the heart and dedication to march DCI, I worry about my skill level.  I’m okay at best at trumpet, and I’m simply loud on baritone.  My percussion skills are nothing to write home about.  I haven’t marched with any sort of amazing ensembles, I’m not a music major.  I’m just someone who loves music.  I also worry about the physical state of my knee, which always seems to crop up in a vain attempt to ruin my life.  It’s certianally better than what it was in the spring, but my ACL is always a potential issue.  If there’s a chance I could destroy it on tour, that basically kills any hope I have of marching. 

I won’t march this summer.  There’s simply not enough time to prepare for that.  2012 would be the year.  That should be enough time to really train and prepare.   I’d have to build up my physical endurance like mad.  I’ve seen the shows.  I’ve seen them run and drum; there’s no physical way I could handle doing that. 

I have friends that also want to march Cadets 2012, so I’m not completely alone.  We’re all scared, we’re all nervous.  But we all really want to do this. 

I really want this experiance.  At least once.

thirty one

I have been a college student for thirty-one days.  I would have loved to have done this post yesterday, but Wednesday is my crazy day when I’m up at 7 and in bed at midnight.  Here’s a little glimpse into the knowledge I’ve picked up during my first month here.

1.  College is, at least in  my case, a lot more liberal than high school.  People are much more open about things than they are.  Probably has something to do with the maturity level, and how it actually seems that some guys have a shred of common sense.  It’s a wonderful change. 

2.  In living with fifteen other people, it has become apparent that we all like the thermostat at different temperatures.  This has resulted in war between those that like it tropical and those who like it snowing. 

3.  When you think twenty-five boxes of muffins will go bad before everyone gets a chance to eat them, remember you’re living with ten guys, and you’ll find that the muffins have been consumed by the end of two weeks.

4.  Learn to play the following: Brawl, Halo and Mario Kart.

5.  Post-it notes are a great way to cure boredom.

6.  Coffeehouse is a must.

7.  Aussies are significantly cooler than shakos.  And that college marching band is WAY different from anything I ever experienced in high school.

8.  Sometime your professors won’t be American.  This is a really cool and interesting experience, such as mine with my Latin American History professor, who was born and raised in Mexico, and studied at Oxford.  Sometimes it’s difficult when she speaks quickly, because then there’s little hope of understanding.  There’s just generally a very different perspective cast on learning at college, and it’s very much a do-it-yourself atmosphere.  It’s sink or swim. 

9.  Cafeteria food isn’t always bad, but sometimes it can be; i.e. Chinese food.  Which is probably why they send out menus in all the mailboxes for pizza places and Chinese places.

10.  There’s so much more you can do on campus.  There’s music, sports, and clubs.  There’s literally hundreds of options, but if there isn’t something you want, you can make it. 

11.  Being employed will help my bank account, but will seriously cut into my naptime.  I’m unsure how I feel about this. 

12.  The washing machines at the HILL are evil moneysuckers that should only be used when your basket is overflowing or you’ve run out of socks. 

13.  It’s okay to go to the Root Cellar without shoes.  This makes late night Ben and Jerry’s runs much easier.

14.  Do not leave facebook open on your laptop in the common area.  Ever.   Also, forts are even better in college.

you are not alone

I have been told on many occasions that I am not alone.  On the subject of my feminism, I have always felt like the black sheep; the oddball.  This clearly has never stopped my views, although it has made it really difficult at times.

I’ve finally found people who have my same ideas.  I’ve finally found a place where I can be myself and not be afraid to be myself.  Today, while making a point in my Sustainable Livings class, I mentioned how I always felt like a minority because of my feminist ideas.  It tied in with our discussion about whether or not someone can stand along and change the world.  It’s one reason why I’m so passionate about the subject.

My friend and suitemate tapped me and showed me something she wrote.  It said, “I’m also a super feminist, so you are not alone.”

This meant so much to me.  It meant so much to me to learn that there are other people like me.  I knew there would be, but going to the high school I went to, I had some serious doubts.  I knew I was ostracized sometimes because of makes me how I felt about this.  Knowing that there is someone more like you out there is such a comforting feeling, especially when you’re in a new environment where you have to start all over again. 

So, the point is, no matter how lost and alone you may feel, there is always someone, somewhere that has a similar idea, thought or feeling.  You are never alone.  There is no alone. 

This isn’t just about finding another feminist.  This is about the realization that people can be honest about themselves and be accepted for it.  I’m here at college, and I’m not hiding things.  I’m not hiding my political or religious views.  I’m still not going to go around trying to convince everyone that my way is the only way, because I hate when people are like that.  But this time around, this time I plan on being myself, and not who my environment wants me to be.  The place that I spent the last four years wanted me to fit a mold.  The place that I will be spending the next four years wants me to be myself.  

Will I run into people who don’t like me for my ideas?  Yes.  There’s no question about it.  As the saying goes-“haters gonna hate.”  But am I going to let it get me down?  No.  I am beautiful, and my ideas are beautiful.  I can change things, I can change the world.  There is both a lot I can do and a lot I want to do to make this world a better place, not just for me but for everyone.  And I can.  Because I am not alone.

Dear MTV

While watching your regularly scheduled quality programming, I saw the commercial for ‘Made: The Movie’.  The trailer’s first lines talked about the high school stereotype:  you are either a jock, a popular kid or a nobody.  The jock was a muscular basketball player, the popular kid was a peppy blonde cheerleader, and the nobody was the band member with a tuba.

Instantly, I was offended.  Clearly you are not above childish ideas of how social circles break down.  Because you cannot see this for yourself, I am going to point out a few things that you have missed while doing your high quality research.

Number 1.  Just because someone is in band, it doesn’t mean they are a nobody.  The drum major in my junior year of high school was voted by my peers to be the homecoming queen.  According to you, MTV, nobodies can’t be voted into a position of popularity.  During high school, the members of the band were involved in other school activities-spring sports, the musical, student government.  All of the activities listed are not meant for “nobodies”. 

Number 2.  Clearly, because someone is in band, they are anti-social, clumsy, and ugly.  I’m sorry, but you are wrong.  It infuriates me that some people assume that because we choose a certain activity we are branded with a label that is the farthest thing from the truth.  Some of the most beautiful people I know have been involved in a music program.  And they have friends from every walk of life and from every so-called clique.  And clumsy?  Have you seen what we do?  If a color guard is clumsy, everyone will die.  They have to be graceful.  All of my dancer friends that are involved in a music ensemble-are they clumsy? 

Number 3.  All of those singers and songwriters you worship?  I’m pretty sure somewhere along the line they’ve been influenced by a music teacher or an ensemble that taught them what they know.  Why else would there be a Save the Music campaign?  Oh wait, that’s VH1.  Sorry.  I actually gave you credit for something.

Number 4.  The concept of Made: The Movie, is to take a girl (whose name is Tuba.  Seriously?) from being a nobody in the band and make her into a popular cheerleader.  By doing this, you are saying that a person can do whatever they want if they completely change everything about them-their hair, dress, personality, anything.  If you want it bad enough, you have to be made into a new person.  This is the final straw.  Why do we have to remake ourselves to be someone who we are not?  What is so amazingly important that we have to become a completely new person?  Popularity?  I must be missing something here. 

I’ve been told that to be truly happy, one must be happy with the person that they are.  At 18, I am.  I am happy with where I am in life and I am happy with the choices I have made.  I am happy with my friends and I am happy with my family.  I am happy that I have made it this far, and I am happy for the future that I have in front of me.  Why would I change this just so a few more people would like me?  You have much to learn MTV.  Happiness isn’t about hair extensions or forgetting everything and everyone you loved just so you got a chance to do a roundoff back handspring (yeah, I googled it).  Happiness is about doing what you love, whether it’s playing a sport, being a cheerleader, or playing an instrument.  Be happy with who you are, not who society wants you to be.  Love yourself.   

MTV, happiness is about being yourself, and no one else.  No reality show or made for TV movie can change that.  Please learn that. 

And since we’re on the subject of being yourself, want to go back to what you were made to do and play music videos? 

Respectfully,

Casey

-7 days

I have enjoyed the best summer ever.  From two incredible vacations, to seeing DCI both nights at one of the biggest shows of the season with one of my best friends, to all of the random get togethers with the friends that have made my high school experience truly unique, this summer has gone by much faster than I would have hoped.  I’m glad that this summer was as amazing as it was, because it helped to build up my friendships and has helped me to get closer to a lot of people.

I leave for college in a week.  And it is a very strange feeling to know that tomorrow many of my friends will be going to band camp, and I won’t be there.  I’m not sad about it; I had my time with that band.  It is time to start something new.  But it is still weird to not be going, seeing as my past four summers have all ended with band camp at the high school. 

I am more than excited to start a new adventure with a new band with a show that I can’t tell what the theme is.  I’ve missed marching more than I expected too.  I haven’t marched since March (ha, irony!) since my knee kicked me off the line.  It’s also weird how I missed marching trumpet-something I didn’t expect to.  While I loved playing baritone, and loved learning bass clef and a new instrument, I missed marching trumpet. 

So in a week’s time, I’ll be all settled into my dorm and at a band practice.  I don’t have the worries most people have about school.  I’ve been becoming friendly with a lot of people at Moravian, so I’m not worried about the whole OMG-I’m-gonna-know-nobody-there thing.  I really haven’t encountered a mean person, and all of the people I’m going to be living with in my suite seem like really chill people.  I’m not worried about the roommate situation, because I don’t have one-single room as a freshman?  Yeah, I’m pumped.    

This post doesn’t have some heartfelt meaning.  I’m not angrily blogging about how stupid my local political circle is, and I’m not sharing some sweet message I saw in an event that took place as I was going through my daily routine.  This is just me, excited for college, and unsure what to do for the next week.

“where’s my money?!?!”

I know how Pearl, of The Landlord fame, feels about this topic right now.  (If you haven’t seen this, get to YouTube stat)

I’m pretty much ready for college.  I still have some things left to pack, and I’m waiting on my laptop to be built/shipped, but other than that I’m ready.  All of the shopping is done.  I’ve been decorating my room in my head for the past five months.  I have a single next year, in a sixteen person suite, so I don’t have to confer with anyone on the look of my space. 

One thing that had been on my mind for a while was a scholarship that I had yet to receive.  This was for living in my township and deciding to go to a school in state. 

They really messed up on this one. 

Sponsored by the Board of Economic/Community Developement, this was supposed to be $25,000 dollars divided between 25 students.  This 25 soon turned into 47, and the sponsoring Senator got to have his name read 47 times at my school’s Senior Awards Night.  It became a running joke every time someone got up to get an award.  We’d each get a little over $500, which is still a really nice sized scholarship.  I was annoyed at first because of how we were lied to about the size of the scholarship (it was supposed to be a $1,000 dollar minimum), but I got over that, because the money I was getting would still cover my first semester of books by itself.  The paper we all received at the awards night said we’d get the money within three weeks. 

Three weeks later, I was a high school graduate.

Three weeks after that, it was well into July.

I wanted my money.  That money had a purpose, and I didn’t have it and I needed it.  Textbooks aren’t cheap, even if you go used.

My mom called the office of the Senator.  The people there were very nice, but confused as to why the money was not in my hands. 

“We sent it to the school last week, the students should have received it already.”

In calling the school, we talked to the guidance secretary with a personality only Dolores Umbridge would appreciate.  She was annoyed that we were asking about the money, saying I had four years to spend it.

That’s really not the right thing to say to my mother.  She called the Senator’s office back and found out that the school wasn’t supposed to release the scholarship information because they weren’t even sure if they had the backing.  Holy contradictions Batman.  There’s no money?  At this point, I was really pissed.  I earned that scholarship!  I didn’t sit around senior year, I was in Guidance weekly picking through the scholarship bin.  I wrote countless essays, applied for countless scholarships.  I tried really hard for everything.  I wanted to help out in paying for my college education as much as I could.  Going for scholarships were what my parents asked of me, so I did it. 

It’s not the point.  I know I have four years to spend that money, but over the next four years, I’ll have a job at school to help pay for that kind of stuff.  This year, I don’t have a steady job.  The money that’s in my bank account is money that my brain has earned, not my hands.  In case they didn’t get it, I’m going to make this very clear right now- I’M GOING TO BE A POOR COLLEGE STUDENT IN TWO WEEKS I NEED THAT MONEY SO I CAN BUY BOOKS AND SWEATPANTS AND HOT POCKETS.

When you say you’re going to do something, do it.  If you say you’re going to give out scholarships, actually give them out.  Don’t wait until someone complains or realizes that they’re missing a decent sized check. 

I finally got my check today.  The date in the corner says June 30th.  Today is August 3rd. 

I’m really glad that public schools know so much about responsibility.