Verdugo, other considerations

Today my Global Studies Professor called me a pessimist in front of my 60 person lecture class. It was awesome. 

I merely expressed my opinion that non-state actors will never be able to surpass the influence of nation-states, especially in the creation of a peaceful global system, because they lack any mechanism of enforcement for their decisions and policies because they have no legitimate control over the use of force. Therefore, any perceived power in non-state actors like the UN is really that of the economically and militarily dominant nations that already pursue their own selfish interests at the expense of smaller nations. 

And she said:

"My, my, quite the pessimist, aren't you?"

If I hadn't been busy blushing up a storm, I would have replied that I'm not a pessimist, my parents just raised me in D.C.  I was also kind of pleased. In that class I seriously have to check myself to stop talking so much and dominating discussions. It's kind of Hermione Granger-syndrome, but I don't actually know all that much, I just like to express my opinions. 

Well...let's call it "analysis."

Maybe someday I'll be a pundit. Oh, my parents would be so proud. Yelling at people on a t.v. split-screen is totally a noble profession. 

I should be doing work. Because I will never master the spanish language if I don't learn the word for "executioner."

It's verdugo.

Which totally sounds like the name of a vegetable. And I just spent 20 minutes on Google Translation trying to find one in spanish that sounded like it. 

No dice. 

I'm actually going to go do work now.

Managing Monday

It's well documented in this blog that my mondays suck for more than the reason that they are mondays. But I'm surviving this one, and look! I even have time to write a blog post. 

We got out way early out of journalism research today because we had an exam. Loop's exam for j-research is pretty much legendary, in that no one ever passes. Kind of. I think I did all right, considering that I was facing what was supposed to be impossible. It's wasn't great, but it was good enough for me not to be weeping into my keyboard right now. 

During my dining hall shift this morning I think I prepped approximately 5 bajillion grilled cheese sandwiches, in these huge bins. It was totally a blast. That's a lie, but at 6:30 a.m., mindless repetition in substitution of physical labor is like a gift from God. 

On Friday night I braved the 40 mph winds to book it over to the Hill Center pool to interview all the divers. The thing about the Hill Center is that they totally love to lock me out of wherever I need to be. So this interview involved me kicking the door of the women's locker room for an extended period of time. But I got what I needed. So sacrificing all a largest percentage of my dignity and composure was totally worth it. 

Saturday night, after a day around town with friends L and A, a bunch of us made the pilgrimage to the Ithacapella concert. One thing you have to understand about Ithaca College is that Penn State is to football what Ithaca College is to acapella. EVERYONE GOES. Ithacappella is always good. Always. They do their standards awesomely, like this. But they also take really current songs. Saturday night they seriously did Kanye West's "Heartless." Really. They also did "Burnin' Up" by the Jonas Brothers, and my personal favorite, "Say" by OneRepublic. 

Sunday, I wasted my life by going to the college opera and realizing that, no, just because IC does it does not mean I am going to be entertained. There was some flying around the stage, and some neat costumes, but in the end, it was a french opera. There was a lot of high pitched vibrato, and a whole lot of subtitles. Not my cup of tea. 

Then, I headed back to the dorm and was crushed underneath the ridiculous amount of work I should have been doing all weekend. But I got it done. 

Massive success! 

Oh, and the Oscars? I was totally psyched that Slumdog Millionaire won, because it was actually the only one I actually got around to seeing. And it was great!

And now, I am going to re-energize with a cup of tea and/or a dance party accompanied by Kelly Clarkson. 

Short, SHORT work break

I would just like to take my momentary break from the crazy hellishness that is this Sunday night, and point out that athletes are kind of crazy. 

This is an exact quote from an Ithaca swimmer about swimming:

"Back in the day, Mark Spitz swam his fastest with a mustache, hairy chest, and a speedo. Today, at any championship swim meet, you would think that it was the pre-flight launch pad to send a couple hundred cancer patients into space. We are all shaved, focused, and wearing suits that cost as much as a new computer, but that last for the one meet. Swimming has changed, I'm sure it was originally just a mode of transport for some tribesman, but it developed and got competitive, because, like all sports, someone was faster than someone else. After generation and generations of training and techniques and technological developments, swimming has been transformed into one of the most spectacular displays of sportsmanship, athleticism, and camaraderie to ever exist." 

I kind of wish I made this up.

I go to school with crazy people. Melodramatic crazy people.

This morning I got to sleep in all the way to 8:30. It felt like I had achieved nirvana.  Normally on Wednesdays I marvel at actually waking up with the sun out, but today it looked like it was about 6:00 p.m all day, so...no sun. It actually rained for a part of the day, and finally turned into snow. 

Well, snow that felt like God was dumping his Slurpee directly into my face. 

This morning I had lovely academic writing. My professor is nice and everything, but that class is seriously mind-numbing. It's a graduation requirement but seriously, I KNOW how to write a thesis statement.  If Carballo and Krauchi did anything for me in my IB career, it was teach me how to write a thesis-driven paper. I'm obviously not perfect, and a good part of me knows that a thorough examination of my writing is necessary, but I am a whiner. I really need to know how to edit my papers. It's something I rarely do. 

The fact that these blogs often make no sense whatsoever is evidence of that. 

After that class I headed up to the Towers dining hall to submit the block housing form with the girls I'll be living with next year. I totally love them, but at this point it's eerie to think about living anywhere but the Boot, and not having Celine Dion, Jason Mraz, or some dance song wafting through the hallways at all times. 

We're a weird dorm, but it's awesome. 

This weekend will be absurd. I have TWO deadlines and tons of work to get done. How is it Thursday already? 

Slacking on Blogging, Disarmament Policy, Internships

I'm going to try to be better with this, I promise!

On one hand, my lack of consistent blogging shows that there have been no significantly traumatic and/or embarrassing events in the past couple days. 

Mainly I have just been trying to keep everything in order. I'm trying to eliminate all distractions. I stole Claire's brilliant idea and had one of my friends change my Facebook password so I'm not tempted to waste my life away on it for at least today. Maybe even tomorrow. Who knows the wonders I can possibly achieve? 

Right now I'm trying to finally apply for internships. They're pretty varied, which means I am writing tons of stupid cover letters. I am pretty sure I am just as good at writing cover letters as I am at playing tennis. 

I have physically injured others while playing tennis. 

Therefore, my futures with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, the Wheaton Gazette, or Washington Parent Magazine look grim. 

Tomorrow I have to get up in front of my spanish class and tell them a story about my life for five minutes. If I were to talk like I do in my blog, I would probably regale them with a tale about how I turned my canary-yellow towels into puke-colored towels. If I am actually going to keep them awake or keep them from thinking I am a crazy person, I will probably tell them about my trip to Mexico before senior year. 

I'm sure you'll all wait with baited breath to see which one I end up choosing.

I am madly in love with my Global Studies and Politics class. I realized today that I am the type of person who LOVES to argue over things like the United State's defense spending and nuclear weapon policy and whether international organizations would have the ability to implement worldwide nuclear disarmament. 

I LOVE this class and it's making me seriously considered doubling with politics. Because while other kids feel like sleeping, I'm actually trying to read more. Because I want to be right. All the time. 

I  also like that there's not always a right answer. 

Luckily doubling is a possibility because I came into college with 35 (!) credits thanks to IB and AP. What's your argument against public schools now? 

It's awesome that I found a way to procrastinate by writing about not procrastinating. 

Valentines Day, Visits

My Dad is visiting me today!

I'm quite excited, because sometimes you just need to be taken care of. Seriously. 

Yesterday was quite the day. I logged onto the AP wire yesterday at 5:50 a.m. to find out about the plane crash in Buffalo, and to report about it. A lot of students are pretty shaken up about it, because so many of them come from that area. I was nervous too, having my Amma living right in Buffalo. 

It's weird when you have to report news like that, having no idea going into it. Anyway, it should be a good, if busy, weekend. The dorm is relatively empty, because people went home for the weekend to visit loved ones or recover from a couple long weeks of non-stop work. 

Yesterday night a bunch of us went to the IC After Dark event "The Dating Game" and watched other students seriously have to act like they were on the game show itself. It was hilarious to watch. 

I just got a phone call from my Dad, so I'll have to run and edit later. 

Oh Hi There, Crazy Life

Honestly, the more work I have and the more stressed I get, the more I want to blog. 

You would think with the insane amount of writing and reading I now do on a daily basis this is the last thing I would want to do. But actually, when I'm writing this, I get to slow down. Take stock of everything. Figure out what's important, what still needs to be done. I would say to keep on schedule with my Global Studies paper I need to bang out at least 800 more words tonight. Spanish definitely needs a little more TLC. I have to free-write for my academic writing essay coming up. Even my extracurriculars have me writing, with newscasts and features taking up evenings and weekends. 

The most insane part, I think, is that having all this to do, as overwhelming as it is, I feel like what I'm working on is worthwhile. Hard. But worth it. 

I am a self-saboteur, or maybe I am just testing limits. I promised myself I wouldn't pick up a beat this semester, especially after I picked up another shift at radio to replace working on the Inquirer. 

And now, here I am, the new men's crew beat reporter. 

As a journalism student I sit through endless guest speakers and professors who make side comments about the dying industry, the debates about how to fix it, the degradation of media, and how we're all brave to pursuing such a volatile career at such a time of upheaval. 

Brave? Stubborn, maybe. 

I think I have it in my head that I can work my way out of the doom and gloom predictions. I think that if I do absolutely everything, join every type of media, I will not only find a job, but I will also find my niche. I want to double major. I can't stomach the idea of pursuing an undergraduate education that is not as fruitful or as tough as it can be. 

Well, there's your daily fill of the dramatics. 

For the record, today during the latter half of my spanish class all I could think about was my intense desire for Chipotle. Because that was far more important than learning the Spanish word for the Crusades. 

Las Cruzadas! 

Tell me when I am ever going to discuss the Crusades or the formation of the anglican church in Spanish. That's the vocab we're learning.

Seriously. Enrique VIII y todas sus esposas. 

Seriously. 

My life.