My Big took me and her grandlittle (who went to high school with me) out for a pancake brunch today. I ordered banana pancakes and made a comment about the Jack Johnson song.
(Actually, I ordered banana pancakes because OF the Jack Johnson song. It is such an awesome song!)
But... nobody at the table seemed to know what the fuck I was talking about when I pointed at the menu and squealed, "OMG! Banana Pancakes!! Just like that Jack Johnson song!!"
Honestly, I don't know how far I can carry on a relationship with someone who either a. doesn't like Jack Johnson (which I am pretty sure is the case with these people because they are all hip hop and R&B, all the time) or b. understands a reference I make but decides to leave me hanging and looking like an idiot because of his/her inherent jerkiness.
While I was chomping on my huge plate of banana pancakes, my twin joined us because he finished his Greek/Roman history final early. He sat down and started bitching about the class:
"You know what I realized? Humanities classes really aren't that difficult... you would think that with all the papers and reading, it would be hard, but it is actually pretty easy."
Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou for yet another indirect insult aimed at me.
I wanted to slap him with one of my banana pancakes.
Since he hates pancakes, it would have been have doubly satisfying to do a little pancake-bitchslapping at the table.
The conversation continued:
"Did you know Karen wants to double major AND pick up a minor?"
"Why the hell would you want to do that?! You know it doesn't improve your job prospects, right?"
"..... I am actually INTERESTED in the subjects I want to study."
"Okay..."
I am so sorry for not being remotely interested in or planning on following in your get-rich-quick, Corporate-America-is-my-dream-job footsteps. How surprising is it really, given that I don't hate homeless people and fat people or think that all liberals are crazy like you do??
In my mind, the act of eating banana pancakes has always been the pinnacle of ultimate relaxation in a completely stress-free and chilled out state of mind.
Instead, I walked out of the pancake house fuming.
***
The pancakes weren't even that good; I could see the banana, but I couldn't even taste it.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Truthfully?
My back has been so sore during these past few weeks that it has been borderline "hurting." I have always avoided using any form of the word "hurt" to describe my relationship with my back to doctors; I guess admitting that my back "hurt" would be the same as admitting that this whole "scoliosis thing" was actually pretty serious.
Scratch the "borderline" - it really is hurting now.
And I am scared.
The first question my orthopedic surgeon will ask me when I go in to see him next Wednesday will probably be, "Does your back hurt?"
It is a simple question, but I honestly do not know how I will answer.
Scratch the "borderline" - it really is hurting now.
And I am scared.
The first question my orthopedic surgeon will ask me when I go in to see him next Wednesday will probably be, "Does your back hurt?"
It is a simple question, but I honestly do not know how I will answer.
Friday, March 14, 2008
"Doctor" I-D-C
The new Yogurt World in Mira Mesa is awesome; is it just me or does the selection of fresh fruit seem more varied and fresher at this location? The colorful and funky decor and spaciousness of the new store made me realize how claustrophobic the Convoy location really is.
Now if Yogurt World would just switch from styrofoam cups to more environmentally friendly, biodegradable cups, it would be just about the most perfect establishment ever.
At Yogurt World:
Me, attempting to make small talk with my G6Big: "So, did you come to our showcase?"
G6Big: "No."
Me, still very cheerful due to the yogurt-induced euphoria: "Aww... why not? We worked so hard on it! It was AH-some!"
G6Big: "I. Don't. Care." (Not exaggerating!)
Me, intent on salvaging the conversation: "You really missed out! It was so--"
G6Big: "--...I don't care!"
That's just great, isn't it?
Well, he can take the masters in bullshit he is currently working toward and shove it.
I may be a vegetarian and a wannabe yogi, but even I do not believe that drinking a "prescription" of hot water, ginger, scallions, and orange peel will stave off an oncoming cold.
What an awesome application of a molecular biology degree from UCSD, no? A "respectable" science major turned into a wannabe hokey "doctor" of Asian superstitions - and people sneer at me when they find out I am a history major?!
Psh.
AND he doesn't even like Yogurt World.
"I can get my own fruit and yogurt at the grocery store."
... why are you at hanging out at a frozen yogurt shop then?
***
I called the 8:52 am caller back today and I found out that he did pick the wrong name in his phone book - three times on the same day.
-_-
Now if Yogurt World would just switch from styrofoam cups to more environmentally friendly, biodegradable cups, it would be just about the most perfect establishment ever.
At Yogurt World:
Me, attempting to make small talk with my G6Big: "So, did you come to our showcase?"
G6Big: "No."
Me, still very cheerful due to the yogurt-induced euphoria: "Aww... why not? We worked so hard on it! It was AH-some!"
G6Big: "I. Don't. Care." (Not exaggerating!)
Me, intent on salvaging the conversation: "You really missed out! It was so--"
G6Big: "--...I don't care!"
That's just great, isn't it?
Well, he can take the masters in bullshit he is currently working toward and shove it.
I may be a vegetarian and a wannabe yogi, but even I do not believe that drinking a "prescription" of hot water, ginger, scallions, and orange peel will stave off an oncoming cold.
What an awesome application of a molecular biology degree from UCSD, no? A "respectable" science major turned into a wannabe hokey "doctor" of Asian superstitions - and people sneer at me when they find out I am a history major?!
Psh.
AND he doesn't even like Yogurt World.
"I can get my own fruit and yogurt at the grocery store."
... why are you at hanging out at a frozen yogurt shop then?
***
I called the 8:52 am caller back today and I found out that he did pick the wrong name in his phone book - three times on the same day.
-_-
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Hi, I Am Caffeinated
Right after my alarm clock went off at 8:50 am this morning, I turned it off, rolled over in my bed, and decided to skip environmental studies for the fifth time this quarter to catch a few extra hours of sleep.
Then my phone started ringing loudly exactly two minutes after I rolled over.
It kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
I climbed down my lofted bed to retrieve my phone, swearing loudly at the empty room - who the fuck calls me at 8:52 am?!
"Leave a fucking message if it's something so goddamn important that you have to call me at 8:52 AM!" I thought angrily in my head.
When I finally dug my phone out from under all the crap on my desk, it, of course, stopped ringing.
I checked the missed calls list and was beyond surprised by the name I saw. Since there was no message, I assumed that the bastard probably dialed my number by accident.
I climbed groggily back into bed and spent ten minutes trying to go back to sleep.
No can do.
I guessed all that climbing and swearing woke me up for good, so I decided to go to class after all.
I somehow managed to stop and get breakfast at Summit AND get to class on time for the first time this quarter. It was pretty amazing.
***
I have been working on the final draft of my Muir 50 paper all night - it is pretty much ten-going-on-eleven pages of pure crap and I know I could have done much better if I had spent even half as much time on this class as I did on Muir 40 last quarter.
My Muir 40 instructor was beyond awesome and he motivated me to do well to impress him, but my Muir 50 instructor kind of... sucks. There has been a lot of unhelpful busy work in 50 and the she literally spends a majority of our class time standing in front of the room reading handouts aloud to us - I can read by myself, thankyouverymuch. Now can you teach me how to write a better research paper, please?
Her comments also annoy me because they can be pretty inconsistent - first she tells me my paragraph-long thesis is good when I ask her in person and then she writes a contradictory comment about my thesis on a draft we turned in... wtf?
I heard my 40 instructor mention that my current 50 instructor was extremely particular and picky in her grading last quarter... and I can thank my lovely roommate for recommending and encouraging me to take her old 40 instructor's class.
Grr.
Whatever. As disappointed as I am to know for a fact that my GPA will be taking a huge plunge this quarter, I think I am just going to have to live with it. An A in 40 means a lot more than an A in 50 anyway since A's are a helluva lot rarer in 40.
On a brighter note, I am a conclusion and a witty title away from finishing the Muir Writing Program!
***
Summit needs to start serving better coffee. I have resorted to paying $4 for gargantuan soy lattes at the coffee cart in front of Center Hall - they use soymilk fortified with calcium (yeah, so it's Costco-generic brand, but calcium!) AND grind the espresso beans for my shots right when I order my drink, so my latte actually tastes like something. Not like the watered down crap from the dining hall - I don't even think they use real espresso beans.
I love Peet's Coffee, but what the dining hall is serving in those Peet's cups puts the awesomeness of Peet's Coffee to shame.
***
The person who called me at 8:52 am called me twice in one hour while I was working on my paper. I didn't pick up. And he didn't leave a message either time.
I will call him back tomorrow to see what is up because I am curious now.
Then my phone started ringing loudly exactly two minutes after I rolled over.
It kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
I climbed down my lofted bed to retrieve my phone, swearing loudly at the empty room - who the fuck calls me at 8:52 am?!
"Leave a fucking message if it's something so goddamn important that you have to call me at 8:52 AM!" I thought angrily in my head.
When I finally dug my phone out from under all the crap on my desk, it, of course, stopped ringing.
I checked the missed calls list and was beyond surprised by the name I saw. Since there was no message, I assumed that the bastard probably dialed my number by accident.
I climbed groggily back into bed and spent ten minutes trying to go back to sleep.
No can do.
I guessed all that climbing and swearing woke me up for good, so I decided to go to class after all.
I somehow managed to stop and get breakfast at Summit AND get to class on time for the first time this quarter. It was pretty amazing.
***
I have been working on the final draft of my Muir 50 paper all night - it is pretty much ten-going-on-eleven pages of pure crap and I know I could have done much better if I had spent even half as much time on this class as I did on Muir 40 last quarter.
My Muir 40 instructor was beyond awesome and he motivated me to do well to impress him, but my Muir 50 instructor kind of... sucks. There has been a lot of unhelpful busy work in 50 and the she literally spends a majority of our class time standing in front of the room reading handouts aloud to us - I can read by myself, thankyouverymuch. Now can you teach me how to write a better research paper, please?
Her comments also annoy me because they can be pretty inconsistent - first she tells me my paragraph-long thesis is good when I ask her in person and then she writes a contradictory comment about my thesis on a draft we turned in... wtf?
I heard my 40 instructor mention that my current 50 instructor was extremely particular and picky in her grading last quarter... and I can thank my lovely roommate for recommending and encouraging me to take her old 40 instructor's class.
Grr.
Whatever. As disappointed as I am to know for a fact that my GPA will be taking a huge plunge this quarter, I think I am just going to have to live with it. An A in 40 means a lot more than an A in 50 anyway since A's are a helluva lot rarer in 40.
On a brighter note, I am a conclusion and a witty title away from finishing the Muir Writing Program!
***
Summit needs to start serving better coffee. I have resorted to paying $4 for gargantuan soy lattes at the coffee cart in front of Center Hall - they use soymilk fortified with calcium (yeah, so it's Costco-generic brand, but calcium!) AND grind the espresso beans for my shots right when I order my drink, so my latte actually tastes like something. Not like the watered down crap from the dining hall - I don't even think they use real espresso beans.
I love Peet's Coffee, but what the dining hall is serving in those Peet's cups puts the awesomeness of Peet's Coffee to shame.
***
The person who called me at 8:52 am called me twice in one hour while I was working on my paper. I didn't pick up. And he didn't leave a message either time.
I will call him back tomorrow to see what is up because I am curious now.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Y Halo Thar, Mr. Elephant
Spilled bottle of clear nail polish = ruined $20 foundation brush. Fuck.
Ruined foundation brush = catalyst for huge online shopping spree.
Staying up until 5 am for no productive reason = deliriously applying (and getting instantly approved) for another credit card with a surprisingly high limit for a college girl without a job.
***
Last quarter, I filled out a wellness survey that the UCSD Wellness Center emailed to me and I was selected again this quarter as one of the follow-up subjects for the survey.
Reading the familiar survey questions and picking completely different answers on the 1-5 scale about three months later opened my eyes to the purple-elephant of a problem that has been growing exponentially in front of my face since the beginning of this quarter: I am not happy.
It does not get any more complicated than those four little words: I AM NOT HAPPY.
I have been a fucking bipolar mess this quarter.
Everything is kind of falling apart now and I am not sure how I am going to deal with all the pieces once they fall. Sometimes I just want to cry.
After a short committee meeting last night, I ran into one of my pledge sisters on the way back to my dorm. What started out as a simple "Hey, what's up?" conversation on a street corner somehow evolved into a FIVE-HOUR long conversation.
I spilled all of the anxieties I had with the fraternity, my line and my family that had been piling up in the back of my mind to her. Now I just really hope that none of the things I said comes back to bite me in the ass.
Spring Break is coming up, which means yet another round of X-Rays, another visit to the orthopedic surgeon's office, and what could quite possibly be one of the hardest decisions I will ever have to make in my life are waiting for me just around the corner. Once I am done worrying and fretting about all this fraternity drama and finals week, thoughts and talk of my spine will basically be consuming my life.
Obviously, I am freaking the fuck out about this... but why have I been subconsciously hiding this HUGE part of my life from everybody in the fraternity as if it were my dirty little secret?
I have mentioned that I had scoliosis to a grand total of two people.
And it was only in passing during an interview party.
And they were two people whom I was certain would not care enough to remember that little detail about me.
Nobody knows about the prospects of major surgery and how the very idea of it is slowly driving me crazy.
I love our pledge class t-shirts, but the American Apparel tees that our S@A chose turned out to be much more form-fitting than the Threadless AA tees I was used to wearing; I was so conscious of my twisted hip and how obviously it could have been seen in my tight shirt that I was very uncomfortable all throughout showcase.
God, I hate my body.
Ruined foundation brush = catalyst for huge online shopping spree.
Staying up until 5 am for no productive reason = deliriously applying (and getting instantly approved) for another credit card with a surprisingly high limit for a college girl without a job.
***
Last quarter, I filled out a wellness survey that the UCSD Wellness Center emailed to me and I was selected again this quarter as one of the follow-up subjects for the survey.
Reading the familiar survey questions and picking completely different answers on the 1-5 scale about three months later opened my eyes to the purple-elephant of a problem that has been growing exponentially in front of my face since the beginning of this quarter: I am not happy.
It does not get any more complicated than those four little words: I AM NOT HAPPY.
I have been a fucking bipolar mess this quarter.
Everything is kind of falling apart now and I am not sure how I am going to deal with all the pieces once they fall. Sometimes I just want to cry.
After a short committee meeting last night, I ran into one of my pledge sisters on the way back to my dorm. What started out as a simple "Hey, what's up?" conversation on a street corner somehow evolved into a FIVE-HOUR long conversation.
I spilled all of the anxieties I had with the fraternity, my line and my family that had been piling up in the back of my mind to her. Now I just really hope that none of the things I said comes back to bite me in the ass.
Spring Break is coming up, which means yet another round of X-Rays, another visit to the orthopedic surgeon's office, and what could quite possibly be one of the hardest decisions I will ever have to make in my life are waiting for me just around the corner. Once I am done worrying and fretting about all this fraternity drama and finals week, thoughts and talk of my spine will basically be consuming my life.
Obviously, I am freaking the fuck out about this... but why have I been subconsciously hiding this HUGE part of my life from everybody in the fraternity as if it were my dirty little secret?
I have mentioned that I had scoliosis to a grand total of two people.
And it was only in passing during an interview party.
And they were two people whom I was certain would not care enough to remember that little detail about me.
Nobody knows about the prospects of major surgery and how the very idea of it is slowly driving me crazy.
I love our pledge class t-shirts, but the American Apparel tees that our S@A chose turned out to be much more form-fitting than the Threadless AA tees I was used to wearing; I was so conscious of my twisted hip and how obviously it could have been seen in my tight shirt that I was very uncomfortable all throughout showcase.
God, I hate my body.
Monday, March 3, 2008
CODE RED: EMERGENCY!!
I lost my Berry Smooth Neutrogena Lip Balm, which is quite possibly the one thing (aside from water) that I simply cannot live without, about two weeks ago.
I have been using the last of my last-resort, stashed-away container of before-they-changed-the-formula Berry Smooth while I searched high and low for my missing pot of lip balm.
I used up my last-resort, saved-for-a-rainy-day container COMPLETELY yesterday.
If licking the pot clean would have gotten some more lip balm onto my lips, I would totally have gladly done so.
That was how desperate I was. And still am right now.
Why yes, I am dying without my lip balm, thankyouverymuchforasking!
I am antsy, uncomfortable, and unable to focus on anything but my chapped, chapped, chapped, if-I-open-my-mouth-too-wide-I-am-certain-they-will-split-in-two-allowing-warm-salty-blood-to-gush-down-my-face lips without my lip balm.
Ahhhhh...
So this is what withdrawal feels like.
I have been using the last of my last-resort, stashed-away container of before-they-changed-the-formula Berry Smooth while I searched high and low for my missing pot of lip balm.
I used up my last-resort, saved-for-a-rainy-day container COMPLETELY yesterday.
If licking the pot clean would have gotten some more lip balm onto my lips, I would totally have gladly done so.
That was how desperate I was. And still am right now.
Why yes, I am dying without my lip balm, thankyouverymuchforasking!
I am antsy, uncomfortable, and unable to focus on anything but my chapped, chapped, chapped, if-I-open-my-mouth-too-wide-I-am-certain-they-will-split-in-two-allowing-warm-salty-blood-to-gush-down-my-face lips without my lip balm.
Ahhhhh...
So this is what withdrawal feels like.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
I'm Not Crazy, Just a Little Unwell
Last night, I slept for thirteen hours - which was more than what I usually got in three or four days combined. I got back to my dorm before 10:30 pm on a Sunday night for the first time since I started pledging tonight. All should be well, but why do I just want to break down and cry?
About a week ago, I noticed that my thumb kind of hurt as I groggily went through my after-shower morning routine. As I put my comb down and reached for my keys (because naturally, I was running late), I was stunned to see a steady stream of bright red blood gushing down my right hand.
I have no idea how I managed to cut my thumb so badly or how I failed to notice such a big wound for such a long time.
It has been a week. I am running out of Hello Kitty band aids. And the wound still has not healed yet.
If I put even the slightest pressure on the area, it will start bleeding again.
I am a little worried. I think my bad eating habits are to blame.
Damn you Summit for not stocking the salad bar with any protein-rich beans or other goodies lately. Where are my vegetable and bean soups? Screw the creamy and cheesy vegetarian soups! And why does the only vegetarian option for the prepared daily pizza slices always come loaded with black olives? I hate olives with a passion; even if I pick them all off my slice, the already-infused olive flavor won't go away!
Yeah, so I have been eating like shit lately, which means I have been feeling like shit too.
I have been reading and browsing through daily San Francisco reviews on Yelp and I am really missing home food and all the awesome food options there are in San Francisco. One day I am craving Blondie's pizza, the next it is spicy samosas and potato-filled naan or light and crispy falafels and creamy hummus. My mouth is literally salivating as I read the reviews. I even had a dream about eating my mom's still-bright green and crunchy steamed broccoli and my favorite spicy peppered tofu dish last night.
Sigh.
I wanted to go to OVT to pick up a pint of Ben and Jerry's and lock myself in the nerd box with it tonight. I knew it would make me sick (damn lactose intolerance!), but the cliched depressed act of attacking a good ol' pint of B&J's felt like the right thing to do at the time. Unfortunately (or luckily, for my stomach), there were no appealing flavors left at OVT by the time I got there after my pledge meeting, so I walked out with a handful of Luna Bars and a bag of Oat Bran pretzel sticks instead.
Then I walked around campus, crunching absentmindedly on pretzel sticks while staring at the stars in the sky.
Now I am sitting in the nerd box and really wishing that I had that ice cream with me.
Or Yogurt World. I could really go for some Yogurt World right now.
"Cheer up, emo kid!"
About a week ago, I noticed that my thumb kind of hurt as I groggily went through my after-shower morning routine. As I put my comb down and reached for my keys (because naturally, I was running late), I was stunned to see a steady stream of bright red blood gushing down my right hand.
I have no idea how I managed to cut my thumb so badly or how I failed to notice such a big wound for such a long time.
It has been a week. I am running out of Hello Kitty band aids. And the wound still has not healed yet.
If I put even the slightest pressure on the area, it will start bleeding again.
I am a little worried. I think my bad eating habits are to blame.
Damn you Summit for not stocking the salad bar with any protein-rich beans or other goodies lately. Where are my vegetable and bean soups? Screw the creamy and cheesy vegetarian soups! And why does the only vegetarian option for the prepared daily pizza slices always come loaded with black olives? I hate olives with a passion; even if I pick them all off my slice, the already-infused olive flavor won't go away!
Yeah, so I have been eating like shit lately, which means I have been feeling like shit too.
I have been reading and browsing through daily San Francisco reviews on Yelp and I am really missing home food and all the awesome food options there are in San Francisco. One day I am craving Blondie's pizza, the next it is spicy samosas and potato-filled naan or light and crispy falafels and creamy hummus. My mouth is literally salivating as I read the reviews. I even had a dream about eating my mom's still-bright green and crunchy steamed broccoli and my favorite spicy peppered tofu dish last night.
Sigh.
I wanted to go to OVT to pick up a pint of Ben and Jerry's and lock myself in the nerd box with it tonight. I knew it would make me sick (damn lactose intolerance!), but the cliched depressed act of attacking a good ol' pint of B&J's felt like the right thing to do at the time. Unfortunately (or luckily, for my stomach), there were no appealing flavors left at OVT by the time I got there after my pledge meeting, so I walked out with a handful of Luna Bars and a bag of Oat Bran pretzel sticks instead.
Then I walked around campus, crunching absentmindedly on pretzel sticks while staring at the stars in the sky.
Now I am sitting in the nerd box and really wishing that I had that ice cream with me.
Or Yogurt World. I could really go for some Yogurt World right now.
"Cheer up, emo kid!"
Saturday, March 1, 2008
"Asian Fail" = FAILURE, Literally
My pledge final, on which I must score 90% or higher in order to pass, is tomorrow night. All the hard work and dedication we put into pledging in the fraternity will basically be put to the test during our next pledge meeting - the fate of our future in the fraternity hinges on the results of that one exam.
This will be one of those rare instances when an "Asian fail" on an exam translates literally into failure.
89.5%? Sorry, automatic DP!
As ambivalent as I have been feeling about the fraternity as a whole throughout the pledging process, I really don't want to fail tomorrow. The quarter ends in two weeks, I will have basically completed all of my pledge requirements (and then some) by the end of this week, and it would just suck major ass to get DP'd after all the time, energy, and money I devoted to pledging. Not to mention all the time, energy, and money my Big has devoted to me, her "good" little.
"Fourth little's the charm," she mused at my G3Big's kitchen table a few days ago. She has been so certain that I would cross on April 6th that I don't even want to imagine how disappointed and crushed she would feel if I ended up failing the final tomorrow.
During our post pledge service food fellowship at Summit earlier today, the conversation naturally drifted over to the impending final exam.
"There are over 70 people in our class right now... as much as I don't want it to happen, I know that there will inevitably be some people who will be DP'd in the next few weeks because they either didn't pass the pledge final, couldn't complete all of their requirements, missed a signature, or just fucked up with the req sheets, and I am afraid one of those people will be me," one of my pledge sisters sighed over her half-eaten meat sandwich with 7-grain bread and garlic-cilantro mayo.
I agree that a few last minute DPs will be inevitable with a class as big as ours; there are still people scrambling to finish their hours and week 9 is about to start. Hours were probably one of the easiest requirements on my sheet too.
As the conversation at the table continued, we eventually began discussing what each of us would do if we were hypothetically one of the few who would get DP'd at the end.
Honestly, I don't know if I would pledge again in the Fall if I didn't cross this quarter.
I would really have to think long and hard about it... and pay close attention to the 2008-2009 EBoard election results.
This will be one of those rare instances when an "Asian fail" on an exam translates literally into failure.
89.5%? Sorry, automatic DP!
As ambivalent as I have been feeling about the fraternity as a whole throughout the pledging process, I really don't want to fail tomorrow. The quarter ends in two weeks, I will have basically completed all of my pledge requirements (and then some) by the end of this week, and it would just suck major ass to get DP'd after all the time, energy, and money I devoted to pledging. Not to mention all the time, energy, and money my Big has devoted to me, her "good" little.
"Fourth little's the charm," she mused at my G3Big's kitchen table a few days ago. She has been so certain that I would cross on April 6th that I don't even want to imagine how disappointed and crushed she would feel if I ended up failing the final tomorrow.
During our post pledge service food fellowship at Summit earlier today, the conversation naturally drifted over to the impending final exam.
"There are over 70 people in our class right now... as much as I don't want it to happen, I know that there will inevitably be some people who will be DP'd in the next few weeks because they either didn't pass the pledge final, couldn't complete all of their requirements, missed a signature, or just fucked up with the req sheets, and I am afraid one of those people will be me," one of my pledge sisters sighed over her half-eaten meat sandwich with 7-grain bread and garlic-cilantro mayo.
I agree that a few last minute DPs will be inevitable with a class as big as ours; there are still people scrambling to finish their hours and week 9 is about to start. Hours were probably one of the easiest requirements on my sheet too.
As the conversation at the table continued, we eventually began discussing what each of us would do if we were hypothetically one of the few who would get DP'd at the end.
Honestly, I don't know if I would pledge again in the Fall if I didn't cross this quarter.
I would really have to think long and hard about it... and pay close attention to the 2008-2009 EBoard election results.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
