Post-secondary Move-in day

It's the first day, the first day of september, and, for some, the first day of independence. It starts like every other morning, get up have breakfast (or not) and it ends with tears, new peers and fears.

This is the transition to post-secondary, sometimes long journeys are involved...and sometimes not. Whichever journey you take it's bound to be stressful.

So I'm sharing my experience as I get used to everything post-secondary. First off is the two months of preperation that seems to accompany every straight out of highschool freshman. If your parents are doting, and over-protective then it's likely they'll get most of the stuff and take care of all the important work. If not well, you're stuck out of luck, you're going to have to gather kitchen supplies, bathroom supplies, bedroom supplies and most importantly food, oh yeah I suppose a few school supplies would be handy to have as well.

The second step is packing it all into the damn car, or minibus depending on how much stuff you decide to bring with you. I tried my best to minimilize but I forgot to put my parents on a leash. Now, fair warning, this step is even more difficult if you're flying out to school, what with the limits on luggage. I have no advice aside from pack only clothes and a clock radio, oh and a laptop, those are more important than your life. After everything is in its proper packaging you'll have to pack it into the car, bus, plane, etc. Then, after everything has somehow been wedged into a small transportation device, you'll be off.

Third step is not snapping at everyone because of nerves, this is especially important when dealing with your parents. Nerves are wound up tightly during this time and you're not the only one feeling an insane amount of pressure and anxiety. I nealry snapped at my poor mum, if I had I know she would have felt heartbroken. Last day of seeing your kid and your final memory is them yelling at you? Not such a nice thought, weighs heavily on the heart if you know what I mean.

Next step is, move in day. Some schools are really well organized and it won't be so much of a zoo, then there are others where you want to bash your skull in with whatever's nearby. It may take anywhere from 5 to 20 trips to get everything into the place, that's a good two hours gone. Then you have to organize and place everything in it's rightful place which adds another hour and a half or so onto your time, depending on how organized you like to be.

Fifth step is metting your roommates if you have any, and if you don't try meeting your hall mates. You'll probably gain a few friends and if you do have roommates it's best to set boundaries. One rule my roommates have given me is to not scold them when they aren't fully dressed. I agreed on the condition that I can walk freely in whatever i decide whether that's with pants and a shirt or not. Another was where kitchen supplies go, we went with everyone gets their own shelf space. Chores we haven't divided yet but I think I'm on dish duty judging from how I did most of the dishes today.

Then there is the dreaded sixth step which is always the hardest. You have to say goodbye. There may be tears or small forced smiles but you'll get by, it's not like you'll never see them again. It's only a month or maybe eight depending the distance and with this age of communication you can never be without contact of some kind. Whether you have a ten minute phone call, five minute skype call, text them every day, or send an email. They're never truly gone from your life.

Seventh step, finding out the personalities of your roommates. Sure you've dealt with the greetings and learning where they stand academically but you don't really know them. Take mine for instance, at first everything was great, they're nice, friendly, the whole 'hey these guys are awesome' package but later on is when trouble hits.

The problem I had: We all seemed to be on the same wave-length until parties were involved. We had all said how we weren't the most social people but then when someone asks if they want a drink and to party in room 505 they're off. Then I get them nagging at my anti-social butt to join some obnoxious party. Now some parties I'll admit are pretty damn fun but the way these guys were yelling and shouting it's like they had just discovered alchohal and girls for the first time. They ran down the halls knocking on doors, disturbing the few anti-socials from their sleep. This one girl I talked to even came out of her room to yell at them but seeing five, six foot tall men outside your door when you are a five foot something female is pretty intimidating, so she went back and locked herself away. I probably should have done something upon seeing that but these guys obviously worked hard on their bodies and no way was a five foot three teen going to be able to stop these guys. So I've locked the two doors that lead to mine and am currently looking for a small plushed look-a-like of my cat. Yes, I have a cat. A small rather stupid feline.

And finally the eighth step, Sleep. I don't think I have ever felt so tired as I do right now. It's likely that after dealing with all of this, you'll want as many Z's as you can get. Which is exactly what I plan to do right now.

English Class

English class in my opinion is almost a waste of my time. English is said to be an unbiased course where as long as you can back up your opinion it doesn't matter what you write. I've found this to be false in all my years taking English courses. Maybe I don't back up my thesis right or maybe I just can't write worth...I shouldn't swear but you can tell what I wanted to say. Either way I don't know what I do wrong. My friends will say to tailor my writing towards the teacher, but why should I if this is an unbiased course? 'It's about the interpretation' They all say. Well mine is different from theirs does that mean I should change my entire depiction of the book, play or poem? Yes, apparently I am in order to get the grade. Going against my teacher's perspective wasn't difficult, in fact it seemed easier, but this particular teacher likes thesis'  to be approved before writing an essay. Meaning, I was back to square one as she would butcher my thesis slowly shaping it to her own idea and giving me proofs I had no hope of backing because I didn't believe the literature could be seen as thus. Another complaint I had was how we analyzed everything, write down to the details. It took the enjoyment out of reading. I liked to just sense what each scene meant, I analyzed a book, poem or plays main concept through feelings I got while reading. Each chapter would give me a new sense of how the book would turn out, how characters felt, how the author felt, it gave me everything but when it came to analyzing through words I couldn't do it. The words wouldn't flow out of my brain onto paper like some if my friends, it was just images and feelings things I couldn't possibly back up properly without writing about 16 pages and pulling proofs from all over the place.

Now I'll admit English class has it's uses. Without it most of the English speaking world would still confuse 'they're, there and their'. Oh who am I kidding, most people still do. But they are getting better, there is a smaller percentage now than thirty years ago of people with grammatical consistency and reasonable spelling. I realize that in these past two paragraphs alone I have probably made numerous grammatical and spelling mistakes but I never said I was had perfect English. I also realize that my less than amazing marks could have been from a lack of trying, poor grammar, terrible subtopics, bad thesis', pathetic proofs, or just plain bad form. These could have been factors or it could have been the fact that teachers seem to think and analyze the text too critically. Either way my marks have suffered because of it.

Though, aside from the weird, in depth analysis of the authors psyche, there are perks to English courses. They gave me plenty to read, some new authors and a couple of genres I would never have thought to read. Albert Camus has recently become a favourite author of mine along with poems by Edgar Allen Poe. I haven't been able to read many of his poems yet though. Old classics have also gained my attention recently which surprised me, as I thought they were less than enjoyable. Somewhere between getting bit by a German Shepard and swallowing thumbtacks. Now that pain scale has been moved to Haiku's, sure they're simple but not enjoyable to think up, especially to a non-creative brain like mine.

This will be the end of my rant on English Class and how it felt to be graded on my (wrong) interpretation of literature. I end this with a single fact backed up by scientific case studies. It was found that English teachers will favor the males in the class, raising the boys mark even if a girl did just as well. This is because English is placed in the arts category, teachers believe that boys will do naturally worse because they are used to running around and playing sports whereas girls are more likely to sit and patiently read a book. Thus the teachers will lower the standards when marking a boys essay and raise the expectations when marking a girls. Seems a bit unfair don't you think?