Becoming an Honest Woman

Mark and I decided on the 22nd to get married on the 26th, so we are officially married. It was a small ceremony with just our immediate families attending. Our grandmothers didn't even find out until the day after. Mark and I really wanted to be together and we didn't see the point in staying apart just so we could plan a wedding. We are planning a big bash in February to allow everybody to come and celebrate our love for one another. I am sorry if this hurts anybody's feelings, but we couldn't stay apart anymore. We are still technically on our honeymoon, so I will write more later (and post some pictures).

Yuck!

These are the proofs I got from the company that was taking pictures at the graduation on Saturday. There is nothing worse than seeing a picture of yourself looking disgustingly fat. I can't play my old smoke-and-mirrors game in that black sack. Yuck!

p.s. I am excited that I graduated, but these pictures are not fun.

The End of the Long, Winding Road

This morning was the first morning when I woke up, I thought, "Holy Crap, I am graduating in two days." I have been so stressed out that I haven't had time to really focus and think about what huge milestone this is.

I can barely remember the first day of my college career. I had just turned 18 a few days before and my first class was at 8 a.m. It was Music Theory, a class that I had not qualified for, but my music professor did not want me to fall behind, so he forced me to take it. I dropped out of it, without withdrawing from it, giving me my first "F" ever. I really didn't care though. I hated college, and I really didn't want to go through with it.

Fast forward to two years later, my music professor had felt up me and every other attractive music major and moved to Indiana because there were rumors that he was having an affair with a band member. I decided that school was not for me since I cried every day. I got a job at a bank and that was my first full-time job. I did that for a semester, then quickly signed up for classes the next semester. I was decided to become a Spanish major, so I signed up for Spanish 1001, which was the first Spanish class I had ever taken. I took two years of French in high school, and was awesome in it, but all of the French classes were 8 a.m. classes, so I went for Spanish. I had high hopes of being trilingual. I had a clue that Spanish was not my major when my Spanish teacher laughed when he found out I had declared it.

Then I became discouraged and became a General Studies major, until my boss in University Relations told me that I had a real talent for writing, so I changed to English Communications. Now, I am finally graduating after five and a half years. It feels great, but I feel like I should have a Master's instead of a Bachelor's degree. I feel exhausted and ready to search for what I really want to do in life. This is my new venture. Having Mark by my side and a small sense of security really helps.

I Might Hate This Week

Yesterday I did some intensive reading about Joyce, and even though I don't have the best handle on him, I get some of it. I feel somewhat better about him, and I really do like his work. It is just really compact, leaving it hard to unravel and research. I think my thesis will go something like this: "The female characters represent a part of Gabriel's struggle with Ireland, with his wife, Gretta, representing the purest part of Ireland, and through her he realizes that by hating Ireland, he loses the purest part of himself." Or something like that anyway. The paper is due tomorrow, but I have done all of my research, so it is just a matter of putting it all together today. Wish me luck.

But, I still hate Spanish, and in about an hour I am going to have to tell a story in Spanish that I have yet to memorize. I don't really give a ham sandwich about it anymore.

Oh, and I start my period on Wednesday. Nice.

I Hate This Week

I just want to say that I hate this week: December 2 through December 9. If I don't jump off of a building, I will graduate next Saturday.

I also hate James Joyce, people too scared to write anything academic about him, British Literature teachers who give two papers during finals week, and the Norton Anthology for adding Joyce to the book.

I hate Spanish 4, memorizing Spanish stories, and anything subjunctive.

I hate Fitzgerald and T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land," and Ezra Pound. And, no, I don't think that April is the cruelest month.

I hate teachers who do not teach a single thing all semester. I hate the financial aid department at Armstrong. (They didn't do anything recently, but they are sorry in the general sense.)

I hate the campus police who insist on giving me tickets when I refuse to buy a $50 decal for one more semester. It's non-sensical. It's nunsense.

That's all for now.