Plan Number Six

If I take four normal academic classes plus one exercise class for the next four semesters, I will be able to graduate a semester early.

The inevitable emotional issues are my main deterrent; most of all, I would miss everyone. The reasons for doing it, however, all make perfect logical sense. Though I would be a bit more stressed with the weight of an extra academic and exercise class per semester, I wouldn't have to pay for tuition, room, board, a meal plan, DG dues, etc. for an entire semester. Also, I could get a full-time job right away. If I do end up trying to get into law school, graduating early would look fantastic on my application.

So the question is whether the benefits outweigh the drawbacks. Just how much stress would I be under? Would it be worth the frustration of the extra work and the sadness about one less semester with my friends, who have already become like my family? I really don't know.

Advice?

I went with my sister to her school today and got to experience the strange life of a middle school teacher. Good times, right? But here's the rub: I kind of liked it. It's sad to have a lovely career path in business law all fleshed out only to be distracted by something completely different.

I already miss everyone back at school, and there are a few people it's particularly hard to be away from. I'm sure they know who they are.

It's incredible to think that I will be leaving in less than five hours. Isn't that amazing? In four and a half hours I will be getting into my car, turning on my iPod, and making sure my ivy and petunias are secure in the passenger seat before pulling out of the garage, backing down the driveway, crawling through the gate, leaving the neighborhood, and saying au revoir to summer.

Two hours and fifty minutes later, I will be pulling up to Casey's house as I inform her over the phone that I've arrived. After I park and turn off my car, I am sure we will hug and jabber excitedly about our goings-on over the summer. It will be extraordinary. After the greetings (though the jabber will inevitably continue for hours), we will make our way to the Apple Store in the Washington Square Mall of Tigard, Oregon, where I will buy myself a MacBook, a Nano, and a printer, the latter two being free as a consequence of buying the first.

We have contemplated visiting such diverse places as a park, Target, and/or Applebee's after leaving the Apple Store, so I am not entirely sure what will follow. What I do know, however, is that it will be totally and completely fantastic no matter what we do or where we go.

I'm going home.

Rest in peace, Pisbardo. Even after complications with your screen transplant caused you to go deaf and dumb, you were so good to me. I'm sad to see you finally go.

However, I must admit that if my dad actually does keep his word for once and replace you with a MacBook before summer's out, I won't miss you all that much. Sorry.

If he was just humoring me like he usually does, though, and I'm stuck with my iMac G3 for another year or two (or three or four), you will definitely continue to hold a place in my heart. At least you didn't anchor me to my desk.

Unrelated: Why do I seem to be the only one who isn't dreading the coming return to school? Am I the only one who actually likes the people there and wants to see them again? This childish fear borders on ridiculous. Get over it.

I read an article in the New York Times today about age differences in kindergarten and how they affect performance after the fact. At one point, the author quoted Fred Morrison, a developmental psychologist at the University of Michigan, who said:

You couldn’t find a kid who skips a grade these days. We used to revere individual accomplishment. Now we revere self-esteem, and the reverence has snowballed in unconscious ways — into parents always wanting their children to feel good, wanting everything to be pleasant.

Well!

I fully believe that skipping the fourth grade was one of the best things I ever did, and my only regret about that situation is that I didn't take the opportunity to skip the fifth at the same time. I've never had problems making friends with people who are a year or two older than me; in fact, when I skipped, I already had a solid group of friends in fifth grade and experienced very little social discomfort. The only times in my life when I had problems with making friends all came after switching schools, when it is perfectly normal for children to experience such difficulties. I remained in higher-level courses throughout elementary, middle/junior and high school, and remained in good standing in those courses. My achievements were enough to persuade a private fund to award me $12k/yr to go to school at Willamette University, where I pay a grand total of $3,000 per year for the same education most pay $35,000 per year for.

I really cannot see how being younger than my classmates has had any detrimental effects on me, personally or scholastically. All of my current annoying personality traits (such as being prone to frequent ranting and often delivering cutting remarks, as well as being aggravatingly persistent at times) can be traced back to long before the epic Skipping of the Fourth Grade (the first grade-skipping in Camelot history, zomg!!!!1). One such personality trait, my elitism, was actually tempered by it—the transition from always being the best in the class to just being one of the best was a difficult one, but somehow I made it through. Amazing, I know.

I don't see anything wrong with having some children start kindergarten a year later. This practice can be entirely logical. However, I don't quite understand why the article puts such a negative light on letting younger children move ahead when it can be so beneficial. Before skipping that grade, I never felt normal. I never felt like my friends were as smart as I was, and I was always forced to hold the positions of peace-keeper and advice-giver in my circles of friends. I kept those positions through high school because they became comfortable, but after fourth grade, being closer to my peers academically allowed me to feel better about myself and my place in the world. I was never entirely comfortable with myself before fifth grade, but moving up changed that for me.

The article talks about how we currently revere self-esteem over individual accomplishment, but my choice to skip a grade encompassed both—it was an individual accomplishment that improved my self-esteem, as well as my ability to relate to people around me. I don't understand why people are so against the practice of skipping grades now when my life improved so drastically because of it.

( In other news, I am bored out of my mind! )

I emailed my advisor about all the plans I made last night, and his response was incredibly awesome. It was something along the lines of this: "No one cares what your minor is; take whatever classes you want. How's your summer going?" Ellis is so fantastic. I'm delaying declaring my History major just so I can keep him as my advisor.

The main reason I wanted to post tonight was to express my amusement over the long political discussion I'm having with my friend Tyler on facebook right now. When I mocked Martin's post on his wall about never speaking to him again for supporting Ron Paul, I wasn't expecting the intense wall-to-wall that followed. I should have known! Something like this would only ever happen between me and Tyler. What a crazy kid!

On an unrelated note, I just changed my layout. It amuses me that it gets simpler and simpler every time.

Starting my paper wasn't so difficult this time. That's not to say I haven't been putting it off, because I have, but this time I didn't wait until the very last moment I could possibly start. I half wish I had, though, because I really don't enjoy working on short papers in more than one sitting. As it happened, I started it last night around ten and got about a third of the way through it before I needed to go to sleep. Right now I've got about a fourth left, but I've been working like a madwoman for the past hour, so I'm taking a well-deserved break.

I left my car's headlights on after going out to lunch with the girls the other day, so when I went out last night to try to go to Target, my car wouldn't start. Emily's going to jump it for me sometime this afternoon. It definitely needs to be after I finish my paper, because I have to drive around for half an hour or so before I can turn it off again, and I can't let something as stupid as that make me turn my paper in late. I think I'll drive around the Keizer area; I don't know it very well yet.

Last night with Michael was incredibly comfortable. We fell asleep for an hour or so while watching a movie. I love when that happens.

I suppose I should get back to my paper. I'm glad it's only five pages.

I am feeling a pleasant mix of fatigue and accomplishment right now. In the back of my mind, however, is extreme aggravation.

Writing papers isn't very difficult for me. I don't have a problem with sitting down in front of a computer in the lab and working all through the night and right past dawn, for hours and hours if that's what it takes to get it done. Once I've started, I have a burst of energy that takes me through what would otherwise be the worst stage of the paper-writing process. The idea that I have to finish by nine keeps me working hard, and the prospect of more sleep if I finish earlier keeps me working fast. It's the perfect system! Except for one thing: starting.

The hardest thing for me to do is start a project. What I never quite realized about myself before was that I'm not a procrastinator solely because of laziness, but also because of my fear of starting. I want to delay the agony of doing the project for as long as possible. I just know it's going to be horrific. Now, that's funny, considering I've enjoyed writing every single paper I've written this year so far.

If I could just get it into my thick head that paper-writing is actually fun once I've finally sat down to do it, my life would be much easier.

Apparently humans use laughter as a way to communicate friendliness rather than appreciation of wit. According to an article in the New York Times, "it's not about getting the joke. It's about getting along." This makes sense to me. I laugh a lot; I like getting along with people. Sounds solid enough.

Serenades was last week, and I seem to have gained a new appreciation of hip hop. I'm not yet sure whether or not I'm happy about this change. At some point I'm going to have to decide, and it will alter the entire course of my life. In the meantime, I am pondering this question: How can people like hip-hop yet not feel the urge to dance along every time they hear their favorite songs in the genre?

The dative is the end of the genitive, and I love my Latin professor.

I'm always annoyed when people bemoan the supposed over-use of certain words. 'I love you' cannot be said too much. I don't care how little meaning other people attach to the phrase itself and the word 'love' in general; I do care about the meaning I and the person I'm speaking to attach to it. These pseudo-intellectuals need to learn the concept of audience. Once they do, they will never again sob to me about how no one knows what love means anymore, because I am certainly not a receptive audience.

( On academics. )

( This is distinctly not I Week. )

( Speaking of things I'm looking forward to: dinner! )

( Michael keeps me sane while simultaneously encouraging insanity. )

It's been too long since I last posted something here.

Now that the kid twenty feet away has stopped playing Spanish soundbites and our Serenades song has removed itself from my head, I am finally making progress on my essay. I'm about two-fifths of the way through it, and I've been working for less than an hour. This bodes well, as an electronic copy is due in my professor's inbox by five and I'm leaving for my sister's wedding at three. Two hours, forty-four minutes and counting!

God, I love Smullin. This building is perfection, and this microcomputer lab is heaven.