I’m getting my spirit right

I love Victory Assembly in Tucson, I mean I miss being in Scottsdale but I’ve met this woman named Shamara WHO’S BLACK!  She’s going to disciple/mentor me in my walk with God.  We’ve been meaning to start this for a few weeks now but the first week we tried I had to come home for a doctor and orthodonist appointment, the next week she had to write a paper and I had to read an entire book then write a paper.  But this week we finally hung out!  Last night Kris and I went over to her house to spend the night and I got a homecooked meal (with vegetables!) which was really exciting because I’m tired of fast food.  Then this morning we went to an AKA sorority meeting.  Shamara says they’re Godly centered and they focus on academics so it’s good for accountability.  I think it sounds cool but I’m not sure if I want to pay “dues” to a sorority for the rest of my life . . . and I don’t know if I have time.  But I promised her that I’d look into it, after all, Coretta Scott King and Rosa Parks were AKA’s.  Plus, I think my mom is too. 

Anyway, Shamara has the job that I want in the future.  She speaks to women as a life coach, has women  conferences, hold classes . . .basically, she has a ministry.  So I’m talking to her about how to incorporate that in my future, and also about stuff with my relationship with God.  Obviously, I still have my own relationship with God and I’m still listening to Him . . . but it’s just good to have someone mentor me in the way I should be going, and point out the human things I do but can’t ignore.

Ode to Poetry . . . you suck

It might be highly ambitious of me but I’m going to the Dean of Students about my poetry teacher.  I walked into that class with the same knowledge I have now, and I don’t know why my education should suffer just because my TA sucks at her job.  It shouldn’t.  So my plan of action is this . . .
-Talk to the main professor of the class to let him know that she isn’t doing her job
-Ask for an extension on the craft paper we have to write
-Seek out how to speak to the Dean of Students for the University, or at least the Humanities department

Why do I care so much?  Because I’m a dedicated student and I’ve been wasting my time in this lame course, “taught” by a graduate student who’s not really doing anything.  I’m getting stressed out because she expects us to write a 3-5 page paper on something that she hasn’t taught us yet.  Seriously, all we’ve been doing since the day I walked in there in August is
-”workshopping” our classmates poems which means we’re supposed to be reading their poems and giving a critique saying what works and what doesn’t . . . except she never spent time teaching us HOW to do that.  So basically, we’re giving our opinions . . .  on a subject we know nothing about.  AND she doesn’t even check to make sure we’re doing it.
-Reading poems from random poets that she keeps assigning, but we never really go over it in class.  She asks us what lines we think don’t fit, and then we move on.  Not to mention the fact that she made us buy 5 books for this class even though we’ve only used one of them to look up poems and one other one that was a novel written in verse (stanzas or phrases vs. paragraphs) about gay sex. . . this pertains to poetry, how?
-When I went in to have a required conference with her, she hadn’t even read my poems.  Like she literally skimmed the two shortest ones in front of my face and then began marking them up telling me what I did wrong.  Not only that but she kept me late so she could read me five other poets’ work that she thought I’d enjoy or could imitate.  Thanks . . . write down the names and let me sound out the vowels later teach! It’s a poetry course, not story time at the community center.

But why I’m really mad is because we have to write a craft paper which means analyze a poem in a 3-5 page paper using only one element such as tone, imagery, voice . . . but she hasn’t shown us what any of those terms mean.  She writes them on the board and gives a vague definition but never shows us what that means in an actual poem.  And she told us about it last week b/c she didn’t want to tell us about it a week before it was due (I only have this class once a week).  But then she told us she’d help us out by giving us an example of a craft paper.  She waits like three days to send that and when she does . . . this is what is says: (it included the poem but I didn’t add it here)

The heavy, repetitious use of rhyme in the poem enforces the impression of the coercive force of artistic inspiration. In the first stanza, four of the seven end words rhyme with “reft”; in the following stanzas, many of the end words continue to echo the same sound, with variation: “breath” and “comfortless” (stanza two), “flesh” (stanza three) “wrestlers” and “rest” (stanza five). As the poem develops, new sounds are introduced, like themes, to be echoed in later rhymes and off-rhymes: for example, the “slake” sound in the third stanza (“take, flake, unawake”) returns as “break,” “shake,” “hesitate,” “waits,” “strain” in later stanzas. The effect of these rhyming sounds accumulating in successive layers mimics the action of a wave, an image introduced in the second-to-last stanza: “sound surging upon sound / makes my brain blind; as a wave-line may wait to fall…” The alliteration of “brain blind,” as well as its vowel-sound-similarity with “wave-line” enacts the assonant “surging upon sound” mentioned. This enactment reinforces the buildup of the speaker’s internal pressure. Throughout the poem, the emphasis is on the tension, the potential, of the moment; as the speaker says of the wave’s crest, she is “(waiting for its falling).

Does ANYONE know what that means?  And WHY is that only a paragraph?  We asked for a sample paper so we would now how to stretch our answer out over 3 pages, not so you could show us how intelligent you think you are with your heavily worded sentences.
Now I have to waste my time going to her office hours when she should have been teaching me this throughout the semester. 
-I haven’t learned ANYTHING in this course.  And it sucks because there are like five other TA’s, why did I get her?

I seriously think Satan chose my classes and teachers this semester . . . I hate them all.  >:/

Please pray for me because we start picking our classes for next semester, next week.  Please pray with me that I get good classes, afternoon class times AND good teachers. 

Because I can’t figure it out . . .

I did my laundry today, yeah! I usually put it off until the last minute because I H-A-T-E hauling it upstairs in my stupid laundry basket that’s supposed to fit against my hip but actually digs into my side, and hate that I have to carry the soap that keeps banging against my leg when I walk or seems like it’s going to fall when I throw it on top.  But Sunday, I discovered I was running out of socks so . . .  desperate times . . . you know the rest.
     Anyway, I have 6 piles of laundry and I can only take up 3 at a time, so I have to make TWO trips.  I’m lazy, my feet hurt, I’m tired and I want to be done.  But as soon as I come back to the room, I only have ten minutes to rest until I have to go flying back upstairs to put everything in the dryer.  And I would leave it up there but I complained a lot last year when other people did that.  I would think the washer would be free, yank it open and some random guy’s clothes would be all twisted around in the back of the washer.  And that’s just gross . . .
    Whatever, so when my clothes dry I go back up to collect them and two girls are standing over my shoulder waiting for the dryer, even though there’s already an open one.  When I take my clothes out of one, one of the girls looks inside and says the washer looks dirty (there’s black scrapes along the walls) and waits for me to open the next one.  Argh! Go away, I don’t like when people watch me do things . . . it makes me nervous.  So I try to tell her that I’m really germaphobic and the dryer won’t harm her clothes and blahblahblah but she says, “Yeah . . . ” and makes no move to do anything.  So now I feel like I have to empty my dryers faster so I can find a clean one, but I also know that I have to go back downstairs to empty my laundry basket . . .
And then the fire alarm goes off!   . . . The 3rd fire alarm we’ve had this year.  The girl shrieks and tosses her clothes in the first dryer I emptied and her and her friend run outside.  I on the other hand keep piling clothes in my basket because I H-A-T-E fire drills, more than I hate laundry actually.  We all have to go shuffling outside either to the back of the dorm or across the street so we aren’t by the non-burning building.  We’ve been doing this drill since we were in elementary school, I’m sure we all know how it works.  And if you don’t . . . don’t come to a university, or ask an RA on your own time.  I don’t mean to be mean but it’s frustrating.  I was in my pajamas, for poop’s sake!
    So I waited in the laundry room for like five minutes until I figured that everyone had probably left the building.  Then I started to walk to my room,  but as soon as I walk outside, there’s a woman waiting at the top of the stairs next to a guy in a wheelchair and she’s like, “You need to leave the building.”  So I’m like “Ok . . .” And then some fool man comes stalking out of the elevator and he’s like, “YOU NEED TO LEAVE THE BUILDING, PUT THE LAUNDRY BASKET DOWN AND GO!”  Well now! There’s no need to be rude sir . . .
So I don’t say anything but start walking down the stairs, but I know I’m not leaving my laundry basket shucked to the side in a building with a bunch of crazy kids that I don’t know.  So! MY solution is to take my laundry basket with me . . . to the back of the building . . . in my pajamas . . . with unbrushed hair.  Everyone stares at me like I’m a freak on steriods when I come flopping out there . . . And sure I probably looked crazy, but as least be sly about staring somebody down. Sheesh!
   When the alarm ends, I have to take my stuff to my room AND THEN go trotting BACK upstairs to shove in 3 other loads.  Curse you laundry . . . . But! Now it’s done and I don’t care.  And I bought Evan Almighty and I love that movie so I’m happy.
    

Sheesh!

This is confusing man, I couldn’t figure out how to write anything for at least 20 minutes.  I just kept staring at my page, and that lone gold disco ball . . . until I realized that I wasn’t even logged in. Ha!  Hello, my name is Brittany, I’m a junior in college and I have a problem following directions. (HI BRITTANY!)

I am so hungry that my eye is starting to hurt.  But Krista gets off work in two minutes and hopefully will be back in the dorm in five minutes, if not, I’m pulling my sandwich out of the fridge and scarfing it.

My nose ring is loose . . . does anyone know if I have to get it tightened again?  It keeps poking me in the nostril and it’s kind of uncomfortable . . . so I keep having to shove it back over and it looks like I’m trying to pick my nose.  Brandon says that’s gross, but he doesn’t wear socks so I refuse to listen to his opinions. 
Ugh! I’m scared to get it tightened again, what if it falls through my nose like last time? That really hurt . . .