Why I Should Stop Ignoring Facebook Chat Windows

So last night I was working on homework, or at least trying to--it's hard when all you want to do is update Twitter and make a good play in Words With Friends on Facebook. But as I was on Facebook, I get a chat notification from a kid named Ben, who is the little brother of my friend Adam. Last time he talked to me on Facebook, it was kind of an annoying conversation, and this time I was expecting the same thing, so I didn't reply back to him, didn't even open the window. I just closed Facebook and told myself I really should get back to my homework.

I just now opened Facebook a few minutes ago, and Ben wasn't online (he's no doubt in school right now), but the window was still there. I opened it to read the message, and it said, "happy early birthday."

I feel like a douche. :(

Spring 2012

I met with my adviser last week and set up my schedule for next semester at MAC. Here's what classes I'll be taking:

MWF

10:00-10:50  Foundations of Education

11:00-11:50  General Biology

12:00-12:50  Jazz Ensemble

TR

9:00-10:50  General Biology (lab)

11:00-12:15  General Psychology

2:00-2:50  Beginning Jazz Dance 2

A few things are different about this semester's schedule than for any of my previous semesters. For one, this is the first time I don't have a single English course in schedule. But once the semester gets started and I get an idea of how tough my work load is going to be, I might try to add one. There's a Creative Non-Fiction course I'd like to try, and Mr. Jaycox (my adviser) said he teaches a poetry course.

But the other major change is that I changed my major (DOHOHO!); I'm now getting an Associate of Arts in Teaching English, instead just an Associate of Arts in English alone. That's why I'm taking Foundations of Education this semester. It's also why I'll be at Mineral Area College even longer than I first anticipated. Before, I thought I could graduate during summer 2012, but with the extra education courses I have to cover, I won't get to graduate until at least next fall.

=/

But at least it's just a minor setback. And in the long run, getting a job with a teaching degree will be easier than getting a job without it. And next fall my friend Corey will be attending MAC, which is great because I haven't seen him much at all since we graduated high school. Plus, I have more time to set up courses that transfer to SEMO, which is where I want to go after MAC.

So hey, it looks like I've got a little bit of future lined up for me.

"We see 10 million commercials a day, and every day is the same life-killing chase for money, money and more money; the only thing that changes from minute to minute is that every tick of the clock brings with it another space-age vendor dreaming up some new way to try to sell you something or reach into your pocket."
 ~Matt Taibbi

I Stopped Hearing Him

We used to have this dog named Bilbo. He was a dachshund/something-or-other (my mom found his dachshund mother when she was pregnant with Bilbo's litter, so we don't know what the father was), and he had fluffy white fur spotted black that made him look fatter than he really was. He was an adorable dog to look at, but he was a spoiled brat. He barked at literally everyone and everything that came anywhere near our house, including the people who have been living there. It's funny, because had a black splotch covering half his white face; if it were up to me, I'd have named him Two Face.

A few times we tried to give him away. But each time the potential new owner took him to their house, Bilbo terrorized their other pets and holed up in a corner somewhere without letting anyone go near him. That happened to two different people, the same exact story. After the second person, my dad started calling him Boomerang.

So, Bilbo pretty much became a fixture of the Morey household: the Dog Who Barked at Everyone. He would bark at me like I was a serial killer every time I came home from school, but I guess I got used to him. I'd park my car, step outside and walk halfway through our front yard when his signature woo-woo-woo-woo-woof! punched the silence, and he came running from around the back of the house to do nothing but yap at me. "Shut up, Bilbo, you see me every day!" I would say, as if he actually listened.

A few years ago (we had Bilbo for about four years, I think), he lost his voice for a week. Seriously. When he tried to bark, no sound came out but a hoarse whisper of a bark. Best week of my life.

In retrospect, that's probably when the tumor in his neck started to form. We noticed a lump on Bilbo's neck and took him to a veterinarian. Bilbo had the tumor surgically removed, and he was just fine afterward--and even though he started gaining weight, he was basically back to his rotten, bratty self.

For a few years, anyway. Recently his tumor started to reform, but the vet refused to operate on him again because he had to cut so close to Bilbo's throat last time. And rather than have Bilbo weather another winter, my mom and dad decided to put him down.

That was two weeks ago. I found out today. I hadn't even realized he was gone. I must have stopped noticing him bark a long time ago.

Taking Up Space?

Ever since Occupy Wall Street garnered media coverage I've grown more and more fascinated by it. From what I've read, it's a movement unlike any this country has seen for several generations. People of all ages, races, income levels, etc., are realizing the gross socioeconomic inequality they've been living under and they are coming together to demand justice. Some media outlets and political commentators are even calling Occupy Wall Street the liberal counterpart of the Tea Party, but OWS seems... different to me somehow. Either way, the movement catches me in wonder.

But a friend of mine says Occupy Wall Street is nothing but a bunch of stupid, ungrateful kids lashing out violently as a way to demand money they don't deserve. It's nothing like the Tea Party, he says, because they had a legitimate message (legitimate because he agreed with them?), and never used violence to get it across. He spoke with authority, but... he hasn't been to an Occupation anywhere--he's only going by what he hears on the news--most likely Fox News, too.

So how does he know? If he's never seen for himself the way Occupy Wall Streeters really act, asked them what they really want, where does he get the idea he knows more than I do about them? So this is my resolve: I have to attend an Occupation rally someday, and the closest is Occupy St. Louis. I want to see what it's about. I want a firsthand account. I want to decide for myself where I stand. I don't know when I'll go, I guess I have to make plans.