If you're a student in college...

If you're a student in college, someone is bound to ask you what you're studying.

When you answer this question, they will ask you what you want do with your degree.

This impromptu interview will remind you that you really should be studying, so you will quickly dismiss yourself and hit the books.

Doing your math homework will remind you that you really don't like math, so you will go buy a snack instead.

As you buy your breakfast cookie at exactly 3:27 p.m., you will remember that you were supposed to call your mother before your breakfast.

When you make the call, you will see a clipping of job advertisements on the cork board.

The advertisements will remind you that you really need some work experience.

Your need of work experience will remind you that you really have no idea for what field you need it.

This quandary will remind you that you that you really need to declare a major.

And when you declare your major, someone is bound to ask you what you plan to do with it.

(Modeled after If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.)

I seem to be very fond of parodies lately. For my Honors assignment, I had the idea of writing a poem instead of a standard essay, and my prof approved. It is a parody of Dante's Inferno from Muhammad's perspective, written in iambic pentameter and (almost) terza rima. It has been quite fun to write, but more than a little painstaking. This song has helped a lot, though. Heh, heh.

Time goes by quickly and you should.....oh, there it went.

Do you know what's ridiculous? I just had to update my profile because, believe it or not, I am no longer a senior in high school! I'd make some cliche statement about how time "flies," but all of us who watch Doctor Who knows that it normally passes "really, really slowly...in the right order." But whether or not time feels fast when it's passing, it just keeps going and going and never stops...well, until heaven, I suppose.
Isn't that odd and slightly terrifying? On the first day of September, the month I leave for college, I find myself procrastinating on packing my things, bombarded with college mail, and trying to figure out what in the world I've gotten myself into. Don't get me wrong--I'm excited to leave and start life out on my own--but all the same, I'm just struck with this sense of urgency. I can't slow--or speed--the time until I leave...or until I graduate, get my first "real job," start finding gray hairs, or, y'know, die.
(Yes, I am in a morbid mood today, thank you very much!)
But seriously. Have you ever thought about that--that even if you lock yourself in a room and don't do anything for your entire life, time will keep on going?
The thought makes me cringe every time I go and waste time on the Internet, miss my Saturday alarm, or shrug off another chance to meet with God. I only have one life and I feel like, in this culture, I am encouraged--no, ordered--to squander it. As long as I'm happy, I might as well spend my life on whatever brand of entertainment I choose, right? At least, that's what society says.
I guess I just don't want to wake up one morning with wrinkles on my skin and a hair full of gray hair and wonder where all the time went.

Blue Hair, Green Converse, and Certifiable Insanity

Remember, oh about a couple of months ago, how I told you I was giving you a salutatorian speech and then had to admit that was a misunderstanding and I actually was not giving a speech? Well...it turns out I lied to you twice. Sorry!
Recently, I got a call from my high school counselor that said I actually could give a speech if I wanted. Either way, it was up to me. And do you know what I said?
Do. You. Know. What. I Said?
I said yes.
Actually, instead of "yes," I'm almost positive I said "sure" with a self-assured, carefree inflection to my voice. Staring blankly at the receiver, my insides lunged to recapture that abhorrent little word, but it was too late. Some convoluted part of me had already committed to a mission of certain death.
As I'm sure you are already aware, I am not a public speaker. Aside from my Spanish class this quarter, which has eight people and requires participation, I almost never speak in class. I write just about all the time, but verbally expressing those words in front of ten (or several thousand) people is pretty terrifying.
Myself and I, we had a long talk after agreeing to make that speech. On one hand, I was of course terrified. But on the other, I was secretly proud of myself. I knew that I was probably going to stumble over my words and make an utter fool out of myself on Graduation Night. But if I'd declined, I think I would always regret it.
I want to go out and change the world, and there's no way I can do that if I can't talk in front of people.  So, just to cement my stupidity for all eternity, I got two strands of my hair bleached and dyed blue the day before (to match my school colors of red and blue, of course) and started preparing.
When I first wrote my speech weeks before, I kept going over and over it, feeling oddly guilty but not knowing exactly why. Then, one night I was talking with my mom about graduation (who was dying to know what my speech was about, since I quite obstinately would not share it with anyone). She challenged me to put God in my speech, and that's when I realized exactly why it hadn't worked before. Leaving God out of my speech to please high school administrators was, in essence, lying. My Christianity is part of my identity, so giving a salutatorian speech and not mentioning my faith would be like going up there and mising part of my face or something. So I reworked it the night before the deadline and turned it in and, to my surprise, my counselor didn't cross out the "G-word" with red ink or phone me with directions to rewrite. Even during practice, he didn't say anything. I could hardly believe it.
The night before graduation, I barely slept, thinking about standing up in front of thousands of people to talk about the future, following one's passions, and God: no small task for one eighteen-year-old. By the time I ascended the stage decked out in my red robe, green Converse, and blue hair, though, all the butteflies had practically vanished. My voice was clear and I barely stumbled at all over my words.
When I returned to my seat, this huge feeling of relief washed over me. I did it. Now that I (voluntarily!) gave a salutatorian speech, I can do anything. I'm reminded of the verse Philippians 4:13, which says, "I can do all things through Christ who strenghtens me."
Huzzah!

The Future! Or something.

Before I start this post, I have to get something off my chest.... I'm a liar. That's it. There it is. As it turns out, as a salutatorian I do not have to give a graduation speech, so my last post was completely and totally useless! Sorry. It was unintentional lying, though, so would that be called negligent deceit? Hmm. Anyhow, sorry about that! Since you (probably) can't hear inside my head, I thought I'd let you know that I'm typing in an accent right now. And not just any accent....a BRITISH accent! I know, I know, you wish you were me, but as it turns out, watching old Doctor Who episodes for hours on end can severely damage one's brain. Which led to the following conversation..... Me: Mom, I changed my career goals a bit. My mother: Oh yes, what are they? Me: I want to be, erm...a TIME TRAVELER! My mother: Well, why don't you travel just going forward one year at a time, Courtney. Ha, ha. She's brilliant. For the last eighteen years and eleven days, I've been trying to figure out what to do with my life. Now that I'm an almost-graduate, I hear the word Future about fifteen times a day. Which would be nice if I had a clue what to do with it. It's sort of like an ugly Christmas sweater given from a well-meaning relative, but much, much scarier. And, on top of that, it's too big and I can't find the receipt. According to my mother, I have to go to work, pay taxes, and buy groceries like a normal human being. That's sad. I was sort of hoping to change the world. But I'm going to make the best of it and TRAVEL the world....with the money that I make from some job which I have yet to decide on. It will be something exciting, though. I'm sort of waffling between ER surgeon and foreign correspondent. First stop (hopefully): England! I'll just keep a lookout for any blue boxes along the way.