Stop! It’s Party Time!

So, based on the last several posts (excluding the one about my Canada trip), you guys know that I’ve had a rough couple weeks. Both my roommate and I have been feeling the stress of finals looming over our heads. Final projects, presentations, and exams are coming up and it’s been a little daunting. Both of us have been sick lately, too, and Amanda recently sprained her ankle really badly at a Rugby game last week. Our apartment has been a little dreary.

The past week, especially, we’ve just been coming home and moping on the couch. We were just absolutely wiped out and spent our evenings attempting to weed through our homework and maybe get a little less behind in our classes. It was mildly depressing. So when the impromptu opportunity came to release a little steam, we jumped at it like a box of kittens at a laser pointer.

Amanda’s cousin was celebrating his birthday in Brookings, SD with a nice little grill out, and invited us to join. We packed up as soon as possible and got the heck out of Marshall.

The party was really fun, we met David’s coworkers and saw his college friends again. It was so great. We got to just relax and forget about all of the stuff back at school stressing us out. It was a fantastic break, and we didn’t have to stop there. The next night was chalk full of some really great plans.

A few weeks ago, my friends Michaela, Brianna, and Kelsey approached me and told me that they wanted to put on a surprise birthday party for Amanda. They just needed my apartment to do it and for me to distract her the night of so that they could decorate beforehand. This was indeed going to be a surprise seeing as how Amanda’s birthday wasn’t until June. I was so excited. Amanda puts on parties for everyone all the time and never gets one for herself. I was really looking forward to it because I knew she deserved it and I couldn’t wait to see her face when we got to the party.

Michaela had worked out the details with the others, and it was looking like the best party ever. I was going to take Amanda out to Applebee’s while they decorated and when we got back, they would jump out at her and scare the crap out of her. Or so I thought.

Little did I know, Amanda had known about the party all along. Brianna had made a comment about having a party for her birthday before we went home for the summer. Amanda’s crazy, creative, caring party-planning brain mode kicked in. She decided that if they were going to throw a party for her, they would have to throw a party for me, too, seeing as how my birthday was in the summer too. And, best of all, I was not allowed to know that the party was for me. So the entire time that I was planning things for Amanda, everyone was lying to me behind my back and planning it for me.

I cannot stress this enough. My friends are diabolical, lying fiends. The intricacies of this deception are so complex and deep that I doubt I will ever fully trust anyone ever again.

That being said, I was so touched that they care so much about me to even think about doing something like this. It was the biggest surprise, I had had absolutely no idea. When I found out that Amanda had known the whole time, I was shocked…

The party was a hit, though. A lot of people showed up, including the cousins we had just seen the night before. We had tons of food, snacks, juice, and…other…beverages…party beverages the like of which college students often indulge in…you know, like…Mountain Dew and stuff.

AND WE GOT PRESENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Needless to say, we had a much needed weekend of blowing off steam. My friends are crazy and insanely creative and awesome. If any of them reads this blog, which I actually pray that they don’t, I love you guys! That was fantastic.

 

Je suis américaine!

Okay guys, this week is a little longer post that most, but bare with me because I’ve got a lot to share!

This past weekend I had the amazing opportunity to visit Canada for the first time. I travelled with the SMSU french club–Le Club Francais. We left on Thursday and spent the entire weekend exploring Winnipeg and it’s French quarter, Saint-Boniface. The trip came at the perfect time–I was stressing over school being so close to over, and needed a vacation. Even though I was stressing, most of my homework was reading and seven hour car rides are perfect for burning through a few hundred pages of novel. My medications, thankfully started kicking in a few days before and they had my appetite raging, which was absolutely perfect for a trip centered largely around eating delicious French foods. And last, but certainly not least, during my trip, my tax refund went through, so I had a comfortable amount of spending money for said delicious foods…and some presents for people I kind of like, I guess.

We went to so many amazing, authentic French restaurants and I got to try a lot of new foods that I had never had before. Duck, halibut, ratatouille, scallops (oh my goodness, scallops, guys: delicious), risotto, creme brûlée, floating island, St. Honore, and others. I swear I spent almost $200 on food alone during this trip. But, boy, was it ever worth it. We were literally planning our days around our meals. The ladies I was with sure do know how to travel.

We found a bunch of great places to eat. The first night, we went to Bombolini and had a great meal that we raved about for the rest of the trip. We sat and ate for so long that we did not even get back to the hotel until 11:30! Stella’s Cafe across the street from our hotel was fabulous. We ate there twice for breakfast and once for supper–each time we had great service and scrumptious, filling food. We got reservations at Retro Gare, a nice little place where you can actually eat in a train car! One of my favorite places, though, was Little Maria’s, an adorable little cafe that we found by accident.

We had planned to get a light lunch at Bombolini, so that the older ladies could have some more of the wine from Thursday night that they couldn’t stop talking about. Unfortunately, when we got there, we discovered that they were closed for the afternoon, a very common occurrence in Canada and France that Americans just are not used to. We went back to the parking lot and saw the side of a little building with a gorgeous mural on the wall. Above it read: “Little Maria’s Porchetta and Meatballs.” We figured that we’d take a gander and see if they were open. I am so glad that they were because it was the cutest little place.

We talked to the owner and found out that they’d only been open for about eight months and that the man had named it after (I think) his granddaughter. The little girl, probably around six or seven, was there playing and drawing in a back room. She was adorable. They had put up all kinds of artwork around the cafe and they had a few pictures of Maria and even some of her drawings up as well. The food was exquisite. The side salads alone were really good and I had a meatball sandwich that was mouth-watering. After we had finished eating, the owner came over with two massive slices of apple caramel pie on the house because they were about to close for the weekend and needed to get rid of the last of it. The service was so great and the food was so good that we all tipped exuberantly.

We did get to see stuff, too. We visited two museums and saw some great exhibits, we went to an adorable little bookstore called “A la Page” and I found some cute kids books in French (kids books are the only ones I know enough to actually be able to read.) We went to an old church and saw many other cultural things. We also got to do a lot of shopping and the Forks, and Portage Place. Portage was a nice little mall, and my favorite store in there was HMV which was packed full of nerdy things galore. They had merchandise for Supernatural, Doctor Who, Fault in Our Stars, Harry Potter, Star Wars, and so many others. I actually had to leave for a bit so that I would not hyperventilate and spend all the money I had ever possessed ever. Mia and I both got hit on by the same guy and had a great time laughing about it later when we found out. I was very proud of myself that I walked out of that store with only one purchase–an absolutely adorable Grumpy Cat shirt with a red barret and moustache drawn on and “Non!” written above. In case any of you don’t know, “Non” is “No” in French. I thought it was the perfect thing for a cat loving French club president to take home after her trip to Canada.

When I went to the check out, I handed the cashier my Vikings-decorated debit card, and he said, “So you’re not from around here, eh?” I was like, “No, I’m from Minnesota. Je suis américaine! with a terrible accent….” He graciously said that it wasn’t that bad and we had a nice conversation about the weather and other stuff. That was the only time I really got to use the little bit of French that I’ve learned here, but like most people, he was glad that I had at least tried. A lot of people think that Americans are uncultured and self-centered, and I agree that, for the most part, they’re kind of right. But if you try just a little to be on the same page as some one else, it really brightens their day and brings a smile to their face. Even if they are laughing at you, it’s still nice. Plus, if you laugh along, then they’re just laughing with you!

Like I said, we did lots and had some great times, but the food was definitely the best part. We sat and ate for hours at a time. Some of my favorite parts were just sitting with these ladies at mealtimes and listening to their stories about life, kids, health issues (we all had some sort of problem), driving horror stories, and above all, stories of traveling.

My mom has always stressed travel while we were growing up, so I have been lucky enough to go to Italy, Greece, and at least half of the states. The rest of the group included Madame Leslie, the French teacher here on campus, Kathy Schaefer, also a teacher here, and two other students, a non-tradational student with kids in their thirties, and Mia, a 25-year-old originally from Haiti who had grown up in Miami. At 20, I was the youngest in the group, but was still able to hold my own in conversation. All of us girls came from different backgrounds, but we had all had some really interesting experiences that we got to share with each other. It’s amazing getting to learn about people’s lives and hearing all the things that they have been through. As a French teacher, Madame had been on countless trips with students across Canada and Europe. Kathy had been a travel agent and had seen many countries in her time. I loved to just soak up their stories and keep adding to my ever-growing wish list of travel destinations.

We only spent a few days there, but we saw and shared so much that it felt like longer. The weather was beautiful while we were there. We left Minnesota rainy, cold, and windy, and we came into Winnipeg with temps in the 60s, sun streaming down, and an only occasional ridiculous wind.

I’ve always loved travel, it’s one of my favorite things to go new places and just watch the people who live there. It’s fascinating how similar and yet totally different everyone is. There is almost always something you have in common with any given person, and being able to find that and sit down and have a conversation is a true gift.

I cannot wait for my next chance to travel. This summer, I will be attending my third League of Postmasters convention with my mother in Washington D.C., and I will be trekking through the Boundary Waters for the first time with my roommate and her family. I love taking vacations to new places, but I would also love to go back to Winnipeg-if only for the food!

I hope someday that I either get a high-paying job with lots of time off, or I marry rich and use my husband’s money to see the world. A girl can dream, right? Oh well, I will be dreaming about those scallops, regardless of my future outlook.

 

Another Angst-Filled Rant…

Throughout my school career, I have struggled with trying to balance academics, work, extra-curriculars, and a social life. Granted, I don’t have the thriving social life most college students have to manage, but I still do things. For whatever reason, this semester has been insane when it comes to sorting everything out. I’m constantly deciding between resting to stay healthy (not easy with a genetic medical condition), enjoying the activities with clubs, and not ruining everything grade-wise that I’ve been working toward for three years.

This semester, as you know, I have 22 credits worth of classes to juggle, only one thankfully very easy job, band, French and honors club, friends to hang out with and a relatively new boyfriend to hang out with. So. Much. Work!

These last few weeks since Spring Break have been truly awful. Over the break, as I said, I got really sick. It was a mixture of a bad turn with my condition and a cold. I was set up on the coach with Harry Potter audio books and Sudoku not getting any homework done and falling slowly behind. The next week I was still sick and hadn’t gotten much more done. I had lots of things looming: a big paper for a research conference that I would have to miss school for the next week(last Thursday through Saturday), group projects and other assignments.

Today is the Wednesday after the conference, which I actually couldn’t attend because I got the flu, but I still missed the classes, so yay! The medications I’m taking for my condition severely deplete my immune system making me more susceptible to other viruses most people get to fight off without ever even knowing they were at risk.

I just got back from a trip with the SMSU Symphonic Band and Chorale. It was fun, but I was still kind of sick and missed two full days of classes again. Friday, I’ll miss class again to go to the clinic and get needles stabbed into my arms and poison “medicine” pumped through my veins. Next week, Le Club Francais is taking an exciting trip to Canada for four days! I’m super pumped for it, but it means missing another Thursday and Friday of classes.

All of this is so overwhelming that I actually am not sure and cannot put a quantifiable number on exactly how far behind I am in all of my classes. I have missed more class this semester than in all of my previous semesters put together. I’m pretty sure that my Tuesday night class is just kind of…I don’t even know. How could I? I haven’t been there since….February 24th…oh my god, I’m screwed.

Obviously, health is important, but it’s hard to keep missing class and not feeling guilty about it, even if I am nearly dead to the world sick. Getting involved in clubs is great too, and this trip to Canada is an amazing opportunity, the band trip was completely mandatory, and the conference was required for class. Each one has good reason for skipping, but when I go to all three (or try to) and they’re all within three weeks of each other, it gets a little insane.

On top of all of this, I do want to hang out with my friends, and sometimes am obligated to. A couple weeks ago, we had a double birthday for two of the ladies in our group. It was a blast, but it took hours of planning, preparing, and actually enjoying. Ugh, and then there’s the boyfriend who wants to hang out. There is not enough time in the day for all of the things!!

I knew this semester would be crazy going into it, but I hadn’t expected to get so sick, and I really hadn’t expected a boyfriend. Juggling everything is getting stressful, but there are only five weeks left. If I can just keep it together until May 9th…but then again, I have to get everything done in five weeks. Holy crap. I’m going to die.

 

Blood Sucking Money-Snatchers!

Being that I am almost done with school, I must now prepare for commencements–that embarrassing, yet rewarding time when you walk across the stage in front of hundreds of people so bored out of their minds with Pomp and Circumstance still ringing in their ears that they are just praying that you’ll trip and fall flat on your face for a little sliver of entertainment. This, surprisingly, isn’t even the worst part about graduating.

Of course there is always the “what the heck am I doing with my life?” “Where am I going to work?” “How will I afford to live?” “What if I have to be a bum, or go back to blankity-blank horrible job I had last summer?!?!” There’s the search for jobs, internships, even volunteer work to get a little experience or helpful networking. That’s stressful enough, but on top of that, now we have to start paying up for our so-called “beneficial” education.

It starts early on–Freshman year, in fact. If you’ve looked through your e Services billing, you’ve noticed that nice little fee labeled “commencement fee: $2.16.” Doesn’t seem so bad, does it? But next semester, it’s the same, and for every semester since. Sure, that’s not a large sum, but what they don’t tell you, is that you still have to buy your cap, gown, and tassel on top of that. Some may think, “Oh, can we just rent those? It’s not like I’ll need it EVER again, anyway?”

No. No, you may not. You must buy them, and you must get them from our trusty partners Barnes and Noble. Not to hate on BN, but that’s a monopoly, and you’re making me pay $60 for something I will literally wear once, and then throw in a closet, praying that my kids will graduate from somewhere that lets you wear a black robe at graduation. Unfortunately, my high school wore maroon, so I am SOL this time.

I didn’t even do that for prom. Junior year, hit Salvation Army, and $20 later, I’ve got a prom dress. Senior year, $15 from Goodwill. I do not condone spending $60 on clothes–even if I could wear them on a daily basis. Huh, maybe I can do that with my gown? First day at a new job IS pretty special…might as well go big, or go home, right? Oh, but first there’s the interview! I’ll have to wear it for that too! That’s what I call business formal! I’m so classy…

If this barbaric practice wasn’t enough, six months later, we have to start paying our student loans. I can’t even make rent this month, how am I going to start paying for an education when I don’t have a job yet? The world is a cruel place!!

I found a quote today on Facebook:

Yes, we will be paying for things for the rest of our lives. Advice: never graduate, stay in school until you die…it’s the only way to erase student loans. Unfortunately, they do not go away even if you declare bankruptcy. Life is cruel and then you die. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor, fellow classmates.

 

Spring…Break?

Spring break is finally here, but does it really count? Sure, we’ve had some beautiful weather that promises to stay really wonderful, but it does not really feel like a break. Don’t me wrong, I’m grateful for the time off, but teachers just don’t seem to get the fact that we need an actual break. Some of them have been amazing enough not to give me homework, but others lay on just as much as ever.

Right now, I’ve got four papers, two websites, and a scattered few other assignments on my to-do list. Granted, some of them, hopefully, won’t take too long, but it is still a bit overwhelming. I keep trying to convince myself that I should just do it all because after that, I get to relax. But this isn’t entirely true, is it? After I’ve used up my break time writing all of those essays, there will always be more.

Some of my classes have been rather light at the beginning of the semester, but that just means that the second half will be far worse. And even after I’ve dragged my procrastinating butt through the end of this semester, there’s always the summer. Will I find a job or internship to stress me out, or will I just stress out about not having anything to do, any way of making money and providing for myself?

I tell you, “Break” means nothing, it’s just a couple of days for you to temporarily remove yourself from the stress long enough to forget everything you were supposed to be doing, only to have it all resurface, ten times more overwhelming when you finally do come back to school.

Wow, this is an extremely pessimistic post, but I suppose Spring Break has actually given me enough free time to evaluate my life and finally realize how stressed I really should be. And it doesn’t help that I have a genetic condition that is only worsened by stress, so I am just peachy right now.

Oh well, I’m sure that responsibility and work will disappear some time, right? Like when I’m dead? Hopefully? Awesome…

 

Expectations

Expectations are a big deal. Those expectations that your teachers, parents, friends, and siblings have for you can be stressful to deal with. And then, of course, there are always the expectations you have for yourself.

Teachers usually have some pretty straightforward requests: do your homework, read at least 20% of the assigned text, maybe study a little bit, and show up to class once in a while. Parents tend to be a little more demanding: pass all of your classes, don’t get arrested, come home decently often, start paying bills and being responsible, know what you want to do in life, and also probably do that thing.

For me, it’s a little strange because my brother has even higher ideas for me. He tends to push me the most, ask probing questions about my future and generally scare the crap out of me about what I’m doing with my life. HE can talk because, at only 21, he already has a stable, lucrative career, a mortgage, and four vehicles.

I won’t lie, it does put a lot of pressure on me to be at least as successful as him, but it also helps me think about what I really want out of life. It makes me think about it, but it doesn’t necessarily get me any closer to knowing the answers to those questions. Then I have to think about what I expect from myself.

This is tricky territory because I tend to expect an awful lot from myself, but I also doubt myself fairly often as well. The stress of these conflicting ideas can get pretty intense sometimes. Being in my last semester, or close to last semester as there have been some recent developments that may keep me here a little longer, I have to think about this more and more.

Going out into the real world is hard enough when you know what you want to do and where you generally want to be. I, however, have not made a lot of those choices and still sit on a precipice. I change my mind daily on career, family, and other basic life goals.

One thing that really helps with handling these expectations, and that I would recommend to anyone and everyone, is counseling. Look into it, but your school probably offers some sort of free therapy to its students through Career Services or something similar. Talking to friends and family about your concerns does definitely help, but having an unbiased, experienced adult listen to you talk out your fears, hopes, and dreams can be really beneficial.

 

The Future is Scary

One thing you really have to worry about your last semester of college is the future. Up to this point, it’s all pretty much been laid out and determined without too much trouble on your part. For me, I never really worried about the future that much. In high school, yeah the idea of college was a little scary, but my grades and ACT scores were good, and I didn’t have to worry if I’d make it in to a good school. Now that I’m almost done with college, it’s all very open and rather horrifying.

There are a lot of different options: should I go for an internship? If so, where and for what? Should I try to get a job? Same questions apply here as well…

My major (Professional Writing and Communication) can be used for a wide range of jobs, especially with a minor in Public Relations. This leaves it very open and allows me to look into a lot of different career paths. However, this leaves it very open. It’s hard to pick a career when you have a lot of options. As for me, I still don’t have a really clear idea of what I want to do in life, so it’s more of a burden than an opportunity to have so many choices.

How do I decide where to go in life? What if I get a job somewhere and I absolutely hate it? What if I realize that it’s okay, just not really something I want to spend years of my life doing?

To avoid making such a committing decision this early on, I’ve decided to look for an internship. So what do I intern in? Do I stay here in Marshall, or do I go back home for the summer and find something in the Cities to do?

I’ve been considering a concentration in Event Coordination, so I started looking into some internships in coordinating and planning. SMSU recently hosted a Bridal Expo, inviting Wedding Planners from the area to showcase their businesses to local brides. I went and handed out about fifteen resumes, following up a few weeks later with emails containing a link to my online portfolio.

The stress of waiting is awful; not knowing where I’ll be living this summer or what I’ll be doing when it’s already almost March is horrifying. Hopefully in the next few weeks, I’ll be hearing back from a few places, and get a better idea of what to do.

The nice thing is, after the internship, I’ll have a better idea of whether or not I actually like event coordination, and if it’s something I’ll want to do with my life. Oh well, time will tell. And I can always change my mind later, I suppose. After all, I am a woman and if I don’t change my mind at least fifty times, the stereotype might be in risk of being debunked, and we can’t have that. Stereotypes like that lower expectations and allow us to switch between a whole bunch of different ideas. It’s rather nice, actually.

 

The Joys of Minnesota Life

If you’ve read my previous posts, you know that I live off-campus. This is very fun, but comes with a whole array of challenges. I’m sure many of these will be covered in later posts, but for this one, I’d like to touch on the issue of having to drive to school and work everyday rather than just getting up and walking to class.

I have a nice, if out-dated, little car. Now, my Nissan Sentra, Freddy, has crank windows, no lock/unlock buttons, and two, count them, two windshield wiper speeds.Normally, I would save the story of how we acquired and christened our little car to another time, but it doesn’t really have enough relevance to my blog to warrant its own post, so I just throw it in here quick.

My mom, brother (9) and I (8) were heading to Idaho to visit her friend, Pam. My mom’s car, a hand-me-down from my grandparents, was rather old and couldn’t quite make the trip. We were driving through the mountains, and it broke down right on the Continental Divide in Butte, Montana. We tried pouring our water into the engine, but it didn’t work. So my mom put it in Neutral, and we coasted down the mountain. Luckily, before we could lose momentum, we spotted a car dealership, hit a green light, and pulled right in.

Four hours and I’m sure a few thousand dollars later, we left with a brand new (only 13 miles on it) cute, little blue car. Apparently, at eight years old, I thought it would be hilarious to name our car “Freddy” like “Ready, Freddy, let’s go!”… I know… I’m adorable…or at least I was. Anyway, I was really broken up that the car was too small to fit all my stuffed animals in the backseat and some had to go in the trunk, so my mom was inclined to give me what I wanted. Thus, we got our Freddy, and I inherited him at 15 when my mom bought another hand-me-down from my grandparents.

So even though Freddy may technically challenged, I still love my car. And despite, or because of, these drawbacks, my wonderful older brother decided to give Freddy a little update for my birthday this year. Cole decided to buy his little sister remote start, and it has been a life-saver.

With the completely bipolar weather we’ve been having this year, there have been a few instances where it will rain and then shortly after dive to below-freezing conditions. The result is a frozen solid car. Not kidding, both Amanda and I had our cars frozen shut twice this year. Luckily, I can now turn my car (and heat) on from outside of the car to thaw it from the inside out. However, Amanda was not so lucky. The first time this happened, it took us so long to try to get her car open that we just gave up. Amanda had to get to a class, and I was going to be late for work, so I drove, she took my car back after class, and I got a ride home from a friend.

A few days later, we were not so lucky. Amanda was trying to go home for the weekend, and I had a test to get to. We worked on her car for 45 minutes! After that, I had to go, so she called the police who then helped her get in. Funny thing, though, they could only get the back, passenger-side door open, so she had to crawl through her already packed car in order to get to the front seat.

Her car may be a tank and have a floppity-billion number of windshield wiper speeds, but at least I can use mine all the time. Plus, crank windows still work in the cold. Perks of having a car from the stone-age, I guess.

 

Procrastination

I am no stranger to procrastination, that’s for sure. I like to tell people that I’ve been procrastinating since before I was born. Doctors said that I was supposed to come on July 9th, but I was just like: “Nah, man, I’ve got some stuff going on up in here. It’s super comfy, I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow…” (I was a super chill baby, by the way.)

Anyway, it’s actually kind of a problem even though I almost usually get all my stuff done on time. Public Service Announcement to all college students: You will not do that project later, and Netflix is definitely NOT a good idea.

The interesting thing about procrastination in college is that as your career progresses, the way you procrastinate actually evolves with you. Now, in high school, you procrastinate by hanging out with friends, eating a crap-ton of junk food, watching TV, taking a nap, and any number of other activities. However, in college, my roommate and I have found that, especially when you live in your own apartment, your activities become slightly more sophisticated, and surprisingly productive.

It seems as though even when you are avoiding work, you’re still doing work. (I think it’s important to stress here that the junk food by no means disappears from this list, it just gets some new companions.)

Thought process of a last-semester college student:

“Oh, man, I really don’t want to write this paper/do this project/read this massive textbook. Mm…guess I could clean my room.”

*Thirty minutes later*

“Well, room’s clean…still don’t wanna work…oh! I could do the dishes…”

*Twenty minutes later*

“Well, no clean clothes, looks like I’ve gotta go do laundry…”

*Two hours later*

“Ugh, that floor is disgusting, I really should vacuum.”

Before you know it, your entire two story townhouse is gleaming, it’s 12 o’clock at night, and you still haven’t done a single iota of homework. So you see, even though you don’t get anything actually important done, when people come over, you look like a very well put together individual. Perks.

Last semester during finals week, Amanda and I vacuumed, cooked, cleaned the bathroom, washed the dishes, took out the trash, shoveled the walk, and rearranged our entire living room.

Well, laundry calls, I’ll finish this post later…probably.

 

Neighbor Probs

As I post to this blog throughout the semester, some of the things I talk about will be more easy to relate to than others. This post is hopefully something that not a lot of people can relate to. If you’ve experienced something similar, I’m really sorry and I hope you handled it well.

Prerequisite knowledge required: Amanda and I live in a two-story townhouse with neighbors on either side separated from us only by very thin walls. And when I say “very thin,” I mean very…very thin. Now, with the neighbors in Apt 1, we have established the mature protocol that if one of us is being too loud, the other will politely tap on the wall. The first will understand that they are being obnoxious and turn down the volume. This has worked well in the past and has kept us from trying to kill each other. We behave like adults. With the people in Apt 3, there is no such understanding. Also, maturity, in general, is a little lacking.

So, anyway, my neighbor from 3 was yet again verbally abusing his girlfriend rather loudly one Monday evening. I didn’t think much of it at first because this was a pretty common occurrence. Little did I know, it was not going to be a typical night.

I hadn’t gotten home from work until eleven o’clock and I was tired. I let it go on for a while because I was doing homework anyway. But after about an hour and a half of relentless screaming, I had had just about enough. I had to wake up at 7:30, and I needed my beauty sleep. So when I lightly tapped on the wall to indicate that he should maybe quiet down since it was 12:30 in the morning, he trained his anger on me instead. He started yelling at me through the walls calling me a lot of names that will not be repeated here. He dared me to call the cops, threatening to get me kicked out of the apartment. He said that he had been here for nine years over my one and he had video evidence that would get me booted out. Then he called me a slut and suggested I go “f*** another black guy.”

At this point, I thought maybe he thought the knock had come from the apartment on the other side because I have never done that before. Not that I’m racist, I just haven’t gotten there yet. Also, neither Amanda nor I had ever had a boy stay the night in our apartment and we hadn’t broken any rules either. There was no way he could have video evidence of it if we had. (Unless he had installed cameras in our apartment, which is just beyond creepy.) Also, we’ve only lived there for maybe six months, tops, not a full year. However, my speculation was soon dissolved as he followed up by saying that I was a “nasty-a** brunette [w]itch with the blue car.” Yep, definitely me…I’m brunette, and I drive the only blue car out in that parking lot. I wouldn’t necessarily refer to myself as nasty or a [w]itch, but I was pretty sure that he now definitely knew who he was yelling at.

Another thing you may need to know is that I grew up in a really small town with my mom and on a hobby farm with my dad. I had never shared a wall with a neighbor, much less an angry one like this guy. I had no idea how to react. The most I could do was stay lying in my bed, shaking, cuddling with my cat.

After a while he got bored with me and shifted back to screaming at his girlfriend…and her seven year old daughter. Some time later, someone made a comment that made him reply with “yeah, and that [w]itch!!!” …and he was back on me. He said again how nasty I was and that he wouldn’t have sex with me if I was the last person on earth (yes, because I SOOO want to have anything to do with such a despicable human being) and some other stuff about my car and I don’t know what else. He went back to yelling at his girlfriend until 3 am when it sounded like it got physical because there was a lot of crashing and screaming followed by her yelling “look at my eye, I can’t even f***ing see” and him saying something about her throwing something at him and now he can’t even bend his finger. At one point he started yelling at the seven year old girl and calling her a word that can also be used to refer to a cat…or a willow.

This girl is seven…she’s not fricking Hercules, dude, calm down. I seriously considered calling the cops, or at the very least, waking up my city-grown roommate sure that she would know what to do. However, I was still glued to my bed and way too scared to move. I know now that calling the cops would’ve been the best option, but, hey, hindsight is 20-20.

This went on until about 5:30 am when I was finally able to sleep only to wake up for class at 7:30. Later that day, Amanda and I went to Doug, our apartment manager, and filed a report with him and then called the police and got a statement on file with them for reference in any future issues.

There you have it, the first night of my last semester. A nice way to start out, I dare say. Thankfully, it has been rather quiet over there since…actually a little too quiet. I hope they’re okay…well, I hope she’s okay…