Diana.nu

I ran to the bus stop.

The first two minutes, at least. I had about ten minutes to replicate a usually fifteen-minute walk. I needed to take the flash drive with me or I would not be able to print out the final research paper, which was the purpose in running to the bus stop–I only had 4 out of the 7 pages needed. I arrived in eight minutes. And two hours before class.

I ran to the library.

But I realized I had no cash with which to print the paper. I went to the bookstore and asked them if they gave cashback. They said no, and pointed me to the ATM. Which only gives multiples of 20 and charges $1.50. I checked quickly on my iPod how much money I had in my account at the moment. $21.82. I now have $0.32.

Then I bought some chips, because I was needed something that wasn’t a $20 bill to pay for ten cent paper. I spent an hour in there to churn out one more paragraph, giving me four-and-a-half pages.

Then I did the other essay the professor had assigned. A nonformal, quick, 2 page essay on Chapter 6. I finished a page and ran to the printer.

A girl from class was there, all ready to tell me how much she screwed up. I only had dollar bills and didn’t want to battle with the machine, so I asked someone for change. They were hesitant, but I wish in a rush, so I offered them a dollar for fifty cents. “I only need fifty cents,” I said.

Then my math skills surfaced and I figured out I needed eighty cents. Ooops. I printed out the pages and left.

I ran to class.

I got out of the library at 4:27 and class starts at 4:30. Ooooooops. I jetted, but had to stop to help a boy find his way to library. It would be rude to do otherwise.

I got to class at 4:31, but the professor hadn’t collected anything. He talked and talked. I realized I had left my flash drive in the library and it had the only copies of my papers that he said we needed to email as well as turn in as hard coppies. OOOPS. I asked to be excused, told him why, and answered “no” when he asked me if I were a fast runner. He told me to wait. Again, OOOOPS.

We turned in our papers, my quick, 2 page essay being 1 page and my research paper being suspiciously light.

The professor wrote the final paper prompt on the board. Huh? went the class. Zero-tolerance policy, proportions, and the atomic bomb? Support or refute? WHAT? He said, you’ll understand when you get the essay.

But first, to put us in the mood for writing, he planned to read two essays he especially liked from the midterm. A girl’s and mine.

Hers was refuting that profanity is essential to our language. Mine was supporting that point. She made very good arguments, about limited vocabularies and learning to express onself without taking the easy way out.

Mine seemed to amuse the professor. He kept chuckling while he read it. Before I gave him permission to read it to the class, I forgot that I had totally referenced “vagina” in the text. And used some profanity. I take advantage of these kinds of situations.

Then he handed out the prompts.

When he arrived at my desk, he said, “You won’t be needing a prompt. Go outside, I need to talk to you.”

I was so scared he was going to fail me on the spot for my research paper being too short, but I saw a perfectionist (the other girl whose essay he read) also gathering her things to go outside, and I relaxed.

Once we got outside, the professor told us we didn’t need to take the final because we had done so well in class. Automatic A on the final for us.

I shouted some happy things while he wished me good luck. Good luck with what? I don’t know.

In short–GOOD DAY.

Today is the last day of summer session at the community college~~~

Besides the three essays I have to write today–a half-finished research paper, a permissibly half-assed/non-formal evaluation-type paper, and the argumentative final–I think it’ll be a good day.

I didn’t finish the book The Pig Who Sang to the Moon, but I turned it in to the library. I got to the last chapter about eating animals or not eating them, I should say, and felt like I was the choir being preached at. The chapter on chickens affected me the most, actually. I love birds. I know it’s not okay to harm any animals, but for some reason, I feel like it’s worse to eat birds. They were meant to fly. (wild gallus gallus fly. As do wild ducks.) If flying were a huge part of my nature, being, and “instinct,” and I were denied it. I don’t know. This is 100% sentimentality without self-indulgence, so pretend I didn’t say it. Still, I don’t understand why some consider chicken vegetarian.

Speaking of animals, the neighbors across the street allowed their new puppy to be run over. I can honestly say I feel terrible for the remaining puppy and mother dog and other dog. Other dog may be daddy dog, I don’t know; I mind my business.

Once, the puppies managed to bypass the extremely broken down fence of the neighbors (okay, obviously more than once), and the mother dog, a chihuahua the same size as her puppies, desperately tried to nudge them all the way across the street. She got halfway there when they turned and ran back. Eventually, the puppies obeyed their mother and stayed inside. Should I use the word “obey”? Seems a little too strong to me. Oh well.

No more 2-hour bus rides to school and no more homework, oh joyous day.

“Get in two groups,” said the professor. We didn’t get a chance to stand up before he specified, “Not so cozy, each person stays on the side of the room they were sitting,” indicating that we could not necessarily sit next to a friend. There were five topics written on the whiteboard–women in combat, abortion, gay marriage, gun control, and capital punishment. My side of the room was pro on everything.

Women in combat–My side could not get over “If women want equal rights, they should fight just like men do,” no matter when I told them that few women are striving to be treated as if they are physically strong as men. The other side definitely won when they brought up that women POWs were likely to be raped. A girl on my team tried to compare torture to rape, but those two things are so horrible on their own that no one wanted to continue the discussion.

I am extremely pro-choice. I mean, extremely. There was another girl in my group who “admitted” (well, she was sheepish about it) that she was pro-choice, but she drew the line at women using abortion as birth control. On the other side of the room, a person brought up the same topic: abortion being abused as birth control. She also brought up murder, pyschological help being there for the women pregnant from rape, and of course, the alternative. Adoption.

The girl who admitted to being pro-choice went off about raped women not having a choice. I focused on “abortion should not be used as birth control.” I started rocky, and my voice was actually shaky. I forgot what I said, but it was something along the lines of, you think it’s horrible to use it as birth control. That’s fine. I don’t. Then I said something about having the right to have 20 abortions if I wanted to, judge me or don’t because I couldn’t care less.

A woman told me, pompously, that a woman couldn’t have 20 abortions. About 4 was probably the limit. As rude as it was, I couldn’t help looking at her like she was crazy. Okay, I said, but that’s the not point. What I’m saying is that a woman can have as many abortions as she wants, and no one can force her to have the baby after the 19th (or 3rd, I guess) abortion.

The professor had my back. He asked how something could be okay the first time but wrong the 100th time. If it’s okay the first time, it should be okay the 100th time. I agreed. Loudly.

For gay marriage, about the only thing I remember was a high school girl taking the class for extra credit swearing she was cool with gay people–”I have tons of gay and lesbian friends”–but she would never want to have to explain that to her child. Or worse, watch her child become gay. Which I don’t get. If you’re not prejudiced, how hard can it be to explain? And accept? A middle eastern girl on my team compared it to racism. Which no one had a rebuttal for. High five~

I don’t remember what happened during gun control and capital punishment because I was doodling. They wouldn’t let me talk, since they just wanted to shout at each other. Actually, each team was more interested in giving speeches and listening to themselves preach than actually shouting. Shouting would be communicating, which was not their goal.

I really don’t like informal debates. They only show who is better at being rude.