DISCLAIMER: (This blog was written the weekend of the 12th of February. And tweaked today)
This weekend was probably one of the best ones I've had in a while.
I just can't prove that it happened. Fellow Facebook users will know the saying "If it's not on Facebook, it didn't happen." Or something along those lines. Well, it wasn't on Facebook, so I guess it didn't happen in the Facebook universe. But Blogger is different. The fact that I'm blogging about it means it happened in this universe.
It all started on Friday. Let's just say the week leading up to Friday was a pretty crappy one. I got a C- on my Geology midterm, found out I BARELY got a D- on my Math midterm, and...just...ugh. I am a person who's never gotten lower than a B- on midterms let alone my final grades. That changed last semester with Political Science, but I ended up getting a high C, thanks to my end-of-the-semester push for a better grade. I will say the low grade in Geology is my fault. It's an online course, and I DEFINITELY don't put in the effort needed to succeed in that "class". So I was mildly pleased that I didn't fail. But next time I'll try a little harder and definitely do better. It's not a hard class. I'm just stupid.
The difference with my Calculus class is that I'm actually enjoying it. And on top of it, I UNDERSTAND it. I get the concepts of Calculus. But my obstacle: complex algebra. It's the factoring, simplification and all that jazz that screws me up. I've talked to my WONDERFUL T.A. about it and she tells me that, yes, algebra is what's crippling me. She knows I'm smart and I think she identifies with me because she had the same issue when she was an undergrad taking Calculus: she bombed the class the first time around. So she told me to come in as often as possible during her office hours and she'll help me out. Also, I'm going to purchase the "Algebra Workbook for Dummies" book. Because a little extra practice can't hurt, especially when currently, my grade in the class is a 66%. I think that's a D at BYU...
Back on topic though. The entire week, I've been contemplating my schooling: I'm barely passing my classes which means if I continue on this streak my GPA will drop (if I get anything lower than a 3.0, I'll probably implode); I'm not in an official major yet and I'm almost a junior; I probably won't get into the major I want, so I better start accepting my fallbacks which...I haven't decided on yet; What the heck am I doing with my life?
In a previous post, I joked about dropping out and just saying nuts to schooling. The key word there is "joked". But within every joke is a truth. the withdrawal deadline still hasn't passed and I could just drop out of every class and just go back home. Work, maybe. Make tons of money. Travel. Just recharge and try again when I'm feeling more confident in my life and in myself.
I will admit that I'm still feeling this way. But this weekend (REMEMBER THIS ISN'T ACCURATE ANYMORE), I was able to escape that. Friday morning, we had a 4-mile ruck march. For you non-Army/Military types, that means I had to get up and put on full gear, weigh my rucksack down to a minimum of 35 lbs (mine was more like 40 lbs, which is a third of my weight, FYI) and be ready to march at a 15-minute mile pace at 5:30 in the morning. There are all sorts of things wrong grammatically with that sentence. Moving on...
So yeah. Ruck march. But compared to the things going on emotionally in my life, the march wasn't that bad. If anything, it made me reflect on my life and that you can be weighed down by tons of things (cans of soup and boxes of pancake mix were the things literally weighing me down), but if you just get a good tempo going in your legs and DON'T stop until you're finished (that's key there. Don't slow down, don't speed up unless you think you can handle it and above anything else, don't stop before your done EVER), it really isn't all that bad. It's the next day that will suck since you'll be sore.
Because of the ruck march, Friday started off with an uplifting bang. And I was excited to spend the night to myself recovering. But that wasn't in my friend's plans. She invited me to go along with her and her roommates to Studio 600, a club (chain of clubs actually) that is a pretty big deal in Provo/Salt Lake, and to dress up ridiculously and have a wild time (wild in Mormon standards, which means dancing whilst whipping your hair back and forth. Oh so risque). So, I did. And I also went out and had some retail therapy: bought myself a dance skirt (for my dance class, not the club, mind you), got a new pair of Chucks (converse shoes), and got the rest of the stuff for a Valentine's Day package to a dear friend and my Valentine this year.
And then I went to the club and had a blast! It was strangely fun to have guys come up to us and just start dancing, no words, no salutations, just a greeting in the language we both were speaking: body language. That sounds dirty, but it was never gross or suggestive like that. Just a great time. I even salsa danced with a complete stranger who looked South American and spoke with an accent. But he was probably 10 years my senior.
It was just the thing I needed to let loose and forget about my problems.
The next night was the winter formal. Earlier in the week, I had been asked by my friend to go. He ding-dong ditched my apartment with balloons that had slips of paper and Nerds candy in them. I think he was hoping we'd pop them and make a mess but since me and Janica (the roommate) love helium, we used the helium for our entertainment (link of said entertainment is on Facebook). So I went with someone I was familiar with if not pretty good friends. But I had to work up until the moment we were to go out and have dinner, which was an unnecessary stress. I got off work but of course, it's at the big basketball game so traffic is a MESS. The last time I tried driving home after work, it took me 45 minutes to get to my apartment that was less than a mile away (maybe it's a mile...either way, it's a short distance.). So I ditched my car and ran home in my newly purchased chucks (I think that's what broke them in initially) and, sweaty and tired, got ready for the formal. I cleaned up pretty nicely, if I do say so myself. I wore my cute, knee-length purple shiny dress (I think it's some kind of knock-off silk material...not sure) and my chucks just so people knew I didn't take this whole formal thing too seriously.
The dance was pretty typical Mormon reception/dance setting. Streamers. Balloons (WITH HELIUM!). Fruit punch/Sprite combo drink. Cheesy 80s songs. Obnoxious half-dancing where people sorta sway and move their arms and stuff, laughing to blow off the fact that they can't dance. Yep. Typical. But, because of my date, I had a fantastic time. Plus, I had just eaten a delicious meal of Thai food beforehand, so I was full, still picking the curry from my teeth, and having a blast. Turns out my date knew how to waltz and do official dance things like me, so we spent many of the slow dances Viennese Waltzing around the other couples, laughing, messing up occasionally and just having a jolly good time.
And then I came home and slept.
Sometimes all you need to do after a stressful time is to blow off steam in whatever way you see fit. For me, at that time, it was to be amongst people. But now, I think I'll keep to myself. I feel like I'm lashing out at people that don't deserve it because of the high tensions I'm feeling. But that's just me.
Anyways, sorry this took forever to be posted. But I hope you're all happy now.