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The newest sales tool for the Raleigh newspaper? College campuses. I was walking merrily along to my office, thinking about the fact that it was Friday and that a three-day weekend was coming up and that we're going to a football game this weekend, where I will get to see friends I haven't seen in years, when I was summoned over to a little newspaper kiosk by a very disinterested looking man. Normally when someone on campus sets up a kiosk, I avoid it like the plague because for the most part, they either want me to buy a product or buy an idea and really, if I wanted a product? I'd go to a store. And if I wanted an idea? I'd go to the library.

But this time, I was sucked in by one, magical sentence: "Do you want a FREE newspaper?" Yes, yes I do. Free things are my friends. And when the free thing is a newspaper, it becomes even more my friend because newspapers are quite possibly the most fun inventions EVER. Watching the news requires for me to be able to tolerate the newscasters' atrocious grammar (which I just can't do) and reading the news online is just overwhelming. There's too damn much of it and by the time I finish a section, all the headlines have been updated again. Newspapers, on the other hand, do not require listening to people who say "good" instead of "well" and there's a finite amount of information and plus, it's really, really fun to fold.

So of COURSE, I took the free newspaper. And carried it happily across campus, thinking the entire time about how much fun it would be to get a paper EVERY DAY. So when I was walking back to the parking deck, I warily approached the man again, certain that it would cost at least about $20 per month. Imagine my surprise when he informed me that it would be $30 FOR THE ENTIRE SEMESTER. That's three-and-a-half MONTHS worth of feeling like I know at least a tiny bit about what's going on in the world. And moreover? It's three-and-a-half months worth of Sunday coupons. My scissors and I anxiously await.

I Rely on the Kindness of Strangers

My level of disorganization is inversely related to my level of relaxation. And since school started a week ago, my level of relaxation is dancing dangerously low, which is to say that my level of disorganization has reached new and UNFATHOMABLE heights. But as I get more disorganized, I also get more frustrated and if I can't think of a convenient place to put something, I just throw it away. Which becomes problematic because then, two weeks down the road, when I'm looking for that item, I have no. clue. what I did with it.

I'm currently facing this problem because at the beginning of this month, I got in the mail a new debit card. And since we were still moving and unpacking and organizing, I either (a) put it in a completely illogical spot or (b) threw it away. In either case, I can't find it. And while I'm not worried about anyone else trying to use it because it isn't activated yet, I AM worried about what's going to happen in 3 days when my current card expires and I'm left penniless.

So I decided while waiting for class to start this morning that I would set an alarm on my phone so that when I got home, it would ring and remind me to turn the place upside down to do one final search for the card. I was feeling all calm and organized because I planned all this ahead and set the alarm and everything. Until two hours later, when I reached into my purse so that I could make a call using my cell phone, only to find that--guess what!--there was no cell phone in there. Which meant that after setting this alarm, I left the phone in the classroom. The classroom that seats 300 people. On the other side of campus.

Luckily for me, there was a lost and found in said classroom and even more luckily, there wasn't a class being held when I ran back there, and EVEN MORE LUCKILY, my phone was sitting in the lost and found box. I'm sending out mega-watt positive thoughts for whoever found it and put it in the box.

Just Dancin' and Singin' in the Raaaaiiiinnnn

Today is Day 2 of The Rain and I gotta admit--it's growing on me. Why, you ask? Well...

1) I found my umbrella. Or rather, McMoose told me where he put my umbrella. Thanks, McMoose.

2) I really love my umbrella. It has two different shades of blue (aka: the best color IN THE WORLD) and is big, but not so big that you get blown away and it makes me unreasonably cheerful to carry it around.

3) The sound of rain hitting the umbrella makes me feel oddly...peaceful. And cozy. It's almost as good as walking home through brand new snow.

4) The Dog begins to resemble a very large sewer rat when he's wet, so whenever we go for walks in the rain, I get to see him looking hilariously cute. And then, he comes inside and dashes madly around and runs into the walls and furniture. And then he shakes water on the cats and they act very offended. And these are the moments that make scooping dog poop in the pouring rain a little bit more worthwhile.

5) I just Rain-Xed my windshield last weekend and it is now CRYSTAL clear. I was excited just to drive through the rain so I could admire the super-duper clarity.

6) And last, but not least, so many more people decide to skip classes when it's raining than when it's bright and sunshiny, which means that (a) the halls in my building are blissfully quiet and (b) the daily mad dash for parking spots in the morning? Yeah, I totally got to skip that today. There were no long lines of people waiting on a single parking spot, no muttering under my breath at Evil Drivers Who Cut Me Off, no spike in blood pressure. It was aaalllll gooood.

On the not-so-plus side, I did almost hydroplane directly into the side of a bus this morning. But...that kind of thing just makes life more interesting, right? Right.

An Accidental Sort of Day

Generally speaking, on the scale of dexterity and grace, I would fall towards the lower end of the spectrum. I stub my toes. I hit my funny bone. I trip over my animals. I trip over my shoes. I trip over air. That kind of thing. But today? Today, I hit a new high (uh...a new low?) Today, I reached brilliant new levels of clumsiness.

It had rained last night and the sky looked like it hadn't completely decided what kind of mood it was in this morning, so I very proactively decided to look for my umbrella. I opened the trunk of my car. It swung up and hit me in the face. Plus, there was no umbrella in there. I went back to the apartment to steal McMoose's umbrella. I opened the closet. A tennis racket fell off the shelf and on to my head. I snarled at the racket, took the umbrella, and left. By the time I got to campus, I was considerably calmer and I promised myself that I would be more careful and would have no more accidents. And as I was telling myself this, I slammed my finger in the car door.

So at this point, I was in a considerable amount of pain and my mood mirrored that of the fractious sky, so I grumbled my way across campus, stepping into two potholes and walking into a parking meter. I dropped my bag into a very ugly puddle when I was pulling out the slip of paper that I had thoughtfully put in there to remind me where my class was being held. I dropped my pen in the aforementioned class no fewer than SEVEN times. The poor guy in front of me was probably wishing he'd chosen a different seat after having to hand it back to me every 9 minutes.

By noon, I was already pretty much ready to go back to bed and restart this day, but instead, I trudged over to my office, aka my *safe place.* Where I promptly spilled a glass of water on myself, resulting in a very...unfortunately placed...wet spot on my pants. So. I've decided that this is going to be the epitome of "one of those days," and instead of fighting it, I'm going to embrace it. HEAR THAT, UNIVERSE? I'M EMBRACING THE CLUMSINESS. And also, I'm going to stay away from knives and fire for the rest of the day. Just in case.

If It Walks Like a Pessimist...

I'm going to preface this by saying that my advisor once worked as an editor for a publishing house. So when I handed her a draft of my thesis proposal, I expected to get it back all marked up. And on that front, I was definitely not disappointed. There were markings galore. Entire sentences, hell, entire PARAGRAPHS had been reworded. And really, I'm okay with that. But what surprised me were the handful of POSITIVE comments about the proposal. Because honestly? It wasn't good. I mean really, really just not good. Of course, while I was reading the comments, I just couldn't shut out the cynical, sarcastic little voice that was jabbering away in my head, so I came up with some pessimistic translations of the comments:

-"There were many fine moments in this section." = "The rest of the proposal stinks like a dead fish in August."
-"This information was new to me." = "Sounds to me like you're just making this shit up."
-"I like this sentence, but maybe you should move it to this other paragraph." = "I am astounded by your utter incoherence. How did you ever get into grad school? I'm revoking your assistantship immediately."
-"Well done, just keep working." = "A passable first try, but judging by this proposal, you can expect to graduate in about 17 years."

So since I've failed miserably in my attempt to be an unfailingly cheerful optimist, I've decided to return to my inner cynic.

The Attack of the Killer Clowns

I decided to work from home today because (a) it's Friday and (b) the project I'm currently working on is much easier to do at home. Or at least, that's what I tell myself. The real reason? The three other people who share my office were all planning to be out today and my paranoia about being alone in an office that's down a deserted hallway got the best of me. Plus, I wanted the extra sleep.

So about 10 minutes after McMoose left for work, I hear this very loud, very startling knock on the door and for some reason that I no longer remember, my sleep-confused brain decided that it must be the cops. So off I went, still in my pajamas, mind you, to open the door. Imagine my surprise when it wasn't the cops, but was instead a man wearing the brightest pair of orange pants I've ever seen in my life. Of course, at this point, I was convinced that he's a clown with murderous intentions and was regretting ever getting out of bed, when he identified himself as our mailman. And the conversation pretty much went downhill from there.

Mailman: I have a package for you.

Me: Oh, ok.

Mailman: Yeah. Here's the slip for you to pick it up.

Me: Pick it up? I thought you said you had it.

Mailman: It's at the post office.

Me: Uh. Ok. Why?

Mailman: I didn't think you'd be here, so I left it there.

Me: But...that's...um...don't you usually just leave it at the apartment office?

Mailman: Yeah.

Me: O...kay.

Mailman: I left it at the post office instead. So you can pick it up.

Me: O...kay.

Am I the only one who's confused about this? Since when do they just leave things at the post office? And furthermore, SINCE WHEN DO THEY WEAR ORANGE PANTS?

Let's Just File This Under "Random"

My day has been moving along in a series of staccato beats, much as the remainder of this post will:

• I slept in for an extra 15 minutes this morning. As a result, I got to campus 55 minutes later than I usually do. Someone want to explain that time discrepancy to me? Because I sure as hell can't figure it out.
• When I finally did get to campus, there were three people in fluorescent orange vests directing traffic into the parking lot. Which meant that every person in Raleigh between the ages of 18 and 25 were on this campus this morning. And they were all trying to find parking spots. So I got an extra long walk this morning, which means that I can eat my cupcake tonight without feeling guilty about the sinful frosting.
• My first classroom smelled like formaldehyde, which seems foreboding, considering that it's not a lab, but an actual lecture hall.
• I asked for my lunch bagel with cheese and capers, but no tomatoes or onions. Instead, I got cheese, extra tomatoes, cooked onions, and olives. And a sad piece of lettuce. When I went back to ask for my capers, the woman tried to hand me more olives. How do you work at a bagel/sandwich shop and not know the difference between olives and capers? That's like working at a vet's office and not knowing the difference between a rodent and a reptile.
• I have two extra people in my office now that the semester is underway and one of them just brought in a set of 12 office mail cubby things. I'm very intrigued and the urge to leave cryptic messages in each cubby is almost irresistible.