Unspoken Rules of the First Day of Class

Oh, junior year! After years of collegiate classrooms, I have my unspoken rules for the first day of class on lock and strongly enforced. Today, I share my wisdom.

My reaction to these unspeakable acts.

I dare you to take my seat. I call dibs from day one until the final. I don’t think you understand how seriously I take classroom seating. Like…don’t even look at my seat. Careful consideration went into my seat selection - I'm close to a quick exit, no further than the third row and near a wall. Furthermore, let’s not play this seat-stealing game; it causes a chain reaction of anger and death glares.

Please don’t decide I’m going to be your partner for every project. Just because I met you for five minutes a year ago outside of the caf…doesn’t mean we should be lab partners. I don’t handle clingy well and like to keep my options open. Choosing a project partner is serious business and encourages a certain level of commitment that I am NOT ready to give. It’s Day One. Calm down.

This is not the day to prove you’ve already read the entire textbook. We get it…you really like accounting. There’s no need to assault everyone in the room with your textbook terminology. Let’s spend twenty minutes reviewing the syllabus and leave. Save your wisdom for the midterm study group.

Do you have an unspoken rule to add to the list? Comment below in order to ease classroom tension everywhere!

How Not to Leave a Voicemail

My frustration with voicemail messages has prompted me to write about how not to leave a voicemail. Consider this a public service announcement in order to cut down on hearing loss and strange voicemails across the nation. Here are two mistakes I find all too often in my inbox.

Screaming into the phone as if it is an ancient machine that may not catch all of your sounds. We’ve had telephones for awhile now. There is no reason to not use your “inside voice”. In fact, voicemails have become so advanced that they will now register your every sound! So never fear, you and your screams will be heard.

Speaking as if the person you’re calling is crouching next to the machine and hiding from your call. My father is the greatest culprit. “Hey I know you hear the phone ringing…answer the phone…pick up the phone…I know you hear me…ok, call me back.” 

          

          I hope everyone takes this seriously and considers their role in this epidemic. Are you a part of the problem? If you are or know someone who is, please consider becoming an advocate for voicemail awareness in the future.

My Childhood Ended With Notebook Paper

          Somewhere in the chaos of school supply shopping, a part of my childhood ended without my noticing. I made the switch from wide to college-ruled paper.

          I actually didn't notice until my mom (an elementary teacher) brought two packs of paper home. I was so excited (free paper for the broke college kid!) until I realized one pack was wide-ruled. It made me think, "At what age was this paper no longer good enough for me?" At what point in school did I decide, "These skinny lines are far superior to ye olde wide-ruled."
          In a way, I'm sad about no longer needing wide-ruled paper. It represents a time in life when the first day of school was always fun. When it was ok to write past the red margins, and coloring in class was perfectly acceptable. This change makes me wonder, "What happens next?"  Perhaps, I'll graduate from wide-ruled paper to an iPad?

If I Were Emma Stone for a Day...

Yesterday, as I flipped through Glamour magazine, I saw Emma Stone’s Revlon ad. A pang of jealousy suddenly hit me and I thought, “What would I do if I were Emma Stone for a day?” Well, here you go.

I’d play in my hair for about an hour straight. Let’s face it, girl has awesome hair. No matter the shade of red, it’s gorgeous and shiny and everything my hair wishes it could be.

I’d call Ryan Gosling. Based on Crazy, Stupid, Love, clearly they’d be an adorable couple. Our phone call would go something like this. Me - “Hey gorgeous man, want to come over and read some classic literature?” Ryan – “Hey, girl. There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than spending time with you and my homegirl, Jane Austen. See you in ten.” Done. So, why can she hook a man with classic lit and none of us mere mortals can? Because she’s EMMA STONE.

I’d vow to never go blonde again. I’m just not a fan of Blonde Emma. She has to redeem Hollywood redheads and clean up Lindsay Lohan’s mess. So the red stays.

Maybe this is why I can’t be her. Because I’d never let Ryan Gosling leave my side. Perhaps he’d keep me from being a cat lady? A girl can dream…

The Walmart Baby

Babies have always made me uncomfortable. I can’t have a conversation with them, they’re much too fragile, and things can go too wrong, too fast. This irrational discomfort stems from my strange baby encounters. Once, a baby turned around and looked straight into my eyes, turned back around to his mom then whipped around to stare at me again. He watched me walk away until his balance failed him and he fell over. This incident reminded me of a baby phenomenon I think everyone should be aware of – The Walmart Baby.

Yes, Walmart Babies. You too have encountered them, whether you knew it or not. That sneakiness is part of their baby weaponry. Walmart Babies are the babies in shopping carts who aren’t yet old enough support their own head. They sit, staring at you with a bobbling head, as drool falls down their faces. And these babies are persistent. Think he’ll lose focus if you quickly turn around and grab your bread? No. Walmart Baby is watching you grab your bread, and your entire shopping list, with his little head bobbing in a circle. Walmart Baby is always watching. And drooling.

Do not fear, readers, for the Walmart Baby is harmless. But know, when you round the aisle and he’s staring straight into your eyes, he will not give up. Walmart Baby is on a mission. He WILL win this staring contest you didn’t even know you were in.