To begin--this is the time of year that I've been afraid of since school started. This is when the care-free, idyllic summer mode withers like a fallen leaf and is blown away by the first blustery days of autumn. School has officially begun.

Some of it is because the Add-Drop week is over. "Mwa ha ha," the professors collectively cackle is their office-lairs, "We have them now! No one on a college budget can ever pay the ten-dollar drop fee, and even if they could, the W on their transcipts would follow them FOR-EVAH!! MWA HA HA HA HA!!!" *lightning crashes*

Thus, we are at their mercy, and they suddenly seem to know it, piling the homework, quizzes, and a few ill-considered opinions-as-facts (yes, we have a few of those, even at BYU) onto their now-captive students. This may sound a little uncharitable of me toward college professors, but please remember, I plan to join their ranks someday... *lightning crashes again*



But to tell you the truth, I can't honestly, wholly apply this caricature to any of my professors, per se. My world history teacher is a graduate student, a heathen, and rather too impolitic for my taste. He is very fond of getting quite deep into a very controversial, often irrelevant topic, and then saying, "Oh, but you know, maybe I shouldn't get into that right now. Moving on..."

I try to sit near the back and avoid eye contact with this guy, because even though looks really can't kill a person, when poorly aimed, they probably could kill a grade.



On Tuesday, we had a campus forum, wherein one of the Irish Tenors, a Ronan Tynan, spoke to us about living life to the fullest. "Put your foot to the floor," says he, though he has no feet. He's a singer, a medical doctor, and a double-amputee paralympian. His talk was amazing, AND he sang for us TWICE! (squee!)



Also on Tuesday, deciding that I needed a little empowerment, so taking a deep breath, I decided to cut my hair, and then give blood immediately afterward. I walked up to the sign-in desk, signed the papers, and then the phleb pricked me and took my blood pressure.



"Your blood pressure is a little high...Are you nervous to give blood?" he asked.



"No, not really... I just got my hair cut, and it's always a little traumatic for me." I replied honestly. I'm used to the sensible scissors of my mother, and as a result, I have a hard time trusting my hair to strangers. The phleb laughed at me. Sigh.


Here's the new 'do:







Between RAing, class, and homework, my fun time has become extremely sporadic, so I'm just glad I enjoy the work as much as I do. Sometimes, fun and work even get combined. Last night, as part of becoming better friends with my neighbors, I had a movie party while I was on duty (which is perfectly kosher, don't worry). One of my good friends, Emilie from the other stairwell, and my roommate Emily watched the DVD of Emilie's high school performance of Les Mis until three in the morning. It was really funny, and I'm afraid my mother (who is a big fan of the musical) would not have approved, as we couldn't help laughing at all the wrong parts, such as the final barricade death-scene. You would have laughed too when one of the students, being shot on one end of the barricade, ran all the way over to the other end of the barricade just so that he could sling himself over his favorite wagon wheel and die there with his tongue hanging out. Somehow, I don't think that was what Cameron Macintosh had in mind.

Anyway, that's the news. Until next time on TAAOA!