Teachers that hate me

I've come to the realization that not all teachers love to teach. They may say they do, may think they do, but I've learned from experience that they in fact, do not. So far I've had two college professors that I don't have any idea WHY they decided to get their teaching degrees. I honestly think they love making people miserable. I think their teaching certificate was just a sneaky tool they decided to get their hands on for the sole purpose of making students, especially young and obnoxious college students, miserable. I never thought I'd have a professor like that... Anywho. They're very tricky, these evil teachers. They'd give a too-smilley-smile that made you uncomfortable.They'd coax you into thinking they're personable and linient on the first day, reading through the syllabus and telling you not to worry, everything will be fine as long as you work hard and do your best. WRONG-O. So far I've had two statistics classes. The content wasn't too horrid but the teachers were, well, part of the evil clan of teachers that were probably sent up from the devil to punish me for all my wrong choices... ha! I didn't do bad in the classes... Just didn't learn much. Funny story... one of these classes was "interactive broadcast." This is when the professor is in a different location and I, with the rest of my class, get to watch a T.V. screen and pipe in when I felt brave over the mic. The bad part of this is the small green button that says if your mic is on or off--you can barely see it. Sometimes you even bump the mic and it turns on, and you speak into the mic without even knowing it. Luckily, most of the time when this happens the other classes (and professor) can just hear static or a slight cough. They quickly inform you that your mic is on, you blush, mumble a quick sorry, and turn it off. You're now obsessed with not touching the mic button and making sure the small green light is off. Too bad for me... One day, while mocking one of my statistics teacher, my notebook decided to magically slide over to the mic, and turn it on at the worst possible moment. The professor stopped talking, and the class went quiet. I looked up at the T.V. screen to see what was going on, for I of course was paying absolutely no attenetion. "Your mic is on" my professor said, staring at me through the television screen, piercing my sole with her evil look. I slid my finger over to the button, shut it off, and stared at my notebook waiting for class to continue. Note to self: don't mock the evil teacher when there's a possibility that your mic might have turned on. I didn't get much sleep that night.

Work that's not really work, part 1

When you find something that you love to do, whether it has the title of "work" or "play" you realize time flies when you are doing it. So, if you fortunately come across a "job" that you enjoy doing, you might think of it as more of a hobby or an activity you do for fun; the bonus: you get paid. My first job consisted of cleaning tanning beds and sweeping floors. Not something someone wakes up every day excited about. Not something you go to sleep early so you can wake up to do it. Just a job that needs doing in a timely matter.

With this job, it had it's ups and downs. The downs: cleaning human body hair off the floor, fecal matter from porcelain, and being surrounded by small containers that yell "you're going to get cancer" or "don't drink Brigham City water, look at all the crap in it". Now, these probably don't make sense right now but let me explain. This place was called "The Wellness Center." People went there because they felt they either weren't well, or didn't want to become un-well. (Yes, the tanning beds were a very ironic installment to The Wellness Center that I loved to smirk about, often). This organization sold herbal supplements, vitamins, bottled water that sat next to a display of calcified metal (said to be from the drinking water in Brigham) and cheap tans. It wasn't too bad for my first job, at age 15.

The ups of working there consisted of somewhat easy labor, a list of things you needed to do that you could check off with a sigh of satisfaction, and kooky health-obsessed people to talk to. There were more ups though, such as laughing at the people from school (in my mind) that happened to be male, that happened to come in to use the tanning beds, that happened to choose the red heart-shaped stickers to see how much of a tan they were getting. These small things, were hilarious. I thought about them when I had to clean toilets. It was my own little way at getting back at the people. Yes, I have to clean your nasty toilets, and yes if I wanted, I could tell everyone about you're little tanning trips and heart-shaped stickers.

Blogging!

I've decided to put up a blog so that I can "vomit" all of the thoughts out of my mind and onto paper (or in this case...virtual paper). This action, thankfully, will get some thoughts out of my head so I can 1. get more sleep 2. focus on what I'm supposed to be doing, and 3. write about a few things I believe everyone should put some thought into.

For this blog, I will not be worrying about grammar, punctuation, or anything related to things like this; so don't bother correcting me. After all, during our cognitive processes, when we think about anything in particular, I don't think we care about spelling, grammar, or punctuation. We don't stop ourselves mid-thought and think "oh, I think I might have just used poor grammar when I insulted that idiot for running the stop sign." It's just free thought. Thought that spills out after you're inspired or worked up about something. You can't really stop it or slow it down, it just keeps coming whether you want it to or not; such as vomit.

And so here it is! My blog. Take it or leave it. A small peak into my life and the things I think about. I say small (although it's an understatement) because I don't think I could ever write about all the things that circulate through my mind. Welp, enjoy :)