Blaring Mumford & Sons sometimes isn't blaring enough.

Let me recap the devil that was Tuesday:

6:45 a.m. - Wake up late for my 7:30 class.  Decide to partially shower anyway.  (a partial shower is exactly what it sounds likes.)

7:24 a.m. - Park my car about a 10 minute walk away from campus.

7:24 a.m. - start jogging

7:25 a.m. - start wheezing

7:26 a.m. - start dying

7:26 a.m. - stop jogging

7:31 a.m. - enter class and try to figure out what the teacher is teaching for the next hour.

8:20 a.m. - head to the library where I spend the next two hours reading a book and writing a reflection for my class at 10:30 a.m.

10:21 a.m. - get coffee

10:30 a.m. - enter class and worry (halfway through class) that I have started my period 

11:46 a.m. - make it to the bathroom.

11:47 a.m. - sigh in relief

12:00 p.m. - grab lunch, sit in the Purdue Union, and work on work for work (notice that I can use the correct version of p.m./a.m. at noon?  I didn't have to google or anything.)

1:30 p.m. - enter class and try to figure out what the teacher is teaching for the next hour.

2:27 p.m. - meet Kevin at St. Tom's for our pre-marital Catholic counseling.  (Did you know there is a "big C" and a "little c" when you're Catholic?  And that C's are important?  And that if you don't like your "little c," it's hard to appreciate the "big C," but in my opinion, it's all the same anyway.)

3:45 p.m. - hold hands with Kevin as we walk over to Purdue.

3:50 p.m. - kiss him goodbye.  (AAAAAWWWWW - shut up!)

4:00 p.m. - begin practicing my speech in an empty classroom that I have to give at 4:30 p.m.

4:02 p.m. - get interrupted

4:02 p.m. - continue

4:30 p.m. - enter class and watch kids give speeches not-very-well and watch other kids have heart failures during the midst of their speeches

5:00 p.m. - not exactly "nail it"

6:00 p.m. - start the filming of The Almost Weekly Show for this Friday

7:30 p.m. - leave for band practice

8:00 p.m. - band practice (with new PA that sounds extremely badass.)

11:15 p.m. - get home.

11:17 p.m. - get in bed.

11:17 p.m. - fall asleep.

Yesterday, needless to say, I slept in until about nine thirty when I forced myself to get out of bed.  Since my immediate boss, Judy, had to work in the morning, she said it was cool if I slept in.  [As an aside, I LOVE Judy!  (She is one of my best friends - even though she is my boss and is older than my mother.)  I filled her office with balloons on her birthday this year, and here are pictures:

 

But yes, I love Judy, and we will be friends forever.  She is probably the most open-minded, loyal, goofy, caring, friendly, fun person I know.  Everyone loves Judy, though, but I like to think she loves me best!  And back to what I was saying...]

When I got to work, I started to feel more and more sick.  Guh-ross.  I ran up to CVS a purchased come Day/NyQuil.  That stuff makes you feel like your brain is full of cotton balls, and no, I do not believe that NyQuil helps you sleep through the night.  I would've needed a tranquilizer last night.  Today, I am resolved to not use that crap.

The radio blog show thing turned out well-ish.  We will have to see how it goes, but I was so inappropriate that I'm not sure how many "real life" friends I'm going to tell about it.  I mean, honestly, I said things that I would never say.  I even lied several times about myself, about my opinions, about people I work with, about people from the Midwest.  Then again, I guess since I'm lying while being extremely inappropriate, if I was telling the truth about some of the numbnuts I work with, I could tell them I was lying if they ever listened to the show.  ...things to consider.

And!  Just as another aside that I won't fully explain, I hate when people want to interact with you just because they need something.  Yeah, uh, we don't need to get together and waste each other's time if you just needed me to get you a cheap stapler.  Why don't you just call me and say, "Hey, can you still get staplers pretty cheap?" and "I'll say yes," and you'll say, "Can I get one?" and I'll say, "Sure, can you grab it from work tomorrow?" and that will be that and we won't have to pussy foot about the fact that you're only keeping in semi-contact with me so that you can get something.  I'd rather the honesty than the greasy feel of your "networking."

Just For The Record,

I ordered those violet and baby blue shoes from heels.com on Sunday evening.  Hopefully, I will be able to manage a one inch platform and a 4 3/4" heel for several hours at a time.  If not, we'll have to go to plan B.  Which I still have yet to create.

It is week three of my final semester, and though I'm not drowning myself in alcohol to keep everything calm, I am definitely feeling the stress.  I have a speech to give tomorrow, two pieces of typed homework due, the recording of The Almost Weekly Show, and band practice.  I am going to fall into bed half dead tomorrow night.  Hopefully, I'll sleep a couple hours this evening, but I'm not pressing my luck.  I still have this speech to write.

This evening, I start a radio blog talk show.  I've never done it.  I don't know how it works.  I think this is kind of my audition, so I'm going to try to be as offensive as possible.  Or sexual.  Or sexy.  No, I can't do sexy.  Maybe awkward.  Well, we will see how it goes.  I'm not holding my breath.  But it begins at 7:00 p.m. EST, if anyone wants to hear it, and it can be found http://www.blogtalkradio.com/crackerbarreljones/2011/01/25/wed-pull-a-whole-mess-of-rowboats-in-our-teeth-to-see-jack-lalanne-just-one-more-time
I don't know how any of it works, so don't ask.

In order to prepare for my speech tomorrow, I'm going to ignore it until after the blog radio show.  I'm too freaked out to concentrate on anything else.  Except The Almost Weekly Show.  Which I'm leaving for approximately now.

Now That We're Best Friends -

Kevin has been sick.  And I mean sick where it gets to the point of annoying.  CAN YOU COUGH ANY LOUDER?  And since there's obviously no chance that I'll acquire this disease because my body is immune to illness, I've been extra snuggly to make him feel less sick.  I've also been boiling water nonstop so that I can refill his tea whenever it gets too low.  Am I a really great/slightly negative fiance or what?

Anytime I sit on the couch, like I'm doing right now, Ripley, "The World's Most Vocal Feline," curls his body around my head, balances on the cushion behind me, and starts to flex his claws into my neck.  Which, of course, I never trim because I'm terrified I'll injure him.  So not only does he meow for eight hours straight each day, he also has mini daggers built into his paws that he uses to shred up the couch and the rug and the chairs and the carpet and my neck when he's curled behind me on the couch.  (Oh, and yes, I wear a nightgown fashioned for people in the 1800's.  And yes, I just woke up.  Don't judge.)

Sundays are the days I write the script for The Almost Weekly Show and catch up on all the homework that I'll definitely neglect between Monday and Friday.  Sometimes, I even decide to neglect it today.  However, since I don't have a job lined up, and will probably never have a job lined up because (as I explained in my last entry) the economy is dumb right now, I better get decent grades so that I don't end up working at the same stupid radio station for the rest of my life (kill me now).  At this point, I'd rather manage fast food.  Which!  You can make a ton of money at.  My only disappointment in that specific post-college avenue would be that I was an Associate Manager of a Fazoli's when I was 18, and with my work ethic, I would have probably been running a restaurant by the time I was 25 or 26.  And I wouldn't have needed a college degree for that.  So to resort to the career path I was on before I decided to go to college would probably leave me crying into a half gallon of ice cream every night while I watched depressing documentaries on Netflix about college students that were working for hourly wages in fast food.

I've been reading Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster and instead of making me feel better, it's just making me more resentful about the fact that I haven't done anything awesome yet with my life.  I measure success by how many people know about it.  Frankly, I don't care if that makes me sound like someone who has "the wrong priorities."  I handle mine, you handle yours, and you can leave your opinions about my life at the door because I don't give a crap.  However, if you want to tell me your opinions about someone else's life, I'm all ears.  And just to clarify, my life rocks.  I have loving friends and family.  An incredible fiance.  A cat who (to my dismay) thinks that I'm a goddess.  Good grades, and before 2008, a bright future.  But, I haven't done anything awesome yet.  And I want to be awesome.  And I'm not sure how, but I figure between music, media, and my "give me this opportunity or I'll cut you" enthusiasm, I've got a shot.

Alright, off to be Head Writer and Student Extraordinaire for a while.

Not To Say That I'm Ready For All Of This.

First of all, I'm Bitsy.  I'm not sure if you're supposed to say who you are when you plan on talking a lot of smack about a lot of things, but I'm naive.  Or I pretend to be sometimes.  But I'm Bitsy, and I go to school at Purdue University.  I graduate this May, and I am absolutely terrified of the big, uncertain, scary world ahead.  I am to be married in June to a man I've been with since I was 19.  We adore each other.  I'm not scared of that sector in my world.  It's nearly the only thing that keeps me sane.

I work about thirty hours per week at a cluster of radio stations in town.  If I have to work there after I get married, I'm pretty sure that I'll find a way to get fired, kill myself, or kill someone else.  After five years, I just can't do it anymore.  And it's not that I dislike who I work with.  My coworkers are pretty stellar - even if they can be lazy and take naps in the afternoons when they are supposed to be selling advertising.  They think we don't know, but we know.  The trouble is that the guy who owns the company only knows about making money and not so much about ethical and moral decisions concerning his employees.  The decisions that he's made over the past years (and especially over the past couple of weeks) have made me sick more than once.  But his son is awesome!  It's unfortunate that daddy won't pass over the reigns.

I am at school full-time, and I love school.  I'm good at school.  But does being good at school guarantee you'll get your resume looked at by future employers?  Not in this dumb economy.  Not with all these dumb employers who can't even send out an "I'm sorry, but you're not what we're looking for" letter after you completed their dumb two-hour survey about the dumb position.

I play in a band called The Shake Ups, and though I love it, I'm not sure if I'll continue it after I graduate.  I might not stay in the area.  AND!  My guitarist, who is in three other bands, isn't sure he'll be able to come to my wedding because he has a gig.  ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!  That seems like a perfect incentive for me to move to Indy after I graduate, doesn't it?  Makes staying in the band and trying to figure something out seem real important.

I write/direct/produce and am the talent for a show called The Almost Weekly Show on YouTube. Here's my favorite episode last season:


I'm currently - with the help of my mother - planning for the wedding.  These are the shoes that I think I'm ordering:

Aren't they so lovely?  Classy, but fun?  They are a little over budget, but I think I'll purchase them with my paycheck as opposed to the wedding fund.  Which is going...fine.  Saving money sucks.  Especially when I'm poor.  But even more especially because I like to buy all the pretty things.

You can find me here:  facebook.com/bitsymatatall
Here: twitter.com/bitsyshakesitup
And here: youtube.com/thealmostweeklyshow
And other places, but that's it for now.