Lessons With Laura

I've been on break for 6 days, and I'm feeling so uncomfortable with having nothing to do that I'm ready to go back already. I'm hoping that this gets better once other people start getting done with finals and coming home, but otherwise my solution is to be out of town as much as possible- for example, this week, I am hanging out with my grandparents in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

Tuscaloosa, as you probably know, is home to the University of Alabama Crimson Tide. Ranked #1 in the BCS and probably 2009 D1 national champions. They're also the sworn arch-enemies of the University of Tennessee Volunteers, and I don't blame them- UT orange has some pretty killer side effects, namely migraine headaches and burned retinas. And while we beat Bama in academics, Tide-ans(?) can find solace in the fact that their campus is aesthetically superior to ours in every single way, with the exception of the law school.

My grandparents are die-hard Alabama fans. My grandma worked for the law school for 30 years, my mom and her siblings all went to Bama, everything here is red, and my grandmother talks about Crimson Tide football players like they are her own children. This, combined with the fact that my dad's whole family went to Vandy or Auburn, is why nobody was all that excited when I picked Tennessee over my other two choices (Colorado State or Auburn). Not that my family has been unsupportive, mind you, but I have family members email me Tennessee jokes on a regular basis. This is fine with me, especially since I usually have a wide array of jokes to throw back in their faces.

But I tell you this, friends, I have been to every SEC football stadium with the exception of LSU and both Mississippi schools, and none have overwhelmed me quite like Bryant-Denny stadium. This is partly because my brother and I decided to go exploring on a misty, foggy Alabama night, and couldn't find the stadium until it rose up out of the mist like some sort of alien spacecraft.



Star Trek Enterprise or Bryant Denny Stadium? I know, I know, it's hard to tell.

Anyway, aside from my suspicions about the worldly origins of Nick Saban and/or Mark Ingram, Tuscaloosa is alive with excitement. In fact, when we got here, my grandparents spent the first 30 minutes talking about the SEC championship game and Alabama's victory over Tennessee ("We weren't worried about that last field goal attempt. We knew Saban had a plan"). And on Saturday, Alabama got its first ever Heisman winner in Ingram (despite the school's having won 12 national championships). This was exciting to me insomuch as it meant that Tebow didn't win, but notsomuch in that it nullified the only new Alabama joke I had up my sleeve:

"Why did OJ hide out in Tuscaloosa? Because they'd never expect to find a Heisman winner there!"

This of course, was not going to fly, so my desperate plea for help via facebook had my friend Matt text me with a backup joke:

"What do a maggot and an Alabama fan have in common? They've been feeding on the same dead Bear for 30 years"

And kids, it is so very, very, very true.

Finals are a stressful time for most college students. This is understandable, especially considering how many emails I got this week from my fellow lecture attendees that went something like this:

"Hey guys! I hope studying is going well, because it isn't for me. I can't seem to find any of my notes since the midterm, could some kind soul give me theirs? I promise to return the favor!"

Seriously chick, you didn't go to lecture. That's cool- but if you feel obligated to spam my inbox with pleas for 25 classes worth of notes, at least give me a decent story to make it worth the 5 seconds I spent deciding not to help you. If I had been writing this email, it would have read something like this:

"Hey guys! I hope you've managed to find a place to park within a mile of the library, and that you're having a fun time studying- I am not having quite so much fun. For one, I got kidnapped by gremlins on the 6th floor last night and they tortured me for 12 hours as repayment for that time I wrote graffiti on the wall of the 2nd stall in that bathroom. As one of the methods of torture, they took my laptop and deleted all of my notes for the whole semester. I would really appreciate it if someone would email me their notes, otherwise the gremlins win! Kthnx!"

Hmmm, maybe next semester I'll do an experiment as to how effective the above email would be for obtaining notes.

Anyway, finals are stressful. I, on the other hand, usually don't find finals week particularly more stressful than any other week, except that it takes an hour to find parking and the library is chalk-full of underclassmen who have clearly never been there before ("Wow- I've never been in the library before!"). The main reason for this is that classes in my major don't typically have finals (reason #83 why my major is better than yours). Nay, we have reports. Lots and lots of reports due every week; and each 10-15 page report is worth about 5% of my grade. (Seriously, advertising is great!). For real, though, it's not that bad. (Actually, the last two weeks of November, it usually IS that bad.)

But this finals week was different, and I think it had something to do with World Civ I. I am not good at history. I have NEVER been good at history. I'm great with numbers and concepts and cause/effect relationships, but not when all three are combined and I have to put them in the correct order with the proper date and am expected to have 900 years of history of 6 different countries memorized. Plus, I am, and always have been, awful at names. This problem is particularly exacerbated when Popes and Rulers have names like Louis and Henry and Charles and Benedict and the difference between the Henry that established a jury system and the Henry that whored around is a II vs VIII and 400 years. This is, of course, assuming that you don't confuse the Henry II that lived in England with the Henry II that lived in France, the same time as Henry VIII, and invented the patent (I remember that trivial detail because I think it's ironic).

Needless to say, it was a very stressful weekend (except the part where Tim Tebow cried), that seems to have taken it's toll on my intellectual prowess- namely, my ability to remember numbers.
Fun fact about LB: I am really good at remembering numbers. My SSN, my MOM'S SSN, my driver's license number, every credit/debit card I've ever had, routing numbers, bank numbers, etc. (I'm also really good at resisting torture, so don't think you're going to get them out of me. Unless you're a gremlin). In fact, my (only) party trick is that I can tell you the number of electoral votes that any state had in 1991. (I can't figure out why this doesn't come up at parties more often).

Which is why I panicked today when I sat down to take my psych final and could not, FOR THE LIFE OF ME, remember my student ID number. It somehow morphed into a combination of my SSN and debit card number. I had to email my prof about it when I got home. It was embarrassing.

Anyway, finals are done, and now that I've finished this post, I've realized that it's completely stupid. Kudos to you if you've reached this point, but I don't blame you if you haven't. If you HAVE read this far, here is your reward: Download the new Train CD.

You can thank me for that advice later.

I just had a long heart-to-heart with one of my advertising professors and wanted to share with everyone her advice to me:

"It's okay to not have it figured out by now... The people your age that think they have it figured out are either wrong or very very lucky. It's okay to take risks and its okay to make mistakes. You are in a much better position than you think you are... Don't sell yourself short"


And my addition to this: Sometimes finding out what makes you come alive starts with learning what makes you miserable.

I spend a lot of time in the library. It's starting to become my second home. My procrastinatory quest this week has been to write down the graffiti in the second stall of the girl's bathroom in the library. The second stall is the ONLY stall with graffiti on it, and it's good. Oh, its good.

So without further ado, this is what stressed out college girls write on the bathroom wall (my comments in italics):

***I'm starting my period today and I'm soooooo relieved but also a little sad, I'd started to get used to the idea of another little one. <--- the economy sucks too much to have another little one. (At least someone is practical)

***Thinking that...if people were like rain... I was a drizzle and he was a hurricane

***Looking for Alaska? (Yes, but I drove 3000 miles in the wrong direction and ended up here)

***I'm in love with my boyfriend but don't want to be

***I have him everything and he gave me a broken heart <--- and herpes

***I love you but I can't fauwm me with you (I don't know what that was supposed to say)

***FUCK UT FOOTBALL

***Eric Berry is the coolest guy ever. Drugs are the lazy way to relax... Lame ass <--- I agree

***I JUST PISSED A CONDOM FROM LAST WEEK. PREGNANT? <--- dude, you're doing it wrong

***I'm so in love. I think he wants to marry me. I want to marry him too.

***Smoke weed everyday. <--no every other day. Alternate with crack. <--- dope's better <---Or you could, you know, not ruin your life- let's give that a try. <--- LOL <--- drugs don't ruin your life, letting them get out of control because you have no will or self control does. <--- losing control can help one find themself. Struggles are fabulous teachers. <--- I'm going into addiction medium, so I'll see you in 5 years.

***I've never written on a bathroom stall before... hmmm, that was great

***Remember who you wanted to be

***elise is a fag (sorry, Elise)

***We have one story

***Doubting everything is good, right?

***if he made me love him then left me, I shouldn't love him again. I'm going to anyway

***SUCKS <--- that makes no sense

***B+E 4 EVA! (this makes me want to kick a door in)

And the one that sums them all up:
Is writing on the bathroom wall better than seeking counseling?




And my favorite Hodges bathroom story- I'm washing my hands next to this girl who appears to be doing something with her eye makeup. Suddenly she looks at me and yells "My pupils are different sizes!!" and stares me down until I agree. Then goes "what do you think that means?" I say "blame it on Daylight Savings Time." "Yeah, that's good. Half my brain thinks its night and half thinks its day."
...Kids, this is why behavioral meds are not good for you.