After what was literally my shortest summer break ever, its time to prepare for another semester. The good news is that I don't actually leave until September 5th. The bad news is that everyone else is shipping out now, leaving me virtually alone for a week.
Guess I'll be pestering Kyle whenever I can.
As quick as my free time went, I really don't mind the trip back. Returning to college is a quirky thing; you know there will be plenty of work and all the stress that goes with it (unless your a business major, in which the biggest challenge is floating a case by yourself).
At the same time, you realize that college is also a four year Kindergarten for "adults" complete with boozeahol. The end result: no one exactly jumps for joy when heading back to university, but you also really don't care. This is directly opposite of High School, in which millions of tired, confused children return to their penal colony of choice and participate in the "educational endeavor" known as standadized testing. I think the reason they call it "No Child Left Behind" is because none of them are going anywhere. But that's for another day.
In preparation for the new semester, I have spent the last two days searching for textbooks. Its an interesting little game usually ends up being far harder than it would seem. The first part requires one to find out which books will be needed, which can range from clicking to an online syllabus, to calling up a professor. Once this is done, its off to find the texts on your online store of choice. This is arguably the worst part; not only must they be found at reasonable prices, but the correct editions must be purchased, a feat that is far harder than it should be. The final round of the game is timing, making sure to purchase the books withenough time left over to have them shipped before the semester's start. So far I've done rather well, getting half my books for a little over $200. Only problem is I wasn't exactly clutch. You see, ordering online on Thrusday and Friday can be a curse, as it sucks up business days in the next week for processing that could be used for shipping. Plus, I'm leaving next Sunday, giving my texts less than a week's time to travel by Post Office standards. Whether they'll make it in time is anyone's guess, but its a gamble i'm willing to take. The less time I must spend in my bookstore, the better. I think of the place as a wretched hive of scum and villainry,
where prices are gouged daily, and words like "cash", "check" and "my own hard earned money" are forbidden.
Maker's Mark Whisky is the smoothest drink I have ever experienced. Friends often wonder why I enjoy an "olds man's" drink like whisky, as opposed to something like vodka. The reason is simple; I drink for enjoyment, not for the sole purpose of getting drunk. To that extent, I find Whisky has a strong, yet distinctive taste, and is far more enjoyable than drinking what is, in essence, edible rubbing alcohol. Plus, the vodka industry has delved into the most ridiculous flavors (green apple?). Not only does it encourage underage drinking, but who in the world wants their booze to taste like a Charm's Blow Pop? I'm not sure how it happened, or why, but what was once the favorite drink of James Bond and Communists is now the choice drink of bubbly school girls and guys who want to score with them. By the time my younger brother is in college I won't be surprised to see the Kool-Aid Man with a shot glass in his hand.
Idle hands spend time near the genitals. And we know how much God hates that.
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