Things Not to Do On the RamVan

I’m a senior. I’m too GD old to be taking the freshmen campus shuttle, but I’m also too damn old to keep these legs walking miles to campus a day (Okay, exaggeration, but too lazy is most definitely accurate). But the more I ride the shuttle, the more I realize that so many people are doing it so wrong.

  1. Wait your damn turn to get on the bus. You wait for the other people to get off. It’s like an elevator. You’re not going to shove your way on just to have it clear out two seconds later. Just slow down, it won’t leave without you. You will get on. Calm the f*ck down.
  2. If there is an open seat behind me, across from me, any damn where on the bus, do not f*cking sit with me. This tiny ass bus seat is my personal space and you’re invading it. It’s only acceptable when there is literally no other seats available. Otherwise, f*ck right off.
  3. Say thank you to the shuttle driver, think about how much you hate riding the RamVan and realize that the driver is on it for an 8 hour shift. Be gracious, you rude little assh*les.

Follow these rules and you can avoid making everyone else’s time spent on that miserable glorified school bus just a tiny bit better.

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Haters Gonna Hate, But I Can’t Shake It Off

In 100%, genuine honesty, I think that I am a relatively decent human being. I very rarely think to myself; “oh you’re sh*t. Just go back to bed, maybe try again tomorrow or don’t, who would really care anyway?”

I mean, yes. I know that I can be egocentric and sometimes hard to deal with, but in the times that those occurrences happen, it’s usually around my mom or my best friend who just understands that it’s a mini-phase that I will get over quickly; and then be back to my merry self.

In my every day life, I try to be humble. I try to be funny and fun and full of energy. I try to learn about the people around me and what interests them or at least something interesting about them. I try to make friends and enjoy being myself. At the risk of sounding egotistical, it’s usually pretty rare that I come across a person who dislikes me from the get go. But it does happen. And it has happened quasi-recently. I met someone who decidedly dislikes me as a person. And while I’m okay with the fact that they dislike me, what I don’t like is the fact that I don’t know why.

I have tried and tried to wrap my brain around why this person seems to have a general dissatisfaction with me, but I keep coming up blank. I’m not trying to be perfect or defend myself or make myself seem like a victim. Because trust me, being a victim is something that I will ever allow myself to do in this lifetime, but I can’t seem to recall saying more than three sentences to this person directly and there they are, constantly putting me down. I genuinely have no idea what I have done to be the recipient of such harsh comments and it really bothers me.

I could normally brush off a “hater,” but that’s usually because I know what I have done to receive their harshness. In this case, I feel totally in the dark. I hate that it bothers me so much. I hate the fact that I have no control in this situation and that I am seriously clueless when it comes to the reasoning behind the negativity. I hate it. I just absolutely hate it.

I know that it’s not one of those situations where this person is picking on me because they don’t know how to be my friend because, obviously, we’re not in grammar school anymore. We’ve outgrown that phase.

I just wish that this person could be adult enough to say, “You know, I have an issue with you because of reasons A, B, and C.” I would feel better knowing that there were legitimate reasons or things that I could potentially correct or apologize for, rather than being in this spate of unconsciousness to the problems that remain.

UGH. Seriously, drop me a hint, because I am certainly not a mind reader, and I don’t pretend or try to be either. Let me know how I can make this better. Maybe not for you, but for my own brain to rest at least.

The Hangover Heard Round the World

I don’t know if this is just a me thing, or if it happens to other people; but when I have a hangover, it doesn’t normally happen the worst until two days after the incident.

So naturally, as I sit through 5 classes today, I am between 68% and 84% positive that I am going to die.

Every few minutes I get the nausea clamminess. It’s to the point where I am just about to stand up to run to the bathroom to puke, but it subsides just before I push my chair out.

I also am pretty convinced that I have some form of concussion because my eyes are sensitive to the light, my head feels like I hit a brick wall, twice, and every time I close my eyes, the room starts to spin.

It’s not great.

But, I guess that’s the price that I pay for not serving my hangover sentence yesterday.

Don’t Look At Me Complex

Ever have those days where you just want to yell at the world?

Don’t look at me!

Don’t breathe on me!

Don’t touch me!

Don’t come closer than my six-foot personal space bubble!

Don’t ask me if I’m okay!

It’s a cranky situation.

My “Don’t Look At Me” Complex is running straight to my soul today. I’m chalking it up to the fact that I have either strep throat or tonsillitis and I’m having a challenging enough time trying to keep my own head up, literally, that I really don’t have a single drop of energy more to entertain the masses. So no, I’m not acting like myself and no, I really don’t want to be around you. It’s not your fault though, so don’t take it personally. Give me a hot minute and I’ll get over it, but for right now; don’t look at me.

Harsh Realities Faced On Your First Day of Senior Year

I just started my senior year of classes.

Oh my god.

When did this happen?

I’m not so sure. But after being on campus for nearly 20 minutes a ton of harsh realities sucker punched me square in the face:

  • This is legitimately my last first day of school. Unless I go to grad school, in which case, I’m still going to send my mom a picture of my first day of school outfit.
  • I don’t know anyone on campus. You’d think because I’m going on four years, I may have accrued a few friends or acquaintances, but no. Nope. I look around and I see all these fresh-faced youths and I feel like the crypt keeper.
  • My sense of “I care so much about this!” has severely dwindled. I went to the library between two classes to take a nap.
  • It’s only syllabus week. I have not had a single class that has lasted its entire duration. One of them got out in 45 minutes, another in 30 and another in 20. I actually have no idea what my full class load is going to feel like and I am terrified. If I’m already cat-napping in the study room, how the F*CK am I going to make a five class-a-day schedule all the way through?
  • I keep saying things like: “Remember freshman year when…” and “Back when I lived on campus…”
  • After traveling the world for more than half of the year, going back to school is more mundane than having a chocolate tootsie pop. I just don’t want it. I should be waking up in London at noon. Not Philadelphia at 8 AM.
  • I don’t even own a notebook.
  • My rent, cable, water, gas and electric bills all seem vastly more important than buying that book for class. Although I would love to read all about entrepreneurship and world philosophies, I also really want to catch up on Game of Thrones, so…
  • I have approximately 15 months until I have to start paying back my student loans.
  • I haven’t even thought about applying for my loan to cover this year.
  • I have to be a real, full time, no-nonsense adult, super soon. The age of d*cking around and kicking rocks is quickly reaching its end and I have absolutely no idea at what else I’m good at doing.

Someone, anyone, send help.

I Hate Breathing Through My Mouth

Fun fact, here I am, in London, sick, once again.

I know that I have posted about this before, but I just really hate being sick.

I hate breathing through my mouth.

I hate having to pack up all of my stuff at the library, just so I can go to the bathroom to blow my nose.

I hate how it looks like I’m crying because my eyes are watering so much, I swear, I’m not, you can stop asking if I’m okay.

I hate that I’m so tired. Like no. I just slept for 12 straight hours, but I need to have a nap at 2 PM to get through the rest of the day.

I hate that I feel like I’m dying, even though it’s probably only just a cold.

I hate that this sickness has made my level of production decrease by about 85% since last week.

I hate that I’m leaving in 2 days for Spring Break and that my immune system needs to really work itself out or else, I’m going to be real pissed.

I also hate that my being sick has made me bitter and complain-y.

So, I am going to try my damnedest to get back on track for the fanz. No more b*tching and whining, only when it’s truly necessary. I am making the promise to be more optimistic the rest of the week! Hope that you’re still with me!

I’m Not Super-stitious, I’m Just A Little Stitious

One of the ultimate pet peeves of the world is when I have a dream and I know how it left me feeling when I woke up, but I can’t for the life of me remember what happened in the dream. Or even worse, I’ll go to tell my friends about it and the second I start to tell them the story, I totally forget what happened.

UGH.

It’s so annoying. I used to keep a journal by my bed or I would write it down in my notes on my phone the second I woke up, but since I’ve stopped doing that, I find it a giant challenge to keep them in my head after like ten minutes.

But, the past few nights I have been having a real sh*t time at sleeping. I can fall asleep no problem, but it’s just so restless, and then I wake up all in a tizzy because I have some weird dreams, but I can’t remember what they are. Like I can remember clips of them, one night; being at an airport, someone stealing my bags, another night; some old dude stealing my favorite rings. Then another night I just woke up crying and I have no idea why. It’s stressing me out!

I need some dream remedies. I think it’s because I don’t have my dream catchers hanging up all around me to counteract the bad juju. When I have my dream catcher, things are wonderful. I go on dates with Niall Horan. I get proposed to in the middle of Piccadilly Circus by a beautiful stranger, people sing and dance and everything is so happy.

Without it, it’s like I’m trapped in some spooky weird dream limbo that I can’t even remember when I wake up, but I just know it was bad.