the blog of a college graduate

Well, it’s been a week and three days since I walked across the stage without tripping at Montevallo’s Flowerhill Lawn and…

I don’t really feel much different.

The weekend cabin was wonderful, then we came back home and it’s…kind of just been like another summer here at the Tidmore residence.  I’m not sure when it’ll kick in, maybe the closer to school it gets?  Maybe when I check out more library books and realize I don’t have to be done with them by late August?  I don’t know, but I’m waiting.

Of course, I know I’m done with school until -dun dun dunnn- grad school, but it’s just not at the forefront of my mind yet.  It was definitely weird not driving back to Brooke Hall on Sunday night, though, there’s that.

I really don’t want to go back to work.  It’s just a work thing — I love not having to be somewhere at any certain time.  I love days like today when I can just sleep late, and then sit in bed reading or playing Pokémon.  I like the freedom of being able to do that, but also being able to, say, walk somewhere or go to the library and just hang out and read or go to Starbucks and write.  I hate morning shifts because I have to wake up early and I’m tired the rest of the day after leaving.  I hate night shifts because that’s my prime time to be awake and I have to spend it being nice to people I just don’t care that much about.

And it’s not a PSP thing at all — it’s a work thing.  No matter where I would work, it would be the same.  It’s just the principle of having to be somewhere that I don’t want to deal with yet.  A few engagements a week — a doctor appointment here and there, fine; lunch with Mom, totally fine — but not a -groan- work schedule.  It’s nice being free, and being lazy.

But that’s not how the real world works.  People need someone to ring up their 82 Fancy Feast cans and throw them in bags that don’t cooperate 90% of the time.

But can my graduation money last me through the year until grad school?  Please?  That’d be lovely.

Well, it won’t, so I’ll have to work.  What can ya do?  I’m way too poor to fight the man, so at least the beginning of my year off will have been spent well: sleeping late, playing Pokémon, reading, living the way I like to live.

And maybe things will sink in soon.  We’ll see.

I’m just a twenty-something now.

language (some of which is not appropriate for young audiences here)

I said my first curse word when I was riding home from gymnastics with my mother, somewhere around the age of six or so.  We passed a strange-looking car on our street just over the big hill and I observed that it looked “goofy-ass” or “silly-ass” or something like that.  I don’t remember exactly, but I know that it was “ass.”

A few years later, maybe when I was eight or nine, I had an “argument” in school with a boy over if the word “fuck” was a cuss word or not.  I was on the side of “no” because I thought it was just another variant of “freak” as in “stupid freaking boys.”  I asked my mom on the way home if “fuck” was a bad word and I remember her swerving out of shock — not into danger or anything, but just enough to where I started immediately apologizing, afraid I was in trouble.

In third grade, my teacher told me “dang” was too much like “damn” and that I should go with “darn.”

And ever since all this happened, and I grew older and started cussing more around my mother (because she can cuss like a sailor, which is where I get it from), but knew not to in front of my dad and grandmother (although I began to around my dad when I was about sixteen, and he didn’t seem to care, I guess because I was old enough/had seen enough movies with cussing in them, whatever), I began wondering why cussing is such a big deal in society.

To me, cussing is just a way of emphasizing something.  For example, if I say, “it really fucking bothered me that that customer acted the way she did,” it’s a way of saying “it really bothered me, so much to the point that I felt the need to use this word to emphasize just how much it bothered me.”  But I don’t get the whole stigma behind them — used certain ways, of course I do, but I don’t see why it should deeply offend someone if I say something “really fucking bothered me.”

As South Park proved in episode 501, “It Hits the Fan,” using a cuss word, say, 200 times, as in the episode, the word begins to lose its meaning.  I don’t think cuss words should lose their meanings, because then you couldn’t emphasize things or whatever, but I think some of the stigma shouldn’t exist.  It’s language, it’s powerful, and why take away someone’s comfort in using such powerful language?

That having been said, if me cussing makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I won’t do it around you.  Seriously, I do just fine around customers and people I know don’t like it, so it’s not a problem.

And I certainly don’t think young children should be allowed to cuss (my parents really discouraged it until I was really old enough to understand) because I think they need to understand the implications and ramifications of such words in society.

But please don’t lecture me on using such “dirty language.”  Words are words, and they all have their own value.

time for an update, I suppose

I can’t believe I haven’t written since January 4, but in a way, I can.  So far 2011’s been pretty uneventful, and honestly, I’ve had enough happen in the last three years that I think that’s okay.

This semester I’m taking three English classes: Renaissance and Modern Drama, American Short Story and Medieval Literature (my favorite by far); the rest of my 19 hours are elective classes: Ballroom Dance (yes!), Manual Communication (a.k.a Sign Language), Intro to Theatre and World Religions.  I have to admit it’s really strange not having any classes in Jeter this semester, no history classes for the first time in my now-four years here at Montevallo.  It’s kind of sad, but oh well.  It’s hard to believe that in a little more than three months, I’ll be done with my undergraduate career.

When did I grow up?

Other than school, I’ve been intermittently playing video games, reading, and I’m pleased to say that writing has become more of a habit of mine again (obviously except for here).  I’ve gotten a creative streak back (figures, since I’m taking 19 hours this semester – sob) and it’s nice.  I was beginning to lose hope.

And I’ve been crocheting, working hard to finish a baby blanket that should’ve been finished months ago.  Distractions, distractions.

Well, I suppose that’s it.  I haven’t seen any life-changing movies lately, not since Tangled on New Year’s Day.  I cried three times.  Oh, and I found out the bump on my head isn’t cancer.  That was nice.

I’ll try to update more, I promise.