Same Ship, Different Day

Same ship, different day.

While that may, in fact, be a Star Trek quote (Ashley make a Star Trek reference? Noooo wwaaaaaaaaayyyy!) it is a surprisingly fitting way to describe my current frame of mind.

As we stumble through the first few days of Spring Semester, bleary-eyed and running on too much coffee and too little sleep, life at C of I begins to fall into a recognizable pattern. It’s familiar, it’s comfortable, it’s us; but, at the same time, it is also brand new.

Same ship, different day.

After my first full day of classes, it would be an exaggeration to say that I am overwhelmed. At most I’m whelmed, properly and thoroughly whelmed. But definitely not overwhelmed.  When choosing classes for this semester, I got a little too excited.

As a creative writing major (I apologize in advance for blowing your minds with this.) I love writing. Can’t get enough of it. It’s what I do, readers, 96% of my time. Either I’m working on a story for Boise Weekly, or The Coyote, or I’m writing to you, or I’m doing homework. Even after all that gets done, my free time is even more writing. Fan-Fiction, short stories, the occasional (albeit awful) piece of poetry.

I. Love. Writing. Keeping that in mind when I was making my schedule for Spring, I signed up for not one, not two, not three, but four “writing intensive” classes. That was before I even knew that, on top of those, I would be assuming my Superhero Alter-Ego, The Intern, for 8 hours a week. I’m not saying I can’t do it, I’m just saying it’s going to be a challenge of epic, previously unseen, proportions.

Especially in terms of my British Fiction Seminar. As soon as I walked in the classroom yesterday morning, I did a comical, Scooby-Doo double take. I’m one of the youngest people in there, if not the youngest. And I felt woefully out of place. Particularly after discussion began and everyone started making these grand, wonderful observations about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.

It was one of those times that you just have to kind of take a mental step back as you realize, rather jarringly, that you are an idiot. Those of you not in college, readers, may not be familiar with this feeling. But trust me, you will. Oh, you will. It’s called being in college. However, fear not! It isn’t a bad thing nor as depressing as it sounds. It’s simply life’s way of reminding you to keep your ego in check. Embrace your idiocy (the title of my future New York Times Best Selling self-help book. The follow-up to my less successful cookbook, You Know Who is Fat? You. Put Down the Cake and Let’s Talk About it). It happens to all of us and it is what makes us human.

I’m excited for my journalism class today. As always. The professor is the only person on campus who finds me almost as funny as I find myself (No small feat, I assure you. I’m my biggest fan. Woo-hoo Team Ashley!) and because of that fact is willing to put up with my asinine comments throughout class. I mean, I highly suspect everyone else in those classes with me probably hates me. My delightfully acerbic nature, while endlessly amusing to me, doesn’t garner nearly as many friends as you would think, readers. But it is hands-down my favorite class.

Well, I’ll bid farewell to you for now. I’m at my internship and should probably be doing something business-y and important. Like find the bathrooms. Over a month into this thing, readers, and I’ve yet to find them. I think the door is kind of like Platform 9¾ or made with the same technology as that wardrobe from The Chronicles of Narnia. Or, I’m an idiot. Yeah…I’m probably an idiot.

-Ashley the Idiot.

P.S. The picture is of the Snowman my roommate and I made over break after a crazy snowstorm tore through our town.

Ashley is a Sophomore Creative Writing major from Payette, Idaho.