I have been at the University of Oregon for one week, four days, and three hours as of this moment of 2:12 pm on Monday, October 3rd, 2016. So technically I’ve been here for 11 days, double digits is a new accomplishment, making today a huge occasion for doubles as well as it being Mean Girls day.
Running through my classes in the 4 1 4 2 4 sequence has been slightly overwhelming as I try to balance school work, homework, friends, eating, and the all mighty sleep. Although I think I’m managing, my body has told me otherwise as I was admitted to the hospital wing on Tuesday September 27, 2016. Come to find my blood sugar low, signs of dehydration, and the high possibility of heat stroke, my mother was determined to come get me and take me back to my childhood with no hopes of returning to my new home. While I miss my mother, father, and the love of my life(a yellow lab, Newfoundland mix named Sampson) I don’t feel the need to cry out in despair and push my way back to Grants Pass.
My classes while challenging have been flowing together pretty seamlessly, at this point I am unsure of Ethnic Studies just because I don’t see my place in the class. I feel left out of conversation because I have not felt the kind of discrimination they have, and my peers like to make me feel bad for that. Math 95 is uninteresting, like taking an algebra class once you have already completed calculus; which is my exact situation. My only fears with writing 121 is the level of confusion towards my sexuality that my professor gives me, I have never met someone that speaks so passionately while using language both more advanced than my own and slang of which I use constantly. It is pleasant though, a class in which I can be happy.
As for out of school activities it seems unlikely at this moment just because I don’t want to over exert myself all at once on the first week of school. I have been considering finding a shooting range to become a member of even though I cannot keep a bow on campus. Since eighth grade I have shot competition archery, and have become fairly decent, placing in the top ten of state competition every time I would compete. I miss it dearly but now I have no way to do it in this environment, which I am saddened by yet understand.
The biggest difference from high school/home life to college/dorm life is I’m not a child anymore. My mother isn’t here to do my laundry, to cook dinner when she gets home, or to take care of me when I’m sick. For these reasons I am not a child. But in college so far I have slept until 1 in the afternoon and worn a chicken onesie outside of my dorm room. All while doing my own laundry, cooking for myself, and taking medicine without being told to. What I’m saying is that I’m not a child anymore which scares me, I’m also not an adult which I worry about. I’m just a teenage dirt bag.
“Teenage Dirtbag”
By Wheatus
Her name is Noelle
I have a dream about her
She rings my bell
I got gym class in half an hour
Oh, how she rocks
In Keds and tube socks
But she doesn’t know who I am
And she doesn’t give a damn about me
‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby
Yeah, I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby
Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me
Her boyfriend’s a dick
And he brings a gun to school
And he’d simply kick
My ass if he knew the truth
He lives on my block
And he drives an IROC
But he doesn’t know who I am
And he doesn’t give a damn about me
‘Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby
Yeah, I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby
Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me
Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’
Oh, yeah, dirtbag, no, she doesn’t know what she’s missin’