This week, or Monday next week, I have to have a one hour long oral interview with my French professor. She's the one who I believe has been put on the planet to ruin my life. She's my own personal Satan, who wears me down on a daily basis and takes my focus off where it should be. To be honest, I would dread an hour long interview with any professor, but with this one? In French? Is it really necessary? I firmly believe that the answer is no. I speak up in class, I do the readings, I answer questions, I write her papers. So why must I be tested on my French ability when I am showing her every class period my abilities.
Okay. Really. I understand. It's a test. Tests measure progress. Tests measure achievement. Tests give you grades. Just let me grip for a bit. Geez.
I'm very, very anxious for Spring Break. I'm sick. And that's not helping me stay motivated. 99% of the time I just want to take some NyQuil and crawl into bed for the day. Responsibilities suck. Which brings me to my next point.
How do people know when they are ready for more responsibility? For instance, the responsibility of marriage? Of children? Of new jobs? Of friends? Of pets? I think that oftentimes you just have to jump in. Then you'll learn the responsibility necessary for whatever it is you just jumped into. I don't know. I'm just rambling to be honest.
I've been thinking a lot about my life. And my future. Everyone is telling me to finish school before I start a family. And I realize that's the smart thing to do. But to be honest, I want to be a stay at home mom until my kids are in school. I want to stay home and do the cooking and cleaning and have dinner on the table when my husband comes home. That means I have like 10 years to get a degree. Why is it so important to get it done now. Even if I took one class a semester it wouldn't take 10years. Oh well. I guess that's not really the only thing stopping me anyways.
I'm rambling so much. I apologize. I just want to be done with school. I'm super stressed right now and that's not going to help me get over this cold. AGH! 3 more French classes until Spring Break. =)
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Selfishness
Over the past few years I've noticed what a selfish person I am when it comes to relationships. I always expect more from the other person than I am willing to give. I never want to be the one that invites, I want to be invited. I don't want to call, I want to be called. I don't know why I am like that. As a child/teenager I struggled trusting and opening up to people. I think my 8th grade year hardened me the most. I had my first boyfriend in 8th grade. And with boyfriends come drama. So, because this boy was in my close circle of friends, I lost friends. It's weird to me to look back and see how many friendships of mine were ruined because I wanted to hold his hand. They thought I was moving too fast and so I was shoved out of the group. Ironic since most of them had been having boyfriends since 4th and 5th grade. Also in 8th grade I lost my small group leader, my soccer coach, and my favorite band director. All of these people left with no legitimate reason and I was hurt. These were the people that I trusted more than anything. So, in turn, I closed myself off to people.
Today I struggle with opening up to people. I complain about not having friends when it's essentially my fault because I don't always want to talk to them. It was always so different with Lucas. I could always open up to him. Even in high school I'd come to him with all my problems that I couldn't bring to anyone else. Sure, I had other boyfriends in high school, but they only saw my tough side. The side that didn't cry. The side that didn't care if they called or not. The side that didn't rely on anyone for anything. When me and Lucas began dating I continued to open up to him. I remember feeling so liberated to be in a relationship where I could actually trust the other person. I could completely open up and show him my emotional crazy side and he wouldn't hit the door running.
Unfortunately, I made a huge mistake. I thought that was enough. I completely opened myself to him and I thought that would show him that I love him. Couldn't he see that I treated him so much differently and cared about him so much more than anyone else I had ever been with? Well, see, the thing is, he can't. He wasn't there in my other relationships. He didn't know how I acted when I was alone with other boys. He didn't know that I had cried only once in the presence of another boy, and that cry had essentially gotten me dumped. He didn't know that in high school I refused to go to dinner with boys, fearful of what they would think when they realized how much I ate. haha. Silly me. Lucas was special. But me acting different was only showing myself that he was special, not him.
Recently I was challenged to read a book. And by recently I mean about two hours ago. This book is about showing a women what it is that men need to feel loved. I spent the last hour reading it. And I didn't just read. I want to learn from it so I also took notes. I've decided that I'm going to go on a little love dare of my own making. Each chapter of this book focuses on different things that are important to men. There are seven different "revelations" that the author brings to share with women and I am going to do my best to spend the next seven weeks working on those seven things. The book is really written for married couples, so I haven't quite figured out what I'll do during the sex chapter week. But that's okay. I'll work it out when it comes haha.
I really want to take the focus off of my needs in this relationship. The book emphasizes that if he is getting what he needs, he will inevitably be giving me what I needs. Men long for respect, which shows them love. Women long for love, which shows them respect. It's a difficult concept to understand but this week I plan on working hard at showing him that I respect him, even when I am struggling to feel loved.
Anyways. I really should sleep. I just couldn't sleep until I got some of my thoughts out of my head and "down on paper" so to speak. The good news is I still have 5 hours until I have to wake up.
-Kristina
Today I struggle with opening up to people. I complain about not having friends when it's essentially my fault because I don't always want to talk to them. It was always so different with Lucas. I could always open up to him. Even in high school I'd come to him with all my problems that I couldn't bring to anyone else. Sure, I had other boyfriends in high school, but they only saw my tough side. The side that didn't cry. The side that didn't care if they called or not. The side that didn't rely on anyone for anything. When me and Lucas began dating I continued to open up to him. I remember feeling so liberated to be in a relationship where I could actually trust the other person. I could completely open up and show him my emotional crazy side and he wouldn't hit the door running.
Unfortunately, I made a huge mistake. I thought that was enough. I completely opened myself to him and I thought that would show him that I love him. Couldn't he see that I treated him so much differently and cared about him so much more than anyone else I had ever been with? Well, see, the thing is, he can't. He wasn't there in my other relationships. He didn't know how I acted when I was alone with other boys. He didn't know that I had cried only once in the presence of another boy, and that cry had essentially gotten me dumped. He didn't know that in high school I refused to go to dinner with boys, fearful of what they would think when they realized how much I ate. haha. Silly me. Lucas was special. But me acting different was only showing myself that he was special, not him.
Recently I was challenged to read a book. And by recently I mean about two hours ago. This book is about showing a women what it is that men need to feel loved. I spent the last hour reading it. And I didn't just read. I want to learn from it so I also took notes. I've decided that I'm going to go on a little love dare of my own making. Each chapter of this book focuses on different things that are important to men. There are seven different "revelations" that the author brings to share with women and I am going to do my best to spend the next seven weeks working on those seven things. The book is really written for married couples, so I haven't quite figured out what I'll do during the sex chapter week. But that's okay. I'll work it out when it comes haha.
I really want to take the focus off of my needs in this relationship. The book emphasizes that if he is getting what he needs, he will inevitably be giving me what I needs. Men long for respect, which shows them love. Women long for love, which shows them respect. It's a difficult concept to understand but this week I plan on working hard at showing him that I respect him, even when I am struggling to feel loved.
Anyways. I really should sleep. I just couldn't sleep until I got some of my thoughts out of my head and "down on paper" so to speak. The good news is I still have 5 hours until I have to wake up.
-Kristina
Friday, February 19, 2010
Woohoo
On Monday of this week I had a meeting with my lovely French professor. In case you haven't heard, she's no where near lovely. But, anyways. I made my way to her office to talk about my paper that I had to turn in the next day. I was terrified. To say the least. And rightfully so. Throughout the course of our 45 minute meaning she told me that I was dyslexic. That I had no right being at college. That I hadn't learned very much if I was a third year student and had no intellectualism. Okay. So maybe intellectualism isn't a word. Maybe she was right? Anyways. I came out of the meeting bruised and battered and in tears. So I made my way to my room and started completely rewriting my paper. I tried to follow her suggestions as closely as possible. I proofread it several times. Finally, I was done. I felt like I had done my best and there was nothing more I could do, so I was even relieved to turn it in.
While I was sitting in class waiting to turn in my paper I realized I hadn't done something very important. She makes us grade our own papers. She wants to see how we think we did before she gives us grades. I pulled the grading rubric out of my binder hoping so much that for some reason I had done it, and just forgotten. To my horror, I realized that I hadn't. I absolutely panicked. My stomach was in knots. I couldn't focus on the class discussion. In the middle of class my teacher asked for our papers with the grading rubric attached. I sheepishly pulled out my paper and the blank rubric, fearful of the yelling that was to come. Then I looked over at the girl who sits next to me. And she had nothing. Her printer "didn't work." I knew in that moment that I was off the hook. The scolding I would receive from the professor would be nothing compared to what she would get. However, I did get a little one. And after class she sent me down to the language lab to fill it out. I had an hour to get it turned in, which was fine, I had class in 30 minutes anyways.
After that fiasco, I graded my paper. I gave myself a 78 but I was doubtful she would give me anything above a 60. I decided the best thing to do was completely forget about it. I didn't want to worry about it, so I didn't. In fact, when I went to class on Thursday I wasn't even expecting to get the paper back. But, she walked in, and the first things she said was I have your papers graded. And then she pulled them out. Just like that all my fears came back to me. I was trembling with hope for at least a 65. She gave it to me and I immediately searched the front page for some numbers. There were none. In fact, my front page had very very little writing on it. I hesitated, wondering if she gave me back the wrong copy or if she really had only corrected a few things on the first page. I furiously tore through the next 5 pages. Oh my. I really hadn't done that bad. A few grammatical errors. A few transitional sentences that didn't work. A few sentences that were incomprehensible because my French was so bad. But essentially a pretty good looking paper.
Then I came to the rubric. She had used the same one I did, so I could see what points I gave myself versus what points she gave me. When I looked at the first page of the rubric I literally got butterflies in my stomach. I had given myself a 16 in textual organization. But she had given me a 17. She had given me MORE points than I had. This couldn't be real. I flipped to the next page. She gave me the same points I did. Then the next. I skipped over the rubric part down to the overall grade. French ones look an awful lot like sevens. So at first I thought, oh she gave me a 19%. That's awful. As my stomach began to fall I noticed the notch through the stem of the 7, indicating that it was a 7. My professor had given me a 79% after telling me just the day before that it was an awful paper and that I was wasting my time. Not only did she give me a very very high C, she gave me more points than I gave myself. I couldn't believe it. It seriously brought tears to my eyes.
This grade on this paper was exactly the confidence booster that I needed. How could I not feel 80 times better about this class when I almost got a B on the very first paper. I am feeling so much better about this class now. Don't worry though, you'll still have to hear my frustrations and stresses. I'm still super stressed, I just feel more like I can do it. Yay. =)
-Kristina
While I was sitting in class waiting to turn in my paper I realized I hadn't done something very important. She makes us grade our own papers. She wants to see how we think we did before she gives us grades. I pulled the grading rubric out of my binder hoping so much that for some reason I had done it, and just forgotten. To my horror, I realized that I hadn't. I absolutely panicked. My stomach was in knots. I couldn't focus on the class discussion. In the middle of class my teacher asked for our papers with the grading rubric attached. I sheepishly pulled out my paper and the blank rubric, fearful of the yelling that was to come. Then I looked over at the girl who sits next to me. And she had nothing. Her printer "didn't work." I knew in that moment that I was off the hook. The scolding I would receive from the professor would be nothing compared to what she would get. However, I did get a little one. And after class she sent me down to the language lab to fill it out. I had an hour to get it turned in, which was fine, I had class in 30 minutes anyways.
After that fiasco, I graded my paper. I gave myself a 78 but I was doubtful she would give me anything above a 60. I decided the best thing to do was completely forget about it. I didn't want to worry about it, so I didn't. In fact, when I went to class on Thursday I wasn't even expecting to get the paper back. But, she walked in, and the first things she said was I have your papers graded. And then she pulled them out. Just like that all my fears came back to me. I was trembling with hope for at least a 65. She gave it to me and I immediately searched the front page for some numbers. There were none. In fact, my front page had very very little writing on it. I hesitated, wondering if she gave me back the wrong copy or if she really had only corrected a few things on the first page. I furiously tore through the next 5 pages. Oh my. I really hadn't done that bad. A few grammatical errors. A few transitional sentences that didn't work. A few sentences that were incomprehensible because my French was so bad. But essentially a pretty good looking paper.
Then I came to the rubric. She had used the same one I did, so I could see what points I gave myself versus what points she gave me. When I looked at the first page of the rubric I literally got butterflies in my stomach. I had given myself a 16 in textual organization. But she had given me a 17. She had given me MORE points than I had. This couldn't be real. I flipped to the next page. She gave me the same points I did. Then the next. I skipped over the rubric part down to the overall grade. French ones look an awful lot like sevens. So at first I thought, oh she gave me a 19%. That's awful. As my stomach began to fall I noticed the notch through the stem of the 7, indicating that it was a 7. My professor had given me a 79% after telling me just the day before that it was an awful paper and that I was wasting my time. Not only did she give me a very very high C, she gave me more points than I gave myself. I couldn't believe it. It seriously brought tears to my eyes.
This grade on this paper was exactly the confidence booster that I needed. How could I not feel 80 times better about this class when I almost got a B on the very first paper. I am feeling so much better about this class now. Don't worry though, you'll still have to hear my frustrations and stresses. I'm still super stressed, I just feel more like I can do it. Yay. =)
-Kristina
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)