Revenge of Things 'n Stuff: School Edition

[jenni_the_odd]

It occurs to me that I have not mentioned my classes. And now they are a month away from being over. I'm going to have to crack open my marketing book eventually* and I will not be happy about it.

Global Marketing is not a boring class, in and of itself. Well, it kind of is, in that it's all about the dull aspects and nothing about the cool things you need to know when interacting with other cultures. They just tell us that there ARE all these differences, by the way, maybe we ought to go look that up. I fall asleep in this class every single week (it meets on Wednesdays). I don't know why. The professor is not anywhere near as monotone or boring as some I've had, and the course material is a million times more fascinating than Finance could ever hope to be, but I sleep through at least half the class every single time. It is not good.

Marketing Management Theory features my most adorable professor, who is from Romania and looks like Michael Cera and John Hodgman had a nerdy baby**. He has an accent, gets really excited and giddy about marketing, and calls his Mazda a "zoom-zoom". He is precious and I want to keep him in my pocket. Another student has told me that this professor likes me, as I speak up fairly often. I was unaware. Of the liking, not the speaking up. I have not yet reached the point where I talk in class without realizing it. Soon, I expect.

Organizational Behavior features my most wacky professor. She is... um. Special. I find her entertaining, though I suspect some other students are a bit irked with how she lectures. Her lectures are a little all over the place, and her accent is, I believe, Korean with an overlay of the American Midwest. Curiously enough, sometimes they combine to almost sound like a Jersey accent, which is just bizarre. She has possibly the worst handwriting I have ever seen from a professor, and a habit of not completely erasing the board once she needs to add a second layer of text (which happens many times during a class), so by the end of the night the whiteboard looks like abstract art. I'd love to take pictures of her scrawlings throughout a class period and overlay them on one another, I bet it'd look really neat. I know this professor loves me, because I keep supplying answers and actually did extra credit work***. Also, I keep running into her at the gas station next to campus, after class. It is strange****.

Laurels is apparently the one place left on earth where if you just show up long enough they put you in a position of power. I am the editor this semester due to having worked on the magazine longer than some of the other staff members have been in college. Also because last semester's editor, the awesometastic lllano, wisely decided that being editor while simultaneously working full time, going to school, finishing her thesis, and planning a wedding was a great suicide method and not so much fun times. And so I seized power. I rule with an iron fist, and Karl on my head*****. This semester we have a huge staff (that's what she said)-- myself, nine regular staff members, and two on-again off-again folks who show up every so often because we're too cool to ignore, or because I bring food. I think it is the food. It's a pretty interesting group, and some of them will be returning to continue the awesome next semester. The magazine is pretty much put together at this point; tomorrow I send the cover (and possibly the insides, depending on how much editing remains to be done) to the printer, and the reading will be on May 1st. If you are in Houston, you should totally show up for free food and poetry. And madness. Lots of madness. Did I mention the theme is "READ ME", loosely Alice in Wonderland based? Yeah, we're milking the crazy for all it's worth, including doing not-entirely-sane things with the formatting. This is also the fattest issue in Laurels history; I think there was technically one sampler in the past that was two pages longer, but it was a narrower book, and thus contained fewer words. So we win. I did not have an assistant editor this semester, but have found an EXCELLENT protege for next time-- her name is Brittany and she is made of awesome and nerdery. She will be groomed to become editor after I graduate. Next semester is my last, and originally there was not going to BE another magazine issue -- due to budget restraints, it was going to return to being in the spring only. But funds were discovered (I am not sure who found the pirate treasure, but bless you), and staff members I had not yet psychologically scarred for life said they would be interested in returning, and so I have something to look forward to in my last semester of grad school. Because let's face it: the literary magazine is the only reason I bother to GO to school anymore.

Poetry! Holy bees, I almost forgot. I am auditing a poetry class this semester (by which I mean I show up, make smart remarks, and avoid being shot by bringing cookies). What the hell, Me. I hate poetry. EXCEPT THAT NOW I AM STARTING TO KIND OF LIKE IT AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE. I blame apiphile, as she keeps posting things that are DECIDEDLY POETRY, and I keep LIKING them, and as such I can no longer say I hate poetry full stop. Dammit. One of the Laurels staff members is in the class, and two others drop by now and then. I have fallen in love with the writing of one of the people in the class, and have sworn to poke him with pointy things if he doesn't join the literary magazine staff next semester, or at least submit work. I am amassing a carefully-selected army of nerds, and together we will make the most awesome magazine to ever exist.

Dr. Lowery suggested I look into starting up a Houston-area literary magazine as a job once I graduate. I think she noticed the look of soul-crushing despair in my eyes when I mention my actual classes.

*I AM NOT JOKING I have not even taken it out of the mailing envelope. Hell, I don't even know for certain it's the right book.
**Calling their hypothetical offspring "nerdy" is only a little bit the most redundant statement ever.
*** I agreed to answer a question in exchange for the class getting out 15 minutes early (when you're sitting there from 7 PM until 9:45 PM, those last 15 minutes are the most agonizing in the world). She said she'd email it to me; she hadn't done so by the day before the next class, so I emailed her. She said I didn't have to if I didn't want to, but I did it anyway. So now she thinks I'm this amazing overachiever.
**** Our most recent encounter:
Dr. H: Jenni! *walks over as I fill up the Tahoe of Doom* And now you know I smoke. *waves pack of cigarettes*
Me: For shame!
Dr. H: I do this every Tuesday. I just need to smoke.
Me: ... We drive you to it?
Dr. H: YES. But see, this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to take one, and what do you think I'll do with the rest? I throw them away. *does so* I only want one.
Me: Expensive cigarette.
Dr. H: Two dollars. Cheapest one they had. Do you smoke?
Me: Nope.
Dr. H: Have you ever smoked?
Me: Nope...
Dr. H: Good. Don't ever start. See you next Tuesday!
Me: ... 'kaaaay.
*****This is not a joke; I call him my Editing Hat, and he currently lives in the Laurels office.