On NaNoWriMo (and other things) And a Letter

Listening to I've Got the World on a String by the one and only, Frank Sinatra. My lover. Like no other. Okay, I'll stop now.
Stressing over school. Mainly stats. Only stats. Please kill me with a blunt object.

Dear Statistics,

    You know that feeling of impending doom you feel before you get on an airplane? No, well, you know that feeling of impending doom I feel before I get on an airplane? Every time I do one of your problem sets, that's what I feel. And my brain gets scared and locks itself in a lead box, through which I cannot communicate with it. That's your fault. It would be really cool if you didn't make me cry anymore. It's not nice. 
    Sincerely, 
Sarah Jane Eller
    So, those of you who know me personally (probably the only people who read this blog are people who know me personally. Except for you random folks in Germany and Russia - shout out! Whaddup?) know that math gives me rashes. It also gives me panic attacks, hot flashes, and causes hyperventilation. They seriously need a warning label for statistics. I received a particularly poor grade for my last test, which I went to extra study sessions for, and actually studied for (as opposed to my first test, for which I did little preparation).
    That being said, I still have not completely decided if I'm going to participate in NaNoWriMo this month, as I have the last two years. (If you are unsure what NaNoWriMo is, click here for the full run-down... or write-down... sorry. ha ha. But to be brief, it stands for National Novel Writing Month, and you write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November.) I realize that my school work (read: stats) is going to require a lot of extra time and effort, but I also don't want to ruin my little record. I've won every time I've attempted it, and I don't want to stop now. It feels good to know that I can do it, and it feels even better when I do do it. (ha. doo-doo. Sorry. Again.) Know what I'm sayin'?
    Also: I do want to be a writer. Biggest ambition, right there. I will be teaching Latin, but in my down-time, I will be writing. Don't I need the practice now? I can promise you two things right now: first, I will never use stats again in my life. I will avoid it like those creepy zombie babies at Halloween stores (anyone else? I almost wet myself the first time I saw one). Secondly, if I don't pump out 50,000 words this month, I will regret it until the day I get published (I probably won't care after that, because, hey, I've got my book on the shelves, yo), and that day may never come.
    I'm not asking you, surferdudes of the interwebs, to justify my writing of a novel in lieu of applying myself in statistics. There is no question here. I will be (forcibly) choosing stats over my novel. So if it doesn't get finished in the 30 28 days left, that's why. And I want you to know. WITH THE INTERNET AS MY WITNESS (that's a lot of you) MY POTENTIAL FAILURE IS NOT MY FAULT.
    Blame statistics. 99.9% of the time, you're failure can be blamed on math. Math is always at fault. In the language of logic - shoutout to Brother Gil of eighth grade who taught me logic - "Math is always a fault-haver." Why couldn't I take logic instead of statistics?

Testing, Pun-Two-Three

Is that not the most heart breaking thing you've ever seen?

Listening to Penny Lane by the Beatles, obviously (if you didn't already know that, go close your hand in a door)
Stressing over my stupid short story for Fiction Writing, and how I have absolutely 0.00 ideas for it. Help?!
    Alright someone out there obviously needs to take it upon themselves to yell at me when I don't write at least one post every week. Preferably on a Tuesday, but I will also take Thursdays if, say, I have a huge Statistics test on Tuesday that I'm freaking out and studying for and obviously can't manage a post because of. What? No of course I'm not making an excuse - what would give you that idea?
    In all seriousness, I had a slight panic attack right before that test. Heart racing, difficulty breathing, suddenly roasting hot, feelings of impending doom... It was horrible. And I studied hard for this one, which is not something I normally have to do, but the first test didn't end up so hot... *cough cough* So I did the study guides, and the worksheets, and went to the one study session that I could go to. I swear, I'm going to pass out from stress before Tuesday gets here (we get our tests back on Tuesday). If I make it out of this class with my sanity, it will be a miracle.
    On a positive note, get this. In my Tuesday/Thursday morning class at the dreadfully unbearable hour of 9:30 am (don't judge me - I'm not a morning person), we had a test last week. Let me preface this by telling you that I did next to no preparing for this test, only briefly skimmed the readings for the class, and hardly pay attention because I'm not awake yet (it's not that I'm not interested, I just have zero ability to focus on anything more than coffee and sometimes walking in a straight line in the mornings). Thing is, I'm really good at interpretation of quotes and what I'm reading in relation to the authors and their ideas. All the questions went all right, but I was kind of afraid I wasn't putting enough in my answers. And I may have started rambling about ancient Roman mythology and Irish legends in one because I didn't know what else to infer from the quote... I was afraid I'd not done well, so I let my friend Hayden look at it first and tell me if I wanted to see it.
    "Oh, you definitely don't want to see this," he said with a strained smile on his face. "We may as well just throw it away."
    Which meant I had to see it. I opened it and burst out laughing. 91.5. And the professor's note? Something to the effect of "you've obviously read the readings very carefully and thought hard about the writers' ideas. I'm impressed and can't wait to read more." Whoa, right? I guess I grasped more in my pre-coffee haze than I thought!!
    So here are some funny puns:

[From Hayden, in American Literature while we were discussing Walden by Thoreau]

• [in reference to a bike trail he likes] "It's my favorite place to thoreau down."

[From Eeyore on The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh]

• "It's not much of a tail, but I'm attached to it." I love Winnie the Pooh, I'll just tell you that right now. But especially Tigger. He's so awesome. I love when he's in the misty woods and Rabbit is trying to lose him, and you hear him going "Ha-looooo!!!" :)

   

Ambiguity

Listening to On the Wing by Owl City. I cannot tell a lie; I love this guy. (That rhymed!) Seriously, though. He's a veritable vat of awesome-sauce.
A-pondering the fact that I DON'T HAVE STATS TODAY! Rejoice with me, people. 
    What's this??! Sarah's doing another post this week?? I know, the world is in a state of shock. It's madness. I just had the share this little story that happened on Tuesday. I just find it so amusing.
    So I was in American History class, sitting in my normal seat in the back of the room. It was the middle of class, and I was taking notes like a good little student. (Stop laughing, those of you who know me personally.) My professor was lecturing about the New Deal, and the super tall black guy who sits on my right leaned over and asked, "What's your ethnicity?"
    Now, this is not the first time Super Tall Dude has spoken to me. He randomly comments on stuff at least once a week, but the question caught me off-guard. I thought I heard, "What's your last name?" But I knew that couldn't be it, because he doesn't even know my first name, so why would he need to know my last name? So I said, "Huh?"
    "Your ethnicity," he repeated. "What's your ethnicity?"
    I was still kind of dumbfounded by his question, so I stuttered a bit, but managed: "Part German, and part Native American? A little Irish?"
    Keep in mind, this is all mid-lecture. During class. When the only other person talking is my professor. How he didn't ask us to leave, I have no idea. Super Tall Dude said, "I've been trying to figure it out all semester; you're so racially ambiguous!"

How is this racially ambiguous? ha ha

    I must have had a weird look on my face because he went on, explaining himself, "You have this dark undertone to your skin, so I thought maybe you were mixed or something." That made me laugh. Not because it's weird, but because I've been asked that before.
    I mean, in the summer, I actually get asked questions like this a lot: If I'm mixed, or Hispanic, or why on earth I'm so dark. But I've long lost my summer tan, so it was totally unexpected. Especially in the middle of a lecture in class. How bizarre is that?