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First week of summer school has come to an end.


Hmmm... My mother will be back tonight, so my sense of freedom will be squelched. But her return really isn't a bad thing.


3 Doors Down:


Ham sandwich.


I need to clean my room... and I need a nap.


July 12: Great Bicentennial Man quote.

thursday, july 12th

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Quote Du Jour:
"Education is what survives when what has been learned has been forgotten." (B. F. Skinner)

Four days of summer school down.
I think I have seventeen days to go.

I've been in college off and on since the fall of 1996. This is the first time I've ever taken the summer school route and with the first week behind me (no class tomorrow), I'm pleasantly surprised.

I've not been dreading the summer school experience, but I certainly haven't been looking forward to it. I'm taking two classes (Industrial Security and Criminal Law) back-to-back with the same professor starting at 8 a.m. every morning. I'm sure you can understand how four straight hours of learning in the same room with the same professor wasn't exactly an appealing proposition. However, it seems that I have the forced of good on my side in several ways.

I'm lucky that while he's not a three-ring circus of fun, listening to him is more fun that watching paint dry. I'm lucky that he gives us breaks during the two-hour classes and (so far) as let us go a smidgen bit early every day. Of course, I think I may have lucked out on a bigger scale, too.

I'm only a visiting student at Smallville University this term as I'll be back in Oakdale for the fall. Before Monday, I didn't know the professor (or any of my classmates) from Adam. However, I have been listening to my fellow students talk during breaks. It seems my professor has the most thorough test reviews of anyone in the department and doesn't expect us to know weird, obscure shit like other professors. I can support that.

So, why have I not been dragging myself to the computer to belt out entries for you, my loyal readers? Well, I'm glad you asked.

My mother has been clear across the country since Saturday. This, of course, means that my Little Brother and I have had the house to ourselves. Unfortunately, our initial plans of wild orgies and keg parties never reached fruition. However, a funny thing happened during our vacation from the shackles of parental oppression... I managed to keep the ship sailing.

I've never doubted my potential to be a cream of the crop homemaker. I am convinced that I can do anything I want if I set my mind to it. And the real hang-up with me and house work has been that whole "set my mind to it" part. What can I say? I've never been first in line to wash dishes or clothes and while I'm sure vacuuming is an art... It's not one I've ever tried to master. However, I can safely say that our house looks better today (she gets back sometime this evening) than it did when she left. I'm proud of that. I can also safely say that my brother contributed about 2% of the effort... but that's okay with me. Too many people have the "if no one else gives a damn, I don't either" attitude. Even I have been known to slip into that mind set from time to time... but that line of thinking is super duper counter productive. I want to say away from it if I can.

I will give credit where credit is due. Jessie came over Saturday night to eat dinner with me. There was a pile of dishes in the sink and several loads of laundry that needed to be done. Her arriving at my house was motivation enough for me to take care of the dishes and clothes. Last night, she came over for dinner again and pitched in as we washed a couple load of clothes and did some more dishes. I even got some quality study time in, too.

This week, she has been my CMO -- chief motivational officer -- and it has helped. I spent the entire month of June feeling like a lazy slob. This week, I've done everything I could to reverse that feeling. I can only hope this productivity spills over into next week... and I certainly wouldn't mind if it lasted through the summer term. I could really use a couple of As.

copyright © 2001-02, Thomas Fletcher. all rights reserved.