I’m not ready for this.
I don’t mean that in some grand symbolic sense, like when Luke wasn’t ready to confront Darth Vader or when Rocky wasn’t ready to punch a frozen cow for an hour and a half. (Admittedly I have a dim memory of that movie.)
No, I mean the fall semester has caught me so off-guard that I’m somehow juggling three jobs, seven potential classes and a mountain of half-packed boxes the size of the warehouse from Indiana Jones.
Maybe the problem is that my summer job made a seamless transition into ongoing employment, and I missed the signs of the coming college-pocalypse. Maybe I’m just incredibly lazy and somehow failed to open every single email for UAA for the past three months. Whatever the case, I’ve found myself about as prepared as the North Korean space program facing budget cuts.
My complete lack of preparation for this semester is so astounding it should be considered a work of art. As of this moment I haven’t ordered any books or bought any food. I have only the vaguest idea of what classes I’m taking or how they relate to my major.
In fact, even as I type this I’m fairly certain I’ve left my car illegally parked (and probably still running) in the grass in front of my MAC building. In addition to my academic woes, everything I own has been haphazardly flung into an army of half-taped boxes; most of which consist of one or two items or — in one case — all the other boxes I planned on using to pack with.
I have sheets with no mattress, none of my lamps have light bulbs and somehow I’ve managed to misplace the charger for every electronic device that I own. This column is being written at record pace — not due to any sort of devotion to my job, but because I’m racing against the battery life on my laptop.
A moment ago I discovered I packed my microwave full of an odd assortment of pants and “Lost” DVDs, while the actual case for “Lost” is filled with loose change and pixie sticks under my bed.
The moral of this story is that you might want to spend more than a half hour packing when you’re moving your entire life into new housing. Also, meeting with an adviser at some point before your junior year might be a decent idea.
I would normally be a bit more stressed about my lack of preparation, but it seems to be par for the course, given a good number of my friends are still looking for a place to live this semester. Even UAA seems to be lagging behind as ongoing road construction blocks off the residential community from the rest of campus until early September. With any luck, the rest of campus is just as unprepared as I am, which should allow my laziness to sneak by undetected for the first week or so.
So this is how I start my junior year, heading off to classes I’ve long forgotten my reasons for enrolling in. I’m completely missing all of my books and course materials, and I’m in a car that still insists upon sealing the driver’s side door while the engine overheats ominously.
The optimistic part of me wants to believe I’m getting all of my bad luck out of the way before the semester kicks into high gear. However, given past experiences and that most of my columns are inspired by ridiculous misfortune, I think it’s safe to say that it’s going to be an interesting year.