It's just that kind of day

For the first time in my entire college career thus far, I failed. Miserably. At least I spelt my name right. (Or so I hope so.) Failure. I don't deal well with it. I hate it. But, let's be honest here: I didn't exert much effort. I barely went to my math classes, I haven't opened the text book since Spring Break. Of course I'd fail the exam. What did I think was going to happen? God was going to fill my brain with math enriched cells? I take roughly 90% of the credit for my failure. The rest goes to, yes, my professor and my college. Come on, now. I'm in a low math course, obviously I'm not a math genius. So why expect me to catch on quickly? And why base my entire grade on a test score? Why can't we get some credit for showing up for class - even 10%? Or doing homework? Not to mention, when we get into the real world, we're going to have references. We'll be able to ask a co-worker or our boss for help, or even Google a question. Also? Practice does not make perfect, Professor. It's just crazy to say everyone has the ability to do math. That's like saying anyone can make it into the MLB. Everyone has talents. Mine? It's not math. So why am I forced to learn about functions, third roots, and other algebra BS that doesn't pertain to my major?


I had a nice weekend.

Saturday morning I went into work at six forty-five until about noon. Then from two until six I worked at a brat fry for my noon Kiwanis club. I always enjoy my time helping out Kiwanis! Our biggest fundraiser of the year, Walleye Weekend, is coming up in about a month already. That means lots of burgers, brats, and beer: three of a Wisconsinite's favorite things. Well, two for me - nay on the beer. After a successful afternoon of that I met up with my dear friends Jessy and Crystal for dinner. We chatted over scrumptious Chinese and shared some laughs, like always. Afterwards we made our way to Target to look for a wallet for Jessy. (She got a phone call from another girl in our circle, more of just an acquaintance of mine though, while doing the said activity, and she informed us another girl is engaged. How nuts is that?!) Anyhow, we decided it would be a blast to go backpacking on the Ice Age trail, which is a 1,000 mile trail in Wisconsin. How cool would that be?! Of course, we wouldn't go all one thousand miles. Just a short stretch of it. Jessy wants to come along, which would be interesting considering she doesn't even leave her home without make-up, she wears boots with a heel on a daily basis, and I haven't even seen her without straightened hair... and we've been friends for a good six years.

I'm recommitting myself to a life of purity. Hopefully this time I remain faithful to whoever-my-future-husband-may-be. The next time I have a sexual relationship with a man, I want him to be my husband. When I was 16, I lost my virginity. That was a rough time in my life. I was searching for acceptance, love, and just a feeling of belonging. His name is Nick, and I spent the next good 3+ years pining over him. During those years my eating disorder consumed much of my life and I put God in the side dish. I made many decisions I'm not proud of, especially in the purity department. It hurts me so much that I've shared not only my body, but so many emotions, with men I hardly knew. Last Saturday night, after a year of purity, I made a bad choice. Now I get to worry about pregnancy. Why did I do it? I can't live in the past and fix my eyes on my mistakes, though. If a perfect God can forgive me, I need to forgive myself. So how do I live a pure life? At twenty years of age, temptation is every where.

For now, I'm going to eat some ice cream and watch From Prada To Nada. Nothing like a cheesy romantic comedy on a rainy Monday to sooth the anxious soul.