One day until I graduate! Of course with commencement, there are serious rituals that must be done. Rehearsal, packing (see below) and hanger videos.

License to ill, thrill and the like…

My boa for the UPS Gala…

I PASSED MY LSU CLASS! C+ BABY!

Celebrate! Do a little dance with me!*

My graduation is secure, and I’m going to wear my dorky cap with pride! What is Miss Sass going to do upon graduation. Well … [insert Wayne’s World dream sequence — diddly oop diddly oop diddly oop] …

I could take more school…

I could work/celebrate it up with Christine and Sierra in NYC. Of course, I’d have to steal the other Christine away from stinky Davis.

I can whisk away to something a little more tropical…

Or just fly away to the moon!

Got any better ideas? Because otherwise it’ll just be this:

*Heather and I are totally bringing back the 96 fashion. Grab your blue wigs, sparkly hot pants and chunky plastic accessories!

Dear Academia,

The weekends preceding graduation should probably be spent feverishly working on assignments and preparing for final projects. Instead, I’m working on my outfit for graduation. Dress? Check. (And by check I mean I have successfully cut back on groceries to afford the dress.) Shoes? Quasi Check. Hair? Quasier check. Jewelry? The Quasiest of checks. This is one final project I’m more than happy to work on.

I apologize, but please understand I have slaved away for so long and momentum is just too hard to maintain these days.

Your (once) faithful prodigy,

Emily Atwood

I really think I do have a sick obsession with to-do lists. This is really a to-do list’s cousin, the assignment sheet.

It took over 10 hours, but I’m done. Yes, a regular assignment for my weekly class took over 10 hours. Upon finishing, I threw my arms upward and shouted, I’m done! Usually when this happens, silence follows, or maybe a “nice job.” This time, however, Abigail, Danielle, Heather and Kristin cheered loudly! It was great! That should happen for everyone when they finish a major accomplishment. You know, like Jodie, Charlie and Cooper when they finished the modern, controversial ballet.*

*Center Stage is on right now. And Danielle blessed us with Grasshopper Goodness. These two things should also be at the end of every great accomplishment.

A while ago, I asked for help from friends and interior designers. And you all failed. Well, mostly failed. Matt helped me decide that my idea is the bomb. (I might as well make this blog an online homage to Matt.*)

I walk into the Blue Room this afternoon — the perfect place for inspiration, as Matt and I had already conquered the demon that was the old Blue Room — and smell a funk. I open the door and the wind made the curtain billow. Then I remember that these are mine to keep! I quickly IMed Matt:

Me: i just had a potentially brilliant idea
Hot Boyfriend: oh gosh
Me: you know the curtains hanging over the doors in the blue room?
Hot Boyfriend: fo sheezy
Me: i could put those or something like it over the loft!
Me: that way i don’t have to make my bed
Hot Boyfriend: yes…
Hot Boyfriend: as long as they were cool looking
Me: why didn’t i think of that before?!
Hot Boyfriend: what if it was like 25% transparent or something
Me: i figure it would take more than two of them
Me: so i could have 2 transparent and 2 non
Hot Boyfriend: like a silk, could be the same one that you could drape from the loft ceiling
Me: oooh
Me: some days it’s evidentally clear why i’m dating you

My photoshop magic will help you understand what I’m talking about:

Before:

And viola!

And with the amazing Ikea couch, it is nearly complete!

*Sidenote: I was reading Dooce’s FAQ (#2) today and I totally agree with her that geeks are hot: “… he is so cute when he talks Geek and it makes my heart beat really fast and my brain can’t get oxygen fast enough and I black out.” Not that Matt is a geek per se, it just goes along with the computer genius territory.

I’ve never been much of a feminist. I neglect shaving because of laziness not protest, Barbies are fun, and I love clothes and makeup. While striving for equality among the sexes, I can’t remember if or when I’ve been a victim of sexism. So, I feel like these things disqualify me for most feminist thoughts.

Then I discovered about BlogHer.org.* And a passion for equality ignited.

Blogging is so exciting. It’s fresh and I am thrilled to be a part of a new medium. And how dare women be limited and their writing deemed as fluff? We shouldn’t have to demand our rights as if society hasn’t learned anything!

A clip from Marrit Ingman’s article in the Austin Chronicle gets to my point:

“Women who write about family are ‘mommybloggers,’ while men who write about family are ‘personal bloggers,’ incorporating personal elements into their blogs,” Des Jardins says. “It’s so easy to call someone a ‘mommyblogger,’ to say that they write ‘just’ about family.”

“As though so much of our great literature and art isn’t about family relationships,” Camahort points out. “When Arthur Miller wrote All My Sons, nobody said, ‘Oh, he’s just a ‘daddy playwright.’ Nobody calls him a ‘male playwright.’ I think that’s why women are rightfully apprehensive.”

There’s a reason that Dooce is the top-linked personal blogger. She may be a “mommyblogger,” but she must be doing something right to get 1 million hits a month and support her family through blogging. ** Then you have countless women with non-personal blogs constantly challenging top-ranked status.

Basically, women are a significant part of the blogosphere. I’m trying my hardest to make it to BlogHer 2006, because the speakers will definitely have some valuable insights that I’d love to hear. Don’t be fooled into believing my sporadic postings mean that blogging isn’t something near and dear to my heart.

So skeptic men (and women), don’t underestimate the female bloggers, or else you’ll be sorry. We’re shaking things up, so you’d better watch out!

*Recently, BlogHer.org (which I am embarassed to say I hadn’t linked to before now) released a beta network. Members have profiles and articles written by contributing editors are posted on the front page. There are also plenty of categories (What’s Hot) for more articles/extended message boards. Cool stuff!

**Click here for Marrit Ingman’s article and interview with Heather Armstrong a.k.a. Dooce.

The sun is on vacation and it’s raining in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Storms are often used as literary tools to bring change to a plot. I know this, you see, because I am currently eating literature for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Even when I am full, I must shove in more large portions of Harlem Renaissance fiction and modern poetry in order to complete my online English class. The binge would be worth it, however, because the end is in sight. A couple more clicks and all assignments would be complete. My fears could rest on the hope that my foolish procrastination would be hidden. Godspeed.

Unfortunately, it only took one click to have the hope stripped from me. My storm came in red, bold letters. Arial, size 24 font: Maximum number of lessons per week exceeded.

It is impossible to make the deadline if I have to wait any longer. This newfound knowledge stung so badly; my pride proved unsalvageable. Even my tears were too shamed in showing their faces. On the warm and sunny May day, I would not walk along the stage in goofy, yet dignified costume. What would I tell my family? My friends?

Only yesterday had we discussed how we are responsible for that which we don’t know. It is the mark of adulthood, we concluded. And let’s not kid ourselves here. An online English class was not about the literature, but the self-discipline to get it done. And I am not going to pass.

Why did I let it get to this point? How could I have not improved on my procrastination in the past four years?

I went to my room for comfort, but I’m overwhelmed with the clutter that grows like ivy on all surfaces of my room. You see, Mrs. Online Instructor, I sleep without sheets on my bed so I can finish your class. I stay up during ungodly hours to wake up shortly thereafter for my other classes. I can’t even get lost in my studies. Tomorrow I will go to Proverbs class only to learn about the differences between the wise and the foolish. Try a lecture from my life! (Exhibit A and Exhibit B.)

The reason the class is not finished by now, I tell myself, is because I’ve put together an entire newspaper practically by myself. This took months and continues to steal all my energy. And the most poignant confirmation for a job well done is an e-mail about the crossword being too difficult. This person has the time to do crosswords and complain about them. Thank you so much for your feedback, I robotically reply. I’m so glad I spent hours upon hours revamping the newspaper, when all I had to do was find a different crossword puzzle.

Even if, by a great measure of God’s grace and sense of humor, I have my class completed by the deadline, I have myself to live with. I’m my harshest critic, though I’ll gladly place the blame on someone else.

At the ripe-old age of 21, I need to start thinking about my future. Especially with graduation looming over the horizon. Shoot, dinner also looms on the nearer end of the horizon and I have to think about that!

This brings me to a hypothetical situation. Very hypothetically speaking, I have a special person in my life. We’ll call him Matte. Matte is very smart and talented, especially with computers. Every so often other people recognize this and offer him a job. And by offer him a job, I mean someone is just asking if they can fill his bank account with lots of money.

“I can’t. I’m not done with school.”

I’ve always encouraged his scholarly pursuit. For a degree is not just vocational training, but life training in accomplishing a goal. Yet, my goal is about to be (OH LORD I PRAY IT IS ABOUT TO BE … online class = bad idea) accomplished. It will be marked by a 50 yard walk, handshake and the receipt of the expensive piece of paper. Now that the time has come, you begin to question the time spent in order to acheive this goal. Was it worth it?

So when a very special person in your life asks your advice, what do you say?

“School schmool. … I’m in the wrong field.”

I finally feel like I’m a participating member of Academia. I checked out books from the library. I read and did all my assignments before class. (One assignment was actually early! EARLY! I don’t know if that’s ever happened.) And I’ve only missed on 8 a.m. class!

Mass Media Law is by far my favorite class. My teacher, who is no stranger to TV and he’ll gladly tell you, is funny and up-to-date. I thought I was goofing off by reading E! Online news before class. Oh no! He referenced several of the article topics I read. Like The Pelican, the “private investigator” to the celebrities who has tons of illegally-wired tapes of Sly Stallone. (Did you know that his mom has psychic dogs?) I love to hear it when celebs get nabbed for all their illegal behavior. Dang celebrities that think they can get around the law! Paparazzi caught Britney driving with precious Sean Preston IN HER LAP! Yet, they won’t investigate her or cite her!

Then there’s the class I don’t like. The one with the book that assumes I’m dumb and that should be edited to a third its size. The one where the teacher told us his brilliant proposal: a picture jigsaw puzzle with his heart as a missing piece, oh no the piece is missing, it must have fallen somewhere around here … on the ground … hey, look, I’m on one knee. The one that said he will not accept late work whatsoever! … unless you’re married. If you’re married you can turn in all assignments late, just write “married” on the top. A positive note, however: I don’t have to take his final. So we’ll just let that married bit slip by just this once.

For Jeni’s World Religions class, however, the married people get anything but special treatment. In order to fully understand religions, they have to pretend to be that religion. As monks, they will beg for money. Those who are married are not allowed to have sex for two weeks because monks didn’t have sex.* That’s pushing it way too far!

The road to graduation is so long…

*This is a big deal since I go to a private, Christian university, where only married folk are allowed to have sex. So again, they get all the breaks!