faux-UTI pains, John Lennon, and marketing

 when you're auditing a class but the professor still expects you to be in the group project

NOOoooooooOOOO

What do all of those things have in common?!

Nothing.

Except for the fact that they all had something to do with my week! And that's gotta be the lamest mutual interest ever.

I gave a tour of the library to some 14-yo boys today and let me just say, when you're stuck in an elevator for four floors with ten boys of a certain age, you will wish elevators came with Glade Plug-Ins.

My iPhone stopped working suddenly on Thursday morning and in my frustration I told my husband he could go get me a Google phone (to his delight). Well, I've had it for a little over a day now and I'm not sure I can do it. I am so weak. The thing about iPhones that I liked (which some people really H8) is that there's a lack of options. It comes with a podcast app, woo. I don't have to download one! It comes with ringtones. I don't have to pick one of my favorite songs as my alarm, which would slowly destroy that song for me anyway. YOU KNOW?! I think I've just become a victim of Apple's ruthless marketing.

And I know how much of a victim I really am because I started auditing a marketing class this week and gosh I never realized how much of what I consume is based on marketing. It's like subliminal BRAINWASHING. That's not a thing. But you get it. I learned that my Smith's rewards card is not reeeeally a tactic to save me money, but to track what I buy and then sell that data to the companies who want me to buy from them.

I mean, wat.

If you're not interested in marketing well you can just get off my blog then.

Jk. I promise I'm not tryna market John Lennon or UTIs to you (because who would want to market those two things together, and why??).

Speaking of UTIs, I've never had one, but yesterday I thought I had one for sure based on some..specific symptoms. And it feels like my body is being sawed in half from the inside. But whatever. I will ignore it until it goes away or I slowly die.

JOHN LENNON HELP ME THROUGH THIS.

The first week of school has been gr9. And I'm not even in school, you guys.

*you're still wondering why John Lennon got mentioned on this blog*

*well, I'll never tell*

(there's no reason)

who do I have to throat punch to get the A/C turned down in here?!

By "in here," I mean work. There are probably 30 vents in every square foot (hyperbole), so I wear a sweater to work, but then after leaving  the temperature has climbed back up to 95 and I'm sweating the whole way home.

You're like, there's an easy solution for this. And I know what it is. TURN DOWN THE AIR CONDITIONING.

You thought I was going to say "just take off your sweater and put it in your backpack," didn't you?! Well I didn't. I paid this university a lot of tuition money (and my ROI is not working out very well right now), and I'm starting to think they used it to constantly pump out cold air in places that didn't need it.

I always get nostalgic around this time of year because school starting = fall, and fall = you're not going back to school, McKenzie, and therefore you = old.

Simple maths. And I'm kinda ready to be done with the whole school thing. I'm not in school anymore, it's true, but I work for the university, and I will not talk much about that because it'll put you to sleep, but let's just say I spend a lot of free time looking for other jobs. That's another thing that makes me want to throat punch someone.

I keep finding jobs that sound like my dream job, but they're not in Logan. My anxiety is probably at an all-time high. Just like the air conditioning.

turn

it

down

in

funky

town

I wasn't expecting that ending!

(and suddenly this got really deep and existential)

one sweaty walk

95 degrees and 1.7 miles and tight jeans

One street, full of old houses, roofs caving in,

Spiral staircases and on a scale from one to ten

Every house was an eleven (as far as ghosts go)

Past the house with a fitted sheet twisting in the

Stale breeze, contributing to the gentrification

--or maybe despite it--a canal like those of my childhood

Drifts past, unassuming, ready to pull any kid

Three feet or under through

To the mushy depths. What a way to go.

Dammed up by moldy crabapples, bottle caps,

Baby ducks bobbing their heads, diving for nothing,

For oily trash! I talk to them for awhile, I ask them

What they’re doing, eating that. Their mother weakly

Paddles in place with her mouth hanging open, how did we

Come to this? Or maybe she is just hungry.

One duckling suddenly flips, the water barely moves,

Belies his instinct, but I secretly hope it’s something his

Mother taught him because he had to learn faith, too.

He had to learn disappearing into the vague deadly

Currents would only be temporary, only be dark

As he tunneled to the bottom for something only his heart

Understands--to partake of something, to hold onto it yourself,

What else is there besides that? And then he surfaces,

Shivers and shakes his feathers,

noticing me for the first time.

I helped them cross the road. And in that moment, I swear we were.. not gonna overuse that dang quote. Dangit!!!

The rest of my walk was littered with haunted houses and gated yards and flowers.

95 degrees is a cheap price to pay for such delights!-your modern day Anne Shirley