Estoy matando el tiempo

I am killing the time.
My piano class was cancelled this morning/afternoon and I had plenty of time before my English, but in true Jigau style, I'm updating my blog with less than half an hour before class. Meh. It's only English, a subject that I'm beginning to loathe, mostly because of the teacher. She wastes class time like no other, and it's not the fun kind of wasting time, either, like philosophical conversations about the evils of Best Buy or Blockbuster. She reads things to us word for word off the overhead and expects us to copy it, or something. Academics at DePaul are slightly ridiculous. Today, I met a guy who is going to major in Japanese (he's white), and when I said "arigato" just for giggles, he said, "Yeah, we haven't learned that yet..." He said something else, but I tuned out. Whatever boy. Keep eating your Krispy Kremes and milk for lunch.
Well, I better go. Don't want to be late for class...


Illinois is for ice-skaters

Did you know that two of the skaters on the men's Olympic ice-skating team are from Illinois? Matt Savoie is from Peoria and even got a degree in Political Science at Bradley, and Evan Lysacek is from Naperville! Woa. Too bad he's not going to get on the podium. He's super cute!

Add another item to the list of things I've lost and/or broken:
I can't find my glasses. Of all things, my glasses! Fortunately, I wear mostly contacts. But seriously, my glasses? I can't see without some sort of corrective vision, so I don't think I could have really left them somewhere and walked off without them. But I've searched my side of the room top to bottom, and they are nowhere to be seen! I'm seriously starting to consider foul-play. Number one suspect: my roomy!
I don't really think she stole them, but what else am I supposed to think? Glasses just don't grow feet and walk off.
Any ideas where to look? I've looked about everywhere, but I'm open to anything right now.


Nothing is worse than a bad lesson

I just got done with my voice lesson about half an hour ago, and it SUCKED! I don't know what the deal was. My head just wasn't in the game, as they say. I had a hard time with a song that I learned last week and should have had perfected this week, but didn't, and it's time like these I kick myself for being a quick learner and having high standards.
My teacher is older, in her seventies, and she's as sharp as a butcher's knife, cuts like one too. She never says outright "You Suck!" but she has her way phrasing things in a nice manner, but upon second examination, you realize she cut you up BAAAAD!
I love talking to the other freshman girls in her studio about her and her little sayings. Like, "Don't be artsy-craftsy. Just sing!" or "Don't pussy-foot it."
She's a funny old lady, except when I have a bad lesson. You know you have a bad lesson when she doesn't say it was a good one. Now I feel like crap and want to write on a sheet of paper a hundred times over "I will never have a bad lesson again. I will not disappoint my teacher." But then there are other singers who never practice and just get away with it, like my friend Meatloaf. She even has a "famous" teacher, but she doesn't get the glare of shame. Grrrr....
Being in the School of Music sucks sometimes.


Olympic Champions

Let me just start off by saying that I LOVE the Olympics. It's the only time when I feel patriotic and want my players to kick the butts of the other ones. Then again, I realize the terrible truth that we're all ethnocentric assholes, but I don't care. I'll root for team America any day. And actually, in the winter Olympics, we're the underdogs, so I don't feel bad for cheering blindly.
However, there are some things I'd like to address.

Apollo Ono, you have let fame go to your head, and for the past two winter Olympics, you have been a disappointment. You're not even that cute.

Shawn White, way 2 go, dude. Right on. But dude, what was up with Bob Costas asking you about getting more babes after winning gold? That was shady. You should have punched him out or whacked him with your medal.

Michelle Kwan, I have cheered for you from the beginning. Tara, Sarah. They are nothing. I know a guy who met Tara Lipinski on the ice after she retired and said she was a bitch. You had true grace, and I'm so sad that you're leaving. I wanted to see you beat all those little girls and show them that it's never too late to win. But that won't be happening, will it? That's a shame. You probably could have done it. And another thing, you, at least, would truly appreciate the medal. Kids burn out so quickly in that sport, but you have remained. Hell, you're only 25 and you're considered old. There's something terribly wrong with that, but I guess that's how things work in the sports world.

Despite all the pro-American ads on the TV, I still love watching the games because there is nothing more exciting than watching the top athletes of the world performing their best, including curling.


Have I changed?

Well, you can certainly take your nickel back.


Malicious Mirabel

Mirabel, believe it or not, is a boy's name. He used to be my floor's RA, but after tonight, I don't think I'll be seeing Mirabel anymore.
Alex and I were sitting on my bed, trying to watch Donnie Darko, but we had just watched Flightplan and probably weren't ready for another movie. Then, we hear Mirabel pounding on my suite-mate's door, drunk as all hell, yelling, "Open the door. Open the Fucking door, Bitch! Open the Fucking door, Bitch." He repeated this, over and over again. I'm very close with my suite-mate Paulina, and I know that she was not doing anything in her room that would have made Mirabel so aggressive. Plus, Paulina is a quiet girl, and had hardly ever spoken to him. I cut across the bathroom to see what was going on. She started screaming back at him, "No I don't have to open the door. This is ridiculous and disrespectful. How dare you call me that...etc." and he eventually walked away.
I give Paulina my phone to call campus public safety and she files a report. Shortly after she does this, Mirabel comes back to her door and starts pounding again. This time, he was dumb enough to talk to someone on his cell and actually admitted to being on duty. This sent Paulina over the edge, and I called public safety to file another report, and they assured me that officers were on their way.
At this point, Alex and I, plus Miranda (a friend of Paulina's) are all in Paulina's room, waiting with her for the campus cops to show up. They come, ask Paulina a few questions, and the search for a missing Mirabel began.
Now, according to Bailey, the black man that sits at the dorm's front desk late at night and can't type to save his soul, later told Alex and I that the only reason the campus cops found him was because he slipped on the ice outside while he was smoking and cracked open his head. They asked him some questions, and took him to the hospital, for both the cracked head and his blood-alcohol level (that's university protocol).
Paulina is pressing charges against him (which means that real police made their way to our dorm) because God knows what could have happened if she opened the door. I don't think she'll get very far, but Mirabel's career as an RA is OVER, which actually makes me a little sad. He was a nice guy, and other than this one incident, he'd never been mean or belligerent.
On a side note, it was a good thing that my door was locked for the reason that my roommate and her boyfriend were out in the study lounge and had no key with them...
But after Paulina screamed at Mirabel, he tried to open my door to get in.
Such drama!
Paulina is ok, though. She's a little shaken, but she'll be just fine.
And because every story must relate to me, I was excited to give my witness statement to the Chicago cop. I might get to go to court too! Yay fun!