The Unusual

The Unusual is going on holiday.

We’ll be back in January.

Come hang with us.

During my three years at the University of Miami, I’ve run into a certain paradox which repeatedly appears at the end of every semester: students buying drugs to assist them with schoolwork.

First off, to every student sitting in the library, or “Club Richter” as semi-motivated facebook-whoring dorks call it, you should be slapped.  Never in my right mind would I congregate in this center of academic slavery without an appropriate disguise, much less post it to Facebook as “Club Richter.”  To make it even worse, these vermin scurry around campus looking for Adderall or any uppers they can get their hands on so they can “focus.”

Everybody needs to stop pretending they came to this school for any reason other than to get fucked up on multitudes of drugs, live off their parents money, and lay face down on the beach in 80 degree sunlight.  If you’re a high school senior applying to Miami for any other reasons, throw out the application immediately and check out the Ivy League, aka hotbed of beat chicks and teetotaling do-gooders who spend their summers in Cambodia digging holes in the ground for people to shit in.

How does this drug even work?  Do people actually swallow it?  And it makes you do your homework better?  Last time I took it, all I wanted to do was throw bricks through windows and punch somebody in the face.  My schoolwork stayed tucked neatly in the way back of my vibrant mind, where it shall remain for all of eternity.

Bottom line: if you are purchasing an upper, such as Adderal, and it is not going up your nose on a Saturday night before South Beach, you’re doing it wrong.

The best class I have ever taken at the University of Miami wasn’t a class at all. In fact, I think that classes are the least important academic facet of University life. Don’t get me wrong. I study my ass off, and take my grades very seriously. What I mean is that there are more important things that students can do, academically, outside of class.

A substantial part of the school’s endowment goes toward attracting guest lecturers. Every single week, there is some major presentation being done by some major speaker somewhere on campus. The best part is that you generally don’t have to belong to any particular school to attend these presentations. I for instance, am a Business Law – Ecosystem Science & Policy Major double major. I have a far wider range of academic interest than can be covered by the classes I take for those two majors. Thanks to the tuition I pay, I can have it all! Thus far I have heard the Dalai Lama speak, I have attended lectures made by small and big time entrepreneurs,  lawyers, and I have seen other students present research projects that they have spent years working on. In fact, just this morning, I attended a seminar by the South Florida Water Management District.

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I don’t dig dudes in Fedoras.  Not only is the uber-feminine summertime accessory totally two years ago, its festival season targeted look is repeatedly overplayed everywhere from lincoln road to the local middle school. No thanks.  In my opinion, it’s always looked douche-y but now I have a legitimate reason to express resentment.  It didn’t even work for K-Fed, before he became obese, when he was still married to Britney Spears.  I just want to put the (male) fedora in the vault alongside….

Summer scarves.  They are redundant in themselves but guys rockin’ the man-scarf just takes it to the next level.  I don’t really see the appeal in dating someone of the opposite sex if all they do is jock your style, anyway.  Thin cloth draped around a thick(ish) neck for no potential of providing warmth on a shitty day seems so silly. 

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The Rat used to be the number one “people watching” spot on campus. Now that the Rat sucks, the gym has taken its spot. The Patti and Allan Herbert Wellness Center is one of the most interesting places at UM. Today while trying to distract my mind from the torture I was inflicting on my body, I did some serious people watching. Sometimes the iPod just doesn’t cut it. I noticed that I could take one look at a person and tell their gym history.

There are the regulars. As a non-regular, I hate the regulars. These are the people that go to the gym 5-7 times a week. By hate I mean envy. I don’t understand how these people can convince themselves to work out every day. No excuses. The regulars have a routine. They go to the gym so often that spontaneity is off the table.

Female regulars are decked out in the tightest spandex and sports bra, with some sort of loose tank top or t-shirt they acquired in high school or college. Their routine consists of about 30 minutes on the elliptical, 30 minutes on the treadmill, and 15 minutes of “abs”. They have good bodies. Skinny arms, semi-muscular legs. They are fit, but not too fit.

Male regulars wear self-made muscle tees. As usual, it’s always a competition for men. They only receive satisfaction from the fact that their muscles are bigger than their frat bro’s – not from the fact that they are improving their health by working out. I’m clearly not so familiar with the male routine but I assume its about 20 minutes of cardio followed by a rotation though the machines. Male regulars also have good bodies. They focus on developing their arms so they can show off their muscles on Saturdays at the football games.

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This year I decided to be a real person and become part of the work force. My place of work? Victoria’s Secret. The brand associated with fun, sex, confidence, and of course their famous Victoria’s Secret angels. Those crazy beautiful models who all girls want to be and all guys want to screw. I work for the company, but I am definitely no angel. Neither are my coworkers.

I need to keep myself out of trouble. With too much spare time trouble is what I find, or it finds me. So I decided to make some money instead of spending it. I’m attempting to learn about responsibility and how to become a bit more self-sufficient. So far, it seems to be working out okay.

            The employees have to project a fun and energetic attitude. You’ve gotta be peppy! This is especially hard to do when I’m really dealing with a crippling hangover. More often than not I feel like I’m acting instead of being a sales associate. I pretend to be disgustingly upbeat, I pretend that my customers aren’t half-crazy and annoying, and I need to pretend that this job isn’t completely ridiculous.

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Does an $80 jersey mean nothing when your quarterback sucks? Now I can sit here all day and rant about how much I hate Jacory Harris as a QB, but that wouldn’t change anything. The damage is done and the statistics are set in stone. All I can say is, “Thank you Jacory. It’s been fun, and Good luck with that thing they call the NFL.”

Stephen Morris on the other hand, well I have high hopes for you. Since the beginning of the season I knew he was a better quarterback. I was one of those people who would chant his name while they kept him leashed on the bench. Next year he will be in the spotlight and together we will all chant his name. Even the non-believers will hold hands and join in the fun. Next year, we won’t dread leaving the tailgates. Next year will be a better year, I promise.

This class is called Theatre 101, but it is more accurately Life 101. I only took the class for gen ed purposes, and I thought it would just end up being a boring, easy A class. I was right about the easy A, but I also learned to think about college and life that go beyond a simple grade. While you could probably survive the course without going to half the classes, I found myself not wanting to miss any.

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Write, and rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite. If you want to get an A that’s what you gotta do. I don’t care how beautifully typed and formatted your notes are, they’re just not gonna cut it.

There is a proven link between writing out notes and memorizing them. When we write, our brain simultaneously processes the movement associated with drawing the letters along with the actual information being processed. The movement provides another pathway for the brain to recall the information later on. On the other hand, when we type, our fingers are repeating the same movement for every letter making it hard for the brain to distinguish between important and unimportant words.

Do you remember back in the day when your teacher made you rewrite spelling words over and over again? This is why. I recently realized that I subconsciously rewrite important words or concepts on the margins when I’m studying. Because I rewrite and rewrite and rewrite, I do well on my finals.

How to study:

1. If you typed your notes for the class, print them all out and have them in front of you.
2.  Don’t highlight – that’s high school shit. 
3.  Grab a colored pen – I prefer red.
4. If you have OCD and do not want to write on the typed notes, grab some loose-leaf paper to write on instead.
5. Go through your notes and rewrite only keywords or sentences that you know will be on the test.

For future references, write out your notes throughout the semester. I guarantee that when finals come, you will be less overwhelmed. 

People always talk about ‘surviving the holidays with the family, as if it’s the hardest thing in the world.  But what about all those people who have to survive the holidays without family?  What about all those people suffering loss or, better yet, isolation during a season that thrives on family bonding and being kind to strangers?  What about those people who have to deal with months of Christmas spirit when all they really want is to forget the fact that they are in it alone?  Is it not already depressing enough that Christmas seems to publicly force itself into your face earlier and earlier every year?  Is it not already depressing enough to walk around the mall, alone and broke, and see everything from sparkling, five-story Christmas trees to fathers taking their young girls, dressed in matching dresses and bows to sit on Santa’s lap to beautiful, young couples happily embracing each other?  Maybe I’m just bitter.

How did the holidays turn into yelling matches with my parents, upping my anti-depressant dosage and attempts at hiding honesty behind sunglasses in public?

Christmas used to be my favorite holiday.  Actually, I used to love all holidays.  Love is an understatement.  I even used to celebrate all eight nights Hanukkah.  I could spit out the entire Hebrew prayer before I could even recite the pledge of allegiance.  I was the bright-eyed, curly haired sweetheart dressed in an identical party dress as my younger sister.  The very same activities that I used to live for now lead me to depths of sadness and remorse.

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 I’ve been a smoker for nearly 6 years. I regret that I started and I’ve tried to quit several times but I’ve had no success so far. I know it’s bad for you and I know that it can cause serious illness but at this age I don’t really feel the difference. I keep on telling myself that a time will come when I will quit this once and for all even though I know that there is no perfect time to do this.

People back at home in Bulgaria smoke like it’s a sport and I grew up among them. They enjoy sitting at coffee places with friends gossiping and talking about the stuff that happens in a small city. Smoking cigarettes is a must when drinking a coffee. Americans don’t really do that. They would rather buy coffee in a plastic cup and rush into whatever they are doing. I guess it’s a very European thing, but there is nothing better than spending a lazy afternoon in a coffee/bar with friends after school.

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FAMU’s band is in jeopardy after a seemingly negligent death. Al Golden stays with the U and talks about this and next season. UM basketball season has started, with mixed results awaiting us.  American Airlines joins most other airline companies in filing for bankruptcy. And the Miami Heat’s big 3 win their first NBA championship together.   

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Boom. Thats the sound my brain makes. Boom. Boom. Boom. Yep, it’s the last week of classes. Pow. That’s the sound my grades make. Pow. Pow.Pow. I can’t continue to act like the pile of books/assignments on my desk is just going to disappear. Puff. That’s the sound I wish my assignments would make as they evaporate into thin air. Knock. Knock. All of the girls on my floor knocking at my door, telling me their stories. I act like I care but sometimes I don’t. Especially today. I’m trying to not work on my research paper. Instead I’m watching gossip girl and writing. Best combination. Tomorrow I will be productive. Tap. Tap. Tap. The noise my computer will make as I work tirelessly to complete my paper before the midnight deadline. I should probably go back to pretending like I’m researching articles.  Maybe that prevent me from having a nervous breakdown.

10. Frosty the snowman

9. Santa baby (aka the slut song)

8. I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus (the aforementioned slut’s daughter’s song)

7. Feliz Navidad (the one Spanish song played all year in a South Florida business…how do they make money?)

6.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year (for you)

5. Baby, it’s cold outside (In Florida, that amounts to 65 degrees.  I think she’ll live.)

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Shopping as a broke college student (I neither have access to daddy’s plastic nor a trust fund) can be beyond heart-breaking. Shopping in Miami is killer!  It’s not even like just Downtown or just “this” mall has the best shopping… it is literally every other street corner.  Every time I set out to accomplish something important and see fashion merchandise, I’m gone.  The mannequins beckon me, the racks become illuminated, drool starts dripping out of my mouth and I start to feel all hot and bothered inside.  I swear, if I could, I’d buy out all those little shops/boutiques you see at Sunset and the Grove in one sitting.  But I can’t, at least not yet, so I scrounge together my nickels and browse the sale-racks of those trendy knock-off type stores. 

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