To Whom It May Concern:

The alleged Miss Julia Faye to whom this blog pertains regretfully informs you that she can no longer maintain the diligent activity of creating this blog. She was recently enlightened by a woman at her church that people of the female species should not fret over lives of their own. Instead they should be dutifully devoted to their husband's every whim. Therefore, she has parted from her scholastic career and married a gentleman from her church who is at the very ripe age of 37. Now she shall spend her days concocting delicious meals for her husband and the only books she will be studying are regarding the proper ways to ensure pregnancy and raise a family, for these are the only appropriate books a woman should read in addition to the Bible.

Thank you for your time.




Ok so maybe the situation isn't quite that dramatic, but I am going to hell. It's ok though. I just need to learn to accept this.

Seriously though. You see there is this girl in my journalism classes that I always chat with. For 3 quarters we've been in classes together, and only today did I discover I went to high school with her. She has remembered me this entire time. I had no idea who she was. And she was in my class to make it worse.

This has really been perplexing me. This entire time since high school I always figured it would be me who remembered everybody but nobody would remember me. Apparently I was wrong.

Besides that, classes are great! Seriously! Couldn't be better! Kill me now please!

Ok so maybe it's mostly my political science class. Yeah, that 600 person lecture filled entirely of freshman and freshman and maybe some more freshman.

Oh and today in my discussion section, my TA asked the class when the Declaration of independence was signed. Just a year she was asking for. Just a year. "1789?" One freshman asked. "1763?" Another freshman asked. "1777?" Another freshman asked. "You're very close!" my TA exclaimed with a twisted smile on her face. "1776." She had given in. Nobody could give the right answer. Not one little freshman. And certainly not a senior who hadn't had her coffee and was staring at these poor poor beings in disbelief.

After that I got a little cynical and started raising my hand and giving purposefully wrong answers. It may have been wrong, but it provided me a small piece of amusement, that is until my TA started giving me weird looks and I realized I did want to at least pass the class.

In other news, Ichiro completely rocks.

Anyway, I was thinking that I might use this whole 600 person lecture thing as an opportunity to sit next to a new and different hot guy each class period. In a weird twisted plan, inspired by my crazy Canadian friend Jordan, I was going to see how many different freshman guy's phone numbers I could get by the end of the quarter. Sadly though, I found out there is actually another journalism student I know forced to suffer the freshman mob, so I kind have to sit next to her. Oh well. At least I thought about it. Kind of.

I think I may have homework due in my French class tomorrow. I am wondering how much of it I can get done in between classes. Probably not much, but since when did I work in French anyway? Seriously??

Oh and my French professor may first strike you like she's pretty. But at second glance, she looks disturbing like Michael Jackson (postnosefallingoffincident). I tell you. It freaks me out.

And now I shall go to bed so I can get my appropriate 8.5 hours of sleep followed by sleeping through class, eating some food, going to more class, eating more food, maybe working on a story and eating more food and watching way too much "Sex and the City" (which is laughable in itself since it is a show that if I were ever on, I would be voted off the Island the first week). Oh and you think I am joking.

Isn't life grand?