a proper introduction

So, two posts later, you finally get my introduction.

Hello, my name is Krissy, and I'm a freshman at UWEC. I'm majoring in creative writing, and considering a minor in women's studies. I'm still at this odd point in my college career where I'm not sure if I should be here or not, so when I have a definitive answer for that, I'll let you know.

I'm a huge fan of music and I spend most of my free time digging through sites like myspace and openstage looking for new bands to promote, since it's always fun to be able to answer 'yes, I have heard of them. They were better two years ago when they were still making music leaning towards techno/house/ska/what have you.' when asked if you've heard of a new and rising band. I'm sort of a hipster in that respect, I suppose. That's the one topic where I like to claim superiority. Otherwise, I'm a pretty humble person. Before haphazardly landing on a creative writing major, I had seriously been considering not going to college at all and instead becoming a roadie for some local band, or going to college just long enough to learn something about human resources and management to be a tour manager.
Like I said, I'm still at the weird point where that might happen.

I also have been noted for being a creative person, and I take great joy in doing artsy things and being an overall nerd about aesthetic beauty.

If you have questions of me, ask them. I simply adore answering questions.
It builds up the ego, you know?

mini essay two: descriptive

My roommate and I, quite tired of the food served in the cafeteria, decided to make a little adventure out of supper by venturing out into the brisk evening air a few days ago. The decision of where to go was easy; my roommate wanted a hamburger, and I was up for anything, as long as it was edible and it wouldn’t kill me. After our short walk, we arrived at Hardee’s, the warm interior a pleasant change from the outside air. We were instantly welcomed by a man, who seemed almost too eager to see us. We returned the affable greeting and set to staring at the board that held images of the food the establishment had to offer. It was rather difficult to choose between the multiple variations of meat, cheese and chicken options, but after some deliberation my friend and I placed our order and proceeded to our table. At this point we started to take notice of the atmosphere, which we found very pleasing. Along all of the walls and on all the dividers between the tables, there were records from bands that we had heard of from our parents, band we listened to during our childhood up until then, ranging from The Mama’s and the Papa’s to the Monkees to The Beatles. We spent most of our waiting time singing (in diverse degrees of awful) various snippets of songs that we knew from the artists we were most familiar with, until the unabashedly friendly server arrived with our food. He placed our orders in front of us, the greasy yet all too appealing aroma wafting to us, begging to be consumed. We ate in a manner comparable to wild dogs, yet with enough grace so as not to embarrass our families, had they been there. My roommate had no problems consuming her burger and oddly entertaining curly fries, but my burger had a tendency to fall apart on me, causing mustard, ketchup, and mayonnaise to stain the wrapper that lined the basket that cradled my food. I blamed the thin bun that encased the marvelously cooked slab of meat, but I’m sure it was my sloppy manner of consumption. Of course, I wasn’t too concerned with the mess, seeing as my friend and I were the only patron’s present at the time, the music from the overhead speakers and the prattle of the employees from behind the counter the only ambient noise. We finished quickly, allowing ourselves time to digest. Neither of us were looking forward to the walk back to our dorm, seeing as we had grown very fond of the warmth of the restaurant. However, I had a meeting to attend, and my roommate wasn’t about to remain alone in the empty Hardee’s. Making a half-attempt at cleaning our table, we discarded our trash and made for the exit, our friend the overeager server bidding us a goodnight and a safe walk home. I believe at that moment, we had decided that, every once in awhile, you need to indulge in an overly-greasy burger and overly-friendly staff with an best friend.

mini-essay one: narrative.

While the teacher lectured, I stared out the window, failing to realize that there were no windows in the lecture hall. Mentally slapping myself, I tried harder than usual to pay attention to what the professor was saying. Something about the vernal equinox, but I wasn‘t aware that I had enrolled in any sort of science course for the semester. In fact, registering for all of the classes that I mechanically attended was a bit of a blur, but I wasn’t about to try and recall the process. There were more pressing issues at hand, like the fact that I was about ready to pass out on the table, professor and lecture-mates be damned. Allowing my head to dip once, I tried to remember how long this class was. Fifty minutes? Two hours? Then again, it didn’t really matter because either way I was still sitting in the lecture hall, still doing my best to not embarrass myself by falling asleep. Glancing around once, I couldn’t help but let my eyes close once. When I opened them again, everything was as I left it, the professor still droning on, the students still doing whatever they were doing, the zombies breaking in through the door. Wait, zombies? I jumped up, trying to think of another exit. At the top of the hall was the fire exit, but when I turned to make a break for it, I was horrified to see more zombies slowly yet surely clawing their way into the room., their putrid grey-green flesh stretched over skeletal frames. I could already smell their spine-chilling scent of dirt and rot. Why was no one else panicking? I looked around for a competent being, someone else who’d noticed our plight, hopefully someone to help me fight off these brain-munching bastards. Much to my horror, I found myself surrounded by the living dead. All of my classmates, now zombies. Stifling a scream, I tried in vain to escape the hordes, but their shuffling steps and eerie moans drowning out any coherent thought. The shuffling was becoming overbearing, louder and louder… Until I realized that the shuffling was not of feet, but of papers and backpacks. I‘m almost sure I made one of those ‘snnrk’ noises one typically makes when waking up, and I lazily looked around. People seemed anxious, their eyes still trained on the professor, but their hands slowly and carefully packing notebooks and textbooks into backpacks. Sighing with relief at the prospect of being able to go home and get some actual sleep and the fact that there really wasn‘t a massive zombie attack to worry about, I joined the rest of my lecture-mates in their quiet endeavor to pack up their belongings. I was pleased with myself, for the most part. I had managed to not sleep for too long, so no one probably noticed, I avoid being asked to answer a question, and I evaded any sort of actual work for the day. I smiled to myself, one of those obnoxiously cocky smiles.
“Alright everyone, I’ll see you on Wednesday. Don’t forget to type up your notes on today’s lecture and send them to your group. Failure to do so will probably result in difficulty with your final project.”
My obnoxiously cocky smile vanished. Notes? On this lecture? Final project?
I’d rather take the zombies.