Where Improper Grammar Will Land You.

The prelude to this post is that I don't claim to be a grammar whiz, and the intricacies of perfect English sometimes fail me, BUT. I did go to fifth grade. Also middle school. Also high school. And while I felt a little gypped that in my world-class American education I didn't get more opportunities to actually write and be creative, I aced those hundreds upon hundreds of worksheets.
And actually it's very silly because I get very legitimately upset when I see these craplings.

My favorite grammar fails of late:
1. "I totally balled reading that just now." No, no you didn't.

2. "This is a picture of are house." F'real?

3. The ever present incorrect usage of "there" they're" and "their." I SWEAR we spent an entire month in each year of school on this topic.

4. The straw that broke this camel's back: an email that was sent to me from BYU, somewhat officially, begging me to take a survey as usual. I need to let the world of people who want me to take a survey know that I am much more likely to take your dang survey if you just ask nicely, once, without a littering of exclamation points and ALL CAPS WHEN NOTHING YOU'RE SAYING IS ACTUALLY THAT ESSENTIAL.

Sadly I think I deleted the email in a fit of rage, but here's what I remember:
"PLEASE take this survey! As user's of the library this effects you!!!!..."
aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I hate.
I am mostly very nice and I take those surveys.
Not today, Zurg.
Consider this your invitation to share your grammar horror stories.

Saga in which I whine.

I hate studying and I seriously considered changing my major yesterday. It was horrifying and exhilarating all in one, and in the end (as if this were a long saga) I chose to stick to my guns. The guns that have worked for countless hours on my vocal technique, music theory, the list of crappity crap goes on. The guns that are about to memorize every single part of the larynx which is full of all kinds of muscles and cartilage I will have you know.
School sucks. I want out.
I've never hated it this whole-heartedly before. I've never hated it much at all before. There was a time when it was invigorating and I spread my arms open wide and swallowed the sky every day.

I am quietly waiting for my music passion to come back. I'm waiting to get fired up about teaching again. In the meantime, I'm obsessed with anything but. Photography. Writing. Somebody switched the loop tape in my head and I'm all sorts of confused, but I've been waiting very nicely, not making any waves.
I've been waiting, still analyzing scores in ways I will never need to know, still rehearsing bands and orchestras when I refuse to ever teach them. I have still been doing my homework, going to all my classes, and arriving on time for meetings and group projects.
It makes me want to pull my hair out, scream, and split myself in half so at least one of us can be sane.
My major makes no sense most of the time.
I am going to have a few choice words when I graduate from this lovely institution that refuses to change its ways even if for good reason. Who makes these decisions? Who determines this crap? Why isn't it ME? I think I would know best what classes would prepare me best for the life course I'm considering.
But apparently I do not. Apparently I am good for only nitty gritty. Apparently I am only smart enough to follow someone else's prescribed plan. Apparently I am not intelligent enough to make adult decisions and still need to be coddled and publicly humiliated all in one when I don't know the answers in class.
Excuse the emotion infused into the above paragraphs. They are not intended to be factual statements.
Done with my rant.
WEllllll. Not quite.

I did a social experiment for a class tonight in which Jared and I went shopping for phones separately to see what differences in treatment we would receive because of our gender.
I was pretty disappointed. A little part of me hoped overt sexism was dead.
Jared came back reporting normalcy on all accounts. She was nice and friendly, showed him a lot of phones, and told him to avoid the crappy one on the far left.
When I walked in she was helping another guy, and didn't say anything to me. While I was still waiting, another man walked in. She said: "Hi, how are you? I'll be with you in just a second."
She helped me before she helped him, but my heart still sank.
I can't say it was because of my gender any more than my position in the room.
But it was still just FROWN.
She didn't tell me about the crappy one.