I think I have a genetic deficiency. I, Kayla Sawyer, am not a workaholic, nor am I "ladder climber" or a "go-to girl." This is not the case with my parents or my sister. They all work full time, every chance they get. My dad works a lot because he likes his co-workers and the camaraderie. He also loves the money. My mom works a lot because she likes success and the sense of accomplishment. She also loves the money. My sister works a lot to get away from her house, and because she likes people, and of coarse - the money.
Maybe it's just because I'm grossly underpaid, or maybe it's just how I am, but I would rather stay home, relax, and be comfortable than go to work and make loads of money. Am I terribly strange? I honesty do not care that I will have less money. I am enjoying this. I love it here. Isn't that what truly matters? If it does, then why am I constantly receiving strange, confused looks whenever I confess this? Most people seem to consider my philosophy somewhat un-American. I suppose I can understand this. Hard work is a part of American culture. I'm sure it's something deeper too. The capitalism bug has been ingrained in us since elementary school. Don't give me that look! Surely you can recall the vocabulary words on the proficiency tests? The same three words, every year, on every test - entrepreneurship, labor, and capitalism. Why do fourth graders need to know those words, I wonder?
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I spent all afternoon yesterday working on getting my links set up. Iíve never been taught HTML before. For me, any [limited] success I have is just from playing around with it and trying certain combinations. By the way, I would like to thank everyone who commented and welcomed me. Especially Lou Gagliardi, since he used Star Wars lingo. Nice to know I wonít be the only
geek fan at SHU. I was really surprised to get so many comments! Itís rather daunting to think that people are actually reading this.
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Graduation rehearsal was terrible. Terribly long and terribly boring. When they weren't begging and pleading with us to control our behavior, they were barking out where to walk and when. The girl next to me kept getting tickled by some guy behind her. Every time she'd bat his hands away, she'd hit my chair. I was beginning to get the Stephanie Plum eye twitch.