I just had an… interesting… evening with NSBE. I was supposed to propose a design for a new chapter website this past weekend, but events beyond my control conspired to keep the meeting from happening. Lucky for me, as I was sick all weekend and didn’t get the design done. Today after classes, though, I sat down and did a rudimentary, plain design (are mine ever anything other than this?), including a lot of the content already, on the not-so-quiet hint from The Other One to just go ahead and do the website, bypassing the Communications Officer. Not my usual modus operandi, but I know how that inertia thing goes… plus, I needed something to put in there to fill out the pages… Anywho, I dropped the site in their laps tonight, and they loved it. I just want to spice it up a little, finish collecting the content from the officers, and then it’ll be ready to publish. In the process, however, I totally usurped Vernon’s (the Comm. Officer) position as webmaster. I was willing to just give him the design and let him take it from there to keep, scrap, modify, whatever, but Michael (the president) was like, “Little Lissa’s gonna be doing the website from now on. Is that ok?” To say no would have been hella ungracious on his part, and to say yes would have been giving up one of his key (and, admittedly, much-neglected) jobs. So I feel kinda bad, despite the fact that I’m happy that everyone liked my design (although I don’t know that they’re quite the discerning types with regards to web design, unless the flaws are obvious).
Suddenly, however, I’m the woman of the hour. When the idea for creating a Junior Executive Board came up (to be run by us freshmen in preparation for when we will carry the torch), they all looked at me when asking if anyone was interested. Oh, shit. So I said yes. If I have a say in meeting times, I can fit it into my schedule. Theoretically. And then there are all the smaller events to schedule, like tutoring, trips to nearby plants for tours, etc., all of which seem to be told to me directly during the meeting. I’m sure it’s a trick of the light that has Michael looking all the way down the table at me directly when asking what times are good for plant tours at Lilly. Is everyone else asleep? Well, wake the fuck up, ‘cuz I’m the only one nodding or making suggestions or laughing or anything, and I don’t even give a fuck about a chemical engineering plant tour, and does no one else care about what’s going on at all, and are all the upperclassmen tired of NSBE and why doesn’t anyone say anything critical of my design for the site and why is everyone so obliging when I ask them to stay after the meeting so I can bug them about the information I need and ye gods could Michael remind me a little more of a more mature version of the Ex ‘cuz I’m about to wig out about the freakish similarities and can you all shut the fuck up and stop talking at me all at once so I can get what I need and get away from you people and could everyone stop looking almost unanimously in my direction with those hopeful stares, please? I’m not a goddamn miracle worker.
It’s amazing the places where a person will freak out, ain’t it? This doesn’t happen all the time, luckily.
I made it back to my
cubby-hole room in a record one minute, forty-five seconds after I left the meeting.
It would be a Ghirardelli hot chocolate night if my milk hadn’t just gotten old… and Lactaid milk takes a long time to get old, so I won’t even play around with that…
[Listening to: The Outsider – A Perfect Circle – Thirteenth Step (04:06)]