Still in limbo. Now I'm just waiting for GA State's sociology department to make a decision. At this point I anticipate that they might accept me but will have run out of funding, making it impossible for me to go there this year. Which means I can try to wrangle some funding out of them for the next academic year and spend the coming year teaching community college or wandering off overseas to do something interesting.
Some things I've been thinking about lately:
One thing I really appreciate about Jessica is that she knows enough details about my life to understand when I refer to things out loud exactly as I refer to them in my head. She knows what I mean when I mention The House I Don't Live In, That Other Guy, That Guy I Dated Whose Name is Not Will, etc. Also, there are a lot of people I refer to by the wrong name, because sometimes I have a hard time remembering people's real names and I randomly decide they have a different name, and it takes a good friend to keep up with that.
Seared ahi tuna = happiness.
Vintage Coach bags also = happiness, but in a more materialistic and bank-account-damaging way.
It's Lost night! Whoot!
I've been really grumpy lately. I really need a project and some answers.
I bought some really amazing shoes yesterday to wear to Katie's wedding. They are for-fucking-serious shoes. I'll post a picture at some point. I also bought a cocktail ring, because it was in the "LAST REDUCED CLEARANCE 600% OFF" section, and I was in the kind of mood where "sparkly" was a good enough reason to buy something.
I really like engrish.com. My only problem with it is that sometimes I really want to buy the shirts or candy they're selling, and there is no way to obtain them.
I'm almost done with the main part of Erika's wedding present. I don't want to risk sharing too many details here, but it's taking a lot of hand stitching!
If you could choose to be good enough at any one sport to play professionally, what sport would you pick? I would obviously go with equestrian sports (and indeed, there's still time for me), but I wonder what it would feel like to be a pro football player. I think being on the field with all those people in the stands would be pretty amazing. But then you would get rammed into repeatedly...but only for like 10-15 games a year...and they pay SO well...but your body wears out so quickly... I don't know.
I think this is about enough blogging. I'll come back with real thoughts next time.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Yes? Wait, no.
So I finally had a customer give me his number while I was working last night.
Unfortunately, it was a kind of scary black thug guy.
He walks up and says something that I can't hear - since the band is incredibly loud - but the gist of it was "let me holla at you" and then he asked me if I was "dedicated". I was in the middle of a 12 hour shift and not thinking or listening too hard, so I said "to what?", thinking he meant my job. But it turns out he meant to a guy. So I said no, because I didn't feel like lying. Then he asked if I ever date brothers. I said I never had, but I was open to the idea, which is true. What I wanted to say was "sure, but maybe not you, because you seem scary". Anyway, he said some other things I couldn't hear and wrote down his phone number. I was like "score! and yet, not score!" What do you think, blog land? Should I call a man who looks scary and yet draws a smiley face next to his name?
And some other drunk redneck goes "what time to you get off?" to which I replied "5 am". He just frowned and said "huh...I'll be in bed by then..." and wandered off.
Listen, people: don't ask the bartender when they get off, because the answer is "really late", and because we've heard that. Many times. In general, we get out of work later than you're prepared to deal with.
In a future blog, coming soon: my thoughts on picking up the bartender and how much I like to read and laugh at articles that tell you how to do it.
Unfortunately, it was a kind of scary black thug guy.
He walks up and says something that I can't hear - since the band is incredibly loud - but the gist of it was "let me holla at you" and then he asked me if I was "dedicated". I was in the middle of a 12 hour shift and not thinking or listening too hard, so I said "to what?", thinking he meant my job. But it turns out he meant to a guy. So I said no, because I didn't feel like lying. Then he asked if I ever date brothers. I said I never had, but I was open to the idea, which is true. What I wanted to say was "sure, but maybe not you, because you seem scary". Anyway, he said some other things I couldn't hear and wrote down his phone number. I was like "score! and yet, not score!" What do you think, blog land? Should I call a man who looks scary and yet draws a smiley face next to his name?
And some other drunk redneck goes "what time to you get off?" to which I replied "5 am". He just frowned and said "huh...I'll be in bed by then..." and wandered off.
Listen, people: don't ask the bartender when they get off, because the answer is "really late", and because we've heard that. Many times. In general, we get out of work later than you're prepared to deal with.
In a future blog, coming soon: my thoughts on picking up the bartender and how much I like to read and laugh at articles that tell you how to do it.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Late Easter post
On Easter Lauren, Jessica and I had a tea party in honor of Mr. Tipton. Mr. Tipton is Lauren's bunny, and she decided that since she has no idea when his real birthday is, she would celebrate it on Easter.
We made a really elaborate spread of food, including mini quiche, cucumber sandwiches, a veggie plate for Mr. Tipton to share, a cheese plate, deviled eggs, and a peach pie. We also had a gigantic bowl of very dangerous punch, jello eggs that were really jello shots, and mimosas.
We also wore tea party dresses and dyed eggs. Below is evidence of me wearing colors. Also shown are Jessica and Lauren displaying their beautiful wares.
We made a really elaborate spread of food, including mini quiche, cucumber sandwiches, a veggie plate for Mr. Tipton to share, a cheese plate, deviled eggs, and a peach pie. We also had a gigantic bowl of very dangerous punch, jello eggs that were really jello shots, and mimosas.
We also wore tea party dresses and dyed eggs. Below is evidence of me wearing colors. Also shown are Jessica and Lauren displaying their beautiful wares.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Dreams
I had two dreams last night in which someone was trying to kill Phineas.
In the first one we were on safari or something - there were giraffes and rhinos around, anyway. And then a cheetah came pacing towards us, and even though there were 4 or 5 people and 3 or 4 dogs, I knew he was going to go for Phineas. So the cheetah and I started facing off, with both of us pacing around Phin and me trying to keep Phin from attacking the cheetah. For some reason I was not afraid that the cheetah wanted to eat me, which in retrospect seems silly.
In the second one I was a member of a special army group, and the guy trying to kill Phineas was from the opposing army, and he was insane in a scary way. His goal was to kill Phineas or my brother's dog or a third dog that was there in order to psychologically defeat us. I screamed a lot in that one.
Anyway, I'm wondering what these dreams are about. I think it's because I feel threatened to my very core by the possible rejection from grad schools. Ever since I got to college I've known what I wanted to do, and having that career path possibly taken away from me is terrifying. I think that in some way Phineas represents me, or my soul, or something like that.
I'd be interested in other thoughts on this.
Oh, and I'm up so early because I'm already on the email/phone call path.
In the first one we were on safari or something - there were giraffes and rhinos around, anyway. And then a cheetah came pacing towards us, and even though there were 4 or 5 people and 3 or 4 dogs, I knew he was going to go for Phineas. So the cheetah and I started facing off, with both of us pacing around Phin and me trying to keep Phin from attacking the cheetah. For some reason I was not afraid that the cheetah wanted to eat me, which in retrospect seems silly.
In the second one I was a member of a special army group, and the guy trying to kill Phineas was from the opposing army, and he was insane in a scary way. His goal was to kill Phineas or my brother's dog or a third dog that was there in order to psychologically defeat us. I screamed a lot in that one.
Anyway, I'm wondering what these dreams are about. I think it's because I feel threatened to my very core by the possible rejection from grad schools. Ever since I got to college I've known what I wanted to do, and having that career path possibly taken away from me is terrifying. I think that in some way Phineas represents me, or my soul, or something like that.
I'd be interested in other thoughts on this.
Oh, and I'm up so early because I'm already on the email/phone call path.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Good/Bad
New Shoes - see below
Reverse view of certification of thesis - see below.The Good News:
I turned in the final copy of my thesis to the graduate school on Thursday. It was an oddly grueling process because of the formatting and page number bullshit that they required. After all of it, I was afraid the page numbers were going to do me in. But I did it, thanks to Jorge in the graduate school, who is a genius with Word. God bless him. I should send him a muffin basket.
Work is profitable.
Mike Palm's new hobby is giving me shoes. He gave me these amazing leopard print Nike high tops, and I'm still trying to figure out how to wear them. I think those shoes might be cooler than me.
The Bad News:
I may not have a future anymore. I finally got in contact with GA State, which has the PhD program I want the most, and they told me that because they have not received one of my transcripts and one of my recommendation letters, they have NOT EVEN PROCESSED my application. I won't know for sure until tomorrow, but this might mean that I won't be able to go there this fall. Which means I would have to wait a year to start a PhD program. Which means I no longer have a future. I've been floating around in limbo since about December, just waiting to find out what was going to happen and where I was going to live, and it's STILL out of my hands. I'm doing what I can, and I have Dr. Presser on my side with her mighty powers of email and phone calls, so we'll see.
I got a talking to at work for not pretending to care about work. They said my attitude has been bad and suggested I pretend to like work to make it more pleasant. If the other bartenders and I were doing our jobs as badly as management has been doing theirs, we would be fired. But indicating that this may be the case by asking questions like "but why don't we have more than 4 cases of beer for Sundown?" or "we only have $50 dollars in ones for change?" is clearly problematic and disrespectful. So I've been pretending my ass off, by which I mean taking shots and not asking questions, and things seem fine. Although deep down, I'm not sure that anyone is fooled.
A cute boy I had been flirting with (and who I thought was flirting back) introduced me to his GIRLFRIEND and their BABY this week. He could have mentioned them earlier.
A customer heard me talking to someone else about her baby and said "it looks like you have one on the way, huh?" the other night. To which I responded "no, I'm just fat", which is true. But this meant that I couldn't handle the bad grad school news with food, which is how I normally handle stress (which is why I'm fat which is why strangers must think I'm pregnant) for fear of customers continuing to think I'm pregnant.
Jessica left town today to go hang out with her family in Franklin, which means I don't even get to do my usual Sunday night ritual of dinner with her and Mike. Which makes it difficult to process my feelings and get advice. I may go out with Josh instead, but it's always hard to tell, with Josh. He might see something shiny and forget.
Oh, and it's raining, so I guess I won't take Phineas to the park, which was my plan for today.
So grumpy!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
3 and 3
I was just watching this decorating show while I ate my lunch, and it got me thinking. In the show the decorator (Thom from Queer Eye - I love him) tells his clients to gather their three favorite items of clothing and their three favorite pieces of furniture. Based on what they bring him, he decorates their house. Naturally, I began to consider what I would show him.
Furniture:
1. My desk. It's my all-time favorite piece of furniture. It's big and sturdy and made of unvarnished walnut. I like its rounded edges and scuff marks. It has three drawers and three shelves and is difficult to move because it's incredibly heavy.
2. My bed. It was made by some relative - my great uncle, perhaps? Great-great uncle? Something like that. Anyway. It's handmade out of hardwood (maybe cherry) and is roughly full-sized, although it was made before mattress standardization. I have a big puffy mattress pad and a big puffy down comforter, soft jersey sheets, and several pillows to make it even better.
3. My day bed. Made by the same mysterious relative. It was also made on a lathe and you have to string it with rope. It always gets really saggy and comfortable after a month or two.
Clothing:
(This part is a lot harder)
1. My favorite black dress. It's really simple - black, strapless, curve-hugging, no adornment. I've worn it to absolutely everything because it's appropriate for lots of occasions and because I love it.
2. My scottie pants. I wear these pants every day. In fact, I'm wearing them right now. They're red and they have little embroidered scotties on them, which I like to pretend are actually Cairn terriers. They're just soft cotton pajamas.
3. And I just don't know what else to add. My favorite black cardigan? My leopard print super bra? The American flag underpants I wear to scary things, to give me secret confidence? My Burberry trench? My purple Kenyon hoodie? My World's Fair hoodie?
Anyway. I'm also not sure what all this says about me. I'd welcome comments, and if anyone knows how to get in touch with Thom, we'll ask him.
In other news:
I'm working on the suggested changes to my thesis right now. I should finish within the week.
It's cold here.
I had SO MUCH fun with Matt in New Orleans.
I let Jessica pick my new hair color, since she says I never pick correctly. I'm not convinced by her choice.
I seem to have gotten incredibly fat on account of all the stress eating and baking during thesis time. I'm going to have to work on that.
I got a super awesome egg that's painted like a shark at Walgreens last night. But the jellybeans inside were awful.
I finally have a key to the roof. New goal: have sex on the roof.
I finished my Dan Brown book. Now I need a new book. Suggestions?
Furniture:
1. My desk. It's my all-time favorite piece of furniture. It's big and sturdy and made of unvarnished walnut. I like its rounded edges and scuff marks. It has three drawers and three shelves and is difficult to move because it's incredibly heavy.
2. My bed. It was made by some relative - my great uncle, perhaps? Great-great uncle? Something like that. Anyway. It's handmade out of hardwood (maybe cherry) and is roughly full-sized, although it was made before mattress standardization. I have a big puffy mattress pad and a big puffy down comforter, soft jersey sheets, and several pillows to make it even better.
3. My day bed. Made by the same mysterious relative. It was also made on a lathe and you have to string it with rope. It always gets really saggy and comfortable after a month or two.
Clothing:
(This part is a lot harder)
1. My favorite black dress. It's really simple - black, strapless, curve-hugging, no adornment. I've worn it to absolutely everything because it's appropriate for lots of occasions and because I love it.
2. My scottie pants. I wear these pants every day. In fact, I'm wearing them right now. They're red and they have little embroidered scotties on them, which I like to pretend are actually Cairn terriers. They're just soft cotton pajamas.
3. And I just don't know what else to add. My favorite black cardigan? My leopard print super bra? The American flag underpants I wear to scary things, to give me secret confidence? My Burberry trench? My purple Kenyon hoodie? My World's Fair hoodie?
Anyway. I'm also not sure what all this says about me. I'd welcome comments, and if anyone knows how to get in touch with Thom, we'll ask him.
In other news:
I'm working on the suggested changes to my thesis right now. I should finish within the week.
It's cold here.
I had SO MUCH fun with Matt in New Orleans.
I let Jessica pick my new hair color, since she says I never pick correctly. I'm not convinced by her choice.
I seem to have gotten incredibly fat on account of all the stress eating and baking during thesis time. I'm going to have to work on that.
I got a super awesome egg that's painted like a shark at Walgreens last night. But the jellybeans inside were awful.
I finally have a key to the roof. New goal: have sex on the roof.
I finished my Dan Brown book. Now I need a new book. Suggestions?
Friday, April 3, 2009
The city of New Orleans
I'm back in Matt's apartment, waiting for him to come home so that we can go out and be silly and have fun times in the French Quarter.
My presentation went well this morning. I love giving presentations. Public speaking is on my (short) list of things I'm good at, which is lucky, because we had very little time to make a plan for this presentation. I wrote this paper with a professor and another grad student, and the professor declined to meet with us to prepare, making the other grad student nearly "rend herself in two" (thanks James) with worry. But it was fine, and our whole session was pleasant.
That was at 8am this morning, which isn't even a real time in my normal world. Afterwards I went to Cafe DuMond and ate beignets with two other grad students, which was delightful. Then I tore my feet to pitiful little shreds walking back to Matt's in unwise shoes. Ah well. It's nothing that wasn't made better by gummy bears, a trashy book (Dan Brown's new one - seriously.), and a nap.
I really like New Orleans. Maybe I should just move here. It's not like my solid plans are materializing, anyway. I still haven't heard from Georgia State, although I harassed one of them yesterday (she claimed to know nothing) and another was in my presentation this morning.
It's list time!
New Orleans pros and cons:
Pros: Never gets cold. Nice architechture. Good food. Near the water. Good colleges. Mardi Gras.
Cons: Always muggy. Lots of crime. Lots of poverty. I don't know anyone who still lives here. Expensive. Lots of drunk people. Mardi Gras. French/Cajun/mumbly-business is hard to understand.
Hmm.
My presentation went well this morning. I love giving presentations. Public speaking is on my (short) list of things I'm good at, which is lucky, because we had very little time to make a plan for this presentation. I wrote this paper with a professor and another grad student, and the professor declined to meet with us to prepare, making the other grad student nearly "rend herself in two" (thanks James) with worry. But it was fine, and our whole session was pleasant.
That was at 8am this morning, which isn't even a real time in my normal world. Afterwards I went to Cafe DuMond and ate beignets with two other grad students, which was delightful. Then I tore my feet to pitiful little shreds walking back to Matt's in unwise shoes. Ah well. It's nothing that wasn't made better by gummy bears, a trashy book (Dan Brown's new one - seriously.), and a nap.
I really like New Orleans. Maybe I should just move here. It's not like my solid plans are materializing, anyway. I still haven't heard from Georgia State, although I harassed one of them yesterday (she claimed to know nothing) and another was in my presentation this morning.
It's list time!
New Orleans pros and cons:
Pros: Never gets cold. Nice architechture. Good food. Near the water. Good colleges. Mardi Gras.
Cons: Always muggy. Lots of crime. Lots of poverty. I don't know anyone who still lives here. Expensive. Lots of drunk people. Mardi Gras. French/Cajun/mumbly-business is hard to understand.
Hmm.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)