Goodness, when you type your life out in updates, it sure goes by quickly. Well, actually, it goes by quickly anyway, but it waxes more poetic to say it the other way.
I've made it past mid-term, past spring break, and there are only a few (short, yet, long) weeks left of my first year, second semester of grad school. Whoo-whee and
gol-lee, I cannot believe it either.
I like the bullet-points, don't you? I mean, it's nice, neat, tidy, you know what the topic is, what it will cover and it just simply goes so much smoother for my quick wit, charm, and sarcasm to fill in the bullet-point blanks that way. So, bullet-points, it is.
Social organizer: I should be in PR. I can get people to organize, rally-around, give time, and themselves to causes and to things. Sure, some of these things have to do with causes such as breast cancer and the food bank, and some of these things have to do with St. Patrick Day celebrations, but still, the point is I can gather the group and give to causes. Those causes may be in the fight to save boobs and those causes may be in, how to damage your liver with green beer. Still, the motivation and power to persuade is there. (Note to self: think about running for some sort of office and use my powers for good.) (Done.)
Sewing horizontal line: Hmm, my stitch and bitch has sort of fallen away, so my horizontal line has become a dot. This does not bode well for the art projects, nor for the quilt that I have been working on for eight years.
Quantitative Research: a.k.a stats: Somehow I am pulling an "A" No, trust me, I am just as surprised as you, probably more so. However, the grade and the class is not the point of this bullet. No, the point of this bullet is about the professor, Ramona. Poor, Ramona. First, her name is Ramona. Poor, girl. Let me tell you about her back-story. Once again, her name is Ramona. I'm guessing she was picked on, a lot, as a child and more than likely spent her lunch hours with her nose in a book. Absolutely nothing wrong with having your nose in a book, just as long as a person pulls it out of the book every now and again to look at, take in, and enjoy some of the world around them. I'm gonna guess Ramona did not do this. Not a lot of social skills. Sure, she thinks she has social skills, she also thinks she has a keen sense of humor, she would be wrong on both counts. Oh, oh, so very wrong. Ramona, thinks she is funny, no, she's just mean. Mean, sense of humor, mean wit. Again, I think this goes back to her childhood, lack of social skills, and eighty-five too many boys knocking the book out of her hand during recess in the fifth grade. (All of life can be traced back to fifth grade. True story.) Ramona's voice also has the sweet, sweet sound of cat nails on a chalk board mixed into the worst possible electric guitar feedback you've ever heard in your entire life. Yep. Not painful at all. We just nonchalantly wipe the blood from our ears as she is being witty and calling us all idiots. Yep, not afraid to ask questions in her class. Mixed in with her voice, her humor, and her teaching style is also the debate over whether or not she is wearing a bra. If she is wearing a bra, it has clearly lost the battle. The bra has given up and the boobs are merely resting on her stomach at this point. I know. I know. I shouldn't make fun, it's not nice, but it gets me through class, and I am managing to get an "A". So, do not critique my mean mocking style, just accept it and move on to the next bullet-point.
Spring break: Already over and gone. I have no idea how it happened either. Somewhere between going out on Thursday, Friday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, it just flew by. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday I was sick. It is a mystery.
Shade-o-riffic tree: We've made peace. The tree won. Because I decided to let it win. Moving on.
Dating: There was someone who had potential.(Math Teacher) (Notice the past-tense) Then, then, he said a fateful sentence, "you're very guarded." (Knock the wind out of me, ricochet my brain around my skull, dust self off, pick self up, cue evil music.) Da, dun, daaaaa! Kiss of death. For him, not me. Pay attention. Sure, I know I'm guarded, but here I thought I hid it so well with my boundless sense of humor, wit, talent, sarcasm, and ability to actively listen and pay attention. Damn it. Those charms, my magic lasso, and invisible plane had worked so well for me over the past decade or so. Now I have to find a new dating superpower. Crap.
Classes: See bullet-point on Ramona, otherwise, they are going okay. In one class, which is supposed to start at 11:00 and finish at 12:15, the professor shows up around 11:07, talks about something completely not relevant to class for about 15 more minutes, rambles about the topic of discussion, kinda, sorta, but not really for about 25 minutes, talks about the discussion topic for about 13 minutes, let's us out of class 15 minutes early. Yeah, I feel I am getting my tuition dollars worth.
GPA: Unless something goes horribly wrong, and well, it is me we are talking about, I should receive as close to a 4.0 without actually receiving a 4.0 and without going over a 4.0 this semester. This is substantially better than last semester, but we don't like to talk about that.
Brazil: I leave in 10 weeks. I leave in 10 weeks!!!!!!!!! I leave in 10 weeks (!!!!) Crap, I leave in 10 weeks. Yep, say that every hour or so and you pretty much have my brain and my sleeping pattern summed up. Slowly, slowly it is all coming together. I am planning on purchasing my ticket this week (the round trip plane ticket costs as much as my entire trip to Budapest. Not quite sure how that math works out, but whatever.) and from there it is getting my visa, apartment there, and everything (EVERYTHING) else together. I am nervous, excited, scared, excited, nervous, and scared, and scared, excited, and nervous.
Portuguese: "Quero uma cerveja." translation: "I would like a beer." Ta dah!(Thanks, Limpy) An American girl in Brazil success story. Hey, if it can work here, I think it should work there. No? Fine. I'm working on it, okay,? Maybe not working on it enough, but I'm working on it. I have ten more weeks to put it off, err, I mean, commit it all to memory, receive a gold star, and charm the locals.
Yellow fever vaccine: That will be part of the next bullet-point list. Something tells me there may be a story about that little live vaccine. That something would be, Hello! Have you met me? It says, "may cause illness." Something tells me there won't be any "may" about it. It's a live vaccine of yellow fever being shot into my body for god's sake! Parents, friends, neighbors will all be put on alert to feed me ice chips and to make sure I don't go running naked around the greater Small State U community screaming, "I lost my invisible plane! I lost my invisible plane!"
So, tell me all about yourself.
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8 comments:
In your honor, my dear, I shall use bullet points with much enthusiasm.
Work: Hate is a very strong word. But nothing will bring out such intense emotions better than a job you hate. I'm not talking about a "man, my job sucks" kind of hate, but a burning hatred that has you fantasizing about non-descript masked gunmen bursting into your office, ordering everyone out of the building, and setting it on fire.(Such fantasies have other people doing the dirty work for legal reasons.) A job with low pay, low morale, no medical benefits, a boss that makes you wonder if the company might qualify for some type of Government grant for employing the mentally handicapped, and a company that truly doesn't care about their employees can drive a person to such a level of hate. I'm there now.
My intestines are trying to walk out on me: I have a hernia. I've had one for a few months now. I was going to sign up for medical insurance at work. They cancelled their program the month I was planning on signing up. The hernia is keeping me from other jobs. I can't pass a physical. I am in the process of utilizing a low cost/no cost health clinic here in Madison. I will probably have to pay something. But, it won't be full price. The only drawback is that I have to wait two weeks to see a doctor. The pain in my lower abdomen is becoming more frequent.
Despite what I've written so far, my life is not a giant bowl of suck: Three things have been taking up my free time as of late. I've been researching middle eastern history online and in the library. Interesting stuff! Most people in the US don't realize that for nearly 600 years, the Arab and Persian cultures were two of the most advanced cultures on Earth, at a time when most of Europe was a backwater and had no real or organized culture to speak of. I've also been working on a mosaic on top of an old wooden coffee table using small glass tiles. I've never been much of an artist, but I find this to be relaxing and enjoyable. Thirdly, I am putting together the makings of a podcast. It will be mostly politically oriented, but will ultimately be whatever my friend Carl and I decide it will be on any given show. We'll be using a more traditional radio talk show format, minus any caller/listener participation. We have named it The Talent Free Radio Newshour and I'm excited about recording soon. I'll be creating a blogger account for the show and will let you know when it happens. Will the show suck? Probably. But, considering the crap that's floating around in the podcasting world these days, at least we can't do any worse. :-)
My life in a nutshell: Take it or leave it. I wouldn't have it any other way. (Except for the hernia part. My intestines need to understand that part of their role includes remaining inside the body, thank you!)
Be well and good night.
P.S. If you EVER feel the need to go running around naked and screaming, "I lost my invisible plane, I lost my invisible plane," I'll give you my address and phone number. ;-)
Going to Brazil, eh? I presume, then, that you'll attempt to blend in with the locals and get the appropriate wax job?
Jay: Goodness, it has been awhile!
Jobs, I think if whether a person loves their job or hates it, it effects everything else in a person's life.
Intestines belong in the body not out; I hope you are able to get the medical help at a low, low cost very soon. Painful.
Let me know about the podcast when you have it and I will happily watch and link it.
OMC: I'll be there for 9 weeks, something tells me there will be a lot about me that will become Brazilian.
10 weeks?! 10 weeks?!
My lord, I'M excited for you and the thought of not having updates for that long is excruciating!
Avoid the movie "Turistas" prior to going to Brazil. Or just in general. It sucks.
You're welcome for the ability to order beer in the local tongue. To thank me, order two.
ptg: I know! I'm hoping to do updates while I am there, no worries, you won't be without me for that long (hopefully)
Limpy: Just two? Oh, you make me laugh. As if, two, will be all I'll have in 9 weeks.
One is for me doofus.
i'm new... hope to despatch approximately more regularly!
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