Things I should be doing:
*Practicing for my GRE exam, which is on Wednesday
*Working on the essays for my Mississippi Teaching Corps application, which is due Tuesday
*Applying to part-time or temp jobs
*Working on a number of other teaching fellowship applications
Things I am doing:
*Trying to decide if I can afford to buy a six-pack of Beck's
*Going through the Harry Potter series again
*Crying
Sunday, 15 March 2009
Friday, 13 March 2009
This Town's Best Mess
I know, logically, intellectually, what a beautifully easy life I have. It's hard to see it sometimes, though.
*phone rings once*
H (standing near the phone cradle, but handling raw chicken) (angrily): Somebody answer the phone!
R walks to the cradle, broom and dustpan in hand.
R (quietly): The phone's not in the cradle. You had it last, didn't you?
*phone continues ringing*
H (shouting): Well, it's in the OFFICE!
(the office is in the detached garage, through the house and across the backyard)
R (agitated): I'm not running out there to answer your phone just because you left --
H (screaming): WELL, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!
*phone stops ringing*
I've never been a crier. Over the past year I've probably cried a total of 5 times, and that time-frame includes a painful break-up, a rape at the hands of someone I loved, leaving Oxford, and a period of total social ostracization. But over the past week I find myself crying nearly every day. And sure, sometimes it's about my lack of a future, my not having a job, my nonexistent sense of self-efficacy, but most often it's about Him.
It tires me out, this crying thing.
*phone rings once*
H (standing near the phone cradle, but handling raw chicken) (angrily): Somebody answer the phone!
R walks to the cradle, broom and dustpan in hand.
R (quietly): The phone's not in the cradle. You had it last, didn't you?
*phone continues ringing*
H (shouting): Well, it's in the OFFICE!
(the office is in the detached garage, through the house and across the backyard)
R (agitated): I'm not running out there to answer your phone just because you left --
H (screaming): WELL, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!
*phone stops ringing*
I've never been a crier. Over the past year I've probably cried a total of 5 times, and that time-frame includes a painful break-up, a rape at the hands of someone I loved, leaving Oxford, and a period of total social ostracization. But over the past week I find myself crying nearly every day. And sure, sometimes it's about my lack of a future, my not having a job, my nonexistent sense of self-efficacy, but most often it's about Him.
It tires me out, this crying thing.
Monday, 9 March 2009
Friday, 6 March 2009
Clever Tactics
Putting out the most handsome men on the planet to stump for your causes, like Greenpeace and Save the Children.
Call me, Alex!
Call me, Alex!
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Translations
What "I am not talking to you" does not mean:
-Please, continue talking to me at an increasing volume, despite the fact that I have positioned my laptop directly between our faces and I have my headphones in my ears. I am, in fact, listening attentively, contrary to how it might seem.
-Keep this up and you'll definitely win my affection and support, and I'd be happy to do all the menial chores you can't be fucked to do yourself.
-I love you, Daddy.
-Please, continue talking to me at an increasing volume, despite the fact that I have positioned my laptop directly between our faces and I have my headphones in my ears. I am, in fact, listening attentively, contrary to how it might seem.
-Keep this up and you'll definitely win my affection and support, and I'd be happy to do all the menial chores you can't be fucked to do yourself.
-I love you, Daddy.
High School Again
I'm living at my folks place with no forseeable change in the matter, so I am going to resort to blogging again. Venti-size (get it? VENTIng? Ha!). It's childish and silly, but being as Alone as I Am in Los Angeles, I have few other options while I wait to be rejected when I seek job after job, fellowship after fellowship, and sense of accomplishment after sense of accomplishment.
To update: I graduated uni in December 2008 and have snce been job-hunting and traveling, with more of the same to come. I didn't apply to graduate schools because I was hoping (expecting?) to get one of a couple teaching fellowships for the fall, but have since been alerted that I am not qualified to do much besides drink wine, eat cheese, and smoke Luckies.
I'm living with my folks in Los Angeles (not having a job = not able to pay rent in NYC like I did for the first month out of uni). My close friends are 7500 miles away, and most everyone else is still in uni. As most people know LA is not my ideal place for, you know, breathing or living or anything, but here I am. Bitter. So I'm going to vent just like I used to in high school, on an Angsty Blog. It's appropriate since I'm living in my high school bedroom again, right?
I have hope (however weak) that the angst will peter out as apply for more jobs and fellowships and teaching programs. I'll have to bear with myself till then.
To update: I graduated uni in December 2008 and have snce been job-hunting and traveling, with more of the same to come. I didn't apply to graduate schools because I was hoping (expecting?) to get one of a couple teaching fellowships for the fall, but have since been alerted that I am not qualified to do much besides drink wine, eat cheese, and smoke Luckies.
I'm living with my folks in Los Angeles (not having a job = not able to pay rent in NYC like I did for the first month out of uni). My close friends are 7500 miles away, and most everyone else is still in uni. As most people know LA is not my ideal place for, you know, breathing or living or anything, but here I am. Bitter. So I'm going to vent just like I used to in high school, on an Angsty Blog. It's appropriate since I'm living in my high school bedroom again, right?
I have hope (however weak) that the angst will peter out as apply for more jobs and fellowships and teaching programs. I'll have to bear with myself till then.
Monday, 7 April 2008
Ticklish Ovaries
One thing that has kept me sane this term (aside from photography and anti-crazy pills!) has been this little volunteering I did. It's not a huge deal, not a big commitment or anything, but I've really enjoyed it. A college-wide e-mail came from the Wadham chaplain that a primary school needed volunteers to read with the kids. As it turns out, it is a two-minute walk from my house. I decided to go for it, just once a week for an hour and a half with some 7-year-olds.
I'm so glad I did. I arranged to do it on my day off, so it was some times the only thing to make me get out of bed. And I felt really good doing it, the kids are generally precious and since I'm only with each of them for 15 minutes or so, they don't have time to act up and aren't exhausting for me. Also, I get to read kids books for an hour and a half and not be embarrassed about it!
Some of these kids are so precious, it hurts. I just wanted to hug or pet some of them, and there was many a time when I wished I had my camera. I thought that if I brought it, though, it would make me seem like a bit of a pervert.
I plan on continuing it next term, and maybe taking on more to do there. One friend I made there won't be working any longer, but it's still a nice environment. And perhaps I could get away with taking photos when I know the kids' parents better and they don't think I'm a paedophile! Don't you just hate that?
I'm so glad I did. I arranged to do it on my day off, so it was some times the only thing to make me get out of bed. And I felt really good doing it, the kids are generally precious and since I'm only with each of them for 15 minutes or so, they don't have time to act up and aren't exhausting for me. Also, I get to read kids books for an hour and a half and not be embarrassed about it!
Some of these kids are so precious, it hurts. I just wanted to hug or pet some of them, and there was many a time when I wished I had my camera. I thought that if I brought it, though, it would make me seem like a bit of a pervert.
I plan on continuing it next term, and maybe taking on more to do there. One friend I made there won't be working any longer, but it's still a nice environment. And perhaps I could get away with taking photos when I know the kids' parents better and they don't think I'm a paedophile! Don't you just hate that?
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