I’m another year older and in a brand new place.
…which isn’t very far from the old place, but whatever, shutup, it’s still new.
Turned 24, took the GRE, moved into a house. My first house. Our first house. Did it all in about a week. Hell, half of it I did in one day. Also saw several awesome movies, had a photo shoot experience (what a bizarre sort of hell, I will never mock a model again) and interviewed for a new job I may or may not want.
Very busy. Very behind. Very tired.
PS, thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes…very glad to have phone and internet to talk to people again.
It’s 10:30 in the morning and I want a nap.
Not feeling all that hot (figuratively and literally, it’s freezing down here) today; I’m considering breaking down and getting some hot chocolate. If it’s any indication of how off-balance I am today, Gum Girls’ incessant popping, whilst still there, is failing to make me edgy and annoyed.
I’m noticing an anxiety about grad school that I didn’t have about my undergrad degree – namely that there is no guarantee that I’ll get in just because I want to. I don’t fear being not qualified, because I know I am; I fear everyone else being just as qualified and some of us getting squished out because the program is small and, therefore, competitive.
Slowly compiling my application essay; one of the topic options was to discuss your plans for your MA, what you’ll do with it once you get it. …wait, I have to have goals? I can’t get a specialized degree because I want the knowledge and training? Actually, I guess I could, but “My goal for this degree is to pin it happily to my wall and revel in all the shiny, new knowledge,” sorts of lacks a certain impressive quality. Anyway, it’s forced me to think about what I actually want out of this thing, because why get it if you won’t use it, yes? The answers are surprising. And not.
If you’ve made it this far, I have a question: Tell me your favourite fairy tale?
Which grad students most likely to cheat?
The answer probably won’t surprise you. My academic scruples won’t ever keep me warm at night, but I’ll wager they’ll be more comforting than the fire place (and attendant monstrously large house) I could buy running a Fortune 500 company.