Capricious Blogger

What We Have Here Is A Failure To Communicate

2006-06-21T12:22:00.000-05:00

The following conversation actually occurred yesterday over lunch with my bosses:

After receiving a plate of spaghetti carbonara with small strips of meat on top, Boss #1 remarked: "Oh! They must put Canadian bacon on their carbonara here!"

ME: You know, in Canada they just call it ham.

Boss #2: But it's still from the lighter portion of the meat, right?

ME: Ummm...sure. All I know for sure is that they call it ham.

Boss #2: Huh. Well how do you know that?

ME: My boyfriend's from Montreal.

Boss #2: Well how does he know that?

ME: Ummm...he's from Montreal?

Strategic Planning

2006-06-20T15:19:00.000-05:00

I had a very odd lunch today. My program director was taking my boss, the program assistant, and me out to lunch for a year-end wrap-up and to plan ahead for the fall. The odd part was that I am leaving in two weeks so we spent the majority of the meeting planning out all the things that the new me will have to do when he/she takes over the hallowed position by the front door that I have occupied for the last two years. I had nothing to contribute since I have essentially checked myself out of the equation for the past several months, and now that I am down to two weeks you couldn't get me to care if you tattooed a transcript of the conversation onto my forehead.

Sitting in on a conversation in which your absence is the main topic is kind of like dying and floating around listening to people talk about you. There is some talk of what you do well, which is nice to hear, but it's certainly not meant to be praise. It's more of the "Shit! She won't be doing that for us anymore! How can we avert disaster?" And then of course there are always the random things that didn't work out quite so well...but since you're not really there, they don't mind saying right out into the open that trying to have me share database duties with the assistant didn't work out AT ALL.

And then to top off the strange lunch, you get the fake smiles and the strained voices congratulating you on your next venture...but you know (from the conversation you just had to sit through) that what they're really thinking is "We're fucked, and it's your fault!!!"

Please Don't Do That Again

2006-06-19T14:55:00.000-05:00

OK, I just want to say for the record that even though my parents may a) be way more religious than I am (which is not at all), and b) be way more politically conservative than I am (which again, is not at all), and c) have way more kids than I want to have (which is none at all)...they're still all right people.

My parents and I have never been close at all. I certainly would never call them up if I was upset over not getting into a grad school program or a bad breakup. I never told them about the people I was dating until I found out near the end of college that my mom thought I was a lesbian because I didn't talk about the guys I dated. Hell, I didn't even tell them I was having nose surgery until after the fact.

So it was a little surprising when I was getting ready to leave our family's Father's Day party last night and my dad pulled me aside and told me he would really like to take me out to dinner sometime near the end of July, before I head off to school. I was thinking, "Sure. That'll happen. The last time you promised to take me out to dinner, for my 16th birthday, we never went out until two and a half years later." The fact that he made such a statement wasn't surprising. What was surprising was what came next: Tears started welling up in his eyes as he said, "Because you will probably never move back to Minnesota and you'll be off around the country. And I'll miss you. Because you will always be my daughter."

Then he stood up to give me a hug, another rarity in my house, while I mumbled something about Happy Father's Day and that I would come back in December to visit.

The whole thing left me feeling a little odd. Seeing your dad cry is the worst. Please, don't do that again.

Never Again

2006-06-12T13:42:00.000-05:00

Sorry, guys. I had all kinds of magical pictures to show you, but Blogger is being a pisser and I can't get them to post. This should be good news to everyone who asked me to warn them if there was anything graphic that would make them lose their lunch.

Never ever ever ever EVER again will I have surgery.

But what if you will die of gangrene unless they cut off your leg?

Nope. Not gonna do it.

But what if you will lose all function in your arm unless they operate NOW?

Nope. Can't make me.

But what if, after moving out to LA, you decide that to "compete" you MUST get liposuction and a boob job?

You did not SERIOUSLY just ask me that.

Why am I so against surgery? Surely I can breathe better now, right?

Yeah, sure. NOW I can breathe better...better than I could when I had giant plastic splints rammed up my nose and a guaze-filled sling hanging out under my nostrils. Yeah, you would be able to breathe better now too! But let me give you a list of reasons why I will NEVER HAVE SURGERY AGAIN.

1) My Friend Joe.

Joe and I have been friends for 8 years now. Joe is a great guy. Joe had septoplasty and turbinoplasty a few years ago and I called Joe a week before my surgery to get the low-down. Joe didn't call me back until two days after I had my nose sliced and diced. Joe's message to me? "Lies! All lies! They tell you it's an in-and-out procedure and you can go home the same afternoon! They tell you that you can go back to work in two days! They tell you that recovery will be a piece of cake! If I had known what it would be like before I had surgery, I wouldn't have had it...but once it was all over with, I was very happy to have it done."

He was right. Lies, every single one of them. Go home the same afternoon, my ass.

2) Anesthesia.

They initially told me that it was no worse than having my wisdom teeth pulled. They told me it would take an hour and a half, and then I could go home. They told me (as Joe said) that most people returned to work in 2 days. At first I thought, "Hey, that doesn't sound so bad. Sign me up for a local anesthetic!"

But then I reconsidered and called back in a panic. Was I CRAZY!?! Be wide awake while they stretched my nostrils out, made incisions inside my nose, cut pieces out, jammed plastic supports waaaaaaay up there, and stitched everything back together?!? Actually, it was Chris' idea to be put under. Good thing that (on occasion) my boyfriend is smarter than me.

But beware, because general anesthesia can lead to things like...

3) The Hospital Stay

Basically, when they put you under at 2:00 for the quicky surgery, they expect you to clear out of the recovery room by 5:00 or so. When, at 9:00, you still can't open your eyes or rock your head back and forth without vomiting, they stick you in a hospital room. As a joke, they keep an IV pumping saline solution into your body, even though they know you are too nauseous to get up to go to the bathroom. I can only imagine how funny they think it is to walk you to the bathroom 12 hours later and stand outside the door with a stopwatch to time how long you go to the bathroom. Answer: I don't know, you asshole! I'm in an open-backed gown with a bloody nose sling attached to my face, trying to pee out 12 straigt hours of saline feed while simultaneously trying not to vomit all over my lap! (But you can ask my boyfriend, since he's the one snickering in the next room.)

4) The Nose Sling

Since you're not allowed to blow your nose, let alone dab at it, after surgery they send you off with a handy dandy little nose sling. This nifty contraption allows you to hook the elastic loops around your ears and place a giant gauze pad in the plastic sling that goes underneath your nose to absorb all the blood and other good stuff that leaks out constantly for the first couple of days. The pad must be changed every couple of hours because it fills with blood and scares children. After a day or two of wearing it, your ears start to hurt from being pulled on, so sometimes your very helpful boyfriend takes surgical tape and tapes the gauze to your face instead. Then he feeds you hot soup. Then he has to rush over to help you pull the gauze off your face when it starts to scald your lip because it got soaked up by the gauze. It hurts. Nose slings suck.

5) The Antibiotics

Antibiotics are like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're going to get. In my case, over the course of a week and from three different meds, I got: 1) nausea and vomiting, 2) red, swollen, itchy skin, and 3) immense headaches accompanied by the most foul taste imaginable. Seriously. I had to keep eating all day just to keep the taste from returning. And going to sleep? Fuggedaboudit. How would you like to wake up to the taste of burning gasoline and bile? Not fun.

6) Nose Splints

Yeah, this was fun. After surgery, they insert plastic nose splints up your nasal cavity to keep things from collapsing and so on. They are stuffed so far up your nose that you can just barely see the bottoms of them. They are stitched in place and left for a week. A little uncomfortable, but nothing too bad...oh, except for when the swelling goes down and they start to press on your sinuses. That's fun. Or when one of them is sitting on a nerve or something and you can't feel anything in your front teeth. That's a good one too. But I think the best part about them is being at the doctor's office with the boyfriend a week after surgery to have them removed. The doc cranks open your nostrils and reaches back with a scissors to snip the suture. Then he reaches waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay up with a tweezers to pull the thing out. Imagine how it feels to have your boyfriend say, "WOAH! That's HUGE! You have to see how BIG these things are!"

No. I don't. I'm not opening my eyes. I don't WANT to see how big these things are, I just want to pretend that they did not just come out of my nose!

7) The Rules

Yeah, the rules suck too. Like the rule that says you should sleep with your head elevated for a month. Screw that! A few days, maybe, but once the swelling is down so am I! How about the rule that says you can't blow your nose for 2-3 weeks. Puh-lease. You try sitting there like a baby and just letting your nose run a river down to your mouth without doing anything. I don't think so! Oh yeah, then there's the rule about no intense physical activity (running, biking, etc.) for at least two weeks. That one blows. My favorite rule, however, is that you can't wear glasses for 6 weeks--you're supposed to tape them to your forehead!!!

8) Sutures

Having 5 or 6 stitches running up the inside of your nose would be annoying if they weren't so darn attractive. Nothing like the long tail of a stitch hanging out of yoru nose to let people know that you're sexy and you know it. No, really. Nothing hotter. 'Nuff said.

9) The Bad Jokes

Actually, it should read 'joke'. As in one, singular joke that I keep hearing over and over from everyone who finds out I had my deviated septum fixed: "Well, now you can say you got a nose job!" Followed by the kind of laughter that only comes from people who convince themselves they just thought of the funniest thing on the planet...except they're the only ones laughing.

Necessary Things I Hate

2006-05-23T15:16:00.000-05:00

I like lists. Lists succintly categorize items for you, which is great if you are as fond of straight-talk and to-the-point-ness (hey, it could work as a word!) as I am. I like lists because they are, in a word, pithy.

That being said, this blog is a list of Necessary Things I Hate, and it came about because of a recent particularly sleepy Saturday during which the biggest thing I accomplished was clipping my fingernails. And it took me all day to work up to it.

And without further ado...

Necessary Things I Hate
(in no particular order)

1) Clipping My Nails

I like to keep my nails short, and I wish they would stay that way. I don't need talons on my feet, let alone my hands. It's a nuisance to have to haul out the nail clippers every 2 or 3 weeks just to get the things back to the length I left them. Sure, it would be handy if they regenerated after getting slammed in a car door and falling off or something, but otherwise they're just dead cells and they're annoying. Hence, the beginning of my list.

2) Cutting My Hair

OK, this isn't REALLY something I hate, since I don't actually have to do it myself, and I actually do enjoy getting my hair cut and getting a new look. But it went hand in hand with the nail clipping thing because hair is also a bunch of dead cells getting pushed out of your body, and if we all just naturally had the same damn hairdo it would save a lot of decision-making time every six to eight weeks when it's time to go get it hacked off again.

3) Brushing My Teeth

Again, this is something that I actually enjoy. Or if not enjoy, then something that I am probably a bit too enthusiastic about doing. In fact, I used to brush my teeth so much that my dentist had to tell me to cut back on the amount of brushing I did. BUT...when it's about two hours past the time any normal person would be in bed, and the only thing standing between you and a good night's sleep is swabbing your teeth with a brush...it's hard to get too excited about the necessity of doing it.

4) Walking

My last problem brings up another necessary thing I hate: getting myself from one place to the next when I just don't feel like moving. When I am on the couch in the middle of the night, falling asleep because I am too damn tired to walk to bed, the last thing I want to have to do is WALK to the bathroom to brush my teeth. WHY haven't we figured out how to teleport yet? I would even be happy with floating to the bathroom!

Researchers are spending billions (OK, millions) of dollars trying to develop more efficient means of vehicular transportation, when really...they should all be working out the problem of teleportation instead. Seriously. Why bother with 20th century solutions to our travel problems when they could develop something that is light years ahead??? Talk about energy efficiency!!!

5) Eating

And that brings me to the next necessary thing I hate: eating. We spend SO MUCH of our time gathering, preparing, eating, and cleaning up food and it seems like such a waste! You're just going to be hungry again in a few hours, and then you're going to have to start all over again! While those researchers are working on teleportation, they should also be working on encapsulating food. Think of all the time and effort that would be saved by simply swallowing a pill that contained all of your daily nutrients and calorie requirements. No more trips to the grocery store, no more slaving over a hot stove, no more dirty dishes to clean up...my future would be SO much happier since I loathe household chores more than anything else. AND it would eliminate most of the need to brush and floss!

6) Washing Clothes

Speaking of household chorse to eliminate: washing clothes. I HATE doing the laundry. When I was a child, my mother told me about a friend of hers in high school who used to wear disposable paper dresses. Where have all the disposable clothes gone?!? Just think: every day you get to slip into a new outfit, you never have to worry about spilling your lunch on it (which you wouldn't have to worry about anyway if we had food pills), and at the end of the day you just toss it in the trash! AND...stay with me here...creating giant landfills full of disposable clothing won't matter because we won't need the land to grow crops, since all those chemists will be able to synthetically create our food pills. (Chris, you're working on it, right?) Now we have no laundry, no grocery shopping, no cooking, no eating, no cleaning of kitchens, no brushing, no flossing...see? There is a method to my madness!

7) Talking

Of all the time-wasters that could ultimately be done away with, talking is a big one on my list. I HATE talking on the phone, and when you're with someone who doesn't speak the same language, it can get complicated. BUT, if we all developed our ESP capabilities, these problems could be virtually eliminated!

You know that phrase "The language of film is cinema?" (OK, technically it's probably not a "phrase" but more of a slogan for Landmark Theaters, but we've all heard it a million times.) Anyway, if we all had ESP and we all communicated in images, we would get our point across much faster and without confusion. 'Nuff said.

8) Going to the Bathroom

Sure, I understand the biological necessity of eliminating waste from our bodies, but it is SUCH A PAIN to have to run to the nearest bathroom several times a day. And at my job, the bathroom is in the middle of a completely different floor so it's even more tedious. Sure, teleportation would make it easier, but you still have to interrupt what you're doing to go. Yet another reason that food pills need to become commonplace: the potential for fewer bodily wastes to eliminate!

9) Bathing

Wow, maybe we should just eliminate bathrooms altogether? We could, if we didn't need to bathe either. I have no solutions to the "need-to-bathe" problem, and I am, as always, damn glad that our skin is waterproof and easily cleaned and dried. But it's still a pain in the ass to have to clean ourselves all the time. And if it weren't for the fact that our skin needs to breathe, maybe I would suggest some kind of durable plastic coating? But then, what is skin if not a regenerating coating? I don't know. I just know it's a necessary thing I hate.

10) Working

Again, this is one of those things that I happen to enjoy when I like my job. But I hate the necessity of working, regardless of how much you dislike what you do. The fact that we have to spend so many of our waking hours preparing for, commuting to, and then actually doing work is very depressing. Add to that the fact that you don't get to retire until you're old and can't enjoy it as much as you could have when you were 50 years younger, and it's enough to make anyone quit in frustration!!!

11) Sleeping

Yes, like any normal person, I LOOOOOVE to sleep. But I hate that we HAVE to sleep. You know those days when you're having so much fun at a party, or you're reading a super good book, or you're watching a super good movie, or you simply have so much more that you need to accomplish but can't because you have run out of time and your body is demanding that you halt EVERYTHING? I hate that! It would be great if we could sleep whenever we felt like it, sort of as a treat, just like getting cheesecake once in a while. But the fact that we NEED to do it sucks, and that's just the way it is.

I am sure I could come up with a LOT more to say here, but my day at work is almost over...although today is one day I would postpone that if I could, since tomorrow I have to go in and have my nose hacked to bits. Expect some interesting blogs about it later. :)

How to Tell You're Dating a Cyclist (If You Didn't Know It Already)

2006-05-19T16:18:00.000-05:00

1) He wears tights and looks damn good in them. (But lose the bib, please!)

2) He has weird tan lines.

3) He is obsessed with tiny weight fluctuations.

4) He shaves his legs more often than you do.

5) He looks at food an instantly calculates its potential energy efficiency.

6) He eats. A lot. We are talking CONSTANT CONSUMPTION. The most commonly heard comment after he finishes eating is: "Wow...I'm hungry!"

7) He never looks at other girls, but his head swivels 180 degrees if a hot-looking bike rolls past.

8) He's the only guy you know who CANNOT watch TV for hours on end because his legs can't sit still for that long.

9) He can fit more things into those little pockets on the back of his jersey than you can fit in your largest purse.

10) His legs are unbelievably strong and he could carry you around all day and never get tired. Not that it would ever be necessary, but it's like an extra bonus feature you can only get with this model.*

*P.S. Those are really his legs!

A Nose is a Nose

2006-05-19T15:23:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes, and this is inexplicable if the thought of surgery freaks you out big-time, the thought of having surgery on your nose causes you to be super excited because you get to miss three days of work to do it!!!!

Just think: no ultra-annoying boss...no ultra-annoying boss's boss...no ultra-annoying coworkers or students or early mornings. PLUS, you get to lop 3 days off your work countdown! Only 29 work days to go!!! How awesome is THAT?!? And sometimes you have a wonderful boyfriend who you can trust to drive you home from the hospital when you're all groggy and gross-looking. (Instead of, oh I don't know...dropping you off at the hospital and leaving you to take the bus home on the coldest day of the year. Not that THAT ever happened!!!)

Sure, it won't be all fun and games, and you're really not looking forward to having carboard splints rammed up your nose for days, but...no work! For three days! Hallelujah!

Oh, and sometimes plastic surgeons do nose jobs on pieces of art, and it's quite entertaining to see.

Lesson Learned

2006-05-12T10:35:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes you are driving down a busy street downtown during rush hour, and you feel a familiar tickle on the back of your neck.

So you reach back there to pull away the tickly piece of hair, but...

OMIGOD!!!!

The hair is BIG!!! And SQUISHY!!!

So you react how any normal person would react...you throw whatever it is that is in your hand in any direction possible, as long as it is away from you. And OK, if you have to, maybe you scream a little. Or a lot. And maybe you slam on your breaks and your sunglasses fly off...but only if you are a major wuss.

And sometimes, while you are frantically looking around on the car floor for some GIANT SQUISHY THING, your boyfriend tries to keep the car from crashing by holding on to the steering wheel while simultaneously picking random bits of fluff up from the floor by your feet, hoping to catch the GIANT SQUISHY THING.

And sometimes, just when you think that perhaps you actually squashed the GIANT SQUISHY THING (ew!), you notice it crawling across your steering wheel, completely unfazed...and you start screaming again.

Not that this happened. I'm just saying.

My New Home

2006-05-11T10:18:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes you make arrangements to stay in a hotel for a few days while you hunt for an apartment in your new city.

And sometimes, after driving for 17 hours, you arrive at your hotel at 3:30 in the morning. (For a road-trip account, see Chris' blog.)

Sometimes when you get up to your hotel room, you discover that while the bed has been made, the rest of the room has not been cleaned. Perhaps there are hairs all over the shower. Perhaps there are pieces of used dental floss and apple seeds on the bathroom floor. Perhaps there are HAIRS (you know, those hairs) all over the toilet. Even the complimentary lotion has been sampled! Oh, and don't forget the toenail clippings on the bedroom floor!

But since it is 3:30 in the morning, you have been on the road for 17 hours, and you have 3 hours to sleep before your first meeting...you let it go and decide to say something to management on the way out the door the next morning.

So...

Sometimes the next morning you talk to management and they PROMISE to have the room cleaned properly before you get back that evening. But sometimes you get back at around 5:00 in the evening (plenty of time to clean)...and nothing has been done except that your bed is made...this time with stained sheets.

So you go BACK down to the management desk and talk to the (different) people there and explain your situation. But maybe they can't help you because the cleaning staff only works mornings. And they can't switch rooms because they are overbooked. So you have to go back up to your room for another night with the toenail clippings and the pubes.

And maybe by the third day they finally get it right, but by that time you have already found an apartment and are getting ready to leave town anyway.

But maybe you don't really care anymore because your cool new apartment is in the trendy neighborhood...

close to school...

and the new library.

And THAT, my friends, really did happen. :)

Dickwad Returns

2006-05-09T21:25:00.000-05:00

So...

I was going to write a post about my apartment-hunting trip, but I have to save that for tomorrow. Something else came up instead:

Imagine you're a man.

If you are unfortunate enough to already be a man, (Kidding! Kidding! Sheesh!)

No, really.

Anyway, if you are a man, imagine that you are a complete dick.

Like that.

Now, imagine that you have been living with your girlfriend for going on 5 years. Imagine that you started dating in college, asked her to marry you six months later, ("What, are you CRAZY!?!?"....oh, I guess she said no) then imagine that she finally DID say yes a year or two after that. Imagine that she even forgave you and took you back after you "accidentally" let her find out that you had a thing for your best friend (a female coworker 10 years older than you). Imagine that after years of working two jobs and going back to school full time to do something with her life while you sat on the couch like a lazy fuck, sleeping in and playing video games, you jump at the chance to move into an apartment with your girlfriend, her sister, and her sister's fiance because you are such a lazy ass that you still don't make more money than the average high school student and you want to save money on rent. (Oh yeah, and just for shits and giggles: imagine that you are 50 pounds overweight, your best friends are the high school students and high school dropouts you work with, and that you call yourself an actor even though the last role you ever played was a bit part in the school play five years ago.) Got all that? Good. Now imagine that it's 3 weeks before Christmas and while shopping with your girlfriend, you pull her into a jewelry store to pick out an engagement ring.

OK. Now...

Imagine that instead of a ring, you get her a $20 foot massager from Target for Christmas. Imagine she got you the most expensive iPod money could buy. And that she saved up for 5 months to get it for you because after getting her second degree it took 3 months to get a job and she was really broke.

Now, imagine that 2 weeks after Christmas you come home from work and sit on the bed without talking to her until she figures out through process of elimination that you are breaking up with her. Oh yeah, and that you really DO have a thing for the female coworker you have been ditching your girlfriend to spend time with. (Different one this time, but she guessed anyway...and oh how you denied it!) Then imagine that you pack up some things and leave, to move back in with your mother...for two weeks until you announce that you are moving in with the "other girl"...to stay in a spare room...in the basement...at her parents' house. Loser? Oh yes.

Having fun yet? This is like meditation, only not so calming. But we're not at the fun part yet, so bear with me.

Now imagine that over the next 9 months you still have responsibility for the lease and you don't move anything out of the apartment but some clothes, your precious DVDs, and your X-Box. Imagine that you never change your mailing address so that your ex-girlfriend is forced to collect your mail every day, sort it for you, and leave it in a stack on the mantle for you to collect when you stop by in the middle of the day after having used the workout room and her shower. And imagine also that you spend an inordinate amount of time at her apartment during the day using her computer because her cable internet access is much faster than your coworker's parents' dial-up. Imagine that every time the rent is due, which forces her to talk to you, you don't turn it in on time and make a big fuss out of it whenever she mentions it. Imagine that you go around town badmouthing her to everyone you spend time with (all right, that one's just too easy: his high school dropout friends? Who cares?) while pretending that you still want to be friends.

Are you bored yet? I am getting to the point! Trust me!

Imagine that for months after the lease is finally up and everyone moves their separate ways, you continue to harrass your ex-girlfriend by calling and emailing her, pretending to want to know how she is and what she is up to when really all you want is the $90 you think she owes you as a deposit refund.

Imagine that through friends she finds out that you are engaged to some Filipino girl you met on Friendster and have known for less than six months.

Imagine that after NEVER returning one of your phone calls or emails, you stop calling her for 5 or 6 months.

Until...

You call her up one day as though you just hung out yesterday and leave her a voice message asking for her mother's phone number...so you can buy some pedicure sets from her for Mother's Day. And you act like this is the most normal thing in the world.

WTF is wrong with you!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Not that this really happened. I'm just saying.

All right, we all know it really did happen.

But it's not like I'm bitter or anything. I'm just saying.

Well, maybe a little bitter.

But he's still a dickwad and I dare anyone to disagree!

Scarred For Life

2006-05-03T11:49:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes you see things that no human being should ever have to witness. Sometimes you are completely unprepared for these things you see. Sometimes the shock of having seen these things causes you to go into a cold sweat for hours. Not even talking about it will help. These images are burned onto the insides of your eyelids, and trying to go to sleep only makes it worse...the images invade your dreams...you can't sleep, you can't concentrate on anything, food has lost its flavor.

Sometimes, the sight of your boss jogging is enough to warrant workman's comp and a free stay at a mental health clinic.

Not that this happened or anything. 'Nuff said. Let's talk about something else.

Oooh...I know! We can talk about the fact that tonight is my precalc final and afterwards I intend on going out and partying myself into a happy, stress-free oblivion...which shouldn't be too hard since I have been going on 4 hours of sleep or less for the last couple of days so I already have the oblivion part down.

Tomorrow morning Chris and I take off bright and early for points far east (well, farther east than the Midwest...it's in a totally different time zone! That counts!). I'm going to find the most fabulous apartment I can afford next fall as a lowly, impoverished grad student. Yay me.

Have Cake, Will Decorate

2006-05-02T09:49:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes you spend years working two or three jobs at a time while going to school full-time and earning two degrees at two different well-known and well-respected universities. Maybe you continue to go to school and nearly earn a third degree in addition to taking classes simply for fun. And sometimes this hard work pays off and you get accepted into a very exclusive graduate program at a prestigious university.

Now, sometimes you work very closely with a certain faculty member for two years before you head off to grad school. Maybe they know all about your film projects and your theater background, and your current graduate studies in Theater Mgmt. Sometimes the person in question talks with you at length about the city you will move to because she grew up there and knows about the neighborhoods. Maybe she also talks with you about your future career goals after grad school.

So WHY, when this person should obviously know what's going on, do they still think you're going to grad school to major in PARTY PLANNING?!? You probably don't seem like the kind of person who would enjoy planning events, since you get in trouble for not even making it through the work day with a smile on your face. I bet you have even made known your distaste for all things domestic, especially your inability to cook.

Sometimes, what it all boils down to, is that you are left struggling with whether to laugh or be offended when this person refers to your program as a place where you learn to "decorate cakes".

Not that this happened or anything. I'm just saying.

P.S. Sometimes you have to toot your own horn...not to brag about yourself, but to put the "cake decorating" comment into perspective. If you want to decorate cakes, take a pay cut and work in a bakery. But you DON'T need to move across the country to go to grad school for it.

Buggin' Out

2006-04-28T15:32:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes you become known as "The Girl Who Always Loses Earrings"...to the point where your old boyfriend had to start buying you earrings two pairs at a time so you always have a spare. (Hey! They just fall out! Sometimes you can't help it!)

And sometimes you also have an ungodly fear of anything with more than four legs, to the point where your preferred method of killing spiders is to spritz them with hairspray until they harden. That is, unless you have a champion boyfriend who will come to your rescue, as Chris did.

What do the two have in common, you wonder? Well...I will tell you three hypothetical stories to illustrate.

Sometimes, you're riding in the passenger seat of a car, minding your own business and enjoying a nice ride. And sometimes, all of a sudden, a GIANT BUG goes creeping down your neck and skitters across your chest while you SCREAM bloody murder and do your best to brush the thing away...wherever it is! And since you can't see any sign of the bug, you spend the rest of the car ride curled up in a trembling ball on the seat. And sometimes it's not until the car pulls into your parking lot and you dash out that you realize the "bug" was really an earring that had fallen out of your ear and tickled your neck on the way down.

Sometimes, you're in the bathroom at a friend's house. Maybe the toilet faces the bathtub, but is on the end. And sometimes you're using the toilet when another "bug" goes creeping down your neck...but this time, you're able to jump up (while screaming, of course) and fling the bug away from you...only to watch in horror as one of your (four) handmade earrings from a California artist goes tumbling into the bathtub, skitters down the length of it, and goes plink! down the drain.

And finally, sometimes you have a similar experience in the bathroom at work. (Why is it always in the bathroom?) Sometimes you feel the familiar creeping down your neck and reflexively swipe the "bug" away...only to realize that you are missing an earring. But where did it go? What happened to the very special birthday earring that was a gift from your boyfriend? It isn't caught on your clothes, it isn't on the floor...OMIGOD! Don't tell me it's IN THE TOILET!?!?!?!

And sometimes, to make things worse, this boyfriend hasn't yet learned to buy earrings two pairs at a time.

Not that this happened. I'm just saying.

Scoping It Out

2006-04-27T13:52:00.000-05:00

That phrase will take on new meaning after this post...and not in a good way.

So...

Sometimes you go for years without being able to breathe properly and it finally gets to you so you schedule a visit with an ENT to find out what the nut is going on. And sometimes this doc wants to stick a VERY long, slim nasal scope uuuuuuuuuuup your nose and down the back of your throat "just to see how things look back there". And if he's a complete liar, this doctor will tell you that you will feel a "slight tickle" in your nose as he RAMS this little light-on-a-tube into the tiniest recesses of your nasal cavity. Sure, it might tickle in the way that a feather on your nose tickles...but oh, about a MILLION TIMES more painful! PLUS, if you are lucky enough to experience this, you know that it produces the urge to sneeze like you have never sneezed before...only you can't because you have a tube rammed up your nose and there is a person two inches away from your face, attached to the other end. And if you are really lucky, as only the most fortunate of us are, it might also cause blinding pain, the type of which no amount of jaw-clenching, leg-sqeezing, or gasping for air will alleviate. Not even your moans of pain or the tears streaming down your face, across the doctor's hands, and into your mouth will stop this torture. And sometimes, if you're even luckier, you get to do it again on the other side!

Not that this happened approximately three and a half hours ago. I'm just saying.

And here's where the new meaning of the phrase comes in: Scoping It Out

Se- what?

2006-04-26T11:17:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes high school boys don't have anything to do on a Friday night, so they decide to get together for a seance...you know, for kids! And sometimes high school kids' dads offer to drive them to their friend's house. And sometimes they have the following awkward conversation in the car:

"So, J. What are you up to tonight?"

"Oh, we're going to have a seance, maybe say 'Bloody Mary' 13 times to the mirror at midnight, that kind of thing."

"J, you know things like that can only channel bad spirits, right?"

"Uh...sure, Dad."

"Good. I just want you to make the right decisions because bad spirits can be really terrifying."

(sarcastically) "OK...why? Have you ever encountered one?"

"Yes. And it was the scariest moment of my life. I still remember it after 30 years."

Right... Sometimes your parents can be really religious, and you can get used to the fact that while they are both highly intelligent people, they simply believe very strongly in their faith. But sometimes you're faced with conversations like that and you can't help but think that they just might be a little nutty!

Not that this happened. I'm just saying.

I'm An Idiot

2006-04-24T09:15:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes you spend weeks getting an exam prepared that measures the cumulative earned knowledge of 35 Masters students; an exam that determines their worthiness to graduate and practice their chosen profession out in the world; an exam for which they spend months poring over practice exams and flashcards, and endless sleepless nights agonizing over their results.

And sometimes after randomizing, editing, formatting, and checking the 200 questions, and then re -randomizing, -editing, -formatting, and -checking them ad nauseum...you end up giving an exam to the students with two pages of answers highlighted for them.

Not that this happened. I'm just saying.

Wedding Par-tay

2006-04-23T13:34:00.000-05:00

So...

Sometimes you go to a wedding with your boyfriend and near the end of the evening you end up dancing with the very drunk best man, who insists on whipping you around the floor like a top, possibly as punishment for cutting in while he was dancing with another girl who he insists he is "not trying to sleep with or anything". (And apparently inviting a girl back to your hotel room for "some fun" should not be interpreted as wanting to get it on. He must have had a crackerjack game of Crazy Eights in mind.) And to further make his point, sometimes you end up getting slammed in the face while being violently spun around because the prick is 6 inches shorter than you are. And sometimes getting slammed in the face will cause your eyes to tear up and your nose to bleed, but thankfully not until after you throw a panicked look at your boyfriend and mouth the words "HELP ME!" and he comes over to save you and dance you off the floor so you can run to the bathroom and pack toilet paper up your nostrils.

Not that this happened. I'm just saying.

Be A Big Girl

2006-04-21T11:49:00.000-05:00

So...

There's a new woman in the office. She took over B's job. For the record, B left in December and it's now nearly May...just shows you how efficient things are here!

Anyway, this woman has the annoying habit of telling me every time she leaves the office, for any reason. While sometimes understandable over the lunch hour when we are the only two people here and ONE of us has to be at our desk at all times, it has the undesired effect of REALLY PISSING ME OFF during the rest of the time! I mean, just because I sit near the door of the office suite, does that make me the Gatekeeper? Do I really need to know when a 50 year old woman is going to "the ladies' room"? Did she seriously just ask me if it was all right to run to the supply closet upstairs? Do I care whether she will be back "in a jif" or in 10 hours?!? NO! We are all adults and technically we share the same job title so in reality I spend the better part of my day ignoring the other secretaries and avoiding my boss. Why she needs to interrupt my daydreams about having a job in which I get to choose the people I work with to tell me she is "dashing to the student mailboxes" is beyond me.

Today, after asking me if it was all right for her to run across the atrium, I told her that she didn't need to tell me every time she left the office. Her response was, "I like to." My thought was: "It's very fucking annoying because not only do you interrupt whatever it is I'm doing, but you wait there for me to answer you!" In a sense I guess it should be flattering: I feel like the Queen Bee, deciding who can go and who can stay. But in reality, I am plain and simply just annoyed. I mean, what would she do if I said no? Go anyway! It's not like she's REALLY asking my permission!

That's all I got for today. Giggles is playing her annoying song over and over again, but at least she had the good sense to turn it off when she left for lunch.

Over and out.

Help! I'm distressed!

2006-04-18T11:11:00.000-05:00

Oh, golly. I just have to laugh sometimes. I got another employee survey in my inbox this week, accompanied by the following instructions. Please enjoy.

You are invited to participate in an on-line survey study about such-and-such. This study is being conducted by so-and-so and Dr. so-and-so from the Department of such-and-such at the University of so-and-so.

Background Information:
The purpose of this study is to examine such-and-such.

Risks and Benefits of Being in the Study:
By participating, you will be asked to think about your current life situation and satisfaction. Thinking in depth about your life may result in a newfound awareness of both positive and negative aspects you may not have considered before. As a result, thinking about your life may be uncomfortable. Some of the questions ask private or personal information that may be sensitive in nature such as, “How much of the time, during the past month, have you felt downhearted and blue”. If you experience any distress, please contact a mental health professional for help. Resources are provided below.

OK, I understand the reason for this but seriously...if the simple mention of "feeling downhearted and blue" causes enough distress in your life to necessitate mental health professionals, you should probably have one on speed-dial already. Furthermore, if the very act of thinking about your life is something that you NEVER do...well...I think that one speaks for itself.

How about..."You Make Me Want to Vomit"?

2006-04-06T11:26:00.001-05:00

Hey, I know it's been a while. But seriously, I think I need more inspiration than just the mundane, everyday stuff in order to post a blog. Speaking of inspiration, here's a situation that has gotten me so pissed-off today that I HAD to blog about or risk spontaneous combustion:

Some of you may recall my descriptions of various office-mates. Well all this week, Giggles has been playing music on her computer...and I use the term "music" loosely. She has had the same song on repeat ALL DAY, EVERY DAY this week. I thought having a college roommate who listened to Garrison Keillor all the time was bad, but this has become intolerable. The "song" that my co-worker has so generously decided to treat us with is probably the most LOATHSOME song I have ever heard in my life. I railed about it to anyone who would stand still long enough to listen when it first rolled out on the airwaves a few years ago, and I can't believe I am being forced to endure it ad nauseum at a place that already makes me nauseous!

I don't even know the "artist" or the title of this damn thing, but the lyrics go "You lift me uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup!...Higher than a mounTAIN!" over and over and over... Granted, Giggles isn't blasting this music all over the office, but my desk is closest to hers, and she is playing it at a volume that is just loud enough to creep into my consciousness every few minutes...which is almost more infuriating than just playing music flat-out. If I have to hear this doofus sing about being lifted higher than a f*cking mountain ONE MORE TIME today...

Half an hour ago, Giggles had to leave for an appointment. She told me she would be back in an hour and a half. Fine. Whatever. Don't forget your cell phone so you can talk to your friends even more than you do when you're at your desk "working". She left, but her music was still playing. Over. And over. And OVER. I just went over there and shut off her speakers so I wouldn't have to bash her computer in with my backpack (which I have been told is large enough to double as a shelter, if I ever find myself stuck outside in inclement weather).

It's not that I object to people listening to inspirational music or Christian rock or whatever the hell they use to get through their days. But come on! Do what Jesus would do and have a little respect for the rest of us who don't give a damn about how high god/Jesus/paint fumes can lift you and leave your craptastic music at home.

P.S. In case anyone is interested in an update: I am keeping up with my precalc class so far. Only 8 class periods left, including one more exam and a comprehensive final, and then I'm home free! After that, I can start scoping out apartments in Pittsburgh. I will be heading out there in June to pick a place. I have been in contact with one other admitted student from my program. He lives in Manhattan and seems pretty nice. Apparently there are only 9 people in my class, so it will be a small one. Small but fun!

How to Spot a Metrosexual

2006-02-20T13:12:00.000-06:00

Inspired by a recent discussion about metrosexuals and the men who are afraid of becoming one, I decided to put together this list with what I hope is the understanding that I happen to think metrosexuality is a great thing. Just like the women of the 20th century who bucked convention and started wearing pants, working outside the home, and deciding *gasp!* not to have children, I think metrosexuality is the male counterpart to the women's movement and I, for one, am more than happy to support it. And why not? I am a confident, self-sufficient woman who doesn't need a strapping, lumberjack of a man any more than I need what Kim Cattrall's character on 'Sex and the City' referred to as an asshole (a baby, to the uninitiated). But come on: we all know women who can be defined as confident and self-sufficient, but at the end of the day all they really want is a man who is capable of taking care of them. Well to that, I say: stretch your boundaries a little! And with the hopes that women everywhere will learn to appreciate the great things having a metrosexual boyfriend provides (honest and knowledgeable input on hair, clothes, shoes, etc.; a date to the ballet, opera, orchestra, theater, museum; a man who can clean up after himself), and with the hopes that men everywhere will start to realize the strategic advantage of being a metrosexual (see above), here is my list of ways to spot a metrosexual:

1) He always dresses better than you do.

2) He own more "products" than you do.

3) When you run to the mall together, he asks you if you want to browse the shoe department and helps you pick out the perfect new pair.

4) Even his lazy day "sweatpants" are made of fitted cotton.

5) He paid more for his fancy deodorant than you did for everything in your medicine cabinet...but he smells damn good!

6) He refuses to wear gloves, even on the coldest day of the year, if they do not match his coat.

7) He leaves the bathroom as clean as he found it.

8) He gives other men tips on how to be a good metrosexual.

Metrophobic Blog

9) He says things like, "Hey, you wanna come join me in the living room and watch 'Sex and the City' while I knit?" and really means it.

10) Most importantly of all though, he is a good listener, a great friend, and supports you in everything you do. So what if his girl is more successful than he is? Who doesn't want a sugar momma? ;)

Do You Fake It?

2006-02-17T13:55:00.000-06:00

Yesterday morning when I got to work, I found a survey in my email inbox. It was from the VP for Human Relations, and it was all about employee experience and satisfaction. I thought, "Perfect! A way to get out of 'working' for a few minutes!", and set out to fill in the little bubbles on the survey, letting my employer know whether I Strongly Agreed, Agreed, Neither Agreed nor Disagreed, Disagreed, or Strongly Disagreed with each statement presented to me.

The survey was pretty run-of-the-mill for a while. I answered basic quetions like, "I feel like I am a part of the university community" and "I have school spirit". But as I got further and further into the 20-minute survey, it actually turned out to be pretty fun!!!

I ran into statements like, "My boss is annoying," to which I gleefully answered STRONGLY AGREE. For the statement, "I feel like I must fake a good mood when I am at work," I also answered STRONGLY AGREE. For all kinds of statements ranging from "I feel like I cannot be myself at work" to "I enjoy the company of my co-workers," I answered emphatic STRONGLY AGREE or STRONGLY DISAGREE answers. Soon I started getting to statements like "I plan on leaving this job soon" and "I am only doing this job for the short-term for the money, and I plan on finding new employment within the next 6-12 months." I thought, "Aha! This survey was written with me in mind!" It's too bad the statements were all on the same page, or I would have assumed they were feeding me leading statements and calculating which questions to ask me next, kind of like the GRE.

All in all, it was a fun survey to fill out because I got to make my department sound as bad as it is, and I got to anonymously pan my supervisor and coworkers. I was disappointed that I couldn't do more. In my opinion, there should have been room for the survey takers to add one final statement of their own before they signed off. Mine would have read:

"This job and my coworkers suck. My supervisors are either incompetent or unreasonable. I am only here because I need a job for a few more months before I leave for grad school. When I leave, I plan on stealing school supplies for myself and fire-bombing the building."

To which I would have answered: STRONGLY AGREE

The Black Hole

2006-02-06T15:16:00.000-06:00

Today, following weeks and weeks of frustratingly boring days at work, and with the prospect of nothing but more boring weeks ahead, I decided it was time for an entry about boredom. For most of us, there is nothing worse than being bored. I can’t stand having all the time in the world, but nothing to fill it with. Actually, most days I wish I had the luxury of boredom: the freedom to do whatever you want, but no desire to do it. Time stretched out in front of you, but absolutely no tinkling of motivation whatsoever. It sounds like paradise on those days when I scramble to get to work on time, then spend the rest of the day running from work to class to dinners or appointments or errands or whatever else needs to get done. Once you get on a roll, it’s easy to stay focused and cram as many things as possible into your day. But once you hit the boredom skids…it’s over. No matter how many amusing movies you could be watching, no matter how many great books sit tantalizingly on the shelf, no matter how large the stack of unread magazines looms (issues backed up to October, at last glance)…once boredom strikes there is nothing for it.

Let’s face it: it’s not like I ever really have NOTHING to do. But really, how many excuses can you make for not cleaning the bathroom before you have to just give up and admit that you were really waiting for the room to disappear entirely. Boredom never really hinges on a lack of things to do, but more on the lack of urgency to do them. I mean, come on: who else is going to know that I still need to clean the hairs out of my hairbrush? No one!!! But will any amount of boredom induce me to do it? Not likely.

The other problem I have with boredom is that when I’m on my own time, I don’t have time to be bored. But when I’m working, I am bored all day. Sure, once in a while some uppity faculty member wants me to do something that a) they should have been doing themselves, or b) should have been done 3 weeks ago but they failed to mention it until now. But for the most part, I sit here doing squiggly sudokus in a file folder secretly hoping they’ll catch me at it and fire me so I can get a nice, busy, data entry job and stay busy for the next six months until I head off to grad school—a place where, I was assured by the program coordinators, they will work me so hard I will barely have time to sleep, let alone do anything else. (Just an aside: unless this grad program is the boot camp of grad programs, I am fully expecting it to be the black hole of time suckage that the grad programs I am familiar with seem to be.)

I’m not sure if what I’m trying to say is making any sense: basically, I am annoyed by the fact that I am forced to spend the majority of my waking hours in a place that actually promotes sitting silently at your desk, when I have so many other things piling up at home that would really rather be taking care of instead. It’s like ritually-enforced boredom, and I think that’s on the international list of outlawed forms of torture. The difference is that I get paid to endure it.

The other odd thing about boredom is that it can happen to anyone, anywhere. My sis just emailed me from Costa Rica, where she has been living for the past several months, to tell me that she really feels guilty about complaining, but running around in bikinis, surfing, lying on the beach, and hanging out in bars or internet cafes 24 hours a day gets really old. She says this as she mentions that between the hours of 10 and 2 it is too hot to go outside so she usually ends up taking a nap. Rough life!!! It’s hard to feel sorry for her when I have a space heater running full blast under my desk all day just so my fingers stay thawed enough to type, but I do understand how awful it is to be bored, especially in the middle of a life that should be exciting and fun.

OK, sadly enough, even writing a blog about boredom has become boring. Time to go make up some work for myself!

Just Eat It!

2006-02-03T09:46:00.000-06:00

Now is that strange time of year when it's still snowing and cold outside, but stores are turning over their merchandise and catalogs are sprouting new spring clothes. Magazines are shouting tips on how to get bikini-ready for the summer from their covers, and stores are proudly displaying this year's crop of skimpy swimwear for women to scurry past while trying to pretend they didn't see them. With all of this going on, it should come as no surprise that people's thoughts are becoming more focused on what they eat as a way of getting back into summer shape. (And we all know that 66% of the adults in this country should be thinking about this more often!) But it's when it becomes an obsession, or when eating becomes shameful, that it starts to bother me.

For most women I know, it seems that eating anything that is not a carrot stick should be avoided and if not, a big deal should be made about eating it. Case in point: we have a woman retiring from our office today. There is a giant platter of pastries, scones, muffins, cookies, etc. in the center of the office. All morning I have been treated to the sight of women coming through the office, then stopping to admire the treats. Typical conversations are:

"Ooh! Look at all these treats! They look so good!"
"Please, help yourself."
"Oh no, I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to eat anything for the rest of the day!"

OR

"Ooh! Look at all these treats! They look so good!"
"Please, help yourself."
"Oh sure, and throw my diet completely out the window."

OR

"Ooh! Look at all these treats! They look so good!"
"Please, help yourself."
"Oh gosh, they're so big. I couldn't possibly eat the whole thing. I'll just cut it in half."
"Go ahead. There is a knife right there."

OR

"Ooh! Look at all these treats! They look so good!"
"Please, help yourself."
"Oh gosh, they're so big. I couldn't possibly eat the whole thing. I'll just cut it in half."
"Yes, that's what everyone is doing."
"Well I haven't eaten anything sugary all week so I deserve this."

OR

"It's a good thing I worked out last night or I really wouldn't be able to do this."

OR

"Well, it does have almonds on the top. I guess I can at least pretend it has some sort of food value."

And on and on, and so forth and so forth, ad nauseum. It gets pretty old pretty quickly to have to sit here listening to these women* mull over their decisions out loud and be expected to commiserate with them about all the dilemmas of being faced with the fatty, sugary enemy. Here's an idea: if you want a bleeping donut, just eat one! Don't wait for justification from others, don't stand around defending your decision to eat, don't draw others into your pathetic little obsession with appearing to care about what you put in your body when your ass has clearly been the beneficiary of many more donuts than you would have us believe. How about next time, just take a donut--take a whole one even--and go back to your office! Easy as that! And leave me out of it!!!

And please, if you're going to make a big deal about only taking half a donut, don't come back 20 minutes later for the other half!!!

*Yes, they are all women: as soon as the men in the building hear about treats in the main office, they dash in and feed like they haven't eaten in a month.

My Brother, the Assassin

2006-01-20T10:43:00.000-06:00

Apart from the horror of having to return to work after a three-day weekend, knowing that I don't get another scheduled day off for two months, this has been a pretty tame week...

Well, that's not entirely true. I got to go tango-ing with Chris on Monday, which is always fun. I particularly enjoyed the man in the parking lot who said he needed bus money to get to Blaine. He even provided us with the make, model and year of the car he drives, but which isn't working right now. Oh yes, and he mentioned that he is a recent transplant from Illinois and he gave us his job history too. My ass. I guess men who are new to town, are gainfully employed, and who would NEVER be caught taking a bus if it weren't for the fact that their luxury car broke down are more likely to get money handed to them by complete strangers. I'll have to try that sometime.

Wednesday night I got to go see my short films being shown at the local independent film showcase, so that was fun. There were some other funny shorts, and one dud, but overall it was a fun evening.

Last night was my parents' joint birthday party. Born three years and one day apart was very convenient! The highlight of the evening had to have been when my brother, a sophomore in high school, whipped out copies of the applications into his little assassin group. Apparently this group has grown so popular that they have over 100 participants this semester. Check out their constitution for some laughs: Assassin Constitution. These kids are very serious...you even have to fill out an application and respond to essay questions such as: "If you are to become a member of the NLA, what will you bring to the group?" Hope this adds a chuckle to your day. :)

Dancing the Night Away

2006-01-12T12:12:00.000-06:00

The other night was another first for me--I had my first ballroom dancing lesson. Chris has done ballroom dancing for years, but my dance training has been limited to the more jazzy stuff...or more specifically, whatever kind of dancing I needed to know in order to pass muster onstage. Last year I started taking dance classes with a good friend of mine on Saturday mornings, and afterward we would go out to lunch. Our goal was to eat our way down Hennepin Avenue, trying out a new restaurant each week. Unfortunately, we eventually stopped going to dance class but kept going out to eat, which entirely defeated the purpose so we stopped that too.

Anyway, this was my first time taking actual ballroom lessons. Chris chose Argentine Tango, and we headed off to lovely Loring Park to dance our little feet off.

There were several things I noticed when we first entered the dance studio. The first was that the place seemed less like a dance studio and more like an eclectic little club. There was a corner full of large, cushy armchairs and couches, with little coffee tables sitting here and there. The next thing I noticed was that the people who were there for lessons were not the typical dancers you see at other studios: you know, the pretentious, look-at-me-I-am-so-hot people. These people ranged in age from high school kids to senior citizens. Except for two older women, everyone else was there with a partner. These lucky two were forced to dance with the instructor several times during the class as examples for us all. (Note to self: Don't go to dance class without a partner unless you know what you're doing, or you will be forced to show off your clumsiness in front of the entire class as an example of what NOT to do!)

The class overall was pretty good. The instructor covered the basics and kept moving on to new things quickly enough so that I didn't get bored. The highlight of the evening had to have been when he made us switch partners and I ended up with an elderly Eastern European man who apparently didn't have knees because I never saw them bend. He also had this vacant stare (was it intense concentration?) and kept lurching from side to side. It was a bit like dancing with Frankenstein. I was SOOOO happy when I got to switch back to Chris because he is a VERY good dancer (even though he steps on my toes once in a while). :)

So now we will be taking ballroom dancing lessons together and I want to add rock climbing lessons to the mix too because I'm the kind of person who likes to know what I'm doing, rather than just walk up to a wall and try to scale it. It should all be fun. I'll just have to manage to squeeze in my pre-calc coursework somewhere along the line.

209 Bottles of Beer on the Wall...

2006-01-03T14:03:00.000-06:00

Well, it's Tuesday and I'm back at work after a week and a half of staying up until 4:30 in the morning, sleeping past noon, and eating whenever I darn well felt like it! But now that i'm back to facing reality, I am...what else? Pissing my time away writing a blog. I figure I'm allowed at least one day to ease back into things, right?

Mostly I'm just imagining being back on my oh-so-comfy new couch that I bought right before Christmas...all other chairs in the place are jealous. I am also trying to figure out the right way to tell my boss that I'm leaving for grad school in a way that will lessen the frantic aftereffects that I will be forced to put up with. I would have liked to just give her a two-week notice next July and then slip off without any more details (like every good employee, right?) but I messed up and mentioned that I had applied to schools a few weeks ago and now everyone in the department is waiting to hear about whether or not I will be leaving.

I am also reminiscing about the peaceful Christmas and New Years spent at home with my quiet, well-behaved family. HA! Chris really kept it polite when he talked about the zoo that my parents' house is during any holiday. Yes, the family throws things. A lot. Hey, it's easier than actually standing up and walking things over to people. Faster than passing things down an assembly line, too. No one has successfully tossed my mother's wedding-china gravy boat across the dining room yet, but those boys have plenty of years' worth of mischief left in them. ;) All in all, Chris was quite a trooper. He even put up with manning the garbage bag for wrapping paper during the present-opening melee and weathered through 16 people pelting him with balls of paper from all sides with a smile on his face. AND, to prove what a great guy he is, he even endured #12 having a tantrum in the chair next to him at the dinner table and agreed to sit next to her at dinner the next day too when she proclaimed that ham and au gratin potatoes were finger foods.

Chris was not, however, present on New Year's Day when #12 raised a few eyebrows by proudly proclaiming that her 'secret Mario Kart weapon' was her ginormous farts. Nor was he there when #6 serenaded us all with his new-found talent: playing recognizable tunes on his harmonica. With his nose. And he certainly wasn't around when my mother proclaimed, dreamy-eyed, that it was a good thing I didn't go to graduate school THIS year because then I would never have met Chris! Yes, my mother is a complete sap. And I love her to bits, but she is also something of a ditz. When my father and I were discussing how I could pay for grad school, she sat there looking confused for a while and then stated (a bit too proudly, I think): "Huh. Well what do I know about this stuff? It's just numbers!" Spoken like a true blond. Except she has dark hair. My dad just sighed. I'm not trying to make fun of my mother, but it is interesting to see who has inherited her ditzy, helpless female tendencies: My sister #3, my sister #4, my brother #8, and my sister, #12. Occassionally #11, but I think that is due more to the fact that she has selective hearing loss.

OK, so this post is a bit of a ramble but mostly I wanted to say that I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays and is ready for the year ahead. As for me: I'm already counting down the days until August 1st. 209 to go!!!

I MADE IT!!!!!

2005-12-24T22:06:00.000-06:00

Hello all!!! Sorry for the delay in getting this up here, but I've been kind of busy preparing for a little thing called, oh...Christmas! I just got back from Christmas Eve dinner at the folks' place, and aside from a major meltdown by the little girl and dodging the rock-hard dinner roll pellets, it was rather enjoyable. Chris may have a different opinion on the matter, but he managed to smile his way through it. We'll see if he's still smiling after the main festivities tomorrow...

Anyway, on to the important stuff. On Thursday, my last work day of the year, I received the best Christmas present I could get: An email announcement offering me admission to the grad program I was DYING to get into AND a partial scholarship!!! I'm still grinning. And naturally, Chris was kind enough to take me out to lunch to celebrate. It's nice having a boyfriend who works on the same campus. :) I am happier than I have been in a long time now that all the hard work I have been doing the past few years seems to be paying off. I wasn't sure I even stood a chance to get in, considering that last year they had spots for 15 students but not enough qualified applicants applied so they only admitted 10. Slim odds. But I did it! And I am so excited that I hope you'll forgive me for bragging about it slightly!!!

Of course my Mom's first thought, after being told I would be moving out east in 9 months, was: "Oh no! And you might not make it back here for Christmas next year! And the house is a mess...this could be your last Christmas at home and you'll always have memories of it being a MESS here!!!!" I thought she was going to cry. And I didn't think it would make her feel better to say that I grew up in her house and if I actually saw it CLEAN I would keel over in shock. But I don't blame her. You try keeping a house clean with 12 kids running around!!!

So there, that's the news. I made it into the long shot grad program that I have been dreaming of getting into and now I don't have to spend my Christmas vacation as a nervous wreck while I wait to hear about the results of my application. Another nice benefit is that this will be my last Minnesota winter...ever!!! Nothing beats that!!!

Tips for Grad Students

2005-12-16T15:40:00.000-06:00

A lot of people use blogs almost as a form of therapy: you vent your frustrations, air your opinions, work through problems as you type them out...so in the spirit of group therapy, and since ownership of the problem is the first step toward recovery, I would like to begin this blog with the following statement, modelled after everyone's favorite 12-step group therapy program:

I am a secretary.

There. I said it. Those four hated words that I am loathe to own up to. Technically, my title is "Senior Office Specialist". But who are we kidding? I am a secretary. Granted, I am a secretary primarily because I can take all the free classes I want at the U. Hell, I could earn a decent living and work my way through grad school for free if I wanted to.

But that's not the real point of this blog. The first point was that I am a secretary (for shame!) and the second point is that I have learned quite a few things about the secretaries in graduate programs that I think every grad student or potential grad student should consider. What follows is a list of DOs and DON'Ts when dealing with secretaries that every grad student should memorize.

DO introduce yourself. Whether you're on the phone or stopping by in person, always let us know who you are. Chances are we have been staring at your name since the day you sent in your application, so it's not like we're completely clueless. And we want to know who you are...really! Plus, we can help you better if we know who you are because we will know your situation (you know, MA or PhD?). Besides, it's just good manners!

DON'T act entitled. YOU may think you're very important, but in reality: you're just a grad student. You're not entitled to anything. In fact, what we would really prefer is if you would just send in your tuition check and then not bother us any more. But if you MUST bother us...

DO smile and say thank you. Really. That's all it takes. And next time, we will be more inclined to be helpful.

DON'T get angry at the secretaries. This may sound like an obvious one, but it happens more than you would think. Most angry people are...surprise! APPLICANTS! A word to the wise: If you are applying to a department, try not to call in with annoying questions all the time. Asking when you will be notified about admissions decisions is a legitimate question. Asking for help figuring out how to fill in your GPA scores is NOT. (Because it makes you look stupid.) But back to the angry thing: don't give the secretaries attitude because believe it or not, admissions committees have been known to ask us if any applicants have been giving us a hard time! NO ONE wants to admit someone who will be a problem for the next couple of years!

DO bring in treats. Happy secretaries are helpful secretaries. Besides, we're just as poor as you are.

DON'T wait until the last minute to request help. Ever hear the phrase "A lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part?" Learn it. Live it.

DO get to know your secretaries before a crisis. That way if you DO have a last-minute request, we will be more likely to care.

And finally, please DO remember that just because we're secretaries NOW, it doesn't mean that we don't have more degrees than you, more work experience, and more plans for our future. Unless your secretary is about 60 years old, it's probably safe to assume that he/she is only there temporarily and really just wants to get out of there as much as you do!!!!!

I Found the Fountain of Youth!!!

2005-12-09T11:00:00.000-06:00

I recently had a slightly disturbing conversation with my five-year old sister. Now, before I tell you about the conversation I have to give you a little bit of background. I am the second of 12 children. "J" is the youngest. Keeping track of that many people is a confusing business for most people, let alone a five-year old who doesn't understand the concept of time more than to know that a week is a bunch of days strung together. Another important factor for this conversation: my older sister is married with two children. Number 3 just got married in August.

Our conversation started like this:

J: Do you know what M--- (Number 5) told me? She said she was older than everyone, even Number 3!
ME: Well that's just silly! You know she's only older than the boys and you!
J: I know! She's so crazy!
ME: Well, do you know how old I am?
J: (confused look on face) Umm...85?
(Keep in mind that just last week she thought I was 150. So I guess this is an improvement.)
ME: No! I'm 27. I am older than everyone except for Number 1.
J: Yeah, and Number 3 is older than you too.
ME: Uh...no she isn't.
J: Yes she is. She's married!
ME: Uh...so?
J: SO...she's older!
ME: Wait a second, so she used to be younger than me, but now that she got married, she's older?
J: (as if I'm stupid) Yes.
ME: So...what happens if I don't get married? I get to stay 27 forever?
J: (boggled by that possibility, so chooses to skirt the question) Well, you HAVE to get married!
ME: Oh yeah? Why is that?
J: So you can have KIDS, duh!

So there you have it, folks. The secret to not getting old, apparently, is to not get married. And hey, it works out great because if, like me, you have no desire for children you can stay as young as you want! (Although J insists that I "have to get married because I have to grow up sometime".)

BUT, if you ever want to feel old, you can do what I did and check out the alumni notes on your high school's web page. I haven't checked them out for a while, but DAMN! There are a lot of people I used to go to school with who are now married and on their second and third kids already! Nothing makes you feel old like knowing that you are no longer a part of the "young" generation. Although...if you look at it the other way, nothing can make you feel old like knowing that you're married with kids if you ask me!

Stop the Madness!!!

2005-12-06T22:12:00.000-06:00

Well, it's that time of year again. The cheery season in the midst of all the snow and cold. The time of year that everyone looks forward to, that families come together for, that children dream about all year long. Time for snowflake decorations and Christmas lights, pine trees and egg nog, Secret Santas and...Mannheim Steamroller! NOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo!!!

For those of you not familiar with this most obnoxious of Christmas music groups, consider this: Mannheim Steamroller is to good music what 'Glitter' is to classical cinema. And for those of you who are not good at figuring out analogies (or are simply unfamiliar with Mariah Carey's film oeuvre, consider this instead: listening to Mannheim Steamroller forcefully bang out their synthesized Christmas tunes is about as pleasant as sticking your face (or other sensitive body parts) into a garbage disposal. It makes you want to rip off your ears and feed them to the nearest dog just to make the sound stop. They are the adult equivalent to the Grinch.

Mannheim Steamroller ruins Christmas.

I do not make that claim lightly. Nor do I pretend to be an expert on music, but my mother is a musician and taught us all at a very young age to appreciate both classical and modern composers as well as how to play our own instruments, so I would like to think that I am slightly more attuned to musical nuances than maybe the casual listener. Unless of course you happen to be from such hallowed cities as Wichita, KS; Des Moines, IA; or Omaha, NE...all stops on the mighty Mannheim Steamroller Christmas tour! And yes, sadly, so is St. Paul, MN. But us Minneapolitans know that St. Paul is like the poor relation that must be tolerated for charity's sake, so we forgive them their cultural faux pas from time to time.

No, I stand by my claim that Mannheim Steamroller ruins Christmas not merely because of my finely tuned ear (greatness recognizes greatness in others), but because I have experienced it. It has actually happened. Several times. I know firsthand because my grandmother LOVES Mannheim Steamroller and sends my mother their CDs whenever a new one comes out. My mother, ever the obedient daughter from across another state, feels it is her duty to play Mannheim Steamroller Christmas CDs incessantly as the holiday approaches because the only other CD in her Christmas collection is a Patsy Cline Christmas CD, and I think my father "accidentally" broke that one a few years ago.

So now we have the relentless thrumming of Mannheim Steamroller pounding its rhythm into our ears, engraving itself onto our memories, and even inducing our heartbeats to adopt its sometimes frenzied pace. Christmas has been ruined on several occasions because such a corporal invasion eventually leads to nausea and vomiting, and the line stretching from the bathroom, across the hall, and down the stairs is really no cause for celebration.

Take my word for it. Save yourselves. But if you refuse to spend a year without inflicting this horror upon your own ears, please have mercy on your fellow humans and use headphones. Or better yet, a soundproof box. On behalf of everyone around you, THANK YOU.

My Nightmare is Here

2005-12-06T09:06:00.000-06:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know what you all are thinking. Winter isn't SO bad! We survive it every year, and by summer the memory of the cold and wind and snow is like a long-ago bad dream. Besides, we're all suffering along with you, so quit your complaining!

To which I reply: piss off and get out of my way. You're blocking the heat.

I have always hated winter. HATED it. There is not a single, solitary thing I enjoy about winter. Not even the snow. From indoors. Under a blanket. With a roaring fire and hot chocolate. I hate it. Many Minnesotans say that they could never live anywhere else because they like the change of seasons. They actually like to go from weeks of high-humidity, 85-degree heat, through the week of dead leaves and right on into 6 months of frigid temperatures, ice-caked cars, and friends who can only be recognized by their signature choice of headgear.

To them, I say: "You can have it!....Um...As soon as I get out of here."

But while I'm here, I try to make myself as comfortable as possible. I drape every seat in my apartment with cozy blankets just waiting to be wrapped around me. I light candles in warm scents. I even insulate my living room windows with plastic wrap to keep out the cold. I bundle up like the best of them when I go outside, and once I get to work I keep my space heater blasting all day long.

Which brings me to my current dilemna:

Here I sit at work, really quite comfortable behind my desk with a little plastic lump throwing its furnace-like heat over me like the best blanket ever invented. I do my work! I'm industrious! I smile at people! I'm chatty! My fingers skip over the keyboard like they have never been cold in their lives! But wait...what's this? I have to go to the bathroom? NOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo!!! I don't want to leave my little cocoon! If I get up I'll just get cold again and my knees will take an hour to heat up again! PLEASE don't make me get up, PLEASE! I promise to drink less water next time! I promise never to complain about sitting behind a desk again! I LOVE it here! Just please don't make me move!

And there you have it. This is my current problem. You see how I could stretch that out into this long blog? It's called procrastination, and I am VERY skilled at it, my friend.

Check back next week. I may still be here.

Say WHAT?!?

2005-11-23T10:00:00.000-06:00

Wow. I just had the most unfortunate encounter with Fancy Pants. How many people can honestly say that they have had an entire conversation with their supervisor in which the supervisor converses only in a southern accent and baby-talk? This is made even worse by the fact that Fancy Pants is NOT from the south. She's from Minnesota, and when she speaks in her normal voice, she has one of those horrible Minnesotan accents that make you want to rip out your ears and stuff them down her throat.

Not that I'm a violent person, mind you. Although I do occassionally wonder why no one has tried to assasinate Bush yet (and if you do, I'll visit you in jail), I normally don't wish harm to anyone. But I think that might have more to do with my squeamishness than anything else. I mean, I'm the kind of person who doesn't like to kill bugs (but believe me, I do want them dead) simply because I don't like that squish and that crunch and...EWWWW!!! That's why over the years I have developed my own methods for killing the things: there's the usual giant book (phone books work well, or dictionaries), you can cook them with a hairdryer (but watch out for the spiders that jump), spray them with Windex until they die a toxic death, douse them with the water sprayer on the kitchen sink, or my favorite: spray them with hairspray until well-coated, then wait until it hardens and they are trapped in a floral-smelling cocoon.

Well, this is turning out to be a rather morbid blog. I should lighten it up with some good news. How about the fact that I did end up getting a letter of recommendation from my third person, and as of this morning (according to the application status page at Carnegie Mellon) all of my materials are in!!!

And how about the fact that today is the last work day of the week and I have a four-day weekend just around the corner!!!

And how about the fact that my good friend Jen is moving back to St. Paul next week and we're all getting together to celebrate that and Betsy's new job!!!

See? That's much better (but probably not as entertaining) as a list of how to kill bugs. So if you have any methods that I haven't tried, please let me know!!!

I am so f*cked!

2005-11-16T08:51:00.000-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I reached a level of frustration with my applications that I didn't know was possible. After months of researching schools, choosing programs, and then sitting down to submit the best possible application, I thought I was nearly finished. I mean hey: I wrote my admissions essays, I filled out the application form, I ordered transcripts and GRE scores, and I enlisted three people to write me letters of recommendation. All my pieces are in place except for that final, elusive letter that I need to get from one person. Sure, she was out of town getting married last week but she has had plenty of time to fill out the little recommendation form and write a short letter for me, right? RIGHT? I mean, she did tell me that she would do this for me so it's not like this request came out of the blue.

That's why it was a little puzzling to me when I tried to call her on Monday (like she asked me to) to talk to her about my letter and her assistant told me that "she was on the other line". Now I used to work for this woman, and I know that "on the other line" really means that she just didn't want to take the call. That's fine. I have email, she has email. So I sent her an email. Her reply read like this:

D,
You write the letter, fax it and I'll sign it.
I leave for my honeymoom Friday and I am under several deadlines.
Keep it clean and simple.

Uh...OK. WTF?!?!? And then 5 minutes later, another email from her:

D,
I will try to get this done beofre I leave but I can't make any promises.
I printed out the recommendation for Carnegie Mellon, so once yu do the letters, send them by e-mail and I can print onto letterhead and send them from here.

OK, so now she can maybe get my letters done...but maybe not. Ooh! The tension is building!!!

Then 9 minutes later, another email from her:

D,
Give me the mailing addresses for both schools and to who's attention.
I want to help you out and will do the best I can. Maybe not that in depth but a recommendation nontheless.

Good grief! So is she or is she not going to write these things herself?!? And is she or is she not going to get them done at all?!? And then 3 hours later, after telling her that I will drop my signed waiver forms off at her office after work, she sends this email:

D,
The building closes at 6:00PM and opens at 7:00AM.
I can fill out the 2 forms here just let me know where to send them.

So now she CAN fill out the forms for me, but she can't read the 3 emails I sent her telling her the exact addresses she needs to send the letters to, or read the form she needs to fill out which also tells her where she needs to send these things!!!

Now I'm just kind of in recommendation letter limbo. I could get someone else to write a letter for me, but I have letters from profs already, and since this woman runs one of the top 2 talent agencies in the Twin Cities, she is the perfect resource for a good letter. And now if she doesn't get the letter done before she leaves on her honeymoon, I will have to scramble to find someone who can write me a letter before Thanksgiving break next week...

*breathe*

It's not that bad, right? One flakey letter of recommendation won't jeopardize my chances of getting into one of the top schools in the country, right? I mean, it's not like you need to be absolutely PERFECT to be accepted, right? RIGHT?

Oh well, it's kind of out of my hands now...

On a lighter note, I get my transferred films back next Tuesday so I get to spend a week editing those together. Should be fun!

Y! Now in 3-D!

2005-11-14T10:28:00.000-06:00

Yesssssssssssssss!!!! I am now officially done with my Carnegie Mellon app and to celebrate I took last Friday off to give myself a much-deserved long weekend. Along with sleeping in, eating junk food and catching a flick here and there (check out Miranda July's 'Me and You and Everyone We Know'), Chris and I ventured out to see a new show at the Suburban World Theater in Uptown. I had never been to this theater before, but it is unlike any I have ever been to. It is typically rented out to groups and businesses for seminars or parties (the closing night party of the TC International Film Fest was held there this year), so I don't usually notice when there is an actual show going on. Be sure to check out the interior photos on the website and you will get an idea of how unusual this theater is.

Anyway, we saw 'The Y Show' on Friday night. The show is new and different because it combines live theater, film, and audience participation. The show was loosely based around a plot involving a therapist and her video counterpart who speaks to her through her dreams about social issues. The audience gets to watch these videos (complete with 3-D graphics) and answer questions or offer comments along the way by using handheld devices that allowed you to text message your responses, or press the appropriate number to answer questions. It was neat to see what other people's responses were, and to be able to involve yourself. But from the description of the show, I was expecting to be able to influence the outcome of events and that is not what happened. It was more like taking a survey of things and seeing everyone's responses, which was cool but I wish they would have taken it a little farther.

I was interested in the show primarily because my senior thesis was on audience interactivity and the potential development of new kinds of interactive film. This show is the first step towards developing films like that, and it shows that the handheld thing works. And to be honest, the idea of being able to see Chris in 3-D glasses was kind of fun!

What an attractive couple! ;-)

So if anyone is interested in a different and fun way to spend an evening, check out the show! They have a full bar right in the house, plus they give away chocolates. You can even stick around after the show to discuss the issues with the cast (if that's your thing). Or you can do what Chris and I did and hurry home for some Phish Food ice cream! YUM!

Lone Survivor

2005-11-10T09:02:00.000-06:00

I haven't written for a while because I've been so bogged down with classes and grad apps that I just haven't had much to say that would be worth reading lately. But this morning I got some really sad news so I feel compelled to write...

My office friend, Betsy, just told me this morning that she has been offered a better position elsewhere on campus, and she will be leaving in two weeks. I will be left to deal with all the Educational Psuchology ass clowns by myself. There used to be four of us but they wrongly fired Greta, Jennifer quit, and now Betsy is leaving. After Greta left about 7 months ago, they brought in an idiot who doesn't know how to use a printer and spends her days saying "I don't know! I don't know!" to people who come into the office asking questions she's supposed to answer. After Jennifer left, they replaced her with a girl who prefers to spend her time doing cross-stitching and discussing the state of her composte heap. (No offense to anyone who enjoys cross-stitching or watching their food waste decompose, but there are few things that send shudders through my body more than arts & crafts, gardening, cats, children, the State Fair, the Renaissance Festival, cats, recipes, country music, SUVs, poor hygiene, cats, Republicans, giant pictures of the Virgin Mary, people planning huge weddings, large groups of teenage girls, butt-cleavage, cats, too much perfume, ignorance, selfishness, stupidity, laziness, poor manners, and...cats.)

But I digress.

I was talking about the work situation and the fact that after Betsy leaves, I will be left to deal with the sucky world of Ed Psuch by myself, unable to commiserate with anyone. Let me give you a better idea of what I'm dealing with here:

Name: Fancy Pants
Position: Two-Faced Mealy-Mouth (or: my immediate supervisor)
Enjoys: digging in ears with fingers, applying lipstick somewhere near lips, wearing shoulderpads, staring at people during staff meetings, massaging temples when confused, laughing nervously at nothing, chewing with mouth open, murmuring and squeaking to approximate speech, reprimanding staff for working really hard but not smiling while doing it, stepping out of office, going back into office, stepping out of office, going back into office, stepping out of office, going back into office, stepping out of office, going back into office

Name: Chatty Kathy
Position: Department Busybody
Enjoys: catching up on the most minute details of everyone's life, telling stories
*I actually like Chatty Kathy, but answering personal details too early in the morning can take its toll.

Name: Tensionball
Position: Faculty Mother Hen (or: my former immediate supervisor)
Enjoys: spending 20 minutes explaining how to perform a simple task she could have done herself in 30 seconds, freaking out about unimportant details, smoking, taking the elevator up one flight of stairs, getting her hair and bangs permed, sounding out of breath all the time, coddling the faculty

Name: Dragon Lady
Position: Big Cheese
Enjoys: spinning reprimanding conversations to make it sound like she is concerned about you and that you can be a hero by not talking to other staff or faculty, smiling more, getting to work no more than 2 seconds late, attending all staff meetings, and updating the publications board!, taking her glasses off, putting her glasses on, taking her glasses off, putting her glasses on, taking her glasses off, putting her glasses on, taking her glasses off, putting her glasses on

Name: Giggles
Position: Information Black Hole
Enjoys: giggling, saying "I don't know", directing visitors to the wrong people, getting confused by basic office equipment

Name: Sweety McNice
Position: Agreeable-ness Mascot
Enjoys: arts & crafts, gardening, sewing, helpful conversations, setting world record for longest hair

Name: The Faculty
Position: Duh
Enjoy: Among the items mentioned in my last blog, the faculty enjoy trying to send faxes with the scanner.

And there you have it. These are the people I get to deal with day in and day out. Sometimes the only way to get through the days here is to hash over things with Betsy--it keeps us both sane. I am very happy that she got this new position because she will be happier over there and it is directly related to what she is in grad school for. But now am the lone survivor here and the only thing that will help is to keep telling myself that I will be gone in 9 months for grad school. Not that it's completely depressing, but I have a feeling that without a regular human outlet to vent to, the rest of you are going to be hearing a lot more about the work situation in my blog! I think to really appreciate the comedy of this place, I should install a webcam and broadcast the inanity of the situation but I'm sure I would be sued for violation of privacy rights or something. I don't know why--who wouldn't want to be on their own real-life version of 'The Office'?

Ode to University Faculty

2005-10-28T14:48:00.000-05:00

All right, so my request for film topics yielded no results...except for one from Chris's mother, which was actually quite good. I may end up modifying it a bit since I'm not too sure I will have much time to think for myself this weekend!

And since I have nothing else to report, I have decided to dedicate this blog to all the faculty of my department who are by turn aggravating, perplexing, rage-inducing, and sometimes just plain rude. Who would want to work anywhere else? The following is a list of constants I have discovered about faculty members. Feel free to add your own!

1) If they send you an important document as an attachment to an email, they will invariably forget to attach it.

2) The professor who fills your inbox with emails titled "Urgent Request #53!!!" will be the same professor who never answers your emails because "he gets so many emails he doesn't have time to respond to them all".

3) There is no task too menial for a professor to ask you to do for them. This includes taking digital photos of their dog's pedicure so they can email them to friends.

4) If you volunteer to attend faculty meetings because you are mildly interested in what goes on there and hey, it beats sitting at your desk being bored...the faculty will assume you are only there so that they can give you extra work. They also expect you to start providing coffee and donuts. (Note: NEVER volunteer to attend faculty meetings!)

5) The longer a professor has had tenure, the worse his/her writing is. And these people still get published.

6) If a faculty member sends you an email request with clear instructions on how to proceed, and asks that you take care of it RIGHT AWAY...they will then come back the next day saying they hope you didn't do it right away because they made a crucial mistake and need the documents back from the mail/students/shredder.

7) If a faculty member sends you an urgent request for supplies that they need TOMORROW AT THE LATEST and you drop everything to spend an hour finding exactly what they want and making phone calls to be sure it gets here on time...they will not come pick it up for at least a week.

8) If the department is hosting a famous guest speaker lecture, the faculty will be too busy to attend. If the department is hosting a famous guest speaker lecture with free food, they will show up in droves. (Some things you never grow out of!)

OK, I would add more but I have to get out a dolly and cart a faculty member's boxes of forms across campus before the deadline 20 minutes from now. So I guess that makes #9:

9) If a faculty member has 6 months to complete a project and compile their information, they will spend 5 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days with their thumbs up their asses before they step up and take care of it. They will then expect the same level of frantic action from you and expect you to cart the boxes across campus/overnight them/drop them off on your way home.

P.S. While I was typing that out I got a call from the above faculty member asking me if I could come down to her office and STAPLE HER PAPERS FOR HER because she is too close to the deadline to do it herself. I think this falls under #3.

Have I ever mentioned before that I need a new job? :)

Brain Dead

2005-10-25T14:34:00.000-05:00

Yeah, yeah...I know I haven't posted anything for a while (as some people were kind enough to point out to me). Actually, I started writing stuff about three times today but lost interest in myself halfway through. And if I'm losing interest in what I'm typing while I'm typing it...how can I expect it to keep you awake?

So I decided to offer up a contest:

I need to make a film as a final project for class, and it's going to have a public showing so it has to be good. Problem is, I can't quite come up with a fun enough idea to warrant spending inordinate amounts of time and money to finish. That's where you come in, my friendly readers! I'm calling on people to send me ideas for a film short. If I choose yours, I'll film it and send you your own copy on DVD. How does that sound?

Here are the parameters:

1) It is a SHORT so it is only going to be about 10 minutes long, or less.
2) There is no sync sound, only non-diagetic additions like soundtracks or voiceovers, so that means no dialogue.
3) My access to special effects are limited.

Any takers? :) If nothing else I am interested in what you think would make a good flick, so thanks for playing!!!

U Can Run But U Can't Hide

2005-10-21T09:40:00.000-05:00

I like the U campus because you can run into so many different people. Like yesterday afternoon when I ran into the guy who asked me out last summer. On a Saturday night. When he was drunk. At a Barnes and Noble......with his mother. The conversation went something like this:

SCENE: I am in the science section looking for a book (called 'Everything Bad is Good For You', by Steven Johnson. An intriguing look at popular media / mental engagement and the dumbing down - or not - of our media-obsessed society...but I digress). A tall blond approaches, doing his best to approximate walking in a straight line.

GUY: Hi. (Swipes at hair that is stuck to forehead due to sweating his dinner out every pore in his body. P.S., he stinks.)
ME: Hi.
GUY: What's your name?
ME: Anne. (My go-to alias at restaurants, on the phone, and when meeting drunk men.)
GUY: Cool. What book are you getting?
ME: (Holding up book.) My best friend wrote it. (Yeah, right. But he's an idiot, so he won't notice.)
GUY: Oh, that's cool.
ME: (Turning back to shelves.) Yup.
GUY: So what do you do?
ME: I'm in the television news industry. (DAMMIT! Should have said I worked for FOX News...would that have scared him off?)
GUY: Cool. I'm a Math major at the U.
ME: (He is so not cool.) Cool.
GUY: So what are you doing tonight?
ME: (Is he serious? It's a bookstore! Obviously I'm not shopping for paint chips!) Just buying a book. Is this your usual hangout on a Saturday night?
GUY: Yeah. I meet my mom here. She's right over there.
ME: (OMIGOD this is so much worse than I thought!)
GUY: So...you wanna go out sometime?
ME: (GOD his breath stinks! I'm getting drunk just talking to him!) No.
GUY: Why not?
ME: Um...I don't think my boyfriend would like that very much.

Cut to me sprinting across the store to my sister and her fiance, where I throw my arm around his shoulder and hiss in his ear, "Get me out of here!"

And then cut to yesterday afternoon when I ran into this guy on campus (still looking drunk) and watched as the look of recognition passed across his face...followed by this look of extreme confusion as he tried to place where he had seen me before. I didn't remind him.

Geeking Out

2005-10-20T11:12:00.000-05:00

It finally came!!! I just had to post the news up here because I am super duper excited: my shipment containing Final Cut Studio just arrived!!! Now I get to lug this 21-pound box of software all over campus today, when all I really want to do is run home and start cutting some film! WOOHOO!

Panic Mode

2005-10-20T10:25:00.000-05:00

OK, everyone who knows me can pretty much attest that I am a very level-headed person. I don't get bent out of shape about the small things, I don't get nervous about tackling huge projects, and I am usually the go-to girl for advice. In fact, I consider myself a pretty handy person to have around in an emergency. But whenever the person in jeopardy is myself, no amount of rational thinking can convince me that I should not be panicking.

Right now, the problem is (still) that damn GRE. I have two and a half weeks to go and am not studying as much as I should be. Granted, it's hard when you work full time and take two classes on top of that. Add in homework time and by the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is fall asleep over a math review book. (Yes, technically I CAN do math, but you don't use it much in film and even less so in theater, so I really haven't had to do any calculations since my Algebra II/Trig class in high school 10 years ago.) Combine lack of practice with a program that is very quantitatively-based, and I may have some problems. So now I'm panicking.

It's also a bit nerve-wracking asking people to write letters of recommendation. Sure, I've done it plenty of times and the people were always willing and enthusiastic about it, but it still sucks basically saying to someone, "Gee, I assume you think I'm a pretty neat person, so would you mind singing my praises to this list of people? Thanks!"

It shouldn't be stressing me out. I'm a do-er so I should just do it, right? I just needed to vent for a moment before I go back to work.

BTW, thanks to all the folks who have bothered to check out my fledgling blog, and a special thanks to those who have posted comments saying hello. I appreciate the friendly gestures. :)

Celluloid Queen

2005-10-19T08:48:00.000-05:00

Last night in class we had to show our first projects. We were all excited and a bit nervous. Many people can appreciate that filming stuff is very complicated and time-consuming and a delicate process. Many times filmmakers have to resort to desperate measures to get the shots they want. Sometimes they even put their life on the line for a roll of film. It is in the spirit of honoring all the maverick filmmakers out there that I dedicate this blog to my classmate, Dan.

Dan had an interesting time filming his short. He thought it would be nice to go to the local park early in the morning and wander around shooting things for a few minutes and then he would be done. However, Dan forgot to load the camera before he got to the park. Since film needs to be loaded in complete darkness and he was already in his car next to the park, he did the next best thing to locking yourself in the bathroom with the lights off: he put the camera under his sweatshirt and started loading the film without looking.

Let me stop for a moment to paint this picture for you: We have a neighborhood park with a playground. We have children streaming past on the sidewalk on their way to school. We have a car with tinted windows parked right there on the street. We have a man in the front seat of the car, fumbling with something under his sweatshirt. And then we have...a cop knocking on his car window. The scene went something like this:

COP: Slowly remove your hands from under your shirt and raise them in the air!

DAN: (still fumbling with the camera and desperate not to expose his film) It's just a camera!

COP: (reaching for his gun and yelling) REMOVE YOUR HANDS AND RAISE THEM IN THE AIR!

DAN: (finishes putting the back plate on the camera and raises his hands in the air) It's just a camera! It's just a camera!

In the end the cop let Dan go, but he was so shaken (and let's face it, probably feeling a little dirty by association) that he did a couple quick loops around the park and then spent the rest of the time shooting a squirrel who wasn't doing anything but staring at the ground. But Dan did have the best story by far!

I headed into class last night pretty nervous to show my little short. I'm not a camera whiz so I was worried about exposure, especially after watching the first two films in class. One guy's film was so underexposed that most of it was just a black screen, and since I was shooting inside at night using only practical lighting...it was nail-biting time!

But as it turned out, my film was fine. There were a couple shots that could have used a little more light, but you can still see everything. I'm hoping I can clean that up on my computer later anyway. For an in-camera edit, the narrative structure is pretty clear and since I was the only one in class who actually made a narrative film (as opposed to just shooting trees in a park--but Dan wasn't about to shoot any of the kids!), it went over well. So, one project down...one HUGE one to go. I have to bring in ideas and maybe even a storyboard for the final project by next week, so it's brainstorming time again. I think I'll avoid public parks for this one.

Shut Up, You're Too Quiet!

2005-10-18T08:09:00.000-05:00

Well, it happened. I never thought I would say this, but the Powers That Be in Educational Psuchology have finally stooped to new lows. I have been reprimanded at work before: once for chatting with a coworker during spring break WHEN THERE WAS NO ONE ELSE ON CAMPUS, and once for inciting revolt among the faculty. Yes, you read that right. Apparently I was a wrangler for some kind of insurrection against the departmental bureaucracy. The proof? I was caught talking with a faculty member in the student lounge, obviously about plotting rebellion, right? What were we really talking about? Said faculty member's high school daughter with mono. If you're wondering how some harmless conversation could be misconstrued like that, join the club.

After being admonished about my conversational activities, I can say that I have curtailed my chats to the point where the faculty complain about how quiet it is in the office. But if that's the way the Boss Lady wants it--that's the way it has to be. So you can understand my shock and confusion when I was called into my supervisor's office yesterday afternoon for a "talk". As soon as she closed the door behind me I knew I was in trouble. I tried to think back over everything I could have done wrong in the past weeks and months and couldn't think of a single thing. I mean, there's no WAY they could know about the gambling ring I run out of the supply closet! Without being able to prepare a defense I had to sit there and wait to be accused of something. And then it came. My super, Fancy Pants, revealed that lately my behavior had become a concern to them. Huh? The list of concerning behaviors: 1) I come into work and log onto my computer right away, 2) I seem to be really focused on my work at all times, 3) I don't talk with people as much as I used to. HUH?!?!?

That's right. Basically I'm not allowed to talk, but not talking is being too quiet. I had to choke back laughter as I asked, "Is there a concern about my work productivity?" The answer: NO! I keep things organized, I get things done ahead of time, and the faculty think I'm great. My next question was, "So am I being told that I have to be chipper all the time?" The answer: NO! Only part of the time would be fine.

So there you have it. I still can't talk, but if I could just paste a smile across my face as I'm slaving away at my desk I would be the perfect employee.

I went back to my desk and started looking up job openings right away.

On another note, I picked up my processed film yesterday and I get to view it tonight. I will have a full report tomorrow about how it turned out...fingers crossed!

Pants Required

2005-10-17T08:06:00.000-05:00

You know those dreams that (according to the movies and TV) all of us have about showing up to school/work partially or completely naked? And you know how when you're really tired in the morning you sometimes forget the small details? And you know that particularly breezy sensation you get when you open your apartment door to leave for work and realize you have your jacket on, you have your socks and shoes on, but for some f*cked up reason you're not wearing your pants?

Yeah, me neither. I have NO IDEA what I'm talking about. You would have to be a complete TOOL to do something like that.

Let's change the subject.

I tried a bunch of new things this weekend, so that was fun. Rock climbing on Friday night was a blast. I particularly liked the part where I got to wear rented shoes without socks. Mmmmm....just thinking about all the sweaty, blistered feet I got to get up close and personal with makes me want to start some kind of shoe exchange. You know, borrow a different person's shoes every day of the week? HOT! Or...not. But the really fun thing about rock climbing is that I discovered a sport that I actually really like and would like to get better at. I'm more of a solitary sporty person (thus the running), so this could be fun.

Another first on Friday: dinner at an Indian restaurant. It was SOOOO good! Plus it was nice and snuggly warm in the restaurant, and not busy at all--there was only one other couple there. I may have to go back there sometime to take a nap, it was that comfy. I just hope the male half of the other couple stays at home. He must have had a bullhorn lodged in his throat because his voice was abnormally loud, and he was really bitter about something. Bullhorn in his throat, pole up his ass, perhaps?

Another first this weekend: on Sunday I became a Mac convert. They have the best editing software in the biz so I made the leap. Plus, their computers are just plain pretty!

And finally, I got to meet two of Chris's friends for dinner on Sunday. Both were very funny and very nice and I hope I get to see more of them. If nothing else, it helped to nudge me toward the belief that perhaps chemists aren't as nerdy as the rest of us believe...but don't get me wrong, they're still nerdy! ;-)

Escapades of a World Traveler

2005-10-14T15:02:00.000-05:00

I have to give a shout out to my sister, Sheila, who has probably had the most frustrating move to Central America so far:

After delaying her departure for Costa Rica by several weeks, this newly minted Spanish degree grad and ESL teacher-certified gal headed down to her favorite country to live indefinitely and work in a bar on the beach. I can only assume she will be teaching the regulars English while she's there, otherwise I think she's WAY overqualified! Sheila spent all of last week saying her goodbyes to friends and having her last hurrahs with family before getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to hop a plane to southern Mexico. Apparently she was planning on staying with some random guy and his family for a few days before meeting up with her "contact" who would somehow be transporting her safely to Costa Rica. By bus, I imagine. After a week of staying with her hospitable friends and not being able to contact her aptly named "contact", Sheila has decided to fly home and then take a direct flight to Costa Rica.

Oh yeah, her decision was also slightly influenced by the fact that Central America has been hit with its own destructive Hurrican Stan, which wiped out bridges and caused mudslides to cover whole villages, etc. Some guys swam across a river with a rope and now people can sit on a piece of wood and pull themselves across, but Sheila wisely decided not to try getting through that way. Which is good because there are roving gangs running around killing people, and a blond American girl dragging luggage through hurricane debris would probably be an easy target.

Oh yeah, and the Guatemalan Embassy told her that under no circumstances was she to cross the border from Mexico, so that's another reason for her not to try. Chris had a good question: isn't there someplace closer than Minnesota that has direct flights to Costa Rica? I have no answers to that one other than to say that Sheila just doesn't think that way. :)

Milk 'n' Oreos...Lots of Oreos

2005-10-14T08:03:00.000-05:00

Last night I was able to pick up a Bolex and shoot my first project of the semester: a 2m 44s in-camera-edited short. As usual, I used my brothers James and Patrick as actors since they're always good sports and are generally willing to make complete asses of themselves.

My premise was simple enough: two guys sitting across from each other at a little table, with a huge platter of Oreos between them. While they read and work on homework, etc. they eat the cookies. Before they know it, they are fighting over the shrinking pile of cookies and end up beating the crap out of each other when there is only one cookie left. My boyz were pretty excited at first--sit around eating cookies all night? SWEEEEET! Cut to two hours later as they are forced to cram fistfuls of Oreos into their mouths while shooting me death looks. They started leaning over the kitchen sink to spit the cookies out in between takes. To make matters worse (well, let's be honest: to make matters even more funny,) Johanna stood next to me the whole time with her arms wrapped around my legs and she ate so many cookies she actually threw up. But don't be alarmed! She recovered in time to shoot her scene at the end and did a fabulous job.

Now since this project was shot on film, I have to wait until next week to have it processed and projected in class. I'll have to watch it for the first time along with everyone else--crappy shots and all! I hope the humor comes through at least, even if the technique doesn't. As soon as I am able, I will post a link to my projects...you will get to watch my brothers try not to laugh and throw up while they're cramming cookies down their throats! YAY!

Tonight I'm going rock climbing for the first time and I'm pretty excited--and a little nervous! I'm sure I have a good instructor though, so everything will be fine. And then we're off to another first: Indian food! Yes, it's true...I have never eaten at an Indian restaurant before. Well, if I don't like it I can always grab a pizza on the way home! I need to have all my fun tonight because I'm going to be studying all weekend...at least in theory.

Staring Down the Barrel...

2005-10-12T17:00:00.000-05:00

So I realized yesterday that I have exactly 4 weeks to go before I take the GRE (again). This means that I have 25 days left in which to watch movies, read books, shoot films, (maybe) do homework, hang out with friends, and generally just sit on my ass...followed by 3 days in which I have to cram a lifetime of learning into my memory. But I will definitely be thinking about studying, and anyone who has ever read accounts of people who have actually improved their golf game just by thinking about it despite being imprisoned in solitary confinement for 15 years will understand just how effective my strategy is. What is the procrastinator's credo again: "Why put off until tomorrow what you can put off until the day after tomorrow"? It seems like a sound philosophy to me.

But even more difficult than studying for some dumb test is deciding exactly what I want to study AFTER the test. Theater? Or Film? Even I don't know! It may seem like an easy choice, and I thought my classes would help me decide...but every time I leave my Theater Management course I am completely excited and I wonder how I could ever be satisfied toiling through all the tedium and bullshit and budget problems that make up the film world...and every time I leave my Filmmaking class I am completely excited and I wonder how I could ever be satisfied toiling through all the tedium and bullshit and budget problems that make up the theater world. Do you see where the problem is?

If you like suspense, stick around and see where I end up. I'll try to figure out a way to post links to some of my (amateur) projects if people are interested in checking those out. If nothing else, it's probably more exciting than reading this. In the meantime, this will have to do.