Frenetic

The end of the school term is quickly approaching, which means in addition to exams in a few weeks, I have final projects and assignments due every other day. Since all tasks are priority one, I'm living in a "WHAT IS DUE TOMORROW?" mode that is very stressful. Even when I have time to get 8 hours of sleep, I'm so stressed out that I just lie awake in my bed for hours.

Being this stressed out and tired means I'm constantly eating, and constantly about to burst into tears. For example, I read a really cute lovey blog post yesterday, and started crying. I discovered a mouldy clementine in my box of clementines, and started crying. I got a midterm back this week that I didn't do very well on, so today when I went to talk to my prof I had one goal: don't cry.

It was one of those exams where there were lots of "define and give an example of" questions that I love. I love making up examples! Often on non-math exams I get really bored (I'm talking about things I already know! Snore!) so I keep myself entertained by making up hilarious examples. The main feedback my prof gave me was, "you have so much creative energy, but your thinking process seems... frenetic." And while I KNOW this, I know I have trouble focussing and concentrating on one task, it still was like, I HAVE A FLAWWWWW. And for some reason I'm having trouble holding it together about that.

The prof was an incredibly nice guy, and met with me for over an hour. Imagine! He was obvious that he wants me to do well on the final, but how am I supposed to do that if I'm frenetic, hmm? I have a huge assignment due at midnight for that class. So. I should probably go do that. But still, GIANT SIGH.

On blogging with your real name

I really left the blogging grid for three months this summer while I was in Africa, and I've been having a hard time returning. Part of this is because I wanted to debrief on my experience in private, and part of it is because I was travelling for about a month upon my return back to North America. But largely this is because of an influx in links to this site that cite my full real name.

I've never been shy about my full real name in emailing or otherwise communicating with readers and fellow bloggers. I think I'm shying away from all the people I know vaguely in real life, or people who know me but I don't know them, or people who want to hire me, and etc. Like I'm sure classmates with whom I've never conversed might have found this. Or former co-workers, or even students I've taught. Anybody that googles my name will be easily linked to this blog. Maybe I'm flattering myself by thinking that anybody would even google me. But still. Yeh know?

And the real problem with this isn't so much privacy as it is consistency. Anybody can be honest anonymously. To be honest with your real name? A lot harder. We all have certain groups of people that we act differently around. Like I don't swear in front of my family. I'm not as politically-minded in front of engineering classmates. I'm more professional around co-workers. I'm more confrontational with group x, and more willing to make terrible jokes around group y. And etc.

I don't think that by admitting to have facets to my personality, that I admit to being two-faced. Or six-faced. I think it's common to be slightly different around different people. And so to blog with your real name is to amalgamate all these personae into one package, your blog persona. Every person I've ever met has the potential to read this blog, and thus it's critical as a non-anomyous blogger to assume full responsibility for everything that I post here. It's kind of overwhelming!

So I've really got two options.

1. Ask anybody linking to me to not use my real name. But I don't want this. No closets for this blogger!

2. Be more responsible for my content. This will involve going back through my archives and deleting anything that I can think of even one person I know who would be hurt if they read it. Future content will be harder to come up with, I guess. But that's the challenge of blogging with your real name!

In conclusion, never let somebody tell you that anonymous bloggers are more honest. Never believe that.

Rejection letter

Thank you for your interest in [-------].

We have received a remarkable number of applications. We know that there is no possible way to evaluate a “whole person” just by reviewing a cover letter and resume and we realize you have many great attributes to offer and a bright future ahead. As much as we’d like to follow up with every talented and dedicated candidate such as you, we can accept only a limited number of applicants. At this time we’re sorry to say that we are not able to invite you for further consideration.

We really do wish you the best of luck in your future pursuits and endeavors, and hope you will continue to consider a career in urban education.

Sincerely,
[------]

What? Man! The worst! I applied for this practically volunteer job and I don't even make it to round 1 of interviews!

I used to think the courtesy interview was the worst. I'm a female in a male dominated field, so I often apply to intern/co-op jobs and get the interview because they wanted to interview a female. I get there, and five minutes in it's pretty clear to everybody that they have no interest in actually hiring me. Annoying. But not the worst.

I was really leaning on this position in making my future "take a year off, then go back to school" plans. What a bummer! And also, I hit that resume out of the park. Nothin' but net with my cover letter. Whatever. They're missing out.

(I say whatever, but we all know I'm going to fester with this for a few months and maybe forever.)

I'm a betting girl, I guess

Other than some family trips to Reno and Vegas, I've only been to a casino once. I didn't spend a cent, and I just left feeling depressed with humanity.

But that's because organized gambling is BORING. I like under-the-table bets, whispered during class:

"That's not a correct usage of the phrase 'begging the question.'"
"Yes it is."
"5 bucks says its not."

I like pompous challenge bets, yelled while standing on a chair, swearing. I like bets with dangerous consequences, or based on trivial pieces of trivia. I like bets where the winner gets money, a favour, food, or just gloating privileges.

My favourite running joke in How I Met Your Mother is the one about slap bets. I like slap bets because if everybody's poor, you can't take each other's money. But slapping is free. Slap bets get paid, you know?

At Oktoberfest a few weeks ago, I made a bet with a male friend to see who could flirt out way into somebody giving us their Oktoberfest hat. Most people were wearing one, and my friend and I felt left out. Neither of us made any effort at all to flirt with the drunkies on the polka-floor (psh, what? No, that was not effort. That was joke effort. I wasn't trying for real. Please.) but a few "Let the games begin!" were dropped. It wasn't about the win, but about the fun of challenging.

Today I made a bet with a New Best Friend on who could make a certain prof laugh first. We met in this class, and we're both always bored. So when the prof asks questions, we try to give hilarious answers. To win the bet, one must say something that receives 3 laughs (ha-ha-ha). Three distinct sounds. We haven't decided on the winner's bounty quite yet. I love bets.

Options Schmoptions

Sometimes I wish I had fewer options. Maybe if I had a dream from when I was little, like being an astronaut, then it would be easier to plan my life. I could just use this handy flow chart:
And all life's problems would be solved.

My issue is that I don't know what I want to do, and I have way-too-many-million options. Such options include: go to law school, go to masters in policy, try a parliamentary internship, get a one-year BA (i.e., stall), or live in a box.

These options then have subset follow-up questions. I have this really smug little person sitting in my brain that punches every decision in the face. "Oh yeah? You're leaning toward a masters in public policy? Well, what school? What country? What country do you want to work in? Do you need to take and standardized tests for that? How many years do you want your program to be? What kind of course work? A focus on qualitative or quantitative? Are you interested in policy or legislature? Don't know the difference? Then don't make a decision until you've done your research, missy!"

Then I sulk for a bit. Play a bit of spider solitaire. You know.

Alternatively, instead of focusing on how bad all my decisions might be, I imagine all the fun times they each might lead to. Some of these options would allow me to live in Ottawa! And I'd see one of my favourite aunts all the time! One of these options would allow me to take a million (read: 15) courses that I've always wanted to take, but couldn't, because the engineering accreditation board is mean! So much possibility!

I'm sorry this blog has turned into "OMG MY LIFE" except for that I'm not sorry at all. I hate making major decisions! I'm in a tough spot!