My Tuition! Is Still High! But Maybe Now Justified!

I am now an official hypocrite. Well...hey! stop laughing! more of a hypocrite.

Last week I was on the receiving end of one of these bad boys. 30 gig. Black. Video.

Yes, video! It plays videos! By which I mean it has Star Trek on it now and I wander around happily and listen to Star Trek all the time. I don't even need to watch the show, really. I know what's happening. In fact, I bet you could find me any TNG episode ever made, whether I've seen it or not, and, given the soundtrack, I could construct a reasonably accurate storyboard. I include blocking, facial expressions, and VERY DRAMATIC CLOSEUPS OF KEY CHARACTERS BEFORE COMMERCIAL BREAKS WHOOOO!

Holy crap though, my iPod, it is so pretty. I have spent a lot of money on episodes of Battlestar Galactica to watch on it. You will like it too, and so I have come up with the following proposal: whosoever shall take and love my fish while I am in the Peace Corps (because that will still happen despite the fact that I am nervous NOSHUTUPITWILL) shall also receive Sir Pod. I might want it back when I get back? if it still works? but probably not, and that wouldn't be a good enough reason for you not to beat the hell out of it while you had it. I think this is a good deal! You should consider it. The only possible drawback is that the battery power leaves something to desire. It's perfectly good for audio, but it caps out at 3 eps of TNG before it craps out on me for video. The backlighting, you know. Anyway, think about it. Oh, and also be forewarned that owning this bad boy will automatically put you out like a billion dollars on iTunes, because you won't be able to resist, especially if you are all looking for Trinity-type songs to play at work. Especially, um, Michael Jackson? you will buy a lot of Michael Jackson. And then you will try to dance. It won't turn out well.

SO LET'S TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE! LET'S TALK ABOUT THE PEACE CORPS! LET'S TALK ABOUT THIS LADY WHO IS SUPPOSED TO BE A DOCTOR AND HASN'T SENT ME MY FORMS BACK YET! TWO MONTHS LATER! LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW THIS IS MAKING ME SHRILL AND NERVOUS! We can also talk about the assumption you might have that doctors are supposed to be more responsible than the general populace because they hold your fragile bodily functions in their sure, tender hands. Let me be the first to disabuse you of that notion, because it is totally incorrect. Doctors, apparently, feel absolutely no responsibility to you! Huh. How bout that. Maybe you should stop paying them and see how they feel then.

I will drop my normally affected hilariousness to let you in on a little secret: this is terrifying me. What if she doesn't send me the things I need? What if she does send them, but it's too late, so I can't get accepted to the program? What if she sends things and they're wrong so I have to get them sent back and forth and back and forth? What if this one tiny little thing ends up messing up my life? Could I SUE HER? Sue her for breach of human responsibility?

And then comes the complication that I turned in my Teach for America application Friday night. Teach for America is the Harvard of service post-undergrad programs (13% acceptance rate! that sounds familiar to me!). There are Rhodes scholar TFA students, ok? So it's not like I expect to get in (though it would be nice, and I would really appreciate an interview, ok guys thanks!). But should I wow the interview peeples and get a placement (no will not happen, but still), they need you to answer right away. So what if I haven't heard back from the Corps yet because of this form and that happens? What will I do?

HOLY CRAP DELVE DEEPER INTO MY NEUROSES

And then behind that is this tiny gnawing wondering of which I'd really rather do, really. My whole outsideness is gunning for the Corps, of course, because of reasons blah, but there's this tiny little inside part that is saying to me "look. It's the same job, more or less. And here's the thing - we want a home. We're sick of feeling itinerant. We haven't been at peace anywhere in almost ten years now, and we want a kitten and some kitchen gear and one nice knife. Corps is nice, but it's not a home you can carry. TFA you can bring with you if you leave. We want that", and I am listening to it, because it is right. So, I don't - I am conflicted, and it is making me in a bad mood all the time. And thesis is still only 15 pages, and the Trinity box was $100 short last night and I DON'T KNOW WHERE THAT MONEY IS GOING and all these things together made it very hard for me to sleep last night. And I'm still not writing thesis right now? and I have this presentation tomorrow? and oh god everybody I'm kind of a basketcase. I mean, I'll be fine, I'm not an actual basketcase, I'm like a...metaphorical metaphorical basketcase. That's two steps of ok. Like extra cheese!

OK GOALS WILL MAYBE HELP? AND I HAVE A COUPLE FUN LINKS!

First, qwantz is my new favorite comic. You might not get it, because I'm really not sure if it's actually funny to anyone but me. I'm thinking no.

Girls Are Pretty reliably makes me happy. It's supposed to be that weird, yes.

Aaron showed me Walk Smash Walk this weekend and it is keeping me going. I Love Death is also very good.

Now goals:

I will get up early tomorrow morning to prepare for this presentation.

By the end of tomorrow I will have finished Theology of the Icon and Painter's Guide, if I've gotten it, edited the pages left over from last week, and written two more pages. Yes, I can do this. Also will have gone to the drugstore to buy lipstick. Also will not have blown off Firefly Mondays for the second consecutive week.

I will show up for senior photos on Wednesday with makeup on.

I will schedule a thesis meeting this week for next week. I will have at least 25 pages for that meeting. yes, I will. I can do that.

I will not regret spending $10 on this Imogen Heap CD because it's good.

Coffee Jerks Don't Deserve Tips Because We're Just COGS in the MACHINE, Man

I have a real post fermenting in here somewhere, but until then I just have a tiny little baby rant.

I'm working a lunch shift this semester for the first time in maybe ever. I always used to avoid the lunch shifts, because the geographic monopoly we conveniently hold on campus leads to us getting wrecked in the afternoons. I've always had a bad feel on anything before 5pm, but it looks like I was wrong - we're busy, but the busy periods are short bursts with long breaks in between, so I have time to restock and get myself back together before another comes.

The lunch shifts are also the only shifts that make any kind of tips. Now, you have to realize that the first three years I worked at Trinity I probably made less than $5 in tips, gross. I averaged about 10 cents a shift. The lunches can get up to $1-$2/shift, because real adults come in and they have to pay with money, rather than the untipwithable DukeCard. But here's what gets me.

The vast majority of professors will come in and order a small coffee to go with the lunch they bring from home. That's fine - I wouldn't pay money for the food we serve, either. So a small coffee with employee discount comes to $1.24. Invariably, I will smile, kowtow, hand them their steaming hot coffee, take a dollar bill and a quarter from their hand, give them back their penny - and watch as they tuck it parsimoniously into their wallets. The tip jar is less than six inches from where all this is happening.

A penny. And they will then have the audacity to smile widely at me and wish me a good afternoon before they scurry off.

See, this is why I'm rethinking the prospect of going into academia. Professors suck.

Actually, I lied. Professors aren't the worst. Grad students are the worst. Grad students not only don't tip, but they steal from the tip jar. True story. They're all a bunch of self-important, over-educated hypocrites.

Five Seconds

Cute girl walking in front of me.

Cute girl walking in front of me, orange truck passing by.

Cute girl walking in front of me, orange truck passing by, man on the orange truck.

Cute girl walking in front of me, orange truck passing by, man on the orange truck, green truck behind the orange truck.

Cute girl walking in front of me, orange truck passing by, man on the orange truck, green truck behind the orange truck, man on the green truck.

Cute girl walking in front of me, orange truck passing by, man on the orange truck, green truck behind the orange truck, man on the green truck, man on the orange truck looks at her butt.

Cute girl walking in front of me, orange truck passing by, man on the orange truck, green truck behind the orange truck, man on the green truck, man on the orange truck looks at her butt, man on the green truck looks at her butt.

I know none of you care about the pictures, but I keep coming back to look at them and be reminded of fishies past and fishies beautiful. I miss them.

In other news, TFA is considering opening a program in Hawai'i for those seeking rural placement. Hot. Damn.

Peectures (by Like-Factor)

Bert

I luf muh Bert.

Cotter

On a bad day, after someone took a bite out of her. She got better.

Fozzie

God, he's so beautiful I just want to roll him in Shake n Bake and eat him.

Nero

Frilly.

Ernie

Pissant.

Suck Sucks.

In the past five weeks, I have gone from being the mother of 6 fish to being the mother of 3 fish. There is a word for this phenomenon; it is called Teh Suck. As you may or may not have guessed, it is unpleasant. I am reveling in Teh Suck tonight because my second-fishiest favorite of all my favoritest fishies is now no longer a fishie in the strictest sense of the word.

Two morals can be learned from Teh Suck:

1. If you buy a bunch of fish at the same time, they will all die at the same time, and you just get to STFU and deal, because you are a stupidhead.
2. It is not a good idea to let your boss watch your pets, even if she means well and is doing you a favor. Really. It's not. Because if you do it, you will hate her.

Also, Teh Suck has the power to transform your mood. Magically! As in without any perceivable cause, except the one that I just perceived! So making sure that you will, in fact, graduate; having a video iPod dangled in front of your nose with no cost to you; a class on video games tomorrow; 2 1/2 hours of Final Fantasy in your afternoon; these things will not help you. Go home and wallow, you loser.

Read What's Below; This Is Just Bragging

So here's a thing:

Latin Honors Cut-offs

	Summa Cum Laude	Magna Cum Laude	Cum Laude
2005-2006 Graduates
Pratt Graduates	3.930	3.758	3.670
Trinity Graduates	3.867	3.738	3.661

And here's another:

Credits taken toward GPA	35.000
Total Gradepoints	135.500
Credits In Progress - Current Semester	3.000
Total Cumulative Credits *	43.500
Cumulative GPA	3.871

And here's what I have to say about the affair:

SNAP!

Also:

Now I can't mess up this semester, for sure.

The problem with writing a thesis, says Allison, is that every time I think of writing a thesis I get heart palpitations and clammy hands and can't sit down long enough to churn out a sentence.

Methinks the only cure for the nervous fits is to write enough so that I don't have nervous fits. HMM. See the problem, anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

So here is the goal. Before I go to bed tonight, I will have written two pages. Before I go to bed tomorrow night, I will have written two more pages. Before class starts on Wednesday, I will have a total of ten pages to show the thesis advisor. MINIMUM.

And now I am going to go play video games until my hands stop shaking.

It is really stunning how little I have to talk about lately. You'll think I suck at writing and I am neglectful of this thing, which is in large part true, but it's also that there hasn't been anything funny or artsy-pretentious for me to talk about since I got sick (I think the rib has traveled back from the area of my kidneys and reattached itself, by the way, judging by the fact that I no longer feel the urge to scream every time I do anything). I wish I had graduated already and my nose is still big. That's it.

I guess the one good thing is that the process of cleaning up the Delaware house has led to a new bed in my room here. I never thought the transition from a fifty year old twin to a new full could be so enriching. It's like sleeping on a baby's butt, except without the mess.

Give me another couple days and I'll think up something interesting to talk about. Or else Dad will have made my head explode. Whichever.

Why am I watching the show Commander in Chief on CTV?