::alio!::

portents of -- good?

Hi, diddle-dee ho, to Carleton I will go.

I got an Offer of Acceptance today from good ol' CU. I guess I have to accept if I want to find out if they'll give me any money. Or a job.

I'm too tired to feel happy, though. I've just got too much shit going on right now.

Also, I had this dream yesterday morning that Blair, my HRP supervisor, had gone to York (the city) for some reason, and he'd taken with him all of my classmates' essay proposals. And apparently, he had run into Wayne Gretzky, and so I got this huge long letter from Gretz, with signed pictures of him as a kid, telling me how great my essay topic was and that Hockey Canada was going to give me a big scholarship.

All my friends were celebrating and freaking out, because this was a dream come true, right? But not me. I was CONVINCED it was a dream (I think I had a notion that I had woken up earlier in the morning and fallen back asleep). So one of my friends, it was a guy, but I don't know who (perhaps Simeon?) told me that in order to prove to myself it wasn't a dream, I had to walk out the door and go outside and take some breaths of fresh air, so I would know that it was real. And I did that, and so went, hey, I guess it's not a dream after all. I just won a ridiculous scholarship from Hockey Canada!

And then I woke up.

mmmmmmeringues

I have passed the 60-page mark of my thesis and I'm still going strong. I figure I have another twenty pages to write, which I'm planning to do tonight. Yep, I know. Although if you subract the ten pages that is my works cited and appendix, then I've only just passed fifty pages. So 70 will only be about 25 past the limit . . .

So I'm cogitating, eating leftover meringues from last night. Mmm, crispy-chewy-melty goodness . . .

working away

I have 45 pages of my thesis done. I'm about half way through. I will have it finished by Monday. It's pretty intense. I just sorted through 250 pictures to come up with 50 I might use, which I will have to cut down to about 10 or 15.

And I've written about 12 pages in the past two days. It's sooo long!

My last game is tonight. I made the mistake, in a moment of weakness (either it was post-coital or I was trying to get him in bed) of inviting the Pie to this game after barring him from all games previous. So he's going to be there.

After that?

Drinking at Sergeant's. If you wanna be there, we'll make an appearance around 10.

Until then I have some laundry to fold and a hockey bag to pack.

Peace and pink tape,

Out.

terrified of the future

I have been neglecting you, my pretties, and I'm sorry.

Not much to tell, really. Since my weekend of bliss at the Hilton Lac Leamy, everything else has just been a gray blur: mostly of assignments, both my own and my students'.

Got ANOTHER rejection letter when I got home today, this one from University of Alberta. One -- Carleton -- left. I am dreading it. Although I suppose it's a good sign that I haven't gotten any thin envelopes from them yet -- it might take longer to put together a registration package. Of course, the Carleton application was also DUE later than the others . . .

If I don't get into grad school, I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't stay in this job, and do it full time. I would die. What am I supposed to do? Apply again next year? Perhaps if I don't get in this time around, I'll apply to teacher's college in the fall for January enrollment, and get my B.Ed over and done with.

Goddamnit, there are only two and a half weeks left to go, and I need more time! At the same time, I want it all to be over.

Alas -- I lead a split existence.

great froot

As a child, I was convinced that pink lemons existed. Why not? You have pink lemonade, right? And you have yellow lemonade. At the same time, you have pink grapefruit juice and yellow grapefruit juice and both yellow and pink grapefruits exist. So why not pink lemons? I need to figure out how to engineer one so that I can prove myself right.

The fact that I was also convinced grapefruit were called "gratefruits" (because they bear no semblance whatsoever to grapes) is besides the point.

CUTE SHOES

You know your boss is insane when he interrupts himself mid-sentence while giving you serious instruction on a trial matter to shout, "CUTE SHOES!" and begin to gush about how cute they are. We'll point out here that the shoes in question are, indeed, very cute pink sneakers/mary janes purchased from the Skechers outlet in Niagara Falls NY.

But still.

Not going to the C1 show tonight (sorry, Cory!). Not really in the mood for screamo right now. Gonna chill with the Pie and continue to help him sort out his work stuff. We did it for two hours yesterday, and it wasn't so bad. Now it's just the nitty gritty that's left.

I haven't worked on my essay all week. I've done nothing but read Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackery. It's so good. I'm downloading the movie as we speak. It's a good thing my essay has been extended from today until noon on Monday. I'll work on it this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon, with interruptions to take my mother to physio, and then I'll do the rest Saturday and Sunday morning. It'll all be good -- I hope.

Peaches,

out.

there are benefits to having a rich boyfriend

Ask me about my weekend.

*SMILES*

creamy goodness

Whenever I open a new container of ice cream, the first thing I do is take a small spoon and scrape up that thin layer of excess cream on the lid of the container, and I eat it.

I'm not really sure why I do this. Perhaps it's like the sommelier and the first sip -- a taste of things to come. Perhaps it's the fleeting nature of that little layer of frozen goodness. If you don't get it the first time you open the container, each successive opening exposes it to room temperature and melts it, and then it refreezes, and becomes less and less good each time.

But that's what I do.

post-natum depression

UPDATE: 9 March 2005, 2:07 AM

There's a very good reason why I'm always out of the country on my birthday.

Shitty things tend to happen when I stay in town.

Today was awful. Nothing in particular, but a million little things and a constant headache in the back of my head made for an unpleasant experience. Then the one thing that is supposed to make it all better, going out for wings with the boys, gets called off.

Why?

Because my boyfriend spun out on some ice in Perth. He escaped with no scratches (when he could just as easily have died), but his car sustained some significant damage.

Then wing night is back on again, although not for me -- for him, to calm him down after this awful experience.

By the time we get ourselves organized and there, it's past midnight and my birthday is over. I only get half a glass of beer because I'm driving and I have a concussion. Then my birthday money, for unforeseen reasons, pays for my birthday meal for me and my friends.

So now I had a shitty day and I have absolutely no cash.

So I give up on birthdays. I'm not having them any more. There are no longer any reasons for me to leave town, and if staying here is going to mean another day like today . . . no thanks, I'll pass.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be up in five hours to begin another shitty day.

birthday blurs

It has not been an easy day. I had a presentation this morning which I totally pulled out of my ass. Then I had to hand in a proposal for another project I'll be pulling out of my ass. Tomorrow I have to hand in a quarter of my thesis. I came home in my typical Tuesday rush only to find a rejection letter from UBC (my third choice). They turned me down becuase they only accept 15 students a year and I wasn't exceptional enough to be one of them. That, combined with my rejection from UofC (my second choice), leaves me now with only two choices: Carleton (my first choice), and UAB (my fourth choice). Two down, two to go.

Cross your fingers.

I also, according to my personal athletic therapist, Melinda, have a mild concussion. As a result, I've had a headache and trouble concentrating for the past four days.

There was a momentary spasm of euphoria this afternoon when Manda and I went for a Timbit break, but it has since passed.

The boys and I are going out for wings tonight, but I shouldn't drink -- don't want to mess up the head any further.

AND IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

scum of the earth

The Gee-Gee's trouble in the playoffs equals trouble for me. Cross your fingers.

On another topic, I have this client who is convinced that her estranged husband, or the guy he's living with, a convicted and known child molestor, has been sexually abusing her four year old daughter. The kid has developed some weird behavioural problems, and refuses to go to the bathroom by herself.

Now it turns out that this little girl has genital warts, which is pretty conclusive proof that she's been abused.

So now, not only will she be fucked up in the head for the rest of her life, she won't be able to have a healthy sexual relationship -- because you can't get rid of those things once you've got them. AND SHE'S FOUR YEARS OLD.

I LOVE my job.