Shot to the Heart

…And I’m too late.

I’m so not ready for this that I’m actually crying. Like, I’m going to wake up tomorrow with a red face, puffy eyes, and a headache like a hangover. [Oh, hello eligible men who read my blog. Don’t you want to wake up to that some day?]

It started with frustration, turned to bewilderment, then sadness and now anger and despair: DMACC did not send my transcripts.

I don’t get it. December 15th I received my personal copy of the transcript. The transcript I requested in the exact same packet where I requested every graduate school transcript. But after checking a few application/admission statuses, the required DMACC transcript is the only thing missing. Applications to graduate school must meet all requirements.

Brown, Texas Tech, Emerson and Florida State deadlines have passed. Syracuse and Washington State are due by the end of the week. Logic tells us that’s six (out of ten) incomplete submissions.

Incomplete submissions >> Ineligible for admission.
Ineligible for admission >> Waste of money ($936 so far).
Ineligible for admission >> Waste of time (half of 2009).
Ineligible for admission >> No future.
No future >> Mall employee for life.
Mall employee for life >> SWF. Likes cats.

Joking aside, I’m very distraught at the thought of my top schools being knocked off my list because I am an overachiever and started French early.

Please, please let this just be an annoying ‘Monday’ thing.

Another Monday

A ‘Not Exactly Ready’ list for the week of December 14th.

1. Waking up sick. Again.
2. Not having an appetite.
3. 40-hour work week at my supposedly seasonal job.
4. Holiday hours, meaning I get home after 11 pm every night.
5. The French chapter 12 test.
6. The French final.
7. Three past-due freelance deadlines.
8. More snow.
9. Getting hounded by the ‘rents about Christmas presents and new cell phones.
10. Bruises and body aches that seem to never cease.

Garfield

I am having another bad Monday. (I even sort of feel like a fat, orange cat. Eew.)  Actually, the last few days have been Mondays. Being sick the beginning of last week through me off. Coming back and working Friday felt like Monday, and then Saturday and Sunday felt like Monday, too. But today is definitely Monday because it’s a bad day. I spent my morning on hold waiting to find out why my stupid GRE account won’t work. I need to order my official score reports to all the colleges I would like to attend, but apparently the confirmation and registration numbers, my undergraduate institution code, and my email address are not valid. I find that interesting. The easy-to-do-stuff is never actually easy, is it? After battling the phone system and getting nowhere, I realized that I accidently made plans during work on Saturday. Damnit. Which then highlighted the fact that I work Tuesday-Saturday. Not an attractive schedule. Then I went to French class and failed a test. C’est lundi. ::le sigh::

But the tense frustration from today couldn’t hold its own against speeding all over town while blasting Evolver. Thanks, John, for appeasing yet another day.

It’s Only Monday

Today feels like Friday. Mondays are such a fucking tease.

This particular Monday was a big amalgamation of things, I guess. I slept in, which was great. But when I woke up the apartment was 60 degrees and I did NOT want to get up. However, this did mean I grabbed another blanket in the night, so it’s officially my favorite weather.

French class, I managed to stay alert (thank you Starbucks). I also secretly won twice at French Food Bingo, but I hate all the all-eyes-on-me aspect of shouting out “lotto!” so I pretended that I never had du lait or le biftek. ::le sigh::

Après la classe française, je suis allée à la banque. Well, that turned into an endeavor. A very nice man (who told me to visit India) updated my account which hadn’t been touched since I got my debit card in high school. Say hello to a new Platinum debit card holder. I also set up automatic bill pay for my monthly rent–take that you Signature Place bastards! Never again can you miraculously lose my check. Woohee.

Then came the big event, also known as checking the mail. All last week I had been checking for my GRE scores, but today I forgot. Until I pulled the ETS envelope out of my mailbox. Dundundunnn.

Verbal: 640 (92%)
Quantitative: 560 (39%)
Analytical: 4.5 (63%)

I should be elated. Doing better than 92% of the 1,421,856 people who took the verbal section is impressive. And it would feel awesome, if I hadn’t earned a 4.5 on my Analytical. I was hoping for at least a 5. I thought I nailed the questions (well enough, at least). Ah, well.

16,000 pages

Basically that means I just need to get focused. Study. HA. Just look at what I have to “read” in a little over a month. Norton Critical this, and Norton Critial that. At least after Edmund Spenser I am 1/16 of the way there!

Other things of note include: A.) Discovering I was de-friended by a person who previously friended me, de-friended me, re-friended me, and has now ended our friendship again–this time terminally. Funny, because I know exactly why. B.) Reuniting with the WDM PL for the first time in over a month. C.) Telling a dear friend of mine to have sex in an empty bar. Never doubt my questionable fortitude.

Ugly Betty

There is a girl in my classe française, well actually in the ICN building at Urban, who looks, and more importantly sounds, like Ugly Betty. Now, she doesn’t wear the strange clothes, and she’s not so much ugly as a bit blurry on the big screen– but she’s definitely not America Ferrera, either.

She has issues with using the ICN mic, and hell, I just might, too, so I’ll overlook her tendency to sound like an American speaking to someone who doesn’t know English. But I wasn’t ready for her burst of attitude yesterday. She hops on the mic just after our professor had a stern word about failing quizzes (in the easiest language -related class I have ever taken). With the most decibel power we’ve yet to experience, she announces that she has yelled at the book store because she ordered her book for June 1, but they wrote June 11. She tells us she is very upset. I’m already thinking, “Wouldn’t this be better over email?” But no, clearly not. The French Prof says it’s a problem between the bookstore and the student, and there is nothing that she can do. So U.B. rapid-fires her words, still loud and clear, “Butyoudon’tcare?Imeanthat’salittleinsensitivedon’tyouthink?I’mjusttryingtotellyouIdon’thavemybookandIneedtoremakemyhomework.
That’snotverynice. But fine, I see how it is. You are right.  It’s between me and the bookstore.”

She wasn’t in class today. Let’s see if she sticks around.