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She lives!

Yes, I know I should write more often.  I mean to, I really do.  But, much like every attempt I’ve ever made to steady-journal, I haven’t managed to write.  If anything, I have much many mucho reasons to — I’ve been to the podiatrist(s) three times in three weeks, have been on antibiotics for a month and a half straight, turned 28, got into a PsyD program, work in a disorganized and unable to function properly office, deal with a friend in a very emotionally abusive relationship, have gotten to the end of my rope with another friend that is slowly slipping from my realm of “friends,” have to figure out how to tell a 6 year old I can only come over once a month, am being stalked by a mental patient (which is entirely my fault)… the list is, quite possibly, endless.  But where has my motivation gone?  Every day I say I’ll write the next day, because I’m “just too tired.”  And in truth, I am.  But how am I not too tired to read 100 pages of a book or spend four hours on WoW?

I feel like I’m spending a lot of time distracting myself, and I’m not as actually happy as I want to be.  I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that i don’t go out anymore.  I mean, great, I’m not blowing every single dollar on booze and late-night food (when, do you think, is the best time to try the shrimp taco at Taco Bell, as recommended by a co-worker?), but instead I’m “blowing” it on prescriptions and surgeries.  So, yeah, I guess I could see why life has me edging towards the negative side, when all I ever do is struggle to stay on the positive side.

The good news?  Regardless of how broke it might make me, I will officially be able to walk (read: hike! bike! rollerblade! Wii!!) without pain or discomfort after about four months in just a few short weeks (possibly even just one!).  This is quite fantastic for me.  I have taken the ability to walk completely and totally for granted, and I can now appreciate the art of … the toe(s).

More totally awesome good news?  I’m leaving.  Yes, there are down sides to this (especially if my friends thought I already didn’t see them enough…), but getting out of New York seems like it might do me some good.   Oddly enough, some people spend their entire lives trying to make it in New York, and here I am trying to escape it.  But, really, aside from my friends (whom I love dearly, all…6 of you, contrary to popular (Facebook) belief), my momz0rs, and my darling, precious, LOML little-man brother, what do I have?  I work in a job I can’t stand but won’t leave because of the salary (common story, folks?), I live at home with my mother (great financially and for the familial relationship; bad for privacy and independence), I refuse to date (though I haven’t yet worked out the details on this one), and school ends in t-minus six weeks (HOLY SHIT!).  That…is my life.  I’m okay with re-inventing myself in the outskirts and/or ‘burbs and/or city of Philadelphia.  Plus, having a base of friends (Brenden, Elliot, Huntley, Matt, the Ellis clan) sure makes the whole idea less scary.  Which is great, ’cause the financial side makes the whole idea really fucking scary.

I’d love to go on about the usual life-stuff, but I’m, as per the usual, quite exhausted (a two hour nap followed by four hours of warcraft will do that to ya).  Here’s to hopin’ I get back in the game.  (Oh yeah–and tee-ball starts next week! Huzzah!)


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The first day of my last semester.

Not forever, ’cause lord knows graduate school is in my future, but as of May 21, 2010 I will be saying “bye-bye” to good ol’ SBU.  Today marked the first day of the end, and boy was it…long.

I started out pretty good, early and awake, ready to go, until on my drive in I realized I had absolutely no idea where the class I was teacher assisting was going to be held.  I called the school and they told me to check my SOLAR account.  I said I couldn’t, so they transferred me to the psychology department where I got someone’s voicemail.  Fortunately, I had Macky on me, so I figured I could just get to school a few minutes early, as I was, look it up, and be on my merry way.  BUT…Macky doesn’t have the Airnet SBU Internet Client on it, and since I’m Mac-incompetent, I couldn’t figure it out in the fifteen minutes I had to determine where I was going.  Knowing I had access to an unsecured network in the Psych A building, I went there…   …only to find out I couldn’t connect to it for some reason still undetermined (I logged onto it later in the day).  So I went downstairs of the Psych A building and wandered around until I found the Department Administrator’s office (I was on my way to the Department Advisor’s office, just because I knew where that was).  Within twenty seconds, she told me where the class could be found (back in the building I started in, by the way).

So it turns out one of my T.A.s from last semester is doing it again, and I recognized her (and she I) right away.  She introduced me to another T.A. who introduced me to another and now at least 5 of the 7 of us UGTAs are buds.  I asked Ms. Senior UGTA what we had to do and she said just take notes (done from last semester–I just highlight what she goes over), proctor exams, answer questions and hold review sessions.  No office hours, no hard work.  Just those few things and BAM! 3 credits achieved.  w00t.

From there I went to work for a few hours, but then came back to school for research meetings.  The 3:30 meeting allowed myself and another Research Assistant to go over our coding and firm up our reliability.  We worked fairly independently for the first time and still managed to be quite productive.

Then We went over to our second meeting where I learned I will be dedicating my existence to SBU.  I will be sleeping over at campus four times over the course of the semester to conduct some sleep deprivation research running human test subjects.  Should be fun, but a time consuming pain-in-the-neck as well.

Finally, for the latter portion of my day I went to the Stony Brook Child Care Center for my one single class (seminar in development and education in preschool age children) and to familiarize myself with my new home away from home (and work): my preschool class (room #2).  Nine hours of my week will be spent interning at the Center, playing with, observing, modeling for, and doing projects with fifteen children ages 3-5.  The seminar and the practicum seem like they’re going to take a lot of energy (and writing reflections, which are fine with me, ’cause I’m kind of a reflecting person), but I’m ready.  If I can’t get my ass in a stairmaster, the least I can do is follow a bunch of kiddies around a few days a week.

But after all of that I came home to hang and fold a bunch of curtains, eat dinner and now…pass. the. hell. out.


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Babies, SEA, writers and pie.

The yin and yang of my day, as it were.

I work for a while. Yay. I call Casey, and there’s no need to come out to help move. Yay x2. (Well, that one’s a little more serious than the first.)  I get home and try to watch A Raisin in the Sun, but fall asleep for two hours.  I wake up, bike ride to Venetian Shores, which was quite a nice ride in the dark.  I stop at Boston Market for a chicken sandwich and potatoes (trying to be healthy here, peoples), when I get asked, rather obnoxiously, why I’m eating alone.  I shrug and smile.  Next thing I know, Mr. Obnoxious is shoving apple pie in my face, telling me I shouldn’t be eating alone.  Quite frankly, it defeated the purpose of the bike ride (and the potatoes in lieu of the mac & cheese), but it made my evening…for a few minutes.  pie.

I stopped at CVS on my way home and picked up some cleany things, and then I made the stupid mistake of heading to the computer.  Shoulda went straight to cleaning.  Shoulda put some music on and danced around.  Shoulda put the movie back on.  Shoulda read a book.  But no- I had to see pictures of Liz and Rob’s bastard child.  This poor, pathetic, overweight, fucked up little creature is going to be alive someday.  Two people who should never have been allowed to breed, have.  This is what Chris was referring to: the idiots breed like fucking bunnies while the smart people think things through and decide when a child is best and can be cared for properly.  “Baby Jimenez” is going to have a lazy, fat, broke father and an overbearing, angry, psychopath mother.  Poor thing was doomed before it was conceived.

So then, looking to gchat for diffusion, I read that Chris is Seattle-bound.  My vacation this year? Philly.  His vacation?  Fucking Seattle.  He’s happier now than he ever was before, and it’s because I’m not there.  God damn do I make everything fucking miserable.

But in my minute of need, I get a text from Cory that he will be unavailable to get together this weekend, but he would like to next week.  I bound him to at the very least a phone call.  I guess that was supposed to be a pick-me-up.  I think it came perfectly timed as I was perusing Mike’s Facebook page, wondering if I missed him.  (‘Cause a small part of me does.)  I’m too busy for Cory; Cory is too busy for me — even if we decided we liked each other.  It’s quite perfect, and utterly depressing.

Vocabulary?  I don’t think so.  Try cleaning, tv, and WoW.  I have turned into the very thing I hated.  Can’t wait for school to start, so I have excuses not to waste my time with movies and television.

Maybe I’ll have a drink too.  That should hold me until tomorrow, when things better be fucking better.

Addendum, 6/22/10: I guess I needed to get that out.  I no longer feel that way about any of the people involved in the life of a likely beautiful, very much loved baby girl.  Knock ’em dead, Kaylee.

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