Waiting Redux

If my life were a film, this scene would be shot in slow motion, with a sudden silence in the soundtrack.

::opens email inbox::

Title:

Northwestern University Application Decision Available


::gut drops::

::pauses::

Oh wait. That’s the one I already received.

Sheesh.

The waiting continues.

The Ultimate Alternative Career

As the impatience to hear the outcome of my graduate applications builds, I’m happy to announce that I have discovered the perfect alternative career should my academic aspirations fail to materialize.

How, you may ask, did I achieve this gargantuan feat?

I began by cataloging my demonstrable skills and passions:

  • Researching obscure and esoteric facts.
  • Correcting others’ errors.
  • Assisting with organization and planning.
  • Debating unimportant details and rules.
  • Taking instructions.
  • Remembering details about people, past conversations, and hypothetical plans.
  • Reading aloud.
  • Being introverted, and just listening until directly addressed.
  • Acting as a sounding board for others’ ideas.
  • Figuring out what people want/need to hear in a given situation.
  • Misinterpreting nonverbal cues.
  • Providing snarky retorts to non sequitur comments.
  • Falling down at inopportune moments.

Before long, the only possible conclusion became clear.

I’m sure you know what I mean.

It’s obvious, right?

If I don’t get into grad school, there is only one thing left to do.

…

…

…

…

I shall become Siri.

Campaign Jokes

“The pundits have asked, ‘Is this all some joke?’ […] If they are calling being allowed to form a Super PAC, and collecting unlimited and untraceable amounts of money from individuals, unions, and corporations, and spend that money on political ads and for personal enrichment, and then surrender that Super PAC to one of my closest friends while I explore a run for office…If that is a joke, then they are saying our entire campaign finance system is a joke. And I don’t know about you, but I have been paid to be offended by that. […] If corporations are people, people with a constitutional right to influence our elections, then I promise you that government of those people, by those people, and for those people, shall not perish from the earth.”

–Stephen Colbert (rally, South Carolina)

A Look Back at 2011…

10…typically causes one to crash into 2012 with unfavorable results.

[and other bits of wisdom I’ve garnered in the past year]

9…A cough should not last a month; however, repeating the refrain, “I’ll get it checked out tomorrow” for 29 days is likely to produce this outcome.

8…Remembering to take a picture of the odometer at 99,999 miles may decrease, rather than increase, the odds of remembering to photograph the odometer at 100,000 miles.

7…Typos happen. They happen even on the first page of a many-times-proofread thesis. They often wait to reveal themselves until the document in question has been published and bound.

6…The Coffee-Drinker‘s Catch-22: until you’ve had your morning coffee, it is practically impossible to drink coffee without spilling it down your shirt or splashing it on your computer.

5…Pre-coffee tea drinking does not bypass the Coffee-Drinker’s Catch-22. Even if it’s caffeinated.

4…Don’t mess with the warty pumpkins. They will destroy you, one jot of self-worth at a time.

3…Whether in writing or in life, transitions are a beast.

2…The plague of “lasts” is unavoidable. For that reason…

1…Whether you have two years or only 300 words, make it good.

Goodbye, 2011!
Hello, 2012!!
Happy New Year!!!

Open Letter to DrP

You know what, DrP*? If you’re going to play this commercial every five minutes on Hulu, there are some things you should know.

I am a woman.
I enjoy action movies.
I do not drink diet soda.
I dislike most rom-coms.

You know what else?

You can keep your DrP10.

That’s all.

*And by refusing to type out your name, or your product’s name, I am refusing you that 1.5 additional hits you might have gained from this post. Then negating my own refusal by linking to your video. Irony. I get it.
**Maybe I have lost my sense of humor. Blame it on repeat number 10.