Grad School Interview Day

10:45am – I’m here. This is freaking me out. So far, I’m the first one to show up. Is that good or bad?
I have so many questions and of course I can’t think of them at this point to actually write them down.  Oma gave me with too much stuff to bring. It’s all done out of love. She saddled me with an umbrella, water bottle, bag of dried fruit, an apple and more dog hair on my brand new pants than I can shake a lint roller at.
Like mentioned, I was the first one here. When I walked into the office, the receptionist seemed to have no idea there there is anything special going on today. Strange, right? If you are part of something this huge, shouldn’t you know the gist of what is happening from day to day? Or, at the very least, on important days?

Interview about who we are, from where we are, what we hope to accomplish, etc. Boring BS, blah blah blah.

12:37pm – This is the worst tour ever. Our guide has been out of classes for 2 whole sememsters because she only needs one more summer class to graduate. This causes her to talk about nothing but food options around campus and where to get the best iced coffee drinks.

12:42pm – I was compared to Isla Fisher. Awesome.

Free lunch! Yesss!

13:30pm – The girl with whom I have aligned myself is a total one-upper, very dedicated and VERY ambitious. Bitch. She’s getting a spot for sure.

13:51 – I get my period. Great timing, Uterus. Just…great.

Program and faculty overview.  There are two male professors; one is most certainly gay, the other may be, but I find myself thinking that I could give him a run for his money. I probably shouldn’t think that about a future academic superior, right?

14:55 – Totally separate person compares me to Isla Fisher. Is there something to this that I’m not seeing? Maybe it’s my blazer? New pants?

Group interview, which is more like group project time on the concept of intimacy. They openly tout this as a way to see our interactions in a group setting. I waste no time speaking up and setting myself out as a leader. Unfortunately, half the group seemed to have that exact same mentality. I feel confident in the points that I made. Halfway thru, I decided to stand out by playing role of mediator instead of taking a side. I think that worked in my favor.

15:45pm – Closing statemens from the dean, awkward goodbyes and “hope to see you in the fall” sentiments to everyone we had the briefest of conversations with over the course of the day.

I finally exhale. What a day. With this interview done, I feel as tho I could find a real home in this university. However, I’m no closer to deciding how I feel about possibly putting my marriage and future offspring on hold for a school which I still have tepid feelings towards.
It’s all up to them now. If they choose me, I’ll go with my head held high and a willingness to learn what I set out to learn. If not, then I get to save the cost of a moving van. Four weeks before I’ll know anything. Let’s the angst begin.

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Day Drinking

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The other day I did some day-drinking with one of my managers who’s quickly becoming a friend. It wasn’t at work, but it was a particularly terrible week, we both got off at 1pm that day, and felt that Bloody Marys were in order before we went to the gym. The only ones judging us were the birds.

Disapointment

Yesterday, I got the horrible news that I was not being considered for the Couples and Family Therapy program at University of Oregon. All last night and today I have been thinking powerful and uplifting things. It’s not me, it’s them. They don’t know what they are missing. I can do so much better at another school.
Here’s the thing; I don’t think I can anymore. My confidence is shaken. I didn’t get into the school I wanted (twice) and I’m crushed.

Hope and Fear

Who found out this morning thay she got selected for a personal interview at Widener University? This girl! This is so blessedly welcome to my psyche right now and still so terrifying.
Ben has made it more than clear that he does not approve of us moving to the east coast. At one point did threaten to stay here while I went to school and lived with my grandparents. I say, don’t count your chickens before they hatch. We haven’t heard back from UofO yet so I’m not totally out of the running.
If they could just tell me already, I and my developing ulcer would be very grateful. 

Roommates Are Grand

Three weeks ago I got a text message that, if spoken out loud, I probably would have cried; it was typed with that deep an intensity. It was from my friend, Tim, who told me that he was being evicted from his apartment, didn’t know where to go and was embarrassed, but had to ask for a place to live. Now, I’m the kid who brought home every stray pet, every injured bug; how could I say no to a human in need?
So, he got a storage locker for the big stuff that wouldn’t fit in the house and brought over the essentials. We had a nice long talk about our old, less sensitive roommates and how he would have to be different to not screw this up. (Some days I hate being so cynical, but it seems to be serving me well at this stage of my life.) That week we borrowed multiple trucks to move various loads and I hurriedly cleaned a spare room. It was sad, and there were many tears shed on his part.
We thought this may have been a blessing in disguise as Tim is also applying to a major airline corporation as a flight attendant. Who wants to try to break a lease or find a subletter? I know I don’t. The deal is that he would stay with us until he either found out that he didn’t get the job where he would find his own new place, OR be would find out he got the job and stay with us until he was expected to move down south. (This particular hub is out of Atlanta.)
Things have been going smoothly so far. The biggest shock to all three of us is living with a “roommate” again. Ben and Tim have to coordinate a shower schedule as the start work at the same time. I have to be in bed at 830 for my 5am workday when Tim is used to staying up until midnight or later. Laundry, cleaning, eating schedules, all need to be coordinated. (Did I mention that Tim is gay? That makes the shower thing extra interesting.) For the most part it is going well aside from the little annoyances. I’m sure we’re no picnic either. We are particular people; we like to do things our way.
I found out late last week that he didn’t get the job as flight attendant. How soon is too soon to ask him to find a new apartment? We aren’t on the rocks as friends yet, in fact I hardly ever see him; slightly more than when he had his apartment. But that was the deal. A few days ago he tells me that he has already applied for another flight attendant job at another airline. Who knows how long that process will take? Then he made a joke last night about moving out the same time that we (prospectively) would move out for grad school. I don’t think I want him here for 6 whole months! Maybe I’m too much of a pushover like my childhood self when it comes to creatures in need. Tim and I should probably have ‘The Talk’ soon, but I think I will wait until after I collect first month’s rent.