Lunch with the boys...sort of.

Lunch with the boys of the Allegheny Round Table used to be something I was excited about. A thing that made me look forward to Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The best part of my school days by far. Ferk used to have to force me to go to my afternoon classes.

This semester, something is different, and that something is the ratio of male to female genitalia. The round table was, initially, me and my favorite Guy friends. Now, as I type this, there are five guys and three girls around the table. I'm not usually here on Mondays or Fridays anymore, and while I usually blame this on my schedule, the truth is that I'm also okay with rarely being here. The fact that B. and G. are here is a small part of that, for sure, but I honestly only think I'm here because of nostalgia, Johnny D, and Ferk.

It's kind of sad. I can't tell if I miss the old days or I just want to be at Carlow already.

The Secret is wanting stuff?

Maybe there's something to that stupid book, The Secret, that I have never actually opened but enjoy making fun of. Maybe "vision boards" have something to them, and thinking about something will actually have an impact on the Universe and bring it closer to you, within reach, and all you have to do is recognize it and not fuck it up.

I guess this is the opposite of some religions and, minus the actual deity you'd be asking, pretty similar to the prayers of other religions, which maybe means it's hard to get what you want if you don't know who you are? Like celebrating Christmas is challenging if you think you might be leaning towards Zoroastrianism?

/end irrelevant tangent

The point is, last week I was staring at the work schedule for the lodge and thinking about how much it sucked that I was only on for 12 hours. Not that 12 isn't great, and more money than I really need in the summer, but after 20+ each week, it was kind of a letdown.

I kept thinking about how I'd rather work than be bored at home and I'd like to have the cash to save towards a new computer (I'm typing this on the Dell we got in 2003). I washed my uniform days early. I didn't paint my nails, even though with five consecutive scheduled days off, I'd have had plenty of time to take the polish off before I went back to work.

And then Judy asked if I'd work on Wednesday, because Dave's shoulder is still fucked up, so I said yes, picking up 7 more hours...but on Tuesday morning, she called again and Paul had called off that day. So I worked Tuesday and Wednesday, and after Saturday's shift I'll have 25 hours in a week I thought would yeild 12.

Focus on what you want, guys. Maybe there's something to all of the theories.

That Does It - From Now On, My Brother Can Open My Mail

You guys remember the YSU letter I got last week, right?

Same letter from Carlow the day after . No joke.

Well, today's mail contained an envelope from Edinboro. Cue immediate increase in heart rate.

...aaaaaand it was just a letter thanking me for visiting the campus last Tuesday.

You're welcome. Now please don't send me anything else until you're ready to tell me if I got in or not, okay?

In Today's Post: An Exercise In Anxiety

I got home from work, changed out of my Lodge Associate Barbie ensemble, and flopped.

I remained in that position for probably ten minutes, but if you're judging, you can bugger off, because I spent 6 hours stocking shelves, taking calls, checking prices, and being irked by the fact that EVERY TIME someone asked me a question, a co-worker talked loudly in my ear at the same time.

But I digress. The point is, I unflopped after that and asked Mike if he'd gotten the mail. He hadn't. I got up, put on my flip flops, and did it myself. None of this is unusual.

The unusual bit: Today's post contained a letter from Youngstown State University!

I was immediately nervous. Seriously, heart-poundingly nervous. I did not look both ways before I crossed the street. I stared at the envelope like it was possessed or something.

Then I opened it...and cracked up. They'd sent the letter on the 13th to request my transcripts...which were sent to them on the 14th.

Thanks for the laugh, YSU <3

I Have Very Few Good Things To Say About CCAC - Comparative Lists

Good Things To Say About CCAC:

1. It is cheap.

2. I've pretty much been in charge of my own scheduling.

Some Not-So-Good Things To Say About CCAC:

1. I don't find out whether or not I got any of the fall scholarships that I applied for until after August 2nd, yet the first fall tuition payment was due today. In other words, those largely depending on scholarships still need to somehow come up with 30% of their tuition before they even know if they won the scholarships.

2. My program is a joke. Actually, my program is fairly rare. The problem with this is that my core classes transfer almost nowhere. Nobody understands how to decide what they're equivalent to. I mean, I'd think "Intro to Social Work" equalling "Intro to Social Work" would be common sense, but apparently it isn't. I'm going to end up as a sophomore somewhere.

3. The advisers are shit. I've spent maybe 20 minutes with them. Total. In the three years that I've been there, and this includes when I changed majors. And now I'm supposed to get personal letters of recommendation from them? Right.

4. Security is a joke, too. My school ID says Summer 2007 on it, and I wasn't even a student until Fall 2007. We're supposed to have new ones or at least new stickers on them each semester, and they're supposed to be checked at events and in the Cougar's Den. I'm in the den at least 3 days a week, and went to the Homecoming dance without ever showing it to anyone.

5. The place is run like a business. As my best friend just reminded me, they'd rather hire an unqualified professor than cancel a class when they should, such as when his networking professor died a few days before the last fall term. CCAC gave the class to a woman who'd taught only Intro to Computers...as an online course.

I'm sure I'll add more later. Or better yet, feel free to add on to this in the comments.

All Has Been Forgiven, According To Our Paperwork

Today's post is on the glorious notion of ACADEMIC FORGIVENESS.

An Example: Let's say you were an English major. You were also pretty undecided and apathetic, and your parents were paying for your cheap-ass tuition at community college so maybe you slacked off. Maybe you failed Philosophy 101 for this reason (and also your professor was into centering his chi and taught without shoes on, inevitably reminding you of your seventh grade reading teacher).

Maybe you also failed Spanish 101 because you suck at rolling your r's, and fuck everyone who says that french kissing is good practice because you can definitely kiss and that Spanish teacher was just being mean when she gave you a name with an r in it anyway. Oh, and you didn't do any homework, but that's probably irrelevant, right?

And then! Then, your mom was still hardcore wanting you to be a nurse, so to prove what you already know you take Anatomy and Physiology 1, and then stop showing up after, despite working your ass off, you've got a 31% before the midterm and realize that you only got 8 answers right out of 200+ and don't really need to see what that will do to your grade.

So that's nine attempted credits with zero grade points. Drags down the GPA quite a bit, but as of this point all you know for sure is that teaching, nursing, and becoming a citizen of Spain or Mexico aren't for you. You're not concerned.

And then it comes to you, like a calling or destiny or what have you. You're a social worker. You always have been, you just didn't know it yet. It's all you are and want to be, given a job title and an office, which is more than you expected.

You change majors. Then you start thinking about where you want to transfer. Then you start thinking "Oh, fuck, my GPA is shit," because it is, and because most social work programs won't take transfers below a 2.25, and Pitt wants a 2.5. You work your butt off and bring that sucker up to a 2.6 after fifteen more credits, so you could apply, but you're still not very impressive looking on paper.

And then it occurs to you that you read about something before you changed majors that might help. Academic forgiveness.

This would make you me. You aren't, but that's alright, you're probably more organized and less clumsy. Anyway, I filed for academic forgiveness, which is essentially this: You changed majors at least twelve credits prior to filing and had failed courses that don't relate to your new major, so you formally file for 'forgiveness'. If the school grants your request, the classes are marked as forgiven on your transcripts and no longer calculated into your GPA.

Why This Is Important: CCAC granted my request, bringing my GPA up to a 3.163. Time to start the applications, guys!

I'd Have Typed My Resume Until My Fingers Bled

I apologize for my absence, but I've got a good excuse - all of my time on the Internet was spent in a crash attempt at getting a job.

The reason: My parents told me in the second week of June that if I didn't have a job and thus the ability to pay for my own gas money to get to and from school this fall (note: I drive a twenty-year-old minivan with no working overdrive, and it's 78 miles per day round-trip), they wouldn't pay for my tuition since they can't afford to cover both and I can't exactly get to school without my car.

The catch: My first tuition payment is due on July 14th.

This left me with five weeks to find a job...and I'd already been looking since my brief love affair with a Halloween store ended at the beginning of November. I'll admit I'd been lazier about it than I should have been, but still...this was going to be rough, especially considering...

My job history: My first job was obtained accidentally. No, really. I showed up to make some cash as a one-day dishwasher in a hotel because a friend's mom worked there and the illegal Russian dishwashers had been deported. Next thing I knew, I was filling out an application in HR and eloquently talking my way into a job as a banquet server.

I adored that job, but all good things must end, and the hotel closed. So then I worked at a Dairy Queen for a little over 3 months, during which I gained 15 pounds and then was gradually given fewer hours and mysteriously dropped from the schedule.

Skip forward six months of spending my parents' money on dates with my ex, and I spent a month in a Halloween store, singing the Powerpuff Girls theme song and wearing my Chucks to work. But October can only last so long.

But back to the challenge: I don't have accurate numbers for the whole thing, but in the last week of applying, I put in 31 job applications.

I got two phone calls about interviews. Two. As in, two places out of more than thirty-one bothered to contact me in any capacity at all.

"That's okay," I told my mother, "I only need one job."

I got a haircut, got nervous, got dressed in the most classy "casual business" attire I've ever worn, and...I got the first job I interviewed for.

So that's big news for me (and this blog), because I don't need to go sell a kidney on the black market or anything crazy like that to pay my fall tuition.