Day 280
I don't know if I am just getting old but holy frak it's been 280 days.
Moving on...this morning I checked my email to find a message from the administrator of my department (whatever that means)all it said in the subject field was, "Re: TA Position" I opened the email that basically said, "Read the attached letter." Now having applied for a TAship, I took this minimal approach to mean one thing: doom (well, that and failure). When I opened the PDF the first sentence read, "Your application for a TA position has been successful." I was so disappointed it felt like nothing so I read it again to see if it would soak in. Then I finally understood what "successful" meant. Today will always be remembered as the day I learned that not all letters are rejection letters. What a shocking concept.
I was so excited about my TA job even though it was only a 1/3 position (translation: I only get a third of the hours). The 29 bucks an hour made me feel like I should polish up my crown. I was thrilled and wanted to tell everyone I know. I read on further into the letter, you know, the awesome part where it says you were chosen and like 30 other people were rejected and that is a huge compliment...until you realize that all the people you wanted to share your joy with could very well be the big part of that 30 that didn't make it. Naturally, you do the next best thing: call mother. But when your mother answers the phone sounding horridly sick and is hopped up on prescription cough syrup and painkillers that is not really such a great platform for joyous proclaiming either. So here I am: I got a TAship! I have a "real" job (kinda)! I beat out a whole bunch of super-qualified people. Yay! Me! Okay, now that doesn't feel right either. Geez, I need to make some non-writer friends.
The customer of the day award goes to the guy who came in to buy stamps. He was quite cute himself, actually. He looked like he would be a preppy snob instead of a hilarious stamp buyer. My co-worker was helping him and due to her being a psychotic hosebeast didn't quite hear his request. "You wanna buy what?" I answered for him, as I had heard him, "Cute stamps!" Then he winked at me. For a moment, I got lost in the revelry of finding him cute stamp options I was pulling out flowers and sea animals and things throwing them around, showing them off with him winking at me occasionally. For just a glimmer of a moment I actually enjoyed the shitty Post Office job. That was a terrifying moment silver indeed. But, the customer of the day winked at me again and the moment had passed.
My dad is selling one of his collector cars on Ebay despite the fact that he's never been on the internet, ever. He told me to "fire up" my computer and "call up" his Ebay ad to see if he had any more bids. My computer had to restart and because I have shitty Vista (another reason to work super hard and make a million bucks--to never have Vista again). Meanwhile, my dad is yelling into the phone, "Don't you lie to me, it doesn't take this long to call it up. I know that. Quit goofing off and call that ad up there right now, hurry it up." I said, "How do you know how long it takes to 'call it up'? You have never even turned on a computer." His response, the same response he gave me throughout my childhood, "I just know."
Yesterday a friend of mine told me that I am his inspiration to be a writer. Tonight my fiance (long story) told me that I am his inspiration to never become a writer. Yesterday's case told me that he was inspired by how I actually sent out my worked and wrote everyday. Today's argument was the fiance telling me that due to the self-motivation and discipline I have to put towards writing he would never even consider doing it. In a way though, both of these are compliments and I love how they don't see my mountain of rejection letters and time spent pulling out my hair and hiding out on facebook as I just can't muster up the discipline most days.
You know you got it bad when your fiance (again, long story) calls and the first thing out of your mouth is, "What the hell do you want? You are calling during my program!" That is the effect that Toddlers and Tiaras has on my life. If that wasn't enough, my friend came over during the second episode to fetch me for my set-up job. She told me she was willing to wait until after crowning. On the commercial break I explained to her that I was rooting for the girl who kills deer and has a kooky grandma that wears embarrassing hats. The show came back on and then my alleged friend went on and on about how her cousin was a pageant child. I did the thing where you don't respond and lean towards the TV but, she kept on talking. At least the deer kid won, I think.
After the first hour or so of watching TV my zombie phase hits. Then, 45 minutes later a flicker of the real me comes back to the room and realizes that the zombie me is watching an infomercial about dog beds when I don't even have a dog. Not having the willpower to switch it off on my own I consulted my bodyguard via gmail chat and had him tell me to do it and then the zombie me goes to sleep for the night and I don't get to see anymore dogs sleeping on foam beds. I guess I am not really a TV zombie because zombies are characterized by their brain-eating. If that were true then the TV would be the zombie because it eats my brain. Hmm...
Tip of the Day: If you hear a native English speaker say "ekk-specially" instead of "especially" hit them over the head with a dictionary.
-Canadian Castaway
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