Insomniac seeking Master's Degree

Fair warning: applying to graduate school is not for the faint of heart. Well I guess it is, because I am pretty faint of heart, but I am keeping my head above water. Barely. I guess.

I am so stressed out right now that I went to the gym tonight and for the first two miles on the treadmill I could not really feel my legs. I suppose this might be a problem. I was just waiting for myself to fall over and for many concerned runners and stair-steppers to fly to my aid. (In my imagination at least one of them was a devastatingly handsome (single) male.)

There are soon-to-be nine people in my home. We have enough mattress space (not mattresses, just space, meaning people have to get snuggly together) for eight. I should be in bed right now, as I have to awake in less than seven hours for work, but I know it's pretty much a lost cause. Last weekend I ran five miles and didn't sleep the entire night following, so why should I expect today's five miles to sufficiently wear me out? I have an application due Thursday, have to work between now and then, meanwhile weaving in and out of the eight people in my home--none of whom are working and therefore do not require alarm clocks, deadlines, you know...work. I have to squeeze in a visit to Grandma's, open presents, etc., etc., sneaking out of the house to the library to write more intimidating application essays...

SIGH...I need a hug...

So. Faint of heart. You should probably get checked out by your doctor before signing up for the application process. And the more schools on your list, the more infinite your stress will become. Personally I am scratching schools off my list every day. I started with around 20, narrowed it to nine, and have now settled "comfortably" at six. Over achiever? No. Nonetheless applying to the top journalism program in the country? You betcha.

Wish me luck, please. Not on the apps, on sleeping tonight. Just kidding, on both, for sure.

Furious

I have every last right to be Ebenezer Scrooge.

I have EARNED the title, People. Do not argue with me.

First of all, I have not had Christmas yet. Go ahead, check your calendar. Yep, it's the 26th. Nope, no Christmas yet in this household. We have to wait for brothers, wife of brother, and GF's of brothers to arrive. And then we have to wait for my BF to arrive. Oh wait, no no. That's right, there is no boyfriend. I have opened two presents, due to bartering, but we'll get to that later.

I ended my evening last night on the phone with my brothers Patrick and Kelly. I argued with Patrick, hanging up the phone with a gritted-teeth, "I love you, drive safely," and then proceeded to call Kelly, because I knew he would be on my side. Kelly calmed me down and walked me through my upcoming anxiety for the holiday week, and when we hung up I thought I was ready to sleep.

Then I popped sleeping pill number 1.

...

And then I popped sleeping pill number 2.

...

3:30 am. STILL AWAKE.

This is because I am sleeping on a mattress, circa 1980. Yes, my childhood mattress. It is awful. It makes a crunching noise when you lie on it, and you think you're comfortable, and then you realize you're not.

I sought refuge in a different bed (we will not discuss the entire mattress situation of my household, because my blood will boil), and fell asleep, stiffly and angrily. I woke up around 11 am today, still stiff and angry.

My main goal today was to go to the gym and run. By this point I had been in my house for almost 48 hours, due to bad weather and holiday constraints--home traditions and everything else being closed. I didn't want to shower when I woke up this morning, because I wanted to go get sweaty and then shower. So I had a Pop Tart and a banana. I put on my sweats and coat and went to my car. I backed the car out. I put the car in drive. I moved three feet. And I got stuck.

I am not proud of this, but I pounded my fist against my dashboard, swearing. I came inside and slammed my hand against the wall, screaming how all I want is to sleep at night and go run on a treadmill, and is that so much to ask?

Dad and Riley helped dig me out of the snow, and then Dad made us shovel the entire driveway. I was running out of time to go to the gym before work, and Dad insisted my car would not drive in this weather, yet I had to argue one of our other cars out of him. I was so furious after the shoveling that I called my friend Tommy and said "Where are you? Are you working today? Can you meet me somewhere? Anywhere."

I had given up on exercising and took a shower, then met Tommy for lunch. He paid. Smart move.

I drove to work. I was inadvertently late. Karen, Ashley, Jen, and Marcus tried their darndest to get me to smile. Ashley sent her fiance on a secret mission to get me Sweetarts and a yellow carnation. Marcus cleaned all the snow off my car before he left work. Caleb came to visit me and Ashley and listened lovingly to my story of my no good terrible very bad day. I got free cookies. A mug was sort of broken but still usable, so I got to take it home. Even hottie hott customer Jim came through the drive-thru and stayed for a minute to chat.

I finally cooled. After 24 hours. We had very few customers, so we got to chill.

We closed the store. We said our goodbyes. We headed home.

I got a mile from my house and saw a car with its lights flashing. I thought, "I bet I could help them push that car up the hill. I could turn around and help them and maybe not be a jerk for five minutes of this day." So I pulled into a cul-de-sac.

AND I GOT STUCK.

If you are not taking notes, wake up and pay attention. This was the second time in one no good terrible very bad day that I got stuck in the snow.

I tried and tried to get back up the hill. I created fumes from the hood. I got out to scrape snow from the tires. There was actually very little snow, it was just slush packed in my bad tires so the wheels spun without creating forward motion. As cars passed on the main road I honked the wussy little horn and flashed my lights. I honked at the snow plow.

Oh by the way it was midnight at this point. With snow falling.

I thought about knocking on a door in the cul-de-sac, but no lights had flicked on inside due to my honking, so I figured they were all out of town having a merry little Christmas.

I walked a mile up and down multiple huge hills. Wearing all black. The sidewalks were piled high with snow, so I walked in the road. Not one single car stopped to help me or ask if I was all right.

I walked in the door and told Dad and Patrick and Riley to put on their shoes, let's go. Dad needed to pinpoint the exact location of the car before he would leave. I told him it didn't matter.

We got back to the cul-de-sac and IT HAD BEEN PLOWED. In the time I walked home and we drove back, the plow had come and plowed the cul-de-sac. Nice timing, Bud. Where were you 20 minutes ago?

We pushed the car up the hill in 2 seconds flat, without digging any snow out from underneath. All I needed was extra man power so that the car wouldn't slide back on top of me. So I walked a mile to gather three men and their power.

DON'T YOU DARE MENTION HERE THAT I NEED A CELL PHONE. IT WILL NOT BE A PRETTY RESULT.

When we got home I declared, "I get to open a present now." (All present opening is on hold until the entire family gets here. Riley and I each opened one on Christmas Eve--Harry Potter for him, bracelet for me.)

I opened my present.

My present was a box of oatmeal.

I rest my case. Ebenezer Scrooge. Every last right.

Christmas, 2009:

Awake. Stare at ceiling. Cat enters room. Looks cute. Does not come close enough for touching. Leaves room. Head to kitchen. Reach for coffee. Mom calls from upstairs. Go upstairs. Crawl in bed with Mom. Dad comments on weather. Back downstairs. Make coffee. Sulawesi. Eat banana. Listen to Julie Andrews. The Sound of Christmas. Eat yogurt. Listen to Celine Dion. Ave Maria. Coffee is done. Fill mug. Take to basement. Shower. Check email/facebook/blog. Phone rings. Corie. "Merry Christmas." "Bah humbug." "Sledding?" Eat poached eggs. More coffee. More Celine. Clean room. (Partially). Corie and fam (including dog) arrive. With Kahlua. And sled. Put on layers. Sweats. Socks. More sweats. More socks. Shirt. Sweatshirt. Hat. Scarf. Boots. Swish pants. Coat. Gloves. Outside. Great snow. Fast sledding. Tackling. Inside. Hot chocolate with Bailey's. Soup. Cheese. Crackers. Corie and fam (including dog) leave. (Have not touched cat all day--fickle animal is parading his cuteness around the house but skiddishly running away). 2 rounds of Bananagrams. Putter. Putter. Putter. Dinner. Episode of Friends. Debate on board game. Decide on Taboo. 3 minutes of play. Phone rings. Nick. Answered phone too late, he is recording on the answering machine. Hang up. Call back. Talk to Nick for 30 seconds. His phone dies. Return to Taboo. Phone rings. Nick. Talk to Nick for 12 minutes. He is mid-story, involving footie pajamas. Excitement as listener is rising. His phone dies. No more phone time with Nick. Taboo has been abandoned. Bad TV. Mom and Dad sleeping in chairs. Riley turns off obnoxious commercials. Dad instantly awake. "Hey! I was watching that!" "Dad, you were sleeping." "Was not. Mythbusters. Commercial." Riley and Bailey upstairs. Find cat. He is cornered. Receives petting. Purrs. Riley and Bailey tear apart Lego bricks. Riley laughs. "Do you realize this is how we're spending our Christmas?" Kiss Riley on head. Kiss Dad on head. Kiss Mom on head. Turn off lights. Downstairs. Can't find cat--what else is new?, little booger. Blog. Bed. Bah Humbug.

Say what?

Dear Customers,

Sometimes your comments are not appreciated, and often, not invited in the first place.

A few weeks ago I was putting a carafe of half and half out on the condiment bar, and a woman stirring sugar into her coffee asked me, "Do you know anything about feng shui?" This was around 6am on a Sunday, mind you. Who asks a question at that time of day, prior to sipping their coffee? I paused, mentally checked that I was only inwardly smirking, then hesitantly answered, "Yes..."

"Do you guys do your own set up of the store?" she asked, referring to our holiday decorations. I explained that we do, but that they are according to corporate guidelines. She then proceeded to offer me tips on how to better set up the displays according to the principles of feng shui.

I am not making this up.

I was thinking, "Lady, do I look like I care? It is 6am. I am exhausted, and would not be here if I didn't have to be, please quit telling me about feng shui." When she was finished I told her, again, that the set up is out of our control and that we follow Seattle's orders, and I backed away.

Today. I am sweeping the floor and this woman is on her way to the bathroom and pauses as she approaches me, surveying the dust party at our feet and says, "You're doing a good job," then laughs and passes. I don't know about you but I was offended by this. Pointing out the janitorial element of my job. And laughing in my face. Expecting me to laugh back. I supplied her with a fake chuckle to get her to, like the feng shui lady, move along.

About 5 minutes later I am at the condiment bar (maybe I should just avoid the condiment bar, or the cafe altogether, to prevent these awful events in my life) shoving Equal and Sweet & Low packets into their little compartments when the same lady and her friends come over to throw away their empty cups and napkins. This lady makes a comment about how I am "playing with the sugar." I made a cynically polite remark back about how I am "not exactly playing" with the sugar, moreso stocking it for people like her.

Then!! She said, "making all the big bucks," and laughed. I did not laugh back, obviously, as this woman is now quite possibly very openly commenting on my meager salary and perhaps additionally insulting my occupation overall. Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe I am not.

And then. As I gave her no reaction, keeping my face toward the sugar while my mind willed her out of the store, she said it again. "Making all the big bucks," waiting for me to laugh with her.

I'm sorry, did I laugh the first time?

I didn't laugh the second time either. Finally she left.

Customers, think about what you're saying before you say it. And if you're going to insult the baristas working so very hard behind that counter, then make your coffee at home.

Yikes, I am a jerk. But seriously, who's with me? Please do this barista a favor and be extra, extra, extra nice to anyone and everyone you encounter working in retail tomorrow. It is a lot harder to do these jobs than many people think, including tasks such as "playing with sugar."

Mall Madness

Last Friday included a milestone event in my life. I went to Victoria's Secret for the first time. And I purchased something.

My Christmas list looks a little something like the following:

-graduate school acceptance letters
-chocolate covered raisins
-sweatpants

So. I took matters into my own hands on Friday and went ahead and purchased some sweatpants. (From Victoria's Secret, if you didn't see where I was going with this.) I really had no intention of entering VS, much less the mall, as I never have intention of entering a mall, and when I do I let my nose guide me to the soft pretzel stand and then get the H out of there.

However.

My friend Caleb and I went to see Fantastic Mr. Fox (indeed fantastic--hilarious, including such lines as "Why is your cousin such a wet sandwich?") on Friday, and afterwards we were driving towards food when Caleb mentioned the mall.

He immediately imitated my answer which was: "[Siiiiigh], I could go for mall food court food, but not for mall shopping..."

Caleb was driving so we landed at the mall. He needed to get some gifts for some gal pals, so we ended up in VS. This is where I purchased my new, delicious, blue, soft, thick, glorious sweatpants. Mmm, sweatpants...How I have always loved thee...

Saturday morning I was showing off my new sweatpants to my Mom, told her where I got them from and, putting two and two together she paused and asked, "You didn't go to Victoria's Secret with a 17 year old boy, did you?"

"He's 18, Mom," I reassured her.

Caught off guard by her laughter, she accepted my counter offer and let the issue go.