The past two days have been weird.
Yesterday was my birthday and I am going to briefly describe the events below without trying to sound like a selfish douchebag. But basically, it was a weird day. The morning was nice because I was with Jason (I had stayed at his house this weekend). The train ride was ok and I got my free Starbucks beverage for my birthday. Good good.
All I was expecting from the office for my birthday was a cake and a card because that seems to be the protocol. And by "seems to be" I mean that every other person that has worked here for the past year gets a cake (or an assortment of cupcakes) and a card for their birthday and we sit around for 15 minutes eating sweets and chatting. However, they decided to be different I guess and we had a "pizza party" which really means that they used the free trade from one of our pizza advertisers to get rid of it. Fine. To be honest, I really wanted a healthier lunch but I never turn down free food and it was, albeit a little cheap, a nice birthday gesture. They should have left it there. I'd have considered it a fair trade-off and gone about my business. Instead, my boss decides to get a package of hostess cupcakes from CVS and present them to me on a paper plate with an individual candle in each one and a card that wasn't even signed by all FOUR people that work in the office. Really? I think I want to change "It's the thought that counts" to "It's the effort that counts." Because I wasn't looking for a designer cake from Georgetown, I was just looking for a little more commitment than a trip to the CVS at the corner.
I then proceeded to allow myself to become stressed out about moving again. We finally decided on the place and the move-in day (Sept 15) but apparently "Sept 15" was really confusing to my current roommate for some reason because she offered to try to find someone for Sept 1 "if that's what you want." Um, no, I'll still be living here on Sept 1..because that date happens before Sept 15. But this is the girl who texted me to let me know that she couldn't find my phone when it was lost... so why am I surprised? I decided to email her yesterday (we never see each other in the apt.) to let her know what time we were planning on moving my shit on the 15th to give them an opportunity to either hole themselves up in their bedroom or flee the county and to reinforce the date, thereby relieving some stress. No response of course. Stress remains unrelieved. I have these nightmares that some girl from Kentucky is gonna show up at my door with all her stuff on Sept 1 and the painfully exhausting argument that would ensue.
Thankfully Jason came down to take me out to a really nice dinner and I really did have a good time but I was so irritated/stressed about the events/overreactions from earlier in the day that I was finding it hard to 100% enjoy the experience. The bottom line is that I want to feel comfortable in my own home and the closer we get to Sept 15, the more anxious I'm becoming about it. Also, it proves that my job is still ridiculous no matter how many times it threatens to be almost tolerable.
This fine morning, Jason and I decided he would drive my car up to his house because I need to use it this weekend but I have to leave work early on Friday to make it up to Baltimore in time for an early dinner. So instead of sitting in all that traffic on Friday, I'll just take the train and my car will already be there! Viola. Except that when I turned the car on for him to drop me off at the metro this morning, I used my keychain instead of the spare car key. So I left for work and Jason drove up to Baltimore with ALL OF MY KEYS. Sigh. His parents just drove all the way down from Baltimore to my office to drop them off to me. Way way nicer than they had to be. But I am hugely thankful.
Tonight I'm going out with one of my best friends from college for my birthday. Hopefully the craziness is done. I'm tired. I just want to have a nice night and be done with it. Jeez!
That was a long bitch-session. Apologies.
8.14.2012
8.08.2012
Good Luck?
A bird just poo-ed on me. That's good luck right? Or is it only messy?
I'm expecting a response from these MICA grad program people telling me its not too late to sign up for their online information session tonight at 7. We'll see, if bird poo is truly lucky, these MICA people will be nice.
In other news, I think I want to get a sugar glider or two when Jason and I move in to our new apartment. They're small and clean (because they're not rodents, they're marsupials) so good for a small apartment space. AND they're as smart as dogs. So you can train them to know their name and come to you. What's more! They become intensely attached to their human family and will walk around with you in your pocket the whole time you're home! They basically sound like the best combination of a dog's friendship, a cat's low maintenance, and a hamster's size! Let the research ensue. I've already picked names. Dobby and Kreacher—due to 1) their size and 2) their loyalty. Win.
I'm expecting a response from these MICA grad program people telling me its not too late to sign up for their online information session tonight at 7. We'll see, if bird poo is truly lucky, these MICA people will be nice.
In other news, I think I want to get a sugar glider or two when Jason and I move in to our new apartment. They're small and clean (because they're not rodents, they're marsupials) so good for a small apartment space. AND they're as smart as dogs. So you can train them to know their name and come to you. What's more! They become intensely attached to their human family and will walk around with you in your pocket the whole time you're home! They basically sound like the best combination of a dog's friendship, a cat's low maintenance, and a hamster's size! Let the research ensue. I've already picked names. Dobby and Kreacher—due to 1) their size and 2) their loyalty. Win.
8.01.2012
Speed-Bumps
So we didn't get the apartment we wanted. As anticipated, the lady decided to collect 1 million applications and then choose, I don't know who she chose, the super-credit people or something to actually award the place to. Instead of the nice young couple who showed up 10 minutes before the open house ecstatic about the idea of possibly living in a place we already know and love. Whatever. Am I bitter? Yes.
In the same evening of this discovery, Jason got off work at 4 to drive down here and I left work at 4:45 to begin my metro journey to another place for a tour. Our appointment was at 5:30 because apparently these apartment complexes don't like anyone who works full-time to be able to visit. They all close super early and then have shit times on the weekend. Well of course, being in DC at rush hour, we got delayed (we had to drive even after the metro). We got to the place at 6 on the dot which is when they officially close. They refused to show us around. Infuriating. Now, I can't really explain the reason for just how angry I became, especially because we would have inevitably decided not to live there even if we DID tour. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to get there from work. If I wanted to commute that long, I'd just live in Baltimore where the apartments are exponentially cheaper. But the fact that we had come so far and that I had even called to let them know we were still coming and we really couldn't come any other time because we both work, on top of the already frustrating process this whole apartment search has been, on top of the fact that I hate my current place SO MUCH, I just lost it. And I defaulted to my worst personality flaw: when I get mad, I cry—completely negating any powerful or assertive attitude I previously displayed. So here I am, in the car on the way out, sobbing like an idiot about a place I didn't even want to live.
This morning, I told Jason that he's up. I'm passing off the baton, as it were (I've been watching a LOT of Olympics). I can't do it anymore. We already have the place I talked about before. If he wants to stay there, fine. If he wants to apply to one of the two other feasible places we saw, fine. If he wants to comb craigslist some more, fine. I've checked out. And I feel a little bit bad about it. But apparently, exactly one month is all I can stand when it comes to finding apartments in/near DC.
Watching the Olympics, I saw a piece about Michael Phelps, an athlete who I don't even particularly like because I think he's a bit of an ass, that pulled me back into reality a bit. It was about how his coach would routinely throw unexpectedly awful things at him to help him cope with unforeseen speed-bumps. And it clicked. That's my problem. I've noticed it before but I've never done anything about it. I can schedule myself to within seconds of my life but I fall apart the second something unforeseen happens. I HATE (like, unconsolable anger) when my plans don't work out how I PLANNED THEM TO and that's a thing I need to get over. Because the amount of times I encounter a perfectly flowing schedule compared to the amount of times that something, however small, might throw a wrench into those plans is a very uneven ratio.
And I have been favoring the wrong side all along.
45 days until Sept. 15.
In the same evening of this discovery, Jason got off work at 4 to drive down here and I left work at 4:45 to begin my metro journey to another place for a tour. Our appointment was at 5:30 because apparently these apartment complexes don't like anyone who works full-time to be able to visit. They all close super early and then have shit times on the weekend. Well of course, being in DC at rush hour, we got delayed (we had to drive even after the metro). We got to the place at 6 on the dot which is when they officially close. They refused to show us around. Infuriating. Now, I can't really explain the reason for just how angry I became, especially because we would have inevitably decided not to live there even if we DID tour. It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to get there from work. If I wanted to commute that long, I'd just live in Baltimore where the apartments are exponentially cheaper. But the fact that we had come so far and that I had even called to let them know we were still coming and we really couldn't come any other time because we both work, on top of the already frustrating process this whole apartment search has been, on top of the fact that I hate my current place SO MUCH, I just lost it. And I defaulted to my worst personality flaw: when I get mad, I cry—completely negating any powerful or assertive attitude I previously displayed. So here I am, in the car on the way out, sobbing like an idiot about a place I didn't even want to live.
This morning, I told Jason that he's up. I'm passing off the baton, as it were (I've been watching a LOT of Olympics). I can't do it anymore. We already have the place I talked about before. If he wants to stay there, fine. If he wants to apply to one of the two other feasible places we saw, fine. If he wants to comb craigslist some more, fine. I've checked out. And I feel a little bit bad about it. But apparently, exactly one month is all I can stand when it comes to finding apartments in/near DC.
Watching the Olympics, I saw a piece about Michael Phelps, an athlete who I don't even particularly like because I think he's a bit of an ass, that pulled me back into reality a bit. It was about how his coach would routinely throw unexpectedly awful things at him to help him cope with unforeseen speed-bumps. And it clicked. That's my problem. I've noticed it before but I've never done anything about it. I can schedule myself to within seconds of my life but I fall apart the second something unforeseen happens. I HATE (like, unconsolable anger) when my plans don't work out how I PLANNED THEM TO and that's a thing I need to get over. Because the amount of times I encounter a perfectly flowing schedule compared to the amount of times that something, however small, might throw a wrench into those plans is a very uneven ratio.
And I have been favoring the wrong side all along.
45 days until Sept. 15.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)