If I stand on the south side of the Charles River in Boston and throw up double middle fingers to the north side, do you think they'll be able to see me?
Because I'd sure love to tell the people at MIT how I feel about them turning me down while Boston U said hell yes, come be a grad student with us. We'll even consider giving you a scholarship to come over here and thumb your nose at Tech students.
And then don't forget the waitlist of Johns Hopkins.
Can I just say I'm bowled over? I fluctuated between being sure I'd get in to all 3 and thinking good grief, they'd be nuts to let me into any of those. Who would want me infesting the campus?
But now they're saying it's ok, like a koala infestation. The cutest infestation ever. Mitch Hedberg can come pat me on the head.
And now I feel even more bone-weary than before. Now that all the anticipation is gone, nothing is left but hard decisions and paperwork. I just want to sleep. (I haven't sleep for 10 days, cos that would be too long.)
This is Liz all-together . . .
I really don't feel all-together right now. But that's ok. Things will fall into place. I'm gonna go listen to a comedy CD, perhaps, so I quit quoting it, and get to the Sleater-Kinney that Claunch gave me. Mmm.
Now what?
Monday, March 28, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
All Things Have Risen
I honestly don't care enough is "risen" is grammatically correct (sorry Horvit, you'll never brainwash me into being a complete copyeditor). But things go up, slowly, surely, even when it seems like nothing ever will.
This is the first Easter Sunday I've ever spent in Fort Worth. It's funny how you can remember where you were back through the years . . . freshman year, out in the country of Texas, somewhere by the Brazos, I think. Sophomore year, in London, at Westminster Cathedral and then spending the afternoon in the bar of the Texas Embassy restaurant, where a friend was working all day. Last year, in San Antonio, with Maureen and her family. This year, my sister and I, 7 a.m. Mass and then a big dinner later on.
Faith is delicate. My faith in God has never faltered, not once in my life that I remember. My faith in my family never has either. But my faith in other people and institutions has been rocked, lately. Today I reminded myself that it's called faith for a reason . . . you've got to work at it. Keep reminding yourself you're doing the right thing. Keep reminding yourself that people are good and you should trust them. Keep reminding. Tie a string around your finger, tattoo it on your skin, and remember.
I will tattoo it on my body someday, where I can carry a constant reminder.
And also, a documentary (I love them, I am a dork and if you don't like them, you are a fool and not the cool way, either) just got finished and there were definitely puffins in it. Those little birds are definitely as cool as penguins and deserve equal notoreity (and that's from the root notorious, which is a BAD word, but I don't care, puffins are badasses).
Remember.
This is the first Easter Sunday I've ever spent in Fort Worth. It's funny how you can remember where you were back through the years . . . freshman year, out in the country of Texas, somewhere by the Brazos, I think. Sophomore year, in London, at Westminster Cathedral and then spending the afternoon in the bar of the Texas Embassy restaurant, where a friend was working all day. Last year, in San Antonio, with Maureen and her family. This year, my sister and I, 7 a.m. Mass and then a big dinner later on.
Faith is delicate. My faith in God has never faltered, not once in my life that I remember. My faith in my family never has either. But my faith in other people and institutions has been rocked, lately. Today I reminded myself that it's called faith for a reason . . . you've got to work at it. Keep reminding yourself you're doing the right thing. Keep reminding yourself that people are good and you should trust them. Keep reminding. Tie a string around your finger, tattoo it on your skin, and remember.
I will tattoo it on my body someday, where I can carry a constant reminder.
And also, a documentary (I love them, I am a dork and if you don't like them, you are a fool and not the cool way, either) just got finished and there were definitely puffins in it. Those little birds are definitely as cool as penguins and deserve equal notoreity (and that's from the root notorious, which is a BAD word, but I don't care, puffins are badasses).
Remember.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
A Long Report Of Telemarketers & Other Misc. Things
I realize it's been a while since the last entry, and guess it's because things keep falling apart and I feel like I'm constantly trying to fit little bits of my life back together. And it's not just my life, either. More than ever I'm discovering that your life can never be as simple as you want, and there are countless people woven into your life who feel the impact of every little thing you're party to.
What's new? Our journalism department is now the Schieffer School of Journalism, which is pretty cool. Gives me something spiffy to put on my resume. Lots of big names came, and I still like to tell people about how Bob Woodward was in my newsroom and shook my hand. He's a badass.
Spring break came, along with me not feeling so hot. I'd spent a few weeks studiously ignoring the painful lymph nodes "the size of cats" (says Jason) until my throat hurt, and when I finally made it to the doctor the verdict was strep, a tonsil infection and mono. Took enough drugs to kill everything and knock me out, and found that while a nice warm fuzzy feeling ensues after taking that many meds, it still has its down.
So most of break was spent unconscious, but the people who kept me company and listened to my ramblings rock my world about 19 different ways. The mono is a pretty severe case, and if you're sick the only thing you want is a little sympathy. My parents, my sister, Jason, Maureen, Emily, Stephen, Claunch, Loren, my darling editors and everyone from the newsroom . . . yeah, I owe these people a lot.
And to those people who give you grief when you don't feel well . . . you suck at life. (Yeah, especially you telemarketers who call my dorm at 9 a.m. when I'm asleep enough to actually answer.)
In other news . . . Easter is coming and Lent will be over soon, meaning I can drink again. It wasn't that big a deal not to drink, but good grief, if ever there were a time period where I would need a margarita or two, it's been this Lent. The Society of Professional Journalists had a code of ethics that calls on everyone to be accountable, be honest, minimize harm, stuff like that . . . good stuff, yah?
It's called being a decent human being, in my book, and I try . . . I've been trying for a few weeks now to be completely honest about things in an attempt to minimize harm to others (remember what I said about everybody's life getting woven into yours?). It seems no matter how hard I try, I always end up getting people pissed off. Do I suck at trying to be good or what?
Sometimes there are instances where you walk into something knowing you're going to hurt someone . . . wow. I wanted to be a doctor when I got to university. I still consider it sometimes. But then I'm not sure I could walk into something where I know I'm bearing bad news sometimes. How do you let a family know their son just died? How do you let someone know that things will never be the same? How do you tell someone that everything they think is different now?
I can't do that. I've done it a few times because I was doing what I felt was the best thing, but that doesn't help a lot. It doesn't help when you know you're doing it for the right reason or you're trying your best, if someone gets hurt, then it's your fault.
Hmm. I've forgotten where I was going with all that. So in conclusion, I'm sick, and will be for a while, but that's cool, at least I'm not contagious. If people give me grief for falling asleep all the time, I have a legit excuse now.
In addition to not infecting people, I'm still trying my best as far as a code of ethics. If you don't want to be a decent human being, then you suck at life.
A telemarketer just called. It's nearly 9 p.m. She was nice and asked if I was interested, I told her I wasn't, thanks very much, but have a good night. She said, you too, thanks, bye, and that was it.
There is good out there.
What's new? Our journalism department is now the Schieffer School of Journalism, which is pretty cool. Gives me something spiffy to put on my resume. Lots of big names came, and I still like to tell people about how Bob Woodward was in my newsroom and shook my hand. He's a badass.
Spring break came, along with me not feeling so hot. I'd spent a few weeks studiously ignoring the painful lymph nodes "the size of cats" (says Jason) until my throat hurt, and when I finally made it to the doctor the verdict was strep, a tonsil infection and mono. Took enough drugs to kill everything and knock me out, and found that while a nice warm fuzzy feeling ensues after taking that many meds, it still has its down.
So most of break was spent unconscious, but the people who kept me company and listened to my ramblings rock my world about 19 different ways. The mono is a pretty severe case, and if you're sick the only thing you want is a little sympathy. My parents, my sister, Jason, Maureen, Emily, Stephen, Claunch, Loren, my darling editors and everyone from the newsroom . . . yeah, I owe these people a lot.
And to those people who give you grief when you don't feel well . . . you suck at life. (Yeah, especially you telemarketers who call my dorm at 9 a.m. when I'm asleep enough to actually answer.)
In other news . . . Easter is coming and Lent will be over soon, meaning I can drink again. It wasn't that big a deal not to drink, but good grief, if ever there were a time period where I would need a margarita or two, it's been this Lent. The Society of Professional Journalists had a code of ethics that calls on everyone to be accountable, be honest, minimize harm, stuff like that . . . good stuff, yah?
It's called being a decent human being, in my book, and I try . . . I've been trying for a few weeks now to be completely honest about things in an attempt to minimize harm to others (remember what I said about everybody's life getting woven into yours?). It seems no matter how hard I try, I always end up getting people pissed off. Do I suck at trying to be good or what?
Sometimes there are instances where you walk into something knowing you're going to hurt someone . . . wow. I wanted to be a doctor when I got to university. I still consider it sometimes. But then I'm not sure I could walk into something where I know I'm bearing bad news sometimes. How do you let a family know their son just died? How do you let someone know that things will never be the same? How do you tell someone that everything they think is different now?
I can't do that. I've done it a few times because I was doing what I felt was the best thing, but that doesn't help a lot. It doesn't help when you know you're doing it for the right reason or you're trying your best, if someone gets hurt, then it's your fault.
Hmm. I've forgotten where I was going with all that. So in conclusion, I'm sick, and will be for a while, but that's cool, at least I'm not contagious. If people give me grief for falling asleep all the time, I have a legit excuse now.
In addition to not infecting people, I'm still trying my best as far as a code of ethics. If you don't want to be a decent human being, then you suck at life.
A telemarketer just called. It's nearly 9 p.m. She was nice and asked if I was interested, I told her I wasn't, thanks very much, but have a good night. She said, you too, thanks, bye, and that was it.
There is good out there.
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