I'm done!

Right now, sitting next to me, are my two final completed internship applications.

I should be celebrating, and I am! But, in a really low-key non event way. Graduate school is a long pursuit in the same direction, so to speak. Except that much of the time, you're sprinting. It's like suicide sprints interspersed with grade card day at school.

It's interesting all the things that one must hold aloft during any graduate training. There's internship applications, the equivalent of writing a 10 page paper every day for a month after doing months of compiling and research mixed with the anxieties about where you want your career to head and where you want to live.

But, I still have clients, and classes, and oh, that dissertation thing all up in the air, too. I guess that explains why my closets are heaping messes and that my eyebrows are in severe need of a taming. Umm hmm.

Take Monday, for example. I was seeing clients by 8:30 AM. In between client hours, I was photocopying my surveys so that I could spend my lunch break collecting data from students in a class where the professor was out of town. After a non lunch, there were more clients and the requisite paperwork. Followed by an evening spent editing essays and cover letters for dear friends who have done the same for me. Somewhere in there I ate dinner and baked cookies (ate those, also). I am amazed and pleased at how much one can successfully handle concurrently. I'm also abhorred by such overfunctioning. I often wonder what would happen if I just said "NO." Would things still get done, eventually? Would I see any ill effects?

So, now I brace myself for the joys and the rejections that will start coming soon. The waiting part is hard for me. 18 applications in the mail. I wonder how many interviews I will get? I could have some interviews as soon as two weeks, and have some interviews as late as the first week of February.

Bumbling young fool.

That's what I felt like today. A long weekend writing internship applications, a night of really poor sleep haunted by all of the thoughts and worries I have been putting on hold these days, and a rainy Monday morning made me especially not present today. I found myself spacing out, thinking about my own tasks for the day, and sometimes just not listening. This is probably okay if your job is not purely based on listening to people. However, in my line of work, it can be downright irresponsible

When I opened my mouth, my thoughts were jumbled, too self-referential, and often too precise, cutting, or straightforward to be taken in by my clients. The buffer where I can usually contain myself and dispense only as much truth as is kind and gracious failed, and even a good amount of caffeine couldn't dislodge me from my funk.

I hope that my attempts to admit my bumbling, admit my discombobulation, and apologies for my addled state were sufficient. It's an odd profession where you must wonder if your clients can handle you being a person today, or if it is too soon.

I am tired, so I shall rest. Thanksgiving can't come soon enough.

The Annoying Reasons Why I Love Him

His refusal to wear socks, but sticking his cold feet on me.

His need to poop naked.

His hoarding of past date foodstuffs. Including a can of collard greens circa 2003.

His habit of saying "What are you up to?" when he has nothing else to say and it's evident that you're up to something really obvious.

The over-usage of soap and body wash. His insistence on using a loofah.

His hoarding of digital images, even the accidental shots inside his coat pocket.

His penchant for taking pictures of any and all birds, particularly pigeons.

The refusal to go to the damn eye doctor, even though one lens fell out months ago and he put it back in upside down, and one of the eye pads is attached with a string that I used in a pinch about 10 months ago.

How he asks "What's for dinner?" when I get home more than an hour later than he does.

How he calls me a thousand times from the grocery store to ask questions, but still brings home the wrong kind of oatmeal.

That the drive-thru window overwhelms him. The choices! The ordering! The awkwardness! He gets all anxious.

That he insists on a turkey for Thanksgiving, even when the smallest we can find is 12lbs..for 2 people.

That he loves me as much as I love him, despite my annoyances, too.

Feminists Are Sexy

Feminists have more rewarding relationships. A feminist woman married to a feminist man results in really outstanding sex. So says a new study that was recently purchase in Sex Roles. I knew that there was a reason that I married a feminist.

The Application that Could

I am applying to quite a number of internship sites, all of them selected because I was drawn to some aspect of their training. Some of them are enhanced by having several great experiences, a superb location, or some other aspect. I chose sites from all over, across 8 states and Canada.

One of the Canadian sites is a college counseling center, and I had my application done in plenty of time. I did express mail anyway, with it guaranteed to be there within five days. But, um, don't forget Veteran's Day. Regardless, the latest that my application was guaranteed to arrive was on its due date, which was yesterday.

But my tracking showed all day yesterday that my application packet had "Cleared Canadian Customs" sometime on Wednesday. So, I emailed the director my predicament, along with my tracking number and the progress of the packet, to demonstrate that lack of planning was not why my application had not arrived and asking him to still consider it.

But, I didn't hear back from the director, so I sent another email. Some sites make interview decisions on the day right after the due date, and this site was adamant in their materials that your application be received by November 15th. This time I attached my cover letter, vita, and application with a promise to fax my recommendations, transcripts, part 2 of my application, and any other documents required by this site.

But, I had mailed my recommendation letters to the site with my application, so I had to scramble to get together some letters addressed to this site. That was an ordeal. Then, I went to send the fax. Well, halfway through the fax failed.

I shoved the sheaf of 18 pages into the arms of my husband who I sent to his workplace to try to fax it again on his way to meet some friends for a weekly "The Office" party, while I compiled digital copies of the fax into a pdf file that I could email.

But, the pdf turned out to be 10.03 MB, and that's too big for most email systems. So I was going to upload the document to a storage place I use online that provides links where you can share documents with others, without that person needing to sign in. But, that service is only free for files up to, you guessed it...10MB. So I pulled out the credit card to pay the 3 bucks to host the document. But the first card I pulled out, the stupid CVV security code was rubbed off. I pulled out another card, put in the info, got the document uploaded, got the link, and sent another email with the link.

About that time, I get a phone call. Some employee at the site working late to catch up on some paperwork was getting a fax...well, two faxes, the one I sent and the one my husband was now sending. And they have a small fax machine, and well, it was overwhelming.

This sweet dear woman offered to trash the extra fax and let that be our secret. God bless her. She also informed me that while they are highly selective, they aren't inhuman, and that my application would likely be considered because they weren't on a strict time deadline or experiencing a heavy time crunch. Whew.

And, tonight at 10pm, I received an email from the US Postal Service. My mailed application arrived at 7:30 am this morning. Meaning that all of that was likely unnecessary. And I've managed to appear irresponsible and obsessive compulsive in the same day with 3 emails, 2 faxes, and one phone call.

I'm hoping they're intrigued by my obvious desire to be considered at their site, and invite me for an interview if only to meet the weird girl who did all of that.