Last night's conversation went as expected.
No, there weren't any fights. Most of the time something irritating was uttered, I'd be the one bothered, but I'd bite my tongue.
It was a little pow-wow between Lau, Pacemaker, and me. LA, Bay Area, and Vegas.
We each took turns to talk about the happenings in our lives.
Pacemaker went first, as expected.
Apparently her life is awesome right now because she has two jobs that each pay 23 bucks an hour. She's stoked, since the only payments she has to make are... what she consumes in fast food. She doesn't even pay her phone bill, so she's makin' bank.
Lau was next, and I guess her life is rockin' as well, because she got a job as an English teacher at her ex-high school. She was excited because it was thanks to her that the "principal" got fired. It's a Catholic school, so the man's a... bishop? A priest? I don't know. Point being, he's a "holy man," but a holy man who was corrupt (surprise surprise).
She then proceeded to talk about my sister's extraordinary weight loss. Between her and Pacemaker, I had to sit there and hold a Q&A about the diet and exercise plan Sister followed. This is where Pacemaker tried adding her two cents, and I'd correct her. I'm sorry, but if you are well over 80 pounds overweight, and your school major is International Business, I'm not going to follow your diet plan. If you're gonna talk the talk, you better walk the walk. And NO, you going to the gym twice a month to be on the elliptical DOES NOT count as exercise.
Anyway, I sat there and rolled my eyes half of the time as I'd listen to Pacemaker talk about the latest weight-loss fads and how they DO work (the funniest part would be when she'd try to describe the metabolic processes. Hilarious). Anything to keep from ME talking about MY life.
But it didn't work.
Lau cut-off Pacemaker and asked how my life had been going. My response was the usual:
Eh. It's going.
Pacemaker excitedly screamed (no, really, she screamed) "OH! THE SCHOOLS! How did that go?!"
I stuttered.
Ah shit... I wasn't ready for this... I had forgotten about this... come on, Pacemaker, why?
"Oh. I (come on! think!) still need to hear from two schools."
My voice cracked.
Pacemaker: Which ones?
COME ON! STOP! Umm... what to say... the one's with the latest date... were...
Me: UNLV and... Stanford.
Pacemaker: So which ones DID you hear back from? Cornell and...
Me: NYU. That one hurt. They held off on letting me know...
Then the pity party began. Not from me, all I was doing was saying "... yeah..." but Pacemaker was over here being a motivational speaker, telling me things happen for a reason and blah blah blah. She also wished me luck with the next two school.
The whole time it was like having a wild burro standing in front of me, kicking me right in the gut at its will.
I don't know why it's so hard for me to admit my failures... I mean, this whole grad school business isn't even that bad, considering the schools I applied to only accept eight CW people at the MOST... so I don't feel too bad. But others, they don't seem to get it through their head. They seem to be under the impression that it's like undergrad admissions to state schools.
So, when I tell them I didn't get in, their little pity party angers/upsets me.
I also couldn't tell these girls about my real life. Their life is on the rise, while mine is crumbling by the day.
I couldn't share my total identity crisis... my melt-down.
Some days I'm OK, others I have difficulty finding a reason to breathe.
AnoMALIE- the girl who was so smart and studious her entire life... now reduced to the girl who would rather stay home and sleep her life away.
I couldn't share that.
So I just "Hmmm"ed and "Yeah"ed my way out of the two-hour conference call.
One good thing about me having identity crises/melt downs? I get creative.
Not quite as drastic (in creativity OR lunacy/depression) as van Gogh... but I totally understand.
Usually I sketch for days. Sometimes I'll write. Other times, I'll just sing my heart out in the shower.
This time... I went ahead and purchased some canvas.
I've never painted... but screw it, I'm up for anything.
Plus, paint fumes would come in handy right about now.
"La tristesse durera toujours"
No, there weren't any fights. Most of the time something irritating was uttered, I'd be the one bothered, but I'd bite my tongue.
It was a little pow-wow between Lau, Pacemaker, and me. LA, Bay Area, and Vegas.
We each took turns to talk about the happenings in our lives.
Pacemaker went first, as expected.
Apparently her life is awesome right now because she has two jobs that each pay 23 bucks an hour. She's stoked, since the only payments she has to make are... what she consumes in fast food. She doesn't even pay her phone bill, so she's makin' bank.
Lau was next, and I guess her life is rockin' as well, because she got a job as an English teacher at her ex-high school. She was excited because it was thanks to her that the "principal" got fired. It's a Catholic school, so the man's a... bishop? A priest? I don't know. Point being, he's a "holy man," but a holy man who was corrupt (surprise surprise).
She then proceeded to talk about my sister's extraordinary weight loss. Between her and Pacemaker, I had to sit there and hold a Q&A about the diet and exercise plan Sister followed. This is where Pacemaker tried adding her two cents, and I'd correct her. I'm sorry, but if you are well over 80 pounds overweight, and your school major is International Business, I'm not going to follow your diet plan. If you're gonna talk the talk, you better walk the walk. And NO, you going to the gym twice a month to be on the elliptical DOES NOT count as exercise.
Anyway, I sat there and rolled my eyes half of the time as I'd listen to Pacemaker talk about the latest weight-loss fads and how they DO work (the funniest part would be when she'd try to describe the metabolic processes. Hilarious). Anything to keep from ME talking about MY life.
But it didn't work.
Lau cut-off Pacemaker and asked how my life had been going. My response was the usual:
Eh. It's going.
Pacemaker excitedly screamed (no, really, she screamed) "OH! THE SCHOOLS! How did that go?!"
I stuttered.
Ah shit... I wasn't ready for this... I had forgotten about this... come on, Pacemaker, why?
"Oh. I (come on! think!) still need to hear from two schools."
My voice cracked.
Pacemaker: Which ones?
COME ON! STOP! Umm... what to say... the one's with the latest date... were...
Me: UNLV and... Stanford.
Pacemaker: So which ones DID you hear back from? Cornell and...
Me: NYU. That one hurt. They held off on letting me know...
Then the pity party began. Not from me, all I was doing was saying "... yeah..." but Pacemaker was over here being a motivational speaker, telling me things happen for a reason and blah blah blah. She also wished me luck with the next two school.
The whole time it was like having a wild burro standing in front of me, kicking me right in the gut at its will.
I don't know why it's so hard for me to admit my failures... I mean, this whole grad school business isn't even that bad, considering the schools I applied to only accept eight CW people at the MOST... so I don't feel too bad. But others, they don't seem to get it through their head. They seem to be under the impression that it's like undergrad admissions to state schools.
So, when I tell them I didn't get in, their little pity party angers/upsets me.
I also couldn't tell these girls about my real life. Their life is on the rise, while mine is crumbling by the day.
I couldn't share my total identity crisis... my melt-down.
Some days I'm OK, others I have difficulty finding a reason to breathe.
AnoMALIE- the girl who was so smart and studious her entire life... now reduced to the girl who would rather stay home and sleep her life away.
I couldn't share that.
So I just "Hmmm"ed and "Yeah"ed my way out of the two-hour conference call.
***
One good thing about me having identity crises/melt downs? I get creative.
Not quite as drastic (in creativity OR lunacy/depression) as van Gogh... but I totally understand.
Usually I sketch for days. Sometimes I'll write. Other times, I'll just sing my heart out in the shower.
This time... I went ahead and purchased some canvas.
I've never painted... but screw it, I'm up for anything.
Plus, paint fumes would come in handy right about now.
"La tristesse durera toujours"
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