Quarter-Life Crisis
Procrastination bites me in the butt again. The only seats available to take the GRE before my grad school applications are due are in JUNE AND JULY! I signed up to take it on July 30th, which gives me two months to study. Not ideal. Currently panicking. But I’m sure I’ll regain my self-confidence pretty soon. Deep breath.
Other stuff I have to get done this summer, that I have put off and put off until I can’t possibly put it off anymore:
-Get CPR certified
-Finish 45 hours of fieldwork in three different settings (did I say finish? sorry, I meant start AND finish)
-Figure out if I can come up with three professors who would remember me well enough to give me a reference (it’s hard to get to know your profs when most of your classes contain at least 200 people)
And those are just the requirements for my first choice school. I haven’t even looked to see what other schools are out there, much less what they require. I’m blessed with a very easy-going attitude towards life, but I swear sometimes it sabotages me by lulling me into a false sense of having tons of time to get my shit done. I really gotta get my procrastination under control if I’m going to survive grad school. Could I be avoiding serious planning because I’m afraid of not getting in and/or having to become a real adult? FUCK YES, thank you psych 1001. The truth is I’m terrified. I want very much to get my life started but the actual starting process is petrifying enough to make some part of me believe that I can be an undergrad forever, hence the procrastination.
Well I didn’t mean for this to turn into my personal therapy session, but writing out my to-do list brought this fear, of which I’ve been unaware, to my attention. I know all college students say they’re scared to enter the “real world,” but I really hadn’t thought about it until now, except on the most superficial of levels. I guess what it comes down to is this: what if I can’t do it? I know that my family will always be there for me if I need them, but I don’t want to rely on them forever. So many things could go wrong. Ohhhhhh, self-confidence, can you please hurry and get here already?
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (2)Not All It’s Cracked Up To Be
Oh, dear. My lack of planning has left me with many empty summer days to fill. Some I can spend with Dan and some with friends, but what I really need is a job. It’s getting to the point where I can’t even remember what day it is, and I can only watch so many Netflix. I need a little purpose to my summer. Otherwise I tend to get depressed, and I can feel it creeping up on me.
The Plan: print up tons of resumes and cover letters, drop them off at every physical therapy office within 20 miles. I figure if I still can’t get a healthcare job after that, I’ll accept either Alex’s IT offer or Judy’s housecleaning offer (it’s $20 an hour, but it’s cleaning houses, BUT it’s $20 an hour! aaaack).
Lisa has left for her summer job and I’m officially living alone until the end of August. Usually I enjoy it for the first month or so, but I already miss her. Hell I missed her before she even left. What am I going to do when she moves to another country?
Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (0)Chop Chop
My mother ever-so-kindly paid for me to get a haircut with her stylist yesterday. With the whole “living within my means” thing I’m attempting to do, haircuts unfortunately fall low on the list. Along with, you know, eating.
The stylist was nice and cool and everything, but man I am so not happy with my cut. She cut it at least an inch shorter than I asked her to, and when you’re talking bobs, an inch makes a huge difference. Also, the right side is probably half an inch longer than the left side, but I don’t want to ask her to fix it for fear she’ll make it shorter still.
However, I suppose this falls under the “beggars can’t be choosers” category and I should just shut up and be thankful for my free haircut. Without my mother’s generosity I’d probably be living in a cardboard box in the stairwell of the university parking garage and eating whatever leftover french fries the raccoons don’t want. Seriously.
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