Blaming it all on Nitrous Oxide
Look. I'm young and foolish. It's my job to make excuses for my short-comings.
Truth be told, I was pretty sure that when my aunt told me that "for every hour a person is under anesthesia for surgery, it takes that many months to get out of a funk," that it was a lamer excuse than dogs eating homework. I'm currently exploiting it. Here's why.
One. I am sick of being at "home." My room now belongs to my younger sister so I am occupying the bottom bunk and one large drawer over the summer. It's not enough space. Think about it. Four women, having lived together for the past 13 years. I could shack up at my dad's apartment, but it would still be "home." It is unfathomable to me how anyone over the age of 18 could stand to live with their parents. I'm sorry, I don't care if money is an issue, get a job and get a roommate. I love my family, dearly and unconditionally. But I was glad to be kicked out the nest and I'm none too happy about being back in, I'm too big. And, I've gotten a feel for why my parents operate the way they do. One year away put lots into perspective.
Two. No one fucking hired me. I handed my pride in when I applied to work a summer job at the Gap, Anne Taylor and Urban Outfitters. I re-applied at the temp agency. I was even willing to work at the hospital as a receptionist. It's not like my resume is weak, either. It had been revised three times since last August, beefed up. My reference list was perfect. I have never been fired, and managers have told me I am a good, hard worker. Thanks to our booming economy, there are no jobs. And thanks to the Pepsi-teen image that is being projected through out the world, no one wants to hire someone younger than they are. So, I've resigned to household chores and chauferring the youngin's. I don't mind per se. It gives me chops on motherhood, and I have a place to stay free of rent. Free, home cooked food, Showers without shower shoes. A car. Granted, it's a mini-van, but it doesn't spout blue smoke.
Three. Financial fucking aid. First issue, I have a college fund. Okay, so it's lost money in the last two fiscal years, mostly because of this brilliant defense budget. But I recall several conversations when I was younger that this money was only to be used towards college. Now that I'm in college, I've discovered that, in my family college is a code word for "retirement." Oh sorry. Did we say college fund? We meant retirement.
So I applied for financial aid. And it takes the office three months to let me know there was something wrong with my application. Fabulous. Having made corrections, I can now sit with my thumbs up my ass for another three months to apply for loans. (And what will I pay those loans off with? Most likely, my retirement fund. Including interest).
Mark my words, when I am rich and ruling the world, I will create a scholarship. I'm calling it :"The average white girl scholarship from a middle-class income with decent grades and decent SAT scores who has a certain wit that is incomputable as far as scholarship applications go because she is just so awesome and her parents probably think she's fucking amazing, even though there are thousands of other girls exactly like her which is why she doesn't win too many scholarships, except this one, because the creator of this scholarship knows what it's like to be one of those girls, so she made a scholarship that offers more than one award so that any girl who meets her requirements and dreams big will win the scholarship- scholarship." It'll be really huge, let me tell you.
So. In conclusion. My goals are:
Get over this lame-ass funk.
Get out of the house.
Get my brain working.
Get a job.
Truth be told, I was pretty sure that when my aunt told me that "for every hour a person is under anesthesia for surgery, it takes that many months to get out of a funk," that it was a lamer excuse than dogs eating homework. I'm currently exploiting it. Here's why.
One. I am sick of being at "home." My room now belongs to my younger sister so I am occupying the bottom bunk and one large drawer over the summer. It's not enough space. Think about it. Four women, having lived together for the past 13 years. I could shack up at my dad's apartment, but it would still be "home." It is unfathomable to me how anyone over the age of 18 could stand to live with their parents. I'm sorry, I don't care if money is an issue, get a job and get a roommate. I love my family, dearly and unconditionally. But I was glad to be kicked out the nest and I'm none too happy about being back in, I'm too big. And, I've gotten a feel for why my parents operate the way they do. One year away put lots into perspective.
Two. No one fucking hired me. I handed my pride in when I applied to work a summer job at the Gap, Anne Taylor and Urban Outfitters. I re-applied at the temp agency. I was even willing to work at the hospital as a receptionist. It's not like my resume is weak, either. It had been revised three times since last August, beefed up. My reference list was perfect. I have never been fired, and managers have told me I am a good, hard worker. Thanks to our booming economy, there are no jobs. And thanks to the Pepsi-teen image that is being projected through out the world, no one wants to hire someone younger than they are. So, I've resigned to household chores and chauferring the youngin's. I don't mind per se. It gives me chops on motherhood, and I have a place to stay free of rent. Free, home cooked food, Showers without shower shoes. A car. Granted, it's a mini-van, but it doesn't spout blue smoke.
Three. Financial fucking aid. First issue, I have a college fund. Okay, so it's lost money in the last two fiscal years, mostly because of this brilliant defense budget. But I recall several conversations when I was younger that this money was only to be used towards college. Now that I'm in college, I've discovered that, in my family college is a code word for "retirement." Oh sorry. Did we say college fund? We meant retirement.
So I applied for financial aid. And it takes the office three months to let me know there was something wrong with my application. Fabulous. Having made corrections, I can now sit with my thumbs up my ass for another three months to apply for loans. (And what will I pay those loans off with? Most likely, my retirement fund. Including interest).
Mark my words, when I am rich and ruling the world, I will create a scholarship. I'm calling it :"The average white girl scholarship from a middle-class income with decent grades and decent SAT scores who has a certain wit that is incomputable as far as scholarship applications go because she is just so awesome and her parents probably think she's fucking amazing, even though there are thousands of other girls exactly like her which is why she doesn't win too many scholarships, except this one, because the creator of this scholarship knows what it's like to be one of those girls, so she made a scholarship that offers more than one award so that any girl who meets her requirements and dreams big will win the scholarship- scholarship." It'll be really huge, let me tell you.
So. In conclusion. My goals are:
Get over this lame-ass funk.
Get out of the house.
Get my brain working.
Get a job.
posted by Weinkle at
11:41 AM
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