I'm going to tell you all a story today about how ridiculous my day became.
It started off as per usual, grabbing a cab with Mink and Biff at our 8:15 meeting time. In said cab ride we begin to discuss plans for the summer. I should have known right then and there this would not be my day.
Biff and Mink relay their "I have my shit together" plans for the summer that actually relate to oh you know, what they want to do for the rest of their lives (good job guys) and I begin to silently dwell upon my utter lack of plans.
At SIT I quickly forget about said disturbances by pushing them to the back of my mind with some good ol' Arabic courses in the morn. Lunch comes and it's the usual falafel sandwich for 1/2 JD and then off to grab some communal SIT coffee for optimal student caffeine buzz.
Then comes field study seminar where we sit and talk about interviews and things that I generally have heard already form my anthropology classes back home and in more depth than we talk about here. This is dangerous. It gave me time to meander again about my lack of life plans.
In true 'Megan' fashion (thanks for the tip), I decide I will make a list, get some stuff off my chest and be done with it. So I make a list of everything that's stressing me out (and am surprised by both its length and consistency to what stressed me out years ago) as well as a list/think map of job options for the future or summer or life plans in general. I can almost say for certain that should you look at an entry in (brace yourselves) my diaries (what a tragic word) about 7-10 years ago they say the EXACT same thing. I'm talking like, I still have not figured out at all what I want to do with my life. at all. To give you a little insight here is a smattering of things I have contemplated doing for forever:
-having a job that would somehow gain me access to a level four biohazard zone (I had a Hot Zone obsession for a bit)
-being a baker. small business failure percentages does not factor into this dream. nor does my lack of any technical skill whatsoever. or my hatred for recipes.
-majoring in Chinese and working for the UN, or as a translator for some huge business that would pay me oh-so-well
-being a geologist and doing something of importance that would probably have had something to do with oil because let's face it, I'm from Texas.
-being a professional archaeologist...what do you mean they don't make money??
-police force
-peace corps
-more recently, the military
-president (don't laugh, for a while, and still sometimes these days, I think i could do a better job than most people).
And that's only like 12% of all of the options that have run through my mind in a "seirously considered but not fully planned out" way.
So class ends, school's out. Cue to my future freak out whereupon my good ol' SIT tribe buddies try to reassure me (helping a bit) and I consume the weirdest stress meal of a cup or two of uncooked oatmeal with za3tar and olive oil and salt. I don't know why. The kitchen at school is oddly stocked.
I skype mother in Texas and proceed to dump some of my stress onto her while simultaneously insulting her letting her know I do not want ot wear the veil she's been saving for em at my wedding (which will probably never happen). I have no idea how this came up in our conversation now. But there it is.
How to fix this problem? SEROTONIN! I go for a run, take a long shower, stretch forever, listen to some Switchfoot (judge away, but I know you secretly like them too) and then come home.
I join Biff downstairs to make some cornbread for our families. And it all just goes downhill/to a funnier place from here.
-The oven breaks a bit/won't close all the way after we open it to find out it doesn't work (or rather, we're too afraid to even try to make it work) solution: Duct Tape!
-We google making corn bread in a skillet and find out it can indeed be done and that it works a lot like pancakes, PERFECT
-I hate the stove here, hate it. I burn every single attempt because I used a wonky pan and the flames were trying to make my life more difficult.
-There's smoke everywhere, we crack a window. Laughing at our failure, I reach to turn the stove off and the knob breaks and the gas is still on, flame burning. Solution: put a pot of water on and pretend we were making tea until someone gets home who can help!
-Biff's family returns with lots of fenangling and 'no problems' being said. Biff and I bury our faces in our hands.
-Sitting down to recover and say we're sorry as many times as possible we watch TV for a bit and Biff's family asks me to sing. Somehow they saw the video of me in the amphitheatre on facebook (thanks zuckerburg) and want me to sing. After about 10 minutes of protesting and saying I'm sick and hoarse from laughing too much, her sister drags me into another room and the first thing that pops into my head was my senior solo in choir at highschool. At least I can remember the Latin to this one, not so with Ave Maria. I sound terrible, they lie and tell me it was great. I go home, hoping to disappear into the floor.
-My older brother comes home from work, sits down and asks me to have breakfast in the morning (after our conversation yesterday about how important and awesome breakfast is and why everyone, including him, should eat it no matter how busy you are). I have tomorrow off from school so I tell him I won't be awake and after while and much protest that he doesn't wake me up "at seven and half", he tells me I can just make him a sandwich to-go then for the morning. He literally says, "go amke me a sandwich and put it in the microwave, I eat it in the morning".
-At this point I laugh hysterically and he stares at me confused. I try to explain about the "woman go make me a sandwich" joke in America and then point to the book I'm currently reading titled Feminism and Islamic Fundamentalism and point to myself and say "Fem-in-ist!" I don't think I did a very good job translating the joke because I am the only one laughing as he tells me again to make him a sandwich to-go. I retreat to room.
This day has been so long in such very odd ways. And substantially uneventful at the same time. I suppose it was more of less one of those days you have to actively participate in to understand the hilarity and tragic-ness of it all, which is unfortunate for you readers. Alas, this blog is partially for my poor memory skills so maybe this post is just for me really (sorry!).
Anyway, I'm going to try to convince myself to stop googling for jobs and internships in Texas that vaguely relate to the rest of the randomness of my resume and go to sleep now and pretend that I've got my shit as together as most of the people here.
Until next time amigos, stay sane, I know I'll be trying.
It started off as per usual, grabbing a cab with Mink and Biff at our 8:15 meeting time. In said cab ride we begin to discuss plans for the summer. I should have known right then and there this would not be my day.
Biff and Mink relay their "I have my shit together" plans for the summer that actually relate to oh you know, what they want to do for the rest of their lives (good job guys) and I begin to silently dwell upon my utter lack of plans.
At SIT I quickly forget about said disturbances by pushing them to the back of my mind with some good ol' Arabic courses in the morn. Lunch comes and it's the usual falafel sandwich for 1/2 JD and then off to grab some communal SIT coffee for optimal student caffeine buzz.
Then comes field study seminar where we sit and talk about interviews and things that I generally have heard already form my anthropology classes back home and in more depth than we talk about here. This is dangerous. It gave me time to meander again about my lack of life plans.
In true 'Megan' fashion (thanks for the tip), I decide I will make a list, get some stuff off my chest and be done with it. So I make a list of everything that's stressing me out (and am surprised by both its length and consistency to what stressed me out years ago) as well as a list/think map of job options for the future or summer or life plans in general. I can almost say for certain that should you look at an entry in (brace yourselves) my diaries (what a tragic word) about 7-10 years ago they say the EXACT same thing. I'm talking like, I still have not figured out at all what I want to do with my life. at all. To give you a little insight here is a smattering of things I have contemplated doing for forever:
-having a job that would somehow gain me access to a level four biohazard zone (I had a Hot Zone obsession for a bit)
-being a baker. small business failure percentages does not factor into this dream. nor does my lack of any technical skill whatsoever. or my hatred for recipes.
-majoring in Chinese and working for the UN, or as a translator for some huge business that would pay me oh-so-well
-being a geologist and doing something of importance that would probably have had something to do with oil because let's face it, I'm from Texas.
-being a professional archaeologist...what do you mean they don't make money??
-police force
-peace corps
-more recently, the military
-president (don't laugh, for a while, and still sometimes these days, I think i could do a better job than most people).
And that's only like 12% of all of the options that have run through my mind in a "seirously considered but not fully planned out" way.
So class ends, school's out. Cue to my future freak out whereupon my good ol' SIT tribe buddies try to reassure me (helping a bit) and I consume the weirdest stress meal of a cup or two of uncooked oatmeal with za3tar and olive oil and salt. I don't know why. The kitchen at school is oddly stocked.
I skype mother in Texas and proceed to dump some of my stress onto her while simultaneously insulting her letting her know I do not want ot wear the veil she's been saving for em at my wedding (which will probably never happen). I have no idea how this came up in our conversation now. But there it is.
How to fix this problem? SEROTONIN! I go for a run, take a long shower, stretch forever, listen to some Switchfoot (judge away, but I know you secretly like them too) and then come home.
I join Biff downstairs to make some cornbread for our families. And it all just goes downhill/to a funnier place from here.
-The oven breaks a bit/won't close all the way after we open it to find out it doesn't work (or rather, we're too afraid to even try to make it work) solution: Duct Tape!
-We google making corn bread in a skillet and find out it can indeed be done and that it works a lot like pancakes, PERFECT
-I hate the stove here, hate it. I burn every single attempt because I used a wonky pan and the flames were trying to make my life more difficult.
-There's smoke everywhere, we crack a window. Laughing at our failure, I reach to turn the stove off and the knob breaks and the gas is still on, flame burning. Solution: put a pot of water on and pretend we were making tea until someone gets home who can help!
-Biff's family returns with lots of fenangling and 'no problems' being said. Biff and I bury our faces in our hands.
-Sitting down to recover and say we're sorry as many times as possible we watch TV for a bit and Biff's family asks me to sing. Somehow they saw the video of me in the amphitheatre on facebook (thanks zuckerburg) and want me to sing. After about 10 minutes of protesting and saying I'm sick and hoarse from laughing too much, her sister drags me into another room and the first thing that pops into my head was my senior solo in choir at highschool. At least I can remember the Latin to this one, not so with Ave Maria. I sound terrible, they lie and tell me it was great. I go home, hoping to disappear into the floor.
-My older brother comes home from work, sits down and asks me to have breakfast in the morning (after our conversation yesterday about how important and awesome breakfast is and why everyone, including him, should eat it no matter how busy you are). I have tomorrow off from school so I tell him I won't be awake and after while and much protest that he doesn't wake me up "at seven and half", he tells me I can just make him a sandwich to-go then for the morning. He literally says, "go amke me a sandwich and put it in the microwave, I eat it in the morning".
-At this point I laugh hysterically and he stares at me confused. I try to explain about the "woman go make me a sandwich" joke in America and then point to the book I'm currently reading titled Feminism and Islamic Fundamentalism and point to myself and say "Fem-in-ist!" I don't think I did a very good job translating the joke because I am the only one laughing as he tells me again to make him a sandwich to-go. I retreat to room.
This day has been so long in such very odd ways. And substantially uneventful at the same time. I suppose it was more of less one of those days you have to actively participate in to understand the hilarity and tragic-ness of it all, which is unfortunate for you readers. Alas, this blog is partially for my poor memory skills so maybe this post is just for me really (sorry!).
Anyway, I'm going to try to convince myself to stop googling for jobs and internships in Texas that vaguely relate to the rest of the randomness of my resume and go to sleep now and pretend that I've got my shit as together as most of the people here.
Until next time amigos, stay sane, I know I'll be trying.
1 comments:
Dear Sarah,
You lie, you sound wonderful when you sing. Especially when you remember the words. I'll let you in on a secret: all you have to do is act like you have your shit together and then you will appear to have your shit together to the rest of the world. Even if you don't.
Good try at trying to explain the sandwich joke. But hey! at least your brother got breakfast out of it! The most important meal of the day!
<3
Ginny
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