There’s a manhole in my kitchen
I step around it when I’m reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of cold water in the mornings. Lemon flavour. I don’t really care that it could be Listerine or maybe Mr. Clean, I just need something to wake up.

We’ll just have to adjust
Ok, I didn’t have any issues with waking up today. It seems I’ve returned to my old routine of waking a few minutes before my alarm. I can tell I’ve been in one spot all night because Buckley is exactly where he was when we fell asleep. Sleeping like rocks. I didn’t know that rocks could get tired. Anything really is possible.

My new office mate is working feverishly on a document. It’s nice to see someone working so hard, not so nice because he doesn’t want any music or other distractions in the background. Which makes it hard for me to concentrate when there is nothing in the office but sounds of tapping keys and muttering from his corner. I even brought a new cd in to put on my work laptop so I could have a variation to the routine of Pete Yorn and Interpol that I’ve been listening to.

Also, I’ve sent out a variety of emails in response to some I received last week. However, my email inbox is now like a dusty old West town. Cobwebs hanging in the doorways, empty cans rolling in the wind. Tumbleweed ghosting by with every new gust of breeze. Not a single email since yesterday. I’m convinced I am the world’s biggest loser, the world’s most unpopular girl, or the world’s loneliest girl. Any way you cut it, it’s kind of lame, which is also annoying. I sent out some interesting emails which I think should garner interesting responses.

But nada thus far.

Instead, I’ve been concentrating on working on my admissions essay for Columbia. To say that I am stuck between a rock and a hard place would be the lamest description to use here, but it’s so true. I just can’t seem to get off my ass and answer the questions. They aren’t hard questions, but they feel like redundant ones. This of course, coming from the girl who thinks she should just be accepted to any school she *looks* at, let alone applies to. I know, I know….the ego of this girl.

In any event, that is what I will be doing in between taking calls from angry clients who insist I never call them back. Even my clients don’t want to hear from me.
*sigh*

Maybe, I've finally succeeded in getting all of the squatters off of my island.

Labels: habits, how not to be an idiot, insomnia, music, neurotic, opinions, School, work

Ok, not really. I mean, I'm applying for a Master's degree at a University in New York City, but nothing is written in stone. I know my parents will wonder why I didn't choose Toronto or Vancouver, or even (god forbid) the city where I got my first degree but I have no answer.

Maybe I just want the accolade of having gone to an ivy league school.

Maybe I just want to be closer to Ryan Adams concerts.

Maybe I'm just nuts.

I'll choose the nuts option. I knew wherever I decided to get a Master's degree would matter and for some crazy reason I thought that two degrees from the same university would be...lame. Which just looks lame typing it out, but what can I say? I get weird things in my head sometimes.

And I told Craig he would have to look after me while I was in New York. So, I'll have a little guardian angel while I'm there. That sounds cushy, doesn't it? I thought so, too.

Of course, as with anything that has to do with me, we don't know if this will really happen, but it's been on my mind for a little while so I thought I should look into it. It doesn't mean I will get financial aid, or help from anyone other than my own pocket (which is currently empty, I mean if I were wearing pants that had pockets). It doesn't even mean I will be accepted. I do know though, they are still taking applications for the Fall and I want in there just to see what's what.

God, I get nutty ideas sometimes. Next thing you'll know I'll be taking flying lessons in red tights and a tutu. Or decide I can be a chef and go to some obscure chocolate making school in Switzerland.

With me, anything can happen.
Scary thought, huh?

p.s imagine the photographs? *sigh*

Labels: neurotic, New York, photographs, photography, School