Time flies when you’re [incredibly busy]
So, I can’t believe it’s already Tuesday night. At 9:00 p.m. I feel like I just got home, but somehow I’ve been in the apartment for 3 1/2 hours already and I’ve managed only to eat, clean up, watch my recorded episodes of LOST (this occurred concurrently with eating) and do all the homework I had to do (while putting off physiology until the last possible minute… which has yet to occur this evening). I’ve been up since 6:30 a.m. - because I had a doctor’s appointment this morning at 8:30 (last of my HPV shots, thank goodness) and since I arrived on campus by bus at 7:45 I was either in class or at work.
Today at the Center we picked out uneaten food from the cage droppings of 12 birds (7 amazons and 5 large macaws). It was a thrilling 3 1/2 hour process. However, I did have a good time talking with the people I was working with and I felt accomplished this morning because I slightly remembered how many bowls we needed for feeding each room. I really like this job - I feel helpful and accomplished everyday when I finish. My back especially thinks so, because since bleaching the West room floor on Monday afternoon, it hasn’t quit complaining.
So I am really busy (duh) but staying on top of things as best as I can. I know somewhere down the line I will look back and remember that this was a good idea to continue piling more onto my plate. My mom did send me $25 to treat myself, which is like the coolest thing ever.
I am very happy right now, more so than I have been in a while. I know that being busy is good for me, and it makes me happy to have responsibilities like a job and school. It’s my way of coping I think, with the recent things that have upset me. I remember once talking to a friend of mine and he always told me that he would turn to the Church when he was hurting or needed some guidance. He insisted to me that it was the only way to deal with things properly. But I think for me… loading up my life with responsibility is my method of growing stronger and getting through things that have hurt me. I think I’ve learned to rely on myself when I’m down… because in the end it’s yourself you have to like and trust and understand and know.
old stuff | Comment (1)Bring on the busy!
On Wednesday as I was walking towards the School of Rural Public Health I saw a new poster in the hallway (thank you Mother for excellent skills of observation) that advertised an opening for a student worker in the Schubot Exotic Bird Health Center. I stopped immediately in my tracks and went to inquire about it. I have never seen posting for student workers there and I have wanted to work there since I was freshman and I first heard Dr. Tizard talk about it at a BSA meeting. I got the information I needed and headed to the nearest computer to contact the office to apply.
Well, Thursday I went by to “interview” of sorts, and was hired on the spot. I am incredibly excited to begin this new job working with parrot enrichment (ie// lab grunt who makes toys for parrots) and the diet study. Even though I am taking 18 hours this semester and am (as usual) already incredibly busy, this was a rare chance that I had to take. Sometimes you can’t wait for a better time for something to happen when it’s “more convenient” for you - you just have to take the chance and have faith that everything will work out okay.
So I have added on 10-15 hours of busy time to my 18 hours of class (24 hours actually in class) and my endless studying. I think that this will be good for me, because I always do better under intense pressure, and certainly I firmly believe this job will be worth the sacrifices.
In the meantime I am playing catch-up like a fiend because I am having a hard time staying on top of physiology. All of my other classes are going fine and I am doing well, but I know I can do better in phys. I’m getting 50% of the quiz questions right in class everyday on average (1 of 2 questions) and that just isn’t acceptable. However, with this new responsibility I have given myself, I am feeling motivated again and seem to have renewed efforts in this matter of keeping up with phys and learning the material better.
This weekend should also be good. Tomorrow I am driving up to Burleson with Sheila to join with the rest of the polo club in cheering on (and photographing in my case) the men’s and women’s teams. I’m excited about this because I need to learn to play the game better. My hitting has improved a lot since last semester and last night at club chukkars I scored 3 goals - my first and only goals ever. I was able to take the ball to the goal without losing it - even at a canter - and that was an amazing feeling.
So I’m getting busier all the time, but as science has proven in my case, the busier I am the better!
old stuff | Comment (0)It’s true what they say
About white people.
They can’t dance. Well, certainly, this white person can’t. I am incapable of swinging my hips in a lewd fashion or moving my feet to any kind of rhythm that isn’t directed by a man with a baton. I am envious of those people that upon clasping hands can simply move together in a fashion reminiscent of professionally choreography, all while smiling and talking and enjoying everything around them. I, however, am an obsessive compulsive perfectionist white girl - who must count each step, watch her feet, and lead on the dance floor.
It probably also didn’t help that I was surrounded by a cacophonous throng of Hispanics, in whose genes lies the samba and meringue (which I thought was a pie…) and the salsa (that’s tomatoes and onions, or tomatillas, right?) beating away and giving them an inexplicable inherent urge to get up and move. Move with anyone and everyone around them, bumping into them all sweaty and without apology, letting the bass of reggaeton guide where they put their feet.
An amazing night, that’s for sure. I learned the Meringue (read: Texas two-step to a Latin beat) and did some other “moves” I’m sure you would have gotten hit with a ruler with if it had been prom night. All I can say is thank goodness it was really dark and really loud. That way no one knew that I dance that horribly sober. No one wants to even imagine how much worse I could possibly get on a few “love potion” drinks or whatever else it was that was flowing like the sun wasn’t going to rise tomorrow.
Or rather this morning.
Speaking of which, I should probably get to bed.
old stuff | Comments (2)