I’ve been quite neglectful of my blog. The site hardly even looks the same.
I didn’t expect my move to go like this. Two months ago, I was freaking out because I didn’t think I’d have the cash to reach my (new) goal: End of March. Now the cash is overflowing... I’ve picked up a couple of relatively profitable freelance projects which make my financial worries seem like nothing. A month ago, I thought 11 hours of work, per week at the bookstore wasn’t going to be able to finance my trip back to freedom. I’m going out with a bang! 25 hours this week, 35 hours my last week, and 30 hours of paid vacation the next week. That’s probably more money I’ll know what to do with.
Anywho. I haven’t heard back from grad-school. I haven’t heard back from the people who will transfer me. How will I find a place to live without a job. What landlord in their right mind would approve me to live in their home if I have no job, and no student loans to pay for my housing?!?!
I did everything right. I studied for the GRE (barely got a passing score). Turned in my application. Got letters of recommendation. Created a diverse 25-page portfolio. For once in my life, I worked really hard at something and I’m scared I am going to fail. I suppose it’s time that I start looking for a backup plan. Another job in my new city. Something. I’m signing up with a head hunter tomorrow after I make some last minute changes to my resume.
Other than that, all I’m doing is freaking out. It’s starting to show too. One of my managers said I was cranky. He said he was not used to seeing me cranky. This is bad. I’m usually good enough to seem happy work, so no one knows I’m torn up inside. Fake it till I make it. For me to be cranky at work, it’s not a good sign.
I’ve been checking the mail anxiously for the letter of acceptance (or rejection) to grad school. I haven’t thought much about the rejection, but I need to know. I guess I just expect to get in.
I told my parents I’d paint my room. I don’t have time. But somehow, I feel like I’d fall back on my promise if I don’t do it. I don’t want them to look down on me for this. I will do it. Kind of as a “thanks for letting me stay here,” or “sorry for being such a pain.” I don’t know. Something. I will squeeze in painting between the 60 hours of work to do during the next week. I will. I can’t fail this one. I guess its time to get organized.