I think I just won FutureQuest

I'm in. TFA will send me to New York City to teach special ed, if I so desire.

My hands won't stop shaking.

The question now truly is altruism or selfishness? Go to NYC and devote two years to saving the children or go to PDX and devote two years to my culinary/managerial education.

But SHIT! I got IN!

hot piece of spam

from Elwood 4:43 pm (1 hour ago)
to Coy Powell
date Feb 21, 2007 4:43 PM
subject How is life
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-- deliberately trouble Eh? flower How do? muscle How do?

[this is already a great follow-up to "how is life," but then it gets all Ulysses on me!]

Ben Dollard's vague bass anshiver -- soak Irish? ornament I saw don't know, faith. Is she, Simon?-- A beautiful kill slung shelter station air, said Bloom lost Leopold. I kno suppose Blazes Boylan's smart milk cloudy chain tan shoes creaked on the bar Tap. Ventriloquise. discover My lips light closed. Think knot close in my stom. W pled -- death You're pin looking rubicund, throw George Lidwell said.

[well, mangled Ulysses anyhow. Why am I "Coy Powell" in this spamdress book? That's my new detective/cowgirl name, I think. Some sort of alter ego, anyway.]

stunning conversationalist, you say? why THANK you!

Over the past few days, I've gotten to pull off these gems and have them totally rock their context.

"But napalm aside, I've got to run."

"String theory? You can't puke on string theory, therefore it's bad science. A flux capacitor is totally puke-on-able. Good science." (John and I had a long, hopelessly nerdy conversation on whether or not time travel in a De Lorean would be conducive to motion sickness -- in my case, sadly yes -- and what would happen to the attendant vomit. Physics is fun!)

"So Tajuan Porter is, in fact, the Toto to Brooks' Dorothy and Oguchi's Scarecrow? Does that make Ma-arty the cowardly Lion? ... Hairston's heart totally isn't in it. Totally Tinman." (pause) "The only candidate I'm coming up with for the wicked witch is Lady Kent, and that's not very nice."

"Well, Antarctica probably has bitchin' stargazing. Both constellations and pouring endlessly over the same Entertainment Weekly for days at a stretch."

This week is a laugh-in, I tell you what. Which works for me. I'm exhausted from bouldering and bowlderizing and altogether too much Deutsch. Happy Mardi Gras! Time for some SIN!

I say it all the time, and it never happens, but: this whole binge drinking thing needs to taper off.

Antarctica is looking attractive, oddly. Or BUNAC.

Too much thesis. Too many comic books.

GOD DAMN IT

Flubbed my sample lesson. Poor time management -- they had to cut me off, and I definitely wasn't close to finished. I'm on break - my personal interview is in a couple of hours, so I'm doing some homework and trying to calm down. I've never been so nervous.

Damn it, I could be a kick-ass teacher.

Right. Not counting chickens.

ARGH

----------
(Five or six hours later.)

The rest of the interview went well. I'll chalk my initial crummy performance (and it seriously was sub-par by my standards -- I'm not being modest) up to nerves and hope for the best. On the other hand, it's not the end of the world if I don't get this gig. There's always Antarctica! Although working for Raytheon might be a little TOO morally reprehensible. Still. I'm built for the cold. Or Portland. In any case, this chapter of FutureQuest can thankfully exit stage left.

On to the next ten pages of thesis-ing, for which I've had to turn down beer and movies. Grump.

PS. File under "Internets Needs Proofing." The banner on google.com says "Googe," although it's hard to tell with that ridiculous chocolate-covered strawberry standing in for the second g. (Any Achewood readers? Back me up on this...)

The worst of it is, I've barely been cooking lately. Midterms, this impending interview, parties of all stripes, concerts, the looming T-word, and the last few shifts at the dining hall -- little wonder I've not found the time to cook or exercise.

Must go write a lesson on semicolon use -- yep, I'm rocking the punctuation. for the children! The Dreaded Interview begins in less than 36 hours. My recent slow-burning, long-lasting nervousness strikes me as far inferior to the traditional flashes of anxiety. Have I mentioned that TfA may well be the first real challenge of this nature I have ever set myself. Getting into UO was a breeze, applying for the overseas nonsense was just a matter of showing up and fronting some cash, and the only other selection processes that spring to mind are auditions in junior high and choosing up sides for soccer games. This is by far the most rigorous and ambitious application-type deal I've ever endured, and I'm scared witless. Not that getting rejected (and subsequently packing up for Portland) would be a travesty. In fact, sometimes I hope I won't be accepted so I can slide into a low-key gig of some lucrative kind or another. For some neurotic reason, I consider myself a Quitter. Maybe getting rejected forestalls the possibility of giving up. God, that's depressing. In any case, I can't think about the interview without starting to sweat a little.

I think it's time to crank the jams.

über my dead body

German homework? What? Who? no. basketball.

I realized that over the past three months or so, the readership of this thing has altered somewhat. So this post will be less of the typical in-the-moment whining and more longterm whining. Isn't that kind of interesting? Bloggers/LJers/whatever-ers assume that their readers will catch on in medias res. Hence the brief recap after today's events. Today was bitchin', by the way.

Today:
-solved my interview clothing problems without resorting to a hellish bus ride to a hellisher mall. GodDAMN do I hate VRC and love the boutique-y shops in my 'hood. Ever increasingly, there's less I love about my 'hood. The constant drunken babble, the ever-present litter -- symptomatic of a the entitled attitude that drives me up the fucking wall, the redneck-y harassment (here? really? c'mon kids, I left alaska for a reason...), the slummy apartment, the NOISE. however, the bier stein, some decent mexican, some crummy and addictive coffee and said clothing shops are 'round about here. overall, no complaints. 'spose.
-had a very overwhelmingly positive ex encounter. having social skills makes me want to dance.
-had a falafel, which makes any day AWESOME.
-spilled the following upon myself in this order: runny egg, coffee, falafel juice. these poor pants.
-patched my favorite jeans. cleaned. made further progress on errand-y things.
-watched the ducks beat ASU. I considered calling Aaron to gloat, but figured he wouldn't be too into it. After all, he did finish his MA a while ago and isn't too much for the hoops. I've loved re-embracing my basketball fan self. More than a few pals have said it doesn't really jive with my personality, whatever the hell that means. This season is my coming-out season: My name is Erica, and I love college hoops. DEAL WITH IT.

In general:
-Western Culinary institute still wants me/my money. I'm not sure if I want to do this. Aren't culinary schools a little over the top for what I want to do? That is to say, I can whip up some better than decent bar food, which is all I need, really. Friend C and I have decided to try to open a bar when we have a little start-up dough. She's good with numbers and booze, I'm good with people and food and booze, and we're both dedicated enough to the idea to backburner it until it's do-able. hell with cook school.
-making stock tomorrow. haven't done it in a while. must buy whole cloves.
-TFA interview. AGRHGHHHHH. My lesson will be on semicolons. am I the lamest grammarian ever? survey saaaaays yes.
-really, REALLY enjoying my alone time these days. reading the new paul auster. dancing around my apartment in various states of undress.
-quit the dining hall job. my last day's V-day. love pirate party to ensue. not especially creative, but it should be appropriately boozy and light-hearted. all eugenian readers ARRR welcome. costumes required.
-I miss my Anchortown buddies especially much this time of year. that thought makes me think about how brief my remaining eugene time may well be. ripping up these newly shot roots doesn't appeal. but.
-to my ridiculous variety pack of really super friends in all locations: endless and sincere love.

insomnia now

Rather than a newsy post about a boozy weekend or bitching about my incessant iTunes problems (THIS PROGRAM IS ASININE AND MUST LEARN RESPECT), I'll tell y'all about a moment ago. I was - and still am - in some warmed-up flannel jammies, perusing bookslut and salon alternately, sipping some kryptonite ibarra hot cocoa, when I discovered that I was not at all anxious/perplexed/angry about The Future or My Stupid Problems With Women or the Classes About Which I Whine Too Much. Come July, I could be anywhere. It's neither freeing nor frightening, perhaps because I'm cozy and satiated and in a bit of a daze, but I'll take it. I think, shock of shocks, that the sudden spike in non-compulsory reading has something to do with this. Three cheers for appropriated leisure time!

I found a bright orange telephone today, complete with cords. Art forthcoming.

Cheese has been disappearing at an alarming rate around here. John and I do the separate food thing, so I have no one to blame but myself (and those DAMN DIRTY APES) - cheese can be a more expensive habit than either beer or smoking. It's a good thing I don't smoke. I'd be broke.

My little bro has a girlfriend. I'm over the moon about it because it's great ammo for my Sibling Teasing Cannons, but it does mean he's never around to answer the damn phone. so I can't let the volleys fly.

Making mixes and burning requests. Anyone want anything else while I'm at it?

on top of all that, I'm re-establishing my tenuous photoshop skills. don't expect results. found a bunch of difficult ones that I can't seem to delete.

did anyone see The Black Dahlia? M? L?

Skipping class, particularly a class in which I'm totally golden, to get other things done isn't a crime. So why do I feel guilty and anxious? Maybe because I'm also skipping class to go shopping. For interview clothes! I have none! That's still considered productive, right? Hmm.

Somewhere in the my-apartment vicinity is a wireless network called Swann's Wireless Way. A Prouster nearby gives me glee, but naming a wireless network after Dead Frenchie's Greatest Hit... well, I guess John and I aren't ones to talk. Ours is called Team Awesome.

Finished ten pages of my thesis rough draft a couple of days hence. Upon turning said pages into my advisors, I promptly rewarded myself with a falafel.

I'm in a very "no patience for Belle and Sebastian, the Cure, the Police or the Wallflowers, so I'd appreciate it if you'd cut that shit out, iPod" sort of mood. Frustrated, one might say. Been listening to this gent, who is also, I'm proud to say, an aquaintance of mine. GAH -- forgot to get BLOW/Of Montreal tickets AGAIN. Verdammt!

No more sauce! February 14 is my (rather appropriate) last day at the dining hall. I'm applying for a techie desk job at the law school -- here's hoping.

Lately, I've felt like I have the emotional spectrum of a fish. Or like I'm on lithium. Restraining emotions doesn't come easily to me, so why have I not been reacting at all to what should, by all accounts, be a very emotional time? I'm just tired. No wonder most posts have been so disjointed.

My grandpa sent me fudge and a candy thermometer.