Champion of the Semicolon

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.