4.0!

I've been in school for a lot of years. More than I care to think about sometimes. And I've always coasted through, gotten perfectly acceptable grades (except in Economics and Statistics, but whatevs, who uses them?) and continued on my merry way.

Grad school has been an entirely different beast. And maybe it's because I care more about it than I cared about anything else. But I've worked my ass off to pull off the grades I've gotten because of the toughness of the grading scale.

Would you like to see the grading scale?

A 97-100
A- 94-96
B+ 91-93
B 88-90
B- 85-87
C+ 82-84
C 79-81
C- 76-78
D+ 73-75
D 70-72
D- 67-69
F Below 67

So, you can understand my excitement over my first 4.0 EVER. Especially since I really loathed this past semester.

Maybe I need to start hating school more.

The Best Part of Today

I love love love Leigh.

And this post? Might make me want to marry her. I laughed so hard I cried.

Which is exactly what I needed today.

And Now the Rest of the Story...

So my hair is once again only two colors, my feet are callus-free AND have flowers on them (well, my toenails), and the most I did all weekend was roll from bed to the pool, then decide what to eat. I have a terrific sunburn, my nose is peeling, and I'm trying to figure out how to get paid to do nothing full-time.

I have pictures somewhere. In the meantime, this is where I stayed. I'd like to move in, really.

I had a sick feeling about coming to work this morning, and I wasn't disappointed. Yeah, they fired a co-worker on Friday. That's terrific news at 8:15 in the morning. Not that it was a surprise...I'd seen it coming for awhile, but thought she might leave before they let her go. Umm...no. So anyway, once again I get to pick up the slack - fortunately this time someone else is here to take care of the accounting part, and I don't have to worry about that.

Because really? I'm not a good accountant. I can hardly do math, much less understand the whole debit/credit thing. I had to withdraw from accounting in college, thus ending my business minor. I only managed a 'C' in Economics. And now you know my secret shame.

Anyway, it's a week of meetings and investigative computering and resume sifting and hey! Do you know of a project accountant with entertainment industry experience? Me neither.

But...hot air balloons at the end of a four-day week! I can make it. I hope.

Because on top of it all, I'm seven short days from starting school again.

Hello, summer.

Why I Shouldn't Sleep With Court TV On...

Last night I had a dream that Morgan was trying to kill me. First, he tried to smother me but I kept waking up. Then he pointed a Derringer at my head, but it didn't fire. Before he could succeed, I woke up.

Whew.

Other things are afoot here...I'll get to those later.

Vacation Mode

Today, I'm sitting at my desk filling up my Bevmo shopping cart with copious amounts of alcoholic beverages.

Copious. Like $200 worth. For reals. Who knew shopping for liquor online was more dangerous than doing it in the store? And then it's all ready to be picked up at the end of the day. I pity those with no Bevmo in their lives. Mine is just down the street from the office. And I would marry it if I could.

Other than the booze shopping? I bought some clothes and I'm tempted to visit the semi-annual sale at Victoria's Secret. Retail therapy, anyone? Perhaps I'm feeling lonely as my other half is whooping it up in Vegas with his brother and the dog is not the best bed companion. Where she curls up next to him when I'm gone, when he's gone? She sprawls across the entire bed and squishes me into a permanent fetal position, much like she does when we're all in bed together.

Some days I'm surprised my legs straighten out at all.

Anyway, I'm a clock-watcher today, and I'm sure it won't tick fast enough for my vacation-starved brain. Which is evidently booze-starved as well, looking at the contents of that shopping cart.

Selah.

Angsty or Anxious?

As much as I love Los Angeles, I have difficulty spending extended periods of time here. If I believed in astrology, I'd chalk it up to my Sagittarian wanderlust. Whatevs. Really, it's all about getting stuck in a rut. Work-home-sleep-work. Five days a week. Weekends? Shop-home-BOREDOM. You see, I spend the majority of my weekends alone as my other half works. While some people cherish alone time, it leaves me alone with my thoughts. And the dog, while good for some fun, is not the best conversationalist even when she is talking.

Which is why I like to get out of town. Unfortunately, this is happening less frequently nowadays, because of school or schedules or what have you. I used to be in Vegas once every six weeks, now it's every two months, and only because my roots are showing and you can see the white hairs and I MUST HAVE MY HAIR DONE.

(You can't tell it's time to have it done again, can you?)

I have gotten to Palm Springs a couple times this year, but when you get in on Friday night and leave on Sunday it's enough time to drink a couple bottles of champagne and eat a steak and then start the week over again. I never really quite STOP.

It wears on me - I get tired and cranky and the slightest thing can send me over the edge into a sobbing puddle. Like dirty dishes. I'm not ashamed of it; I don't try to hide it. And I'm not depressed or anything, just overwhelmed from time to time.

All of this to say that I think this week's angst stems from my upcoming escape for four whole days! I just want to not be at work or at home for a little bit so I can step back and regroup before what could quite possibly be the roughest summer ever.

Because full-time work on multiple projects - any useful assistance in the office + full-time school = well, I don't know what yet.

I guess we'll find out together.

Adrift

I was trying to write something serious, but got distracted by a script that may or may not be dirty. Maybe it's supposed to be seductive, but it just sounds filthy. Suns unsheathing swords, finger foods...ick. Or maybe I'm just immature. I did just finish reading A Round-Heeled Woman : My Late-Life Adventures in Sex and Romance - so maybe that's coloring my perceptions.

Hey wait! I read a book! And an interesting read it was. I highly recommend it, for women - not so much for men. Too girly.

Anyway, serious. Which comes with difficulty, as I mostly just throw random things out here and there, none of which are particularly insightful or meaningful.

But I think. A lot. About the future, what the next year holds for me, how things will change once I have an MLIS after my name, IF they'll change...it keeps me awake in the wee hours of the morning.

I want it to mean something. Outside of getting married, this is the most important thing I've ever done. My bachelor's was nothing - everybody gets one. This degree counts - it will put me on a course for the next 35 years, or as long as I keep working. But sometimes I feel like I'm just another librarian getting in line for the same jobs for which everyone else is already in line.

This experience is too hard for it to become an exercise in futility. I work in a position that will never go any further than where it is now, and while it's fine for the interim, I can't see myself answering phones for another five years. Nor will I. I'll skip town and open a bar on the beach first.

Wait - maybe a library on the beach. Now that has possibilities.

See? Serious is hard. And I know everything will be fine and I'll escape this desk and move on to...a different desk. But it WILL be different. It's hard to believe that things will ever change, that I'll ever be done with school, that I'll actually get a job somewhere that I truly want to be.

This makes my current job sound like a pit. It's not, and a lot of people would LOVE to work here. It's not lost on me, for sure. I think about not being here and what it means - like missing the openings for a number of projects that might actually get built. But it's not worth staying.

Not when a whole world of information waits out there for me to make it accessible to the masses.

An Open Letter to the Writers of the Sopranos

You have managed to make the last nine episodes almost sleep-inducingly boring.

WHY WHY WHY?

Still watching to see how it ends,

Corinne

Some Horses Are Cool.

And I Said No, No, No...

I almost got away with never hearing an Amy Winehouse song.

I could've remained blissfully ignorant of HOW DAMN CATCHY "Rehab" is.

I don't want to like her, because she's a dirty chav.

I blame XM. Stupid satellite radio.

Also:

97% in Cataloging.

A.

And Now for Something Completely Different.

A title I know I've used before. So now, I have three weeks to kill before summer session starts.

THREE WEEKS! Of course, this happens at the end of every semester and I end up wasting it surfing teh intarweb instead of reading the pile of books I've collected.

Fortunately, I shouldn't have to worry about killing time here at work. Projects! Lots of them! An office full of people!

All I want is a new phone system. And a new chair. That's why I have George, because he'll finagle it out of the boss.

And maybe a vacation.

Could It Be?

Could I have really finished both finals?

Why yes, I did. 95% on my cataloging final, and I really don't care what I get on the Records Management final. She probably counts pages and gives you a grade based on that anyway.

But - two more classes down...five and an e-portfolio to go.

GAAAAAHHHHHH!

Also: I've hit the wall. I'm one essay away from being finished with Records Management and I just can't do it.

Instead, I'm Wikipedia-ing James Taylor and John Denver.

This? Is not getting me anywhere with ethics and the records manager. And I don't care.

Sometimes It's Beautiful

I can't help it - this picture is incredible. Welcome, fire season.

"The Hollywood Librarian" Trailer!

*sigh*

So hey! I got an A on my records management paper! Yay, right?

Let me share the comments...

"Fascinating topic. Well done!"

That's it. 10 pages of text and that's what I get.

Maybe I'm expecting too much. Except for the part where every other instructor I've had has given extensive comments on written work, which is great because all of this work goes into the portfolio I have to assemble in order to graduate.

Does this mean that it doesn't need editing? Because somehow I find that hard to believe. I can write the hell out of anything, sure, but I can't believe there's no room for improvement.

My discontent grows. But all I have left is my final, and considering the grades I've gotten on the drivel I've turned in this semester, I'm guessing I'm in pretty good shape.

I can phone it in too, I guess.

I Was SO CUTE Today!

No really, even after 9 hours I still looked cute.


And this is one pair of my new shoes...




It was totally wasted. Sigh.

Potpourri

Friday I drank. A lot. Too much. It ended badly. We'll not speak of it again.

Saturday I drank. A lot. Not too much. It ended peacefully.

Sunday? Ditto. But only after my homework was done. Although sometimes I'm BRILLIANT when I've got a few in me.

Now it's Wednesday! I've spent this week coordinating and printing and shipping and burning and converting and uploading. And I'm so tired of it I could spit. But now it's over and the boss is 5,000 miles away with some wonky itinerary that looks completely wrong on paper but was what was given to me so I just went along with it.

Yesterday, though - NEW SHOES! NEW PURSE! I cannot describe my love of Endless.com in words.

We have one of two houseguests with us now...we're suspicious that maybe the other one isn't so excited about staying at our house. Whatevs. No one forced them to live there - we just offered.

Bah.

Anything else? The slow march to the end of the semester has started...my records management final is partially finished, I finally learned Dewey in cataloging this week, and soon it will all be over.

Selah.