I have found a new calling in life, and boy is this one a perfect blend of my skills. Ready....drum roll please...I've decided I'm going to be a telenovela writer. That's right, you know those enormously overdramatic soap operas full of jealousy, passion, and intrigue all in rapid-fire Spanish. Turns out I'm not half bad at writing them. I mean what other job lets you use call someone a love-thief and warn them of being pushed off a building by a deranged and supposed best friend.
In my Spanish class we have to work in groups to write and perform a mini telenovela. When we started working on this on Monday, my group and I just sat there blankly, unsure how to begin. Nickie suggested we have someone in a coma, and it just took off from there. It's ridiculous, we've now got a three women chasing after the same man, someone falling off a roof, an attempted poisoning and of course, the token revelation of pregnancy (which gets to be my little surprise).
As you can see, I'm having an enjoyable Saturday. Once I finish the script, I'll translate the whole story for you to read in all its glory.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Trans-Atlantic Talks
I had a couple of loose ends to tie up with my whole studying abroad thing, so I decided to call up Spain this morning. Easier said than done. First step: waking up at 5:15 a.m. a full hour and a half earlier than I have to on Wednesdays.
I'm trying to get a summer internship at an arts and entertainment magazine in Spain. I mailed my application package to their office last week, and I wanted to make sure it got there okay. I gave them a call and talked to one of the editors there. First, of all, he had a British accent, meaning I had to concentrate more to understand him, given that my brain felt about as dark as the sky outside. We were talking about the internship and he asked if I knew Spanish. I replied that I'd been studying it for eight years and would be spending the semester before the internship living in Spain, so yes, my skills are pretty decent. Then, out of nowhere, he rattles off a question in Spanish. My brain momentarily stopped functioning. First, the realization that hey, this man is now speaking in a foreign language, had to set in. By the time that clicked, I only heard the last two words of his sentence.
"Uhhh, I'm really sorry, but what?" was my reply.
"Oh, I was just testing you," he answered. I got the impression that he was smiling when he said that. Oh great - just what everyone wants at the crack of dawn - a language test to fail.
"I'm really sorry, but it's 5:30 in the morning here," I told him, hoping that my lame excuse would suffice.
"Oh wow, I didn't realize it was that early over there. You got up that early especially to call us?"
"Yup,"
"Well, that was very contentious of you."
Ha, I had redeemed myself. We went on to talk some more about the internship and he told me he'd get back to me soon.
Next step: Call the university. I had a couple of housing questions and was transferred to someone who sounded quite American. I told him where I was from and what university I attend, and he said he had recently been to my university. That in and of itself isn't necessarily surprising since my school is a large state school, but it's still nice to have a connection like that with a stranger. He didn't mention in what capacity he'd visited here, but we were talking about the Spanish department and then studying abroad, and he was telling me about how much my Spanish was going to improve.
"You'd have to be a total moron loser to not improve your speaking skills here," he said. No joke, that's what he said. It was great. He talked about how I'll meet so many students from all over the place, which is precisely the reason why I chose to direct enroll in the university rather than go through an American university or a program provider. I told him about how I really wanted to push myself to become a part of the culture and not just be like - hey you're American, let's be friends. We had a really nice conversation and he now I'm super excited to go. Since direct enrolling has left me pretty much responsible for everything, it's nice to know I've got a friendly face on the other side who I can ask questions.
I'm trying to get a summer internship at an arts and entertainment magazine in Spain. I mailed my application package to their office last week, and I wanted to make sure it got there okay. I gave them a call and talked to one of the editors there. First, of all, he had a British accent, meaning I had to concentrate more to understand him, given that my brain felt about as dark as the sky outside. We were talking about the internship and he asked if I knew Spanish. I replied that I'd been studying it for eight years and would be spending the semester before the internship living in Spain, so yes, my skills are pretty decent. Then, out of nowhere, he rattles off a question in Spanish. My brain momentarily stopped functioning. First, the realization that hey, this man is now speaking in a foreign language, had to set in. By the time that clicked, I only heard the last two words of his sentence.
"Uhhh, I'm really sorry, but what?" was my reply.
"Oh, I was just testing you," he answered. I got the impression that he was smiling when he said that. Oh great - just what everyone wants at the crack of dawn - a language test to fail.
"I'm really sorry, but it's 5:30 in the morning here," I told him, hoping that my lame excuse would suffice.
"Oh wow, I didn't realize it was that early over there. You got up that early especially to call us?"
"Yup,"
"Well, that was very contentious of you."
Ha, I had redeemed myself. We went on to talk some more about the internship and he told me he'd get back to me soon.
Next step: Call the university. I had a couple of housing questions and was transferred to someone who sounded quite American. I told him where I was from and what university I attend, and he said he had recently been to my university. That in and of itself isn't necessarily surprising since my school is a large state school, but it's still nice to have a connection like that with a stranger. He didn't mention in what capacity he'd visited here, but we were talking about the Spanish department and then studying abroad, and he was telling me about how much my Spanish was going to improve.
"You'd have to be a total moron loser to not improve your speaking skills here," he said. No joke, that's what he said. It was great. He talked about how I'll meet so many students from all over the place, which is precisely the reason why I chose to direct enroll in the university rather than go through an American university or a program provider. I told him about how I really wanted to push myself to become a part of the culture and not just be like - hey you're American, let's be friends. We had a really nice conversation and he now I'm super excited to go. Since direct enrolling has left me pretty much responsible for everything, it's nice to know I've got a friendly face on the other side who I can ask questions.
Perfect Paneer
After being up since 5:20 this morning, an hour and a half earlier than usual, the only thing that was getting me through 11:00 Spanish was the prospect of digging into Mom's paneer.
I got back to the apartment, warmed everything up and dug into what was quite possibly the best meal I have ever had.
It was just shahi paneer that Mom literally whipped up in 10 minutes while I was eating breakfast yesterday, but that first bite was almost heavenly. The tangy tomato puree combined with the thick cream was almost more than I could handle. As I devoured the cushy pillows of paneer with the flaky roti, I thought to myself, screw all my lofty life goals. If I can make a dish that makes someone as happy as this paneer has made me, my life would be complete.
Especially after talking to Mom last night, the prospect of staying home isn't as inconceivable to me. I remember this one conversation I had with Mom freshman year where she told me how she was once offered this position at Marriott and that if she had taken it, today she would probably be something like executive V.P of housekeeping or something really high up and awesome. But, she turned down the position - and you know the reason why? Because I was born.
When she told me that I was like...what!!! You turned down this amazing job just because of me? Why the heck did you do that! I'm not worth that! And she just replied, when you have kids, everything changes. And of course I couldn't understand that then, but now I'm starting to get what she means. I've noticed that a lot of times, powerful and influential women (Condoleezza Rice and Oprah Winfrey come to mind) also aren't married and don't have kids. And that's one thing I know I can't give up. Yes, I'm about as driven and as competitive as it gets, but when it comes down to making that choice, I know I'm going with the family.
Then again, I'm also the one that when people tell me that eventually I'll actually have to make that choice, I pretend I can't hear what they're saying because I've already made everything else in life work, so why should this one be any different? The saying 'you can't have your cake and eat it too' means nothing to me because I've been eating the cake all my life, and don't plan on stopping any time soon.
Except now because I've got to go to class. Adios!
P.S. I'll have to tell you about this morning's conversation with Spain when I get back.
I got back to the apartment, warmed everything up and dug into what was quite possibly the best meal I have ever had.
It was just shahi paneer that Mom literally whipped up in 10 minutes while I was eating breakfast yesterday, but that first bite was almost heavenly. The tangy tomato puree combined with the thick cream was almost more than I could handle. As I devoured the cushy pillows of paneer with the flaky roti, I thought to myself, screw all my lofty life goals. If I can make a dish that makes someone as happy as this paneer has made me, my life would be complete.
Especially after talking to Mom last night, the prospect of staying home isn't as inconceivable to me. I remember this one conversation I had with Mom freshman year where she told me how she was once offered this position at Marriott and that if she had taken it, today she would probably be something like executive V.P of housekeeping or something really high up and awesome. But, she turned down the position - and you know the reason why? Because I was born.
When she told me that I was like...what!!! You turned down this amazing job just because of me? Why the heck did you do that! I'm not worth that! And she just replied, when you have kids, everything changes. And of course I couldn't understand that then, but now I'm starting to get what she means. I've noticed that a lot of times, powerful and influential women (Condoleezza Rice and Oprah Winfrey come to mind) also aren't married and don't have kids. And that's one thing I know I can't give up. Yes, I'm about as driven and as competitive as it gets, but when it comes down to making that choice, I know I'm going with the family.
Then again, I'm also the one that when people tell me that eventually I'll actually have to make that choice, I pretend I can't hear what they're saying because I've already made everything else in life work, so why should this one be any different? The saying 'you can't have your cake and eat it too' means nothing to me because I've been eating the cake all my life, and don't plan on stopping any time soon.
Except now because I've got to go to class. Adios!
P.S. I'll have to tell you about this morning's conversation with Spain when I get back.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Taking My Own Advice
It's funny how yesterday I wrote that worrying is a waste of time because freaking out is all I've done today. And of course everything ended up working out perfectly fine and I was left wondering how much more I could accomplish if I put all my effort that goes into worrying into something productive.
Last night, while writing up my business story, I realized I left my passport at school, and would have to go back in the morning to get it before going to the embassy to get my visa. Of course, because I love to complicate my life, I had also been debating between getting the regular student visa or the extended one, since I might be staying abroad to intern, but I'm haven't heard from the place I applied, so I'm not really sure at all. So I proceeded to wake Papa up not once, but twice at about 1 a.m. kind of freaking out about whether I had all the correct documents or not. He told me to go to bed and that we would just go to the embassy and get the facts from them.
I went to bed feeling only a little better, but exhaustion eventually got the better of me and I fell asleep fairly quickly given how much was on my mind.
In the morning, Mom frantically cooked some more food for me to take back, since plans had changed and I wouldn't be stopping at home before heading back to school after the visa stuff. We went to school, I grabbed my passport and we headed into the city. Once there, we found the Spanish embassy, I took a deep breath, and we walked in. The friendly guard pointed me toward the visa desk, which was completely empty, and the woman asked what she could do. I told her I wanted a student visa, she took my papers, looked through them briefly and told me to come back in seven weeks.
I was a little confused. The last time I went to get a visa, which was this summer for our India trip, it was a day-long ordeal. After I got over my initial shock at this efficiency, I asked her about the extended visa. She said that would involve a letter from school saying I was taking classes. Well then, I thought, that settles it. I don't have a letter nor do I plan on taking more classes, so I'm just going to apply for the regular student visa and that's that.
Papa and I thanked her and headed out the embassy, thanking the guard on the way out. I looked at my watch. Three minutes. That's how long we spent inside the embassy. And that was counting the time it took for me to ask and her to answer my question. Really? I'd spent last night and this morning freaking out about everything and this was all it took? I mean, I'm definitely not complaining, but still. That was it?
Anyways, Papa and I had time to kill, so we wandered around the city, conversing amiably. The weather was perfect, a little cloudy so the sun wasn't in our eyes, and not-too-warm temperatures with the perfect slow cool breeze. It was too early for lunch, so we strolled for about an hour or so before heading to this Vietnamese cafe for lunch.
For lunch I had a shrimp and lemongrass soup and a little lunch box with rice, salad, a spring roll and grilled chicken with peanut sauce. The soup was so good, sweet and light with a tangy kick. The box was really cute and everything tasted amazing. Papa had shrimp in garlic sauce which was also really good.
After lunch we decided to head back, since I (unfortunately) had work waiting for me. We had a nice ride back, chatting about politics and careers and life in general. I really like when we have those conversations. Sometimes it's just so easy to talk to Papa about all that stuff, and every once in a while he says something that just completely makes sense. He'll bring up a point that I never thought about, and suddenly things just click.
Fast forward a couple of hours, when I was on the phone with Mom, who talked to Nani Ma recently. Mom started telling me how much she misses Nani Ma and how she feels so bad sometimes because Nani Ma is all the way in India and we're all the way over here. Nani Ma waits for years and years for us to come, and then when we finally do visit it's only for a couple of weeks and we never really get to spend quality time with her. Mom went on about how much she looks forward to me visiting from college, and then when I do come, the time passes by so quickly and it's time for me to go right back, and how I'm going to be abroad next semester and pretty soon Neeraj is going to be going to college and how it must be exponentially difficult for Nani Ma because the distance is so much greater. Needless to say, I think at that moment it hit Mom that her children are growing up, and let's just say the phone call ended with a lot of Kleenex.
Even though it's not like growing up is my fault, I still felt guilty. I felt the exact same way when I left for college and Neeraj was at home all alone. I mean, for a brother and sister I think we were pretty close, and for us suddenly not to be seeing each other 24/7 was kind of weird. But like Mom said, at least I'm just a 45 minute drive away. I honestly can't imagine what it would be like being 10,000 miles away from Mom and the rest of my family, not being able to call any time I wanted or just hop on the Metro and be home in an hour.
Anyways, I don't really know what point I was trying to get at, just that there's enough meaningful change to worry about in life that you'd better not sweat the small stuff too.
Last night, while writing up my business story, I realized I left my passport at school, and would have to go back in the morning to get it before going to the embassy to get my visa. Of course, because I love to complicate my life, I had also been debating between getting the regular student visa or the extended one, since I might be staying abroad to intern, but I'm haven't heard from the place I applied, so I'm not really sure at all. So I proceeded to wake Papa up not once, but twice at about 1 a.m. kind of freaking out about whether I had all the correct documents or not. He told me to go to bed and that we would just go to the embassy and get the facts from them.
I went to bed feeling only a little better, but exhaustion eventually got the better of me and I fell asleep fairly quickly given how much was on my mind.
In the morning, Mom frantically cooked some more food for me to take back, since plans had changed and I wouldn't be stopping at home before heading back to school after the visa stuff. We went to school, I grabbed my passport and we headed into the city. Once there, we found the Spanish embassy, I took a deep breath, and we walked in. The friendly guard pointed me toward the visa desk, which was completely empty, and the woman asked what she could do. I told her I wanted a student visa, she took my papers, looked through them briefly and told me to come back in seven weeks.
I was a little confused. The last time I went to get a visa, which was this summer for our India trip, it was a day-long ordeal. After I got over my initial shock at this efficiency, I asked her about the extended visa. She said that would involve a letter from school saying I was taking classes. Well then, I thought, that settles it. I don't have a letter nor do I plan on taking more classes, so I'm just going to apply for the regular student visa and that's that.
Papa and I thanked her and headed out the embassy, thanking the guard on the way out. I looked at my watch. Three minutes. That's how long we spent inside the embassy. And that was counting the time it took for me to ask and her to answer my question. Really? I'd spent last night and this morning freaking out about everything and this was all it took? I mean, I'm definitely not complaining, but still. That was it?
Anyways, Papa and I had time to kill, so we wandered around the city, conversing amiably. The weather was perfect, a little cloudy so the sun wasn't in our eyes, and not-too-warm temperatures with the perfect slow cool breeze. It was too early for lunch, so we strolled for about an hour or so before heading to this Vietnamese cafe for lunch.
For lunch I had a shrimp and lemongrass soup and a little lunch box with rice, salad, a spring roll and grilled chicken with peanut sauce. The soup was so good, sweet and light with a tangy kick. The box was really cute and everything tasted amazing. Papa had shrimp in garlic sauce which was also really good.
After lunch we decided to head back, since I (unfortunately) had work waiting for me. We had a nice ride back, chatting about politics and careers and life in general. I really like when we have those conversations. Sometimes it's just so easy to talk to Papa about all that stuff, and every once in a while he says something that just completely makes sense. He'll bring up a point that I never thought about, and suddenly things just click.
Fast forward a couple of hours, when I was on the phone with Mom, who talked to Nani Ma recently. Mom started telling me how much she misses Nani Ma and how she feels so bad sometimes because Nani Ma is all the way in India and we're all the way over here. Nani Ma waits for years and years for us to come, and then when we finally do visit it's only for a couple of weeks and we never really get to spend quality time with her. Mom went on about how much she looks forward to me visiting from college, and then when I do come, the time passes by so quickly and it's time for me to go right back, and how I'm going to be abroad next semester and pretty soon Neeraj is going to be going to college and how it must be exponentially difficult for Nani Ma because the distance is so much greater. Needless to say, I think at that moment it hit Mom that her children are growing up, and let's just say the phone call ended with a lot of Kleenex.
Even though it's not like growing up is my fault, I still felt guilty. I felt the exact same way when I left for college and Neeraj was at home all alone. I mean, for a brother and sister I think we were pretty close, and for us suddenly not to be seeing each other 24/7 was kind of weird. But like Mom said, at least I'm just a 45 minute drive away. I honestly can't imagine what it would be like being 10,000 miles away from Mom and the rest of my family, not being able to call any time I wanted or just hop on the Metro and be home in an hour.
Anyways, I don't really know what point I was trying to get at, just that there's enough meaningful change to worry about in life that you'd better not sweat the small stuff too.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Business Story Breakthrough
This morning when my journalism professor told us about this week's story, I kind of freaked out. For the past month, I've been following the same issue, basically rewriting the same story three times. Just when I got into a fairly comfortable routine of calling up the same four sources for information, Prof threw us a curveball and instead of continuing with our issue stories, we now have to do a business story.
We have to profile a local business, talk to owners, customers, ask people what's good, what's bad, walk around the strip mall and ask people if they would go to that store or not. Even worse, this week in class we have to write a story on the unemployment rate. Upon hearing this, apparently my internal dread leaked through onto my face, because the girl behind me just started laughing and said I didn't look particularly excited for this assignment.
Fast forward a couple hours: I was telling Sumegha about how much I didn't want to write this story when she suggested I just profile our local Indian grocery store. I thought about it for a minute and realized what a genius idea that was. We already go there a lot and I know the owners pretty well. I had to come home tonight anyways, because tomorrow I'm going to get my visa to study abroad.
Fast forward some more: Papa and I were running some errands and I was completely dreading going to the grocery store. You know me - I hate interviewing people, especially when I know that all they want to do is buy their dal and go home. But I sucked it up, walked into the store and explained my assignment to the Uncle who owns the store. And just like every other experience this class has forced me to endure, once it began, it wasn't really that bad at all. Uncle was more than happy to talk to me, and he said some really great quotes.
But now came the worst part. I had to walk up to customers and ask them what they thought about the store. I took a deep breath and walked up to one woman who was standing in the checkout line. I told her what I was doing, and she just started chatting away, telling me how great the store was. Alright, I thought, this isn't so bad after all. I talked to a couple more customers, and one even said something about how the store could be improved. I was so relieved when he said that, because Prof emphasized that this article was not to be an advertisement for the store. I wandered around the store writing down random details that might come in handy, and even talked to one of the employees. Thirty minutes later I walked out of there totally set. All I've got to do now is write this bad boy up, and the journalism assignment I was dreading only twelve hours earlier will be finished and ready to go.
See, I shoulda known. Things always work out. Freaking out is just wasted effort.
We have to profile a local business, talk to owners, customers, ask people what's good, what's bad, walk around the strip mall and ask people if they would go to that store or not. Even worse, this week in class we have to write a story on the unemployment rate. Upon hearing this, apparently my internal dread leaked through onto my face, because the girl behind me just started laughing and said I didn't look particularly excited for this assignment.
Fast forward a couple hours: I was telling Sumegha about how much I didn't want to write this story when she suggested I just profile our local Indian grocery store. I thought about it for a minute and realized what a genius idea that was. We already go there a lot and I know the owners pretty well. I had to come home tonight anyways, because tomorrow I'm going to get my visa to study abroad.
Fast forward some more: Papa and I were running some errands and I was completely dreading going to the grocery store. You know me - I hate interviewing people, especially when I know that all they want to do is buy their dal and go home. But I sucked it up, walked into the store and explained my assignment to the Uncle who owns the store. And just like every other experience this class has forced me to endure, once it began, it wasn't really that bad at all. Uncle was more than happy to talk to me, and he said some really great quotes.
But now came the worst part. I had to walk up to customers and ask them what they thought about the store. I took a deep breath and walked up to one woman who was standing in the checkout line. I told her what I was doing, and she just started chatting away, telling me how great the store was. Alright, I thought, this isn't so bad after all. I talked to a couple more customers, and one even said something about how the store could be improved. I was so relieved when he said that, because Prof emphasized that this article was not to be an advertisement for the store. I wandered around the store writing down random details that might come in handy, and even talked to one of the employees. Thirty minutes later I walked out of there totally set. All I've got to do now is write this bad boy up, and the journalism assignment I was dreading only twelve hours earlier will be finished and ready to go.
See, I shoulda known. Things always work out. Freaking out is just wasted effort.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Hazelnut Heaven
Just an FYI, waffles with Nutella are the best thing ever. Ever.
Basically, anything with Nutella = my tastebuds temporarily in heaven.
:)
Basically, anything with Nutella = my tastebuds temporarily in heaven.
:)
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Roller Coaster Week
Yesterday was a good day (well, minus all the work I had to do). Today, not so much.
I interviewed with that publication, and it went really, really well. She was impressed with the internship I did last semester, which was with the government, and basically I've secured an internship for next fall before I've tied down the one for this summer. I also ran around campus getting all the paperwork signed to get my study abroad stuff approved, and very very surprisingly, I got it all done in one day. Seriously, given all the bureaucracy I've had to go through to get stuff signed in the past, I was shocked that everything happened so smoothly. I also mailed off my package to the publication abroad I'm trying to intern at, so hopefully I'll hear back from them soon.
Now for today's much crappier turn of events. First of all, I was fasting for a religious holiday today. Secondly, I only got three hours of sleep last night because I was working on my English paper. While both my in-class journalism assignment and my Spanish presentation went well, what most certainly did not go well was my web design exam. Half of the exam involved designing a really basic web page, and it turns out I memorized the wrong coding tags and basically got a ton of points off. And if you know me, you know I generally tend to freak out about all assignments/exams and say I did badly. But really, this time I'm not kidding. It's like with math, if you don't know how to do the problem, you simply don't know. You write in a random number for the answer and then hope for partial credit, which is what my hopes are hinging on.
Of course when I got back to my apartment, I looked up the coding that I messed up, but strangely, I didn't feel too bad. I guess I've finally begun to internalize the whole "hindsight is 20/20. During the exam, I sat there for about an hour just playing with the coding trying to get it to work. I finally decided to turn it in because this wasn't really an essay question that I could b.s. my way through. The thing that bothered me was the split-second look of surprise that passed across my teacher's face when she opened the web page I designed and saw a couple of the components missing. I knew she was disappointed in me, but there was nothing I could do just sitting there staring at the screen.
I guess that shows I've progressed a bit - I was angry of course, but I didn't really know what at. I guess I was angry at myself, but I kept thinking to myself, if I don't know this, I simply don't know it, so sitting there any longer wouldn't have done anything. While I could have studied more, for the last two weeks it's just been so hard to get motivated to do work. It's like I've passed over that mid-semester hump and I've got a pretty good handle on all my classes, it's just a matter of continuing the routine.
Anyways, once I finished looking up the answers I missed, I literally had absolutely no desire to do anything. I thought about doing government reading, but I simply could not get motivated and knew I'd just be staring blankly at the page. I laid down and tried to go to sleep, but that didn't work, despite last night's lack of sleep. I thought about how screwing up this exam might jeopardize my A in this class, but to my surprise, I wasn't as angry as I thought I would be. I mean, yes, I would be really angry at myself if I end up with a B, but I do still have time and there are other assignments worth more, and I don't know how much partial credit I'll be getting for the things I missed on this exam. I realized that grades are really arbitrary when it comes to the real world. This coding that I was tested on, it's all automatic nowadays, so it's not like me not knowing how to change the background color of a web page is going to shut me out of the job market. After all hasn't almost every one of my journalism professors told me that they aren't where they are because of their GPA? Seriously, 20 years from now no one is going to give a crap what arbitrary number supposedly quantified their intelligence. And besides, there is a reason why human beings are not perfect. And am I not a human being?
Okay I so did not mean for this to get that philosophical. What I mean to say is that I think I'm finally realizing that in the grand scheme of things, grades really don't matter as much as I'm telling myself they do.
Anyways, I couldn't sleep, and my stomach was howling at me. I called Mom to ask her when I could eat, and this is what sent me over the edge. She said the fasting is tomorrow, and that I didn't need to even keep it. I couldn't handle it. Not only had I had a terrible afternoon, but I had suffered for nothing! It wasn't for nothing, Mom said. God knew I fasted today and would reward me for it. But still, I couldn't help it and out came the tears. I didn't even know why; it wasn't because of the exam. I think I was just overwhelmed. I think Mom got kind of freaked out because I've never really reacted like that, although I know it wasn't the exhaustion but the food deprivation that triggered the waterworks. Needless to say I got off the phone and made myself a meal, and finally found myself in a normal enough state of mind to talk to my roomies again. (I had shut myself in my bedroom since returning from the exam earlier this afternoon). And then Sumegha gave me a big hug and I felt a lot better (I'm sure the teriyaki noodles I made helped too).
And now I just spent the past half hour catching the second-half of that awful chick lit series Gossip Girl. Oh God the wonders that terrible television does to your mood. So now I'm feeling better and figure my life is not over because I basically bombed an exam.
I interviewed with that publication, and it went really, really well. She was impressed with the internship I did last semester, which was with the government, and basically I've secured an internship for next fall before I've tied down the one for this summer. I also ran around campus getting all the paperwork signed to get my study abroad stuff approved, and very very surprisingly, I got it all done in one day. Seriously, given all the bureaucracy I've had to go through to get stuff signed in the past, I was shocked that everything happened so smoothly. I also mailed off my package to the publication abroad I'm trying to intern at, so hopefully I'll hear back from them soon.
Now for today's much crappier turn of events. First of all, I was fasting for a religious holiday today. Secondly, I only got three hours of sleep last night because I was working on my English paper. While both my in-class journalism assignment and my Spanish presentation went well, what most certainly did not go well was my web design exam. Half of the exam involved designing a really basic web page, and it turns out I memorized the wrong coding tags and basically got a ton of points off. And if you know me, you know I generally tend to freak out about all assignments/exams and say I did badly. But really, this time I'm not kidding. It's like with math, if you don't know how to do the problem, you simply don't know. You write in a random number for the answer and then hope for partial credit, which is what my hopes are hinging on.
Of course when I got back to my apartment, I looked up the coding that I messed up, but strangely, I didn't feel too bad. I guess I've finally begun to internalize the whole "hindsight is 20/20. During the exam, I sat there for about an hour just playing with the coding trying to get it to work. I finally decided to turn it in because this wasn't really an essay question that I could b.s. my way through. The thing that bothered me was the split-second look of surprise that passed across my teacher's face when she opened the web page I designed and saw a couple of the components missing. I knew she was disappointed in me, but there was nothing I could do just sitting there staring at the screen.
I guess that shows I've progressed a bit - I was angry of course, but I didn't really know what at. I guess I was angry at myself, but I kept thinking to myself, if I don't know this, I simply don't know it, so sitting there any longer wouldn't have done anything. While I could have studied more, for the last two weeks it's just been so hard to get motivated to do work. It's like I've passed over that mid-semester hump and I've got a pretty good handle on all my classes, it's just a matter of continuing the routine.
Anyways, once I finished looking up the answers I missed, I literally had absolutely no desire to do anything. I thought about doing government reading, but I simply could not get motivated and knew I'd just be staring blankly at the page. I laid down and tried to go to sleep, but that didn't work, despite last night's lack of sleep. I thought about how screwing up this exam might jeopardize my A in this class, but to my surprise, I wasn't as angry as I thought I would be. I mean, yes, I would be really angry at myself if I end up with a B, but I do still have time and there are other assignments worth more, and I don't know how much partial credit I'll be getting for the things I missed on this exam. I realized that grades are really arbitrary when it comes to the real world. This coding that I was tested on, it's all automatic nowadays, so it's not like me not knowing how to change the background color of a web page is going to shut me out of the job market. After all hasn't almost every one of my journalism professors told me that they aren't where they are because of their GPA? Seriously, 20 years from now no one is going to give a crap what arbitrary number supposedly quantified their intelligence. And besides, there is a reason why human beings are not perfect. And am I not a human being?
Okay I so did not mean for this to get that philosophical. What I mean to say is that I think I'm finally realizing that in the grand scheme of things, grades really don't matter as much as I'm telling myself they do.
Anyways, I couldn't sleep, and my stomach was howling at me. I called Mom to ask her when I could eat, and this is what sent me over the edge. She said the fasting is tomorrow, and that I didn't need to even keep it. I couldn't handle it. Not only had I had a terrible afternoon, but I had suffered for nothing! It wasn't for nothing, Mom said. God knew I fasted today and would reward me for it. But still, I couldn't help it and out came the tears. I didn't even know why; it wasn't because of the exam. I think I was just overwhelmed. I think Mom got kind of freaked out because I've never really reacted like that, although I know it wasn't the exhaustion but the food deprivation that triggered the waterworks. Needless to say I got off the phone and made myself a meal, and finally found myself in a normal enough state of mind to talk to my roomies again. (I had shut myself in my bedroom since returning from the exam earlier this afternoon). And then Sumegha gave me a big hug and I felt a lot better (I'm sure the teriyaki noodles I made helped too).
And now I just spent the past half hour catching the second-half of that awful chick lit series Gossip Girl. Oh God the wonders that terrible television does to your mood. So now I'm feeling better and figure my life is not over because I basically bombed an exam.
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