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Archive for August 2009

Why I Loathe Phone Interviews . . .

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. . .

they are often filled with awkward pauses

or I end up talking over the other person

I forget to listen; I get caught up in what I should say next

they do not allow my personality to shine

also, I suck at them

Are you bad at the phone, too?



Written by ditheringmiss

August 31, 2009 at 2:44 pm

Posted in Me

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What I Know Now

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Recently I started checking out The Happiness Project in an effort to become more conscious of ways that I can take control over my contentment (instead of allowing my circumstances to do that for me.) In the process, I stumbled across The Happiness Project Toolbox’s The Secrets of Adulthood.

The idea is this: keep track of the bursts of wisdom experience has brought into your life.

Since much of my blog has turned into me grappling with adulthood and mostly wishing I was still a kid, I thought it would be fun productive to apply this idea and make it a weekly feature. Ideally, it’ll become a way for me to recognize “growing up” as a good thing and actually appreciate the ways in which I’ve grown. And perhaps help those of you in the same boat, too. (Unless, you know, y’all are way more together than me, which is very possible.)

So here it goes:


You will not die of humiliation. Life will go on, days will pass, and you’ll have to suck it up (or pretend it never happened.)


Written by ditheringmiss

August 31, 2009 at 8:00 am

Retro Friday

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For your  viewing pleasure; if this is not an awesome way to start your weekend, I don’t know what is.  You know you’re a child of the 80’s when . . .


Written by ditheringmiss

August 28, 2009 at 12:21 pm

World 163, Me 0

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In response to my previous two posts, the world has decided to smite me.

I was going to write this post last night, and that’s how it was going to start. Then, I was going to tell you how cheesed I was about crappy things. But ultimately, I decided it wasn’t worth the effort. So instead, I’ve decided to laugh it off.

Last night I headed to my final class of the week, a graduate intro to women studies course. I wasn’t super excited about the class, but every creative writing student has to pick a concentration of sorts and this was going to be mine.

So I get there. It’s a very small room, with one very small table and about eight other women. As I take a seat the instructor turns to me.

Teacher:  Are you a women’s studies student?

Me: Um, no. Creative writing actually.

Teacher: Uh oh. Did you get my email?

Me {in my head}: Well let’s see, I’m sitting here right now and I think you’re about to tell me that I shouldn’t be, so, no, I probably didn’t get your freaking email because then I wouldn’t have wasted an hour driving here and two dollars on parking, now would I?!?!? Not to mention I wouldn’t have wasted this slot on this class and be missing an opportunity to crash other classes, right?!? BECAUSE THAT WOULDN’T MAKE ANY SENSE!

Me: No, I didn’t. What email?

Teacher: Shoot, well, they just closed off this class to anyone but women’s studies students.

Me: Are there any exceptions? Can I appeal?

Teacher: I’ll go confirm with Professor Surely Will Screw You Over.

Teacher exits. I sit there fuming.

Girl 1 {reaching into her bag}: I have a really smelly sandwich. If it bothers anyone let me know and I’ll eat it outside.

Girl 2 {sitting across the table from Girl 1 w/total bitch face}: Does it have nuts in it?

Girl 1: blank stare

Girl 2: I’m allergic to nuts.

Girl 1: It’s hummus. That’s beans, I think. I better not eat it. I’ll just go outside.

Girl 2 {pulls out an inhaler and acts completely put out}: It’s fine.

Girl 3: Wow, you can have an attack from that far away. How do you know the person in the seat before you didn’t eat nuts? Don’t you need an epi pen?

Me {in my head}: Everyone is crazy.

Teacher returns.

Teacher: Yea, you can’t take the class. I guess you better go. Sorry.

So I leave allergy girl, and smelly sandwich girl, and the girl who echoed my very own thoughts behind and head home.

Still angry.

Also, a wee bit grateful that I won’t be spending the semester with them.

Written by ditheringmiss

August 28, 2009 at 10:07 am

Posted in School

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Do you ever get really excited by something, only you know you shouldn’t since it probably won’t work out, so you will yourself to chill out and forget about it, but since it’s like the one exciting thing in a long time you just can’t?

Me. Right now.


Written by ditheringmiss

August 27, 2009 at 4:26 pm

Posted in Life

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Thank You for the Lovely Pink Slip. Really, Thanks.

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Last night my friend said, “Can I tell you something?’ in that way that actually means, “I need to tell you something about you that may offend you.'” This particular friend is more like a sister—we’ve been friends for ages, we know the others’ family almost too well, and we’ve been through the ups and downs I equate with sisterhood—so I knew that whatever she said would probably be fairly accurate. Yikes.

She said, “I think getting laid off was one of the best things  to ever happen to you.”

“How’s that?” I offered an awkward grin and an eyebrow raise. I was thinking about my health insurance that ends on August 31st and my dwindling bank account, of course.

“You’re just so much happier and more positive, too. You’re, like, an optimist.” We both laughed.

While I don’t think I’ve reached the place where I can agree that getting laid off was a good thing, in a way, she’s right. Optimist? I think not. I have, and always will be, a realist. But nothing gives you perspective faster than having the rug pulled out from underneath you. Naturally, this shift in perspective has led me to adopt a different outlook.

No doubt I feel fairly lost sometimes, but I also feel more grounded. And I really hope a year from now I can look back and say that this period marked a great change in my life. Then again, I think a year ago I was hoping to say that now.

Hmmm . . .

Written by ditheringmiss

August 27, 2009 at 1:20 pm

Posted in Changes, Me

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As I said, I’ve started school. If you can remember back to your college years, the first week of classes is awkward, always, because they go around the room and force you to say inane stuff about yourself that no one will remember. This used to send me into pre-panic mode, but after seven years, I’m finally getting the hang of it.

Here’s the thing, I thought introducing myself in my undergrad classes was uncomfortable. Ha! Try doing it in a graduate creating writing class in one of the most liberal and diverse cities in the US.

It goes something like this:

Strange hair girl starts. She has a name like Moonshine or Barley. She’s writing a novel about a woman made up of small men. It’s an allegory for the way women are controlled by men in our patriarchal society; it’s also a comedy.

Then there’s the person with one leg. You know because, she takes off the prosthetic and lies it down on the table along with her lunchbox. It has a neon green knee sock. You can’t remember her novel idea, because you were distracted, obviously.

Next we have the dude who doesn’t smell bad, but looks like he would. He spent the summer smoking cigarettes and writing in a teeny tiny notebook with a stub of a pencil. You don’t understand what the hell he’s talking about but it has something to do with the underworld and Twitter.

Here’s sixty year old guy. He actually seems cooler than most of the people in the class, except he talks painfully slow and you know his story’s going to bore the shit out of you. It’s like he was born in the 40’s. Oh wait…

Finally, my favorite: the girl with the crazed frizzy hair and a bulky scarf who won’t talk above a whisper no matter how many times the teacher asks her to speak up. She has chipped nail polish like she did it on puporse, and she doodles pixies and fairies in her notebook.

It’s weird when you’re weird because you’re not weird enough.

Written by ditheringmiss

August 26, 2009 at 4:55 pm

Posted in School, Writing

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