sc0urge: (choices aang)
I don't care if it's silly or childish. Writing cover letters is something I find really difficult and scary. I never know what I'm supposed to say, and really the templates available online have never been particularly helpful. I'm not applying for a desk job at a bank. I'm not applying to be the volunteer coordinator at a charitable organisation. I'm not applying for a paid internship at a research laboratory. I'm applying for minimum wage service jobs so I have something that will let me scrape by with some level of self-sufficiency. I haven't found something that explains the right way to say 'I don't think this is the worst thing I could do for ten dollars an hour and I don't think I would be the worst person at this job, so please disregard my patchy and irrelevant work experience' in words that make any of that sound like a good thing.

And then I explain that I'm not going to a job fair this morning because I noticed late last night that they wanted a resumé and cover letter, because I don't think the sort of cover letter I could write at one in the morning (or at seven in the morning) would be worth the paper on which I'd print it...

'Oh, just write one!'

'It'll take you five minutes.'

'Cover letters are easy! Just say why you want to work there!'

'Why don't you just write one?'

'Oh, well they've decided they don't want to go.'

No. I really did want to go. It seemed promising. I would probably be pretty good at a job that involves cleaning up little tubs of add-your-own condiments, making sure frozen yoghurt machines are still functioning, and pushing buttons on a touchscreen to charge people for their yoghurt tubs. Partly because a trained monkey or a sufficiently advanced Roomba could do that, and partly because hey - at least lots of cool-looking people walk through malls, and they play music that isn't the same three Christmas songs on repeat, so I'm pretty happy with that.

That's about all I've got.

But apparently writing brilliant cover letters that get the jobs rolling in like waves of a flood tide is nothing at all. Anyone could do it. No problem.

Please explain what that implies about me.
sc0urge: (Default)
I really wish I could be a good student but it's just so hard. But it's not even hard for reasons I think I can adequately explain?

It's just so overwhelming and scary and I have to keep track of dates and times and people and papers and books and notes and that's without even thinking of the contents of the courses themselves.

I just want to not feel a rising swell of panic every time I open my calendar or my school website or my textbook or my notes or my student email, because I'm so sure that I've forgotten an assignment or missed a class or done the wrong reading or gone to the wrong room or... anything, really.

It doesn't even help to think that screwing up one assignment, second week of term, wouldn't be The End, because I have this crushing fear that having missed one assignment makes me a miserable failure, will turn my profs and TAs against me Forever and... well, in the past it mostly has led to me panicking, balking, and running away entirely. Skipping class. Skipping lab. Skipping tutorial. This summer I took two online courses, missed one deadline, and panicked so wildly I skipped out on two whole courses and put myself back on academic probation.

Sometimes I want to just drop out because it causes me so much anxiety, but I love learning in lectures and I need to be able to see my counselor and doctor at the school (because trusting doctors is hard and scary) and I can't even seem to find a minimum-wage, crappy-hours, no-benefits job to hire me, so I'm not sure what else I could do.


Sep. 5th, 2011 09:50 am
sc0urge: (Default)
Yesterday afternoon I received a phone call asking if I could take a night shift in the haunted mansion. I said I couldn't, though that was maybe a slight exaggeration of my obligation to go back to my dorm to obtain free food and participate in orientation games. I kind of think I might have been better off doing the zombie shift, actually - while the airbrush makeup isn't exactly kind to skin, it has yet to do any worse than cause a few spots here and there. The intriguing things dorm advisers can devise to promote team spirit, on the other hand...

Picture a field of slightly manky grass. This field has two rows of water bottles lined up along it, with a gutted paper shopping bag piled with cotton balls at the end. There are two teams of three victims. These three must slather their faces with Vaseline, tie a banana on a string between their legs, and then proceed to run up to a water bottle, hip-thrust it down with the banana, then faceplant into the cotton for five seconds in an attempt to collect as many cotton balls as possible before running back to the start while trying to retain all their sweet loot.

I was undoubtedly the most successful of my team at collecting cotton, but this correlated with having the most slimy face beforehand, and the most fuzzy face thereafter. Wads of toilet paper were not readily available, so I made a very intelligent and resourceful decision and just rubbed my face in the spiky, manky grass.

Stupid stupid dumb.

Toilet paper arrived shortly after, which meant I could clean all the little blades of grass off my face if not completely ablute myself of grease. Too little, too late, I would soon discover, as the vile claws of the grassy host would make their venomous fire known upon my tender, greased visage.

Even a proper washing with face soap and scrubbing the hell out of my skin with a big fuzzy towel proved utterly fruitless. And this is why I was forced to retire about four hours earlier than usual for some utterly excellent sleep (silver sandwich) because I could no longer use my eyes on the computer screen. Unfortunately, I appear to still be a slightly speckly pufferfish, but I'm sure that will eventually resolve itself.

I hope.

And now, clothes and breakfast.

ETA: Also hey, guess who's three floors below me! Hey Figwidgeon!
sc0urge: (boxcars)

An entire mug of hot chocolate just decided to swan dive off the table, roll over my entire lap, drenching my last clean hoodie and pair of jeans, spill over my laptop cord, then crash on the floor and spew what remained of its contents across the tile... and my freaking sketchbook. (It's not even my mug; it's Kate's, so... extra points.) So now I've gone upstairs and retrieved a torn pair of trousers, eh, I can sew them up well enough to last the day. Then I go to clean up this mess, which requires not a dish towel but one of the freaking beach towels we use for the dogs, and in moving the chair to get at the spill, I knock over a china bowl, and it crashes to the tile in a glorious shatter.

And that was the last of the almond milk.


sc0urge: (boxcars)
ETA: Scratch all this, the mere existence of the art course is apparently a figment of my imagination. At any rate, I cannot enroll in it. Bluh. Oh and apparently they only offer arts courses on a different campus. Thanks for telling me that, guys.

UGH university ugh courses ugh schedule ugh enrollment ugh self urgh.

I am a complete and utter shaky-skulled idiot dunce, and guess what? I managed to totally bork up enrolling myself for classes, so none of my choices were actually added, meaning they all filled up (most of them even the waitlist was full) and I have had to attempt to cobble together a whole new one. Which means I am now about to add a really piecemeal assortment of courses which are more difficult, take up more time, are worth fewer units, and probably contribute even less to any kind of meaningful degree. I am only just able to piece together enough units to keep my scholarship by waitlisting myself for an arts studio course. Which... you know, cool. It may mean nothing in terms of either of my probable majors, but whatever. Art is awesome, and the kind of panicfrazzle that working to hard on art gives me is a completely different and very refreshing kind of overload. But I'm waitlisted, and not sure I'll get in, and now this means there are two nights a week I won't be able to work as a zombie instead of one, and on one of those days, I'll be going from biology in the morning, to a four-hour chem lab in the afternoon, to a three-hour art studio all evening (with barely ten minutes between lab and studio). If I get in. If.

Which I need to happen, because scholarship. And there is pretty much no other course I could cram into my schedule, and even if there was I doubt it would be one I would enjoy or even possibly PASS.

I'm just... really bad at this, I think. I get stressed, and I'm all 'LOL NOPE NOT GONNA DEAL WITH THIS' so I shut down my brain and refuse to think to avoid total swirling overwhelmed meltdown, but while that works as a stopgap measure and prevents me from getting shitfaced drunk and staying up all night crying or whatever, and is really really good for my high scores on Robot Unicorn Attack, it just leaves me freaking stagnating all over the place, leaving me - still! - without meaningful employment, a planned major, any idea what I want to do with myself, or more than one or two meaningful relationships in my life. (And of course that just feeds into me feeling inadequate, which feeds into me feeling jealous and self-pitying, which just leads into me feeling shitty and petty and childish about feeling like that, which... recursive fractal of emo whiny bullshit.)

I don't really know where I was going with this.

But I've added the courses, so let's just hope I get into this art course and maybe grow a spine and deal with my shit or something.


sc0urge: (Default)

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