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Hey all. I don't know if people are still reading this blog, but in the event that they are, I should announce that I've switched to blogger. My new blog can be found at http://resnoncon.blogspot.com/
Hope to see you there!
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While most of you have already heard me whine about all of this, I feel the need to also put my bitching out into the internet void.
I am sick of waiting. Due to sickness and hospital stay, I only managed to get one application in for one PhD program. This is not good. Of course, it's the only one that I want and the only program in the nation with my area of interest, so I guess it could be worse. I may have only been able to apply to a back up program. Eww. Instead, I have NO backups! Gah!
On the plus side, I wasn't rejected. Of course, I wasn't accepted, either. I was waitlisted by my dream program and have been waiting for 5 long weeks to hear any news. I know that they were applying for more funding and that if anyone else chose to go elsewhere, then I'd get their spot. 5 WEEKS! Really, Northwestern? I'm dying here! I want into your program SO badly! It would be amazing and I would be so happy and I would work hard and write papers and teach lectures and there would be utter bliss! I understand that the pool was extra large this year and that competition was fierce. I am honored that my file wasn't tossed in the round file on first glance. I'm proud to say that I was waitlisted at your institution, really. That's a heck of a lot more than most can say. But I'd be happier still and infinitely more proud if you would actually allow me to attend. I'm just saying... I'd work my butt off for you. Please contact me soon so that I can know how seriously I should pursue my Plan B.

Plan B: Teach for America. Don't tell them that they're my Plan B. I don't think it would go over too well. So, in the event that I am ultimately rejected from NU, I have applied to Teach for America, for which I would move to an inner-city or low-income area and be a school teacher for 2 years or so. Depending on the area, it is also possible to earn a Master's degree while doing this. Of course, I already have most of one. But then, why not two, right? I have passed the first round of cuts. On Monday, I have a phone interview. If I pass that, I will have an in-person interview the following week. If I pass that, they will make me an offer by the end of the month. Once again: nothing set in stone. Only waiting.

I'm waiting for more doctor's bills to make their way into my mailbox. This is a sad thing. I don't have a whole lot of money, and I don't make much per month. I have paid two or three bills of a few hundred dollars each and have received statements for others that should be coming. Hospital stays are so expensive. I got my statement from the hospital last week: $21000. Seriously. Insurance should pay 80%, which still leaves me with upwards of $4000. This is sad to me.

I should hear by late next week whether I've been accepted to the CLS program: Critical Language Scholarship. For this, the US department of state would pay for me to travel to India for 2 months to learn Punjabi. This would be awesome. But, waiting.

I also may be travelling to Germany to attend the ICAME 2010 conference in Giessen. If I do get to do that, I will also take the opportunity to meet Isobel, my new niece in Spain. I would get back from that in perfect time to go to India for the remainder of the summer. But I don't know how much contribution I will have to make for that, and what with the medical bills looming, if it's more than a few hundred, I won't be able to go at all.


The moral of the story is: waiting defies the laws of physics because it both sucks and blows at the same time.
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Roommate and I went out to dinner tonight to celebrate our last day of school. After a not-so-good dinner, during which I found an unfortunate hair in my food, Roommate and I decided to walk around the mall to avoid the cold. One of the bookstores is going out of business, and so I was able to score a hardcover edition of Jeffrey Eugenides "Middlesex" for a mere six bucks. Sweet. Next, we found an awesome used books store, i.e. Andee Mecca. While there I picked up a Hebrew bible, and while checking out, Roommate jokingly asked if they were looking for any part-time workers. Apparently they are. ALSO fabulous: We're going to be paid in books. No joke. SO EXCITED!!!
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Normally, I seem to kinda fall in to jobs, which is probably why I've had jobs ranging from special needs caretaker to beauty pageant stage manager to dictionary editor.

I sent in my resume last week to a place that I love, for a job I would rock and quite desperately want.  ::sigh::
I got an email today saying that my resume has been received, and now I get to sit around stressing and waiting to see if I sold myself well enough to warrant an interview invite.  I *really* want this job.  I can't remember the last time I've wanted something so much.

I decided a while ago that I don't really want a PhD after all.  I love working with and helping students, and I love the research, but I hate the "publish or perish" attitude.  It's just not the life I want for myself.  I do want to work with students, and I don't want them to come second to my job-saving drive to publish crap that no one will ever read.

I'm done with my coursework for the Master's, but feel no motivation to write the darn thesis.  If I can land this job, I would try to work on my thesis away from here, and graduate a little later than anticipated, but so what?  I am so stressed from waiting to hear from them that I've made myself a bit ill. :(

Cross your fingers for me.  I *really* want this.
Current Mood:
anxious anxious
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I think this post has been coming for a while now.  I have things to say.  So many people say that they like me because I'm blunt, or something similar.  I am.... mostly.  The problem is that the more a friendship develops, the less blunt, and so less honest, I become.  I'll tell you why: it's because middle school was hell for me.  I was tortured, seriously tortured, every damn day.  Wah-wah, right?  Whatever.  My point is that people would pretend to be my friend only to turn around and back stab, aid in the torture, and expose whatever weakness they had found.  They spread rumors about me and many boys claimed to have had sex with me, thereby gaining me a reputation for promiscuity.  I had no relief at home.  My sisters didn't have any idea what life at school was like for me, and so as the youngest, I got picked on at home, too.  When it happened there, I went crazy.  I would lose control and scream and destroy things.  They didn't understand, but then they didn't try to.  Nobody knew what life was like for me.  Nobody new that at the age of 12 I was already contemplating suicide or cutting myself in the bathroom.

I reinvented myself.  I changed my name and became a bully rather than a victim.  That name change may be frivolous to you, but to me, it marks the dawn of an important period in my life.  I am not Andrea anymore.  I'm NOT Annie.  Every time someone calls me one of these names, it brings to mind all that I used to be, the person I used to be.  I don't care if you don't understand.  It's important to me.  My name is Andee.  For those who understand Pierce, I started life green, and now where a red hard candy shell.

I'm still green, and I think that's where my problems nest.  I despise my green.  My red is filled with self-loathing for my green.  She's weak and she cries and she's incapable of standing up for herself.  The real problem is that over time, my friends come to realize that I'm not what I seem.  They make friends with a brash, blunt broad, but come to realize that I'm actually a softie who will never say NO.  I mean, NEVER.  Whatever you ask, whatever you need, I'm there because I'm a closet doormat.  Still, to this day, I will bend over and take anything up the ass because I don't believe that any of my friends are genuine.  I believe that they're waiting for the opportunity to strike.

They don't strike, but they do take advantage.  And I hate myself every time I swallow the truth to avoid a fight.  You befriend me because I'm a truth-teller, find out I'm actually weak, and the railroad me at ever turn.  Enough.

If you don't want to know the truth about how I feel, stop reading.  This isn't going to be pretty.  I will not name anyone specifically, but I do need to protect myself and get some things off of my chest.  I've disabled comments, because I'm not really interested in hearing anyone defend themselves, and I won't be accepting any phone calls until I decide do.  If you think one of these comments is about you, just think about it.  This is the red me honestly telling you what you do to the green me.  If our friendship is important to you, you'll just listen and absorb.

Person 1: This one isn't exactly about how you treat me, but rather about how you treat yourself.  You have a problem.  What you're doing is NOT healthy and if you keep it up, you WILL kill yourself.  You must learn to control yourself now before you get any more out of hand.  It's too much.  You ARE dammaging your body.  Stop kidding yourself.
Also, your behavior at times in inexcusable.  You have no right to suggest or insinuate by your actions or words that you are better or more righteous than others.  It is more rude than I can say.  You don't treat people like they're equals, and that is the root of our problems.

Person 2:  You have no idea how to be polite or diplomatic.  You are incapable of just listening to another person's point of view without jumping in with your own.  You railroad people and it's hurtful.  There are an increasing amount of things I won't talk about with you because I know that you won't actually let me talk because you're too busy shouting your own convictions.  Well, I'm glad you have them and all, but no one has a right to assert that they are more right or more informed than anyone else.  We have different points of view, and you really need to learn to respect other people and the things they have to say.  Try just listening and not commenting back.  Stop arguing about everything.  It IS hurtful.
Person 3: I have bent over backwards for you so many times.  I'm done.  I'm done going above and beyond.  I'm done keeping my mouth shut, and I'm done letting you disrespect me.  With all I've done for you, I deserve your respect, but I think because I'm such a doormat, I've made it so you can't.  But you still ought to.  I don't like talking to you and I don't like being around you anymore.  Your behavior to me has been terrible and I need to be done for my own self-preservation.  You are rude to me and disrespect my beliefs without remotely understanding them.  If you want to be willfully ignorant, that's your business, but I won't allow you to use your misinformation to judge me.

Person 4:  Stop putting me down.  I know you think it's all in good fun, but I'm green and I believe and internalize everything.  Still banter, but pick something to pick on that's not so close to home.  Say thank you.  Repeatedly.  And for everything that's done for you.  It goes a really long way.

I don't want to hear you defend yourselves and I REALLY don't want to comfort you and assure you that this wasn't really about you.  If you really think you're one of these people, if you think it's possible that I've described your behaviors here, then you're probably right.  I know that you might be offended, but you're only up here if you've offended me repeatedly and helped to push me to this point.  I love you all, and with one exception, I want to keep you in my life, however you need to take better care of how you treat people.  I think that's what this post boils down to:  You need to respect people more.

I am still one of those who will do anything for anyone, even if I don't like them.  I bluster a lot and I say rude things, but I would and do go out of my way when people need help...when YOU need help.  I would do anything for you, and have probably done some over-and-beyond things for you, and I need and deserve respect.  I'm standing up for myself for the first time in a long time.  I understand that I may lose you over this, but my red (who is writing this post) has to protect my green, even though she hates her.

P.S. I will not be adopting Lily.  I have known this for 2 months, but have been mourning and haven't had the heart to tell anyone.  The circumstances are upsetting and I don't want to lay bear the details for everyone to read.  It's personal and hurtful, but many of you keep asking, and every time you do, it brings up the hurt again.  Let's pretend it never happened.
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...but with evil on the side. 
I went into my housing management office to pay my rent and talk over some things, and....I got some dirt!  So, we all remember my horrible roommates from last year, yes?  The ones I blogged about incessantly, stressed over, cried about, and generally hated?  Pig 1 and Pig 2?  I don't remember what I called them in previous blogs, but it was something like that.  Anyway, while I was in the office paying rent and making arrangement for moving next month, I got a delicious little tidbit which has brightened up my whole day (mostly because I'm evil at heart).  My former roommies, of the never cleaning, letting the animals do their business all over the floor, never picking up the doo in the yard, letting creepy boys sleep over, and generally making my life miserable variety, are being sued by the management company for damage done to the house.  Squee!  I mean, I knew they were damaging a lot of things, and I knew that they were being belligerent about paying for the damages, but this news put quite a smile on my face.
Current Mood:
devious devious
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Oh good Lord.  So...apparently it's happening....and some months faster than I'd anticipated.  It's like this: my Grandmother has opted to go off dialysis.  This means that she has days/weeks left to live.  This means that I'll be flying to Michigan in a short amount of time for the funeral.  My aunt (my potential daughter's grandmother) did some checking around and found out that since I'm family, I don't have to jump through the state loopholes in order to foster/adopt Lily.  She's in state care now.  If I work through the Catholic social services (which another aunt works for), the whole thing could go a lot faster.  So....I will probably be coming home with a daughter in a matter of weeks. 
Yeah....I need to sell the contract for my apartment.  I need to get a different apartment with two bedrooms.  I bought a car, but there's so much else.  Crib.  Stroller.  Car seat.  Diapers.  AHHHHH!
I'm excited, really I am.  I'm also a little scared.  I hadn't expected this to move so fast.  So....if any of my readers have any leads on cheapish apartments or mothering tips....I'm all ears!  My mother wants to throw a baby shower for my while in MI, but in the wake of my grandmother's funeral, that might not be such a great idea.  My friend Maret wants to throw one for me here in Utah, which I think is really sweet of her.
So much craziness.  Wish me luck!
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I'm in a class this term which makes me feel like a total idiot...but more to the point, we are discussing cognition and sentence processing theories.  It's....interesting, but as I have no formal syntax training, I feel a bit over my head.  Today we presented different models of processing theory for discussion in the class: Serial processing, Parallel processing, and Minimal commitment processing.  We were specifically examining how each of these theories handles extremely complex or ambiguous sentences:
Garden Path constructions: I sent the letters to Ron to Rex; I convinced her professors hate me.
Acceptable Embedded structures: The building blocks are red; The building blocks the sun.
Parsing Breakdown: The man that the woman that the dog bit likes eats fish; The man who the possibility that students are dangerous frightens is nice.

Yeah....without my Greek background, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to understand the parsing breakdown one.  Anyway, the point of this post was to share a little analogy with you:

In serial processing, the suggestion is that the brain chooses one interpretation until it is proven wrong.
In parallel processing, the suggestion is that the brain, when confronted with an ambiguous word, will create parses for all possible variants, and will then abandon the incorrect parses as one is proven correct.
In minimal commitment, the brain will not commit to any interpretation, and will hold empty spots until the sentence disambiguates itself.

So, the analogy is about how sentence processing theories are like Mormon and dating:
First, you have the serial daters: those who date one person at a time until the relationship is proven to be bad.
Next, you have the parallel daters: those who date many persons at a time until one is proven to be good.
Last, you have the minimal commitment daters: those who withhold judgement of any kind until an obvious correct person appears.

Just a thought.
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So, this semester I'm TAing 3 courses....which is a lot when you're also a full-time student.  It's really fun, actually.  I enjoy teaching.  I enjoy reviewing.  I enjoy grading.  It's so much fun for me, in a bizarre, nerdy kind of way.  Anyway, because I am now a TA, I enjoy the privilege of having a space in the TA office in the basement of my building.  I share this space with about 10 other TAs and we collectively refer to our office as the 'dungeon.'  We consider it to be  free speech zone....or so I was told.

Today one of the professors I TA for approached me and said that I had been reported for inappropriate volume, inappropriate language, inappropriate conversation topics, and desk theft.

Oh Jesus.  I hate BYU.
So, apparently someone who doesn't have the balls to talk to my face is telling lies about me.  Shocking, I know.  For the record, when I'm in here, I barely speak.  In fact, the boys in here tease me for how quiet I get.  Also, I regularly apologize when I swear here, because I know this is BYU and people are stupid about things like that.  I was told by one of the long-term residents of the dungeon that swearing was perfectly acceptable and even expected here.  Continuing down my list of charges, I have NEVER introduced any inappropriate language topics.  Another dungeon resident (Mike Slackenerny) was talking about holding a Roman-style fertility festival through the halls of the Humanities building.  All I contributed to THAT uncomfortable conversation was the fact that bunnies and chocolate have nothing to do with Jesus.  Oh, shocker of shockers!  Our Easter celebration is PAGAN????  Shoot the messenger!  That'll solve the problem!  As for desk theft, that is occurring down the row from me.  No one uses my desk....that is, in fact, why I picked this particular desk.

I hate BYU.  I hate it with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.  I can't WAIT to leave.  I never want to come back.  I didn't want to come here in the first place, I've hated it as long as I've been here, and I am so itching to get out that I'm about to scratch my skin off.  I want to throw an expletive-filled tantrum in the middle of the quad.  I'm so angry, I want to say things that would make these damn Utard's ears bleed.

I hate BYU.  I hate Utah.  I hate Utards.  Hate, hate, hate!!!!!!!
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Once upon a time there was a girl who was good friends with two dumb boys.  The boys were complete opposites of each other, but she got along well with each of them in a different way.  The boys were like different kinds of cars.  Boy 1 was like a mustang: he was interesting, exciting, fast and furious.  Boy 1 was on of the girl's best friends.  He was unexpected, sometimes outrageous, and always made her laugh.  Boy 2 was very different and resembled a Honda: safe, reliable, and deliberate.  Boy 2 was constant where Boy 1 was exciting.  Boy 2 always solicited the girl's opinion and weighed his thoughts, actions, and opinions carefully.  Boy 1 was was rash and did more talking than thinking.


I think that girl may just end up with a Honda....but will she always regret the loss of the mustang???

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