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I am an idiot. I just sent an email to the three people writing my recommendations, stating that I was attaching my revised statement of purpose, and could they please be mindful of deadlines... and then I sent the damn email without the damn attachment. *bangs head on desk* So off goes Email #2, in which I apologized twice, which in retrospect was probably overkill, because I'm sure these three people have sent emails without attachments at least once in their lives, and aren't going to kill me for my oversight.
Alas, I think panic is an inherent part of the graduate school application process. I think "panic" is written in subliminally small letters on all the grad school websites and forms, and that as soon as schools find out you're applying, they start projecting radio waves toward your house that make you psycho all the time.
Screw this process.
Well. I'm not going to think about it over Thanksgiving. Jamie and I are going to Reno, and I can assure you that seeing my mother is going to be stressful enough without me freaking out about grad school while I'm there. And I'd like Jamie to enjoy the experience, even if I decide to kill my mother, WHO IS DRIVING ME CRAZY.
So. I hereby swear to attempt to relax over the weekend. Despite my building desire to murder certain unnamed housemates of mine, and the growing aggravation with the human race I'm feeling in recent weeks, I shall be calm and kind and try to purge some of my agitation from my poor system. I'm really glad I'm not consciously (is that spelled right?) in charge of most of my bodily systems, because I'd probably be shooting myself full of cortisol if I had control over that sort of thing.
Maybe I should drink more often.
Alas, I think panic is an inherent part of the graduate school application process. I think "panic" is written in subliminally small letters on all the grad school websites and forms, and that as soon as schools find out you're applying, they start projecting radio waves toward your house that make you psycho all the time.
Screw this process.
Well. I'm not going to think about it over Thanksgiving. Jamie and I are going to Reno, and I can assure you that seeing my mother is going to be stressful enough without me freaking out about grad school while I'm there. And I'd like Jamie to enjoy the experience, even if I decide to kill my mother, WHO IS DRIVING ME CRAZY.
So. I hereby swear to attempt to relax over the weekend. Despite my building desire to murder certain unnamed housemates of mine, and the growing aggravation with the human race I'm feeling in recent weeks, I shall be calm and kind and try to purge some of my agitation from my poor system. I'm really glad I'm not consciously (is that spelled right?) in charge of most of my bodily systems, because I'd probably be shooting myself full of cortisol if I had control over that sort of thing.
Maybe I should drink more often.
Oh my beautiful goon!
Date: 2005-11-23 09:45 am (UTC)From: (Anonymous)Anyway. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, SEXY, and SMART. WIthout alcohol. Just thought I'd share that with you. I'm appreciating your comment, and hopefully this weekend I'll get to call you. If I remember. This is a big weekend for me! (Marcus gets to ask me out on Sunday). This is it Kara...we're growing up...and eventually the goons have to get together for another picture (probably after we graduate college). I was on Bee's sight and saw that infamous picture of us from my bday party. *sigh*
Loves, prayers and alohas to you!
Re: Oh my beautiful goon!
Date: 2005-11-23 11:21 am (UTC)From:Thank you for the encouragement; it's always wonderful to hear, and it helps get me through those moments of panic.
Congratulations on making it to this weekend! Let me know how wonderful Sunday turns out to be. :-P
Love you, Goon!
-Kara