2007 February « Random Acts of Sass

Archive for February, 2007

Hello mother, hello father… (UPDATED)

February 27, 2007 · Filed under big girl life, sweet summertime

… Here I am at Camp Grenada…

No, seriously. I’m applying for summer camp counselor jobs like CRAZY. I’ve applied to a bunch of different individual ones and then to a bunch of difference services that send out your information to various camps. I’m in the process of interviewing with one, the first one I applied to, and I REALLY want to work at this one. I’m trying not to put all my eggs in one basket, get my hopes up, so on and so forth, but I REALLY like it.

I would be the JOURNALISM counselor. How fly would that be? (Yeah. I said fly. What of it.) I have, in approximately 29 minutes, another phone interview with them.

How did I arrive at the conclusion that I should be a camp counselor, you might be asking?

I like kids. I particularly adore older kids, older girls, who are starting to come into their own and need the guidance of strong women to show them it’s okay to be who you are.
I want out of the state for the summer. I’m focusing on camps in the upper Northeast and upper Northwest. (If you have any reccomendations on camps you attended and adored or whatever, let me know!)
I’ve always wanted to be a camp counselor, ever since I watched Bug Juice on Disney channel.
I need the cash. An overnight camp will pay anywhere from $1,000 to $2,000 for the summer, plus room and board. There are varying degreess of amenities and salary packages, but it’s a pretty sweet deal.
NO MORE RETAIL, EVAAAAAH!

I think it’d be an amazing adventure. Hard, challenging, difficult, yes. But an amazing opportunity for growth, something I have the skill set for. Building community has become something of a specialty of mine.

So, keep your toes crossed for me!

Updated: I have been offered a job as an Assistant Director of the Cooking Program, pending references. YAY! More details to follow!

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I don’t believe in hunting, except for bargains and good real estate…

February 19, 2007 · Filed under big girl life, bloggy goodness

I’m apartment-hunting. I’m going to live with a friend who goes to another college here in town. Our budget is a maximum of $800 a month, but I’d prefer something between $650 and $750.

For the good of the order, Future Roomie and I have established some rules:

No boys overnight. (Out by midnight! What good do boys do in the house after midnight?)
No crusty dishes in the sink. (Ew. We live in the South. Bugs.)
No passive aggressive drama. (Yes!)
No ugly furniture. (If it’s ugly, we’ll paint it, cover it, or get rid of it. Ikea will be involved.)

Overall, I’m extremely excited about moving off-campus. We’re sort’ve picky. We need a place with character. No big apartment complex for us. The fewer students nearby, the better. None of these giant “Dorms-Away-from-Dorms” with drunken frat boys thundering overhead like a herd of mentally challenged elephants who gained too much weight over Christmas from Aunt Pachy’s fruit cake. We want cute. We’ll take small for cute.

It’s fallen to me to do most of the searching, at least thus far, possibly because I’m the only geek who cares this far in advance. We have until May, but I want to find the RIGHT place, not the place that’s just available RIGHT when we need it.

It’s freaking terrifying. It’s a huge commitment. I’ve never lived anywhere but the dorm and with my father/family. This is big! Internet bills, rent, cooking my own food! I’m not sure I’m ready. But I’ll be ready by the time it rolls around. I’ll have to be, won’t I?

Does anyone have any suggestions for finding my first set of digs?

(in a side note: last post? most comments EVER! I want to thank all y’all so much!)

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Hey, babe, the sky’s on fire…

February 14, 2007 · Filed under song of the south

I love the state of North Carolina. We all know I love the South. But I really love my home state. My friends tease me, because they can finish this sentence for me, I say it so often:

Me: Well, other states are great and all…
Friend: But nothing beats this one.
Me: Exactly!

Why it Matters (Or: a few things you should know about the best state EVER.)

1. Snow days? Are you kidding? We have Hurricane days. Before Katrina, when the whole country paid attention to Hurricanes, I knew and feared Hurricane season. Half of North Carolina under water? Check. Without power for three weeks? Check. I measure life by Hurricanes. “Well, that was back when Fran hit, so it must’ve been, oh… ‘96?” Or, “We sure did lose an awful lot of trees back with Floyd in ‘99.” When it came time to name our (Stanley Cup Championship) Hockey Team? The Carolina Hurricanes.

2.No matter what those people in Ohio say, we are still “first in flight.” Yes. We are. You know how I know? My liscence plate says so. Furthermore, Kitty Hawk? Located in North Carolina. Do I care of the Wright Brothers are from Ohio? No. My popcorn kernel might come from Indiana but it’s not popcorn ’til I pop it here. And further more, if Ohio is so great, why are y’all always at my beach?

3. The Number Three Still Matters. Not only do I think, “And God Bless him” when I see Dale Earnhardt tributes on the back of trucks and SUVs, I distinctly remember a) watching the race in which Dale hit the wall, b) presuming he was fine, because for the love of God, he’s Dale Earnhardt, of course he’s fine, c) crying when I realized he wasn’t, and d) comforting fellow students. I also watched the memorial service on TV and contemplated a road trip to Kannapolis with friends. And people, I’m not even a NASCAR fan.

4. ACC basketball is not sport. It is religion. Do not insult my religion. I worship at the Chapel on the Hill. Dean Smith is God. Matt Dougherty is a fallen angel. And Roy Williams is the second coming. I will stop speaking to people during basketball season. I despise The-University-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named (rhymes with Puke, usually mistakenly spelled “Duke” when the correct spelling is DOOK). When speaking of Carolina basketball, I say, “we.” Because I’m a part of it, too, damnit. Don’t you know they’ll lose if I don’t watch? Furthermore, one of my favorite books is a little volume titled “To Hate Like This is to be Happy Forever.” Yes. (Related: It’s not baby blue. It’s not powder blue. It’s not pale blue. It’s Carolina blue.)

5. Carolina in my Mind was NOT written in reference to South Carolina. Dumbass.

The title is, of course, in reference to number 5. The greatest line ever.
Whisper something soft and kind
And hey, babe, the sky’s on fire
I’m dyin’, ain’t I?
Gone to Carolina in my mind

Sharpies bleed when you use them this much…

February 8, 2007 · Filed under boys

I just spent three hours(!) grading Algebra I math tests. The Favorite Math Teacher (FMT) and I went to dinner ($2.50 pint night at the local draft house) and he was less than thrilled about the prospect of grading 75 tests.

Well, being the stellar girl I am, I offered to help. So, we finished dinner, stopped off for coffee, and then settled down at his dining room table to work. I had to fiddle around while he made the key for the A test and the B test. Red sharpie in hand, I was soon off, grading like a mad woman.

The grades I was writing down – 14/100? Only one kid out of 75 made a 100%. I drew TWO smily faces and wrote GOOD JOB, I was so excited. It was sad and tedious and made me feel for those kids, even though FMT is out of patience. I also blew the whistle on a cheating ring! 10 out of 12 kids all had the EXACT same answers on their tests. Including the wrong answers. Do they think we’re stupid? That we’re not going to NOTICE you all put down (-18) when the answer should be 49? Seriously!

I discovered that my FMT is completely overwhelmed in his job. The kids are disrespectful and don’t care. They’ve lost hope for success. They don’t care. Many of them gave up half way through the test. I jokingly tossed a peice of paper into FMT’s hair and he looked at me, sadly. “Please don’t disrespect me right now. I get disrespected all day and I just can’t handle it.” (Of course, I practically cried, I was so sad for him.)

That’s not just sad; that’s incredibly tragic. He’s been a teacher for a month. How can he be this overwhelmed? Any advice for my FMT, all my teacher pals out there? Does it get better?

(Also, I managed to solve a math problem that FMT just couldn’t figure out, since he didn’t design the test and it was a stupid question. I didn’t do it in the correct way, but I got the correct answer. Yay, me!)

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Not the TV show, dude. The people.

February 5, 2007 · Filed under friends

In talking to the love of my life, Lara, I was thinking about friendships.

It’s complicated stuff. There are bracelets and rituals; songs and photo albums; books and scores of quotes devoted to the idea. Friendship. What do friends do? Get drunk with you? Hang out? Watch movies? Cry with you? Bail you out of jail?

Webster’s says:

friend·ship 1: the state of being friends 2: the quality or state of being friendly : friendliness

Well, that wasn’t helpful. The state of being friends? What does that mean? Friends, according to Webster, can be, “one attached to another by affection or esteem.” Or, helpfully, “Capitalized, a member of the Society of Friends. A Quaker.” Well, I’m not a Quaker. I don’t even like oatmeal!

Friendship. It constantly changes, and evolves. Friendships have a lifespan. Slowly, but surely, I’m beginning to realize it. As old friendships quietly fade, I make new friends. Some down the road, some across the world. It’s fascinating, really. The quiet depth when a friend looks at you and says, “I love you.”

To be equally considered is the agony of the moment when a friendship ends – maybe it unravels like a thrift store sweater, or perhaps it shatters like an icicle slowly melted. Maybe it doesn’t end, just gets put into a drawer to be pulled out at a later date, when things might fit better.

I’m friendly to a lot of people. I have affection for a lot of people. I toss the word around, a lot. Use it for people whose name I cannot remember: “Hey, Friend!” But I’m coming to realize that friendship is something more. It is reciprocal. If someone doesn’t want to be your friend, face it: they aren’t. It’s tough. Sometimes, friendship means facing someone head on and saying it. Bullshit. You are full of shit.

Making friends is difficult for me. I tend to believe that everyone else is SO much cooler than I am. It’s usually shocking for me when I discover someone wants to be my friend. But I’m making new friends. Realizing I’m cooler than I thought I was. Realizing that I don’t have to try so hard. I just have to love people and be myself.

And answer the phone at 4am. Because, dear friend, the answer is yes. I will bail you out of jail when you get arrested for protesting George W. Bush. I’ll even bring you a change of clothes and I won’t laugh at you. Too much.