New phone new life

I treated myself to a new phone today. Ever since the loss of an actual keyboard after the blackberry (bold? Torch? Fire? No idea) i had wanted to be able to type so very quickly with both thumbs again. To amaze and astound everyone around me with how precise my messages were, because the keys were further apart and therefore I messed up less.

And now I have such a phone. It isnglorious and will never fit in the tiny party handbags that I have. I shall not care that I look like I am talking into an ipad. All that, I trade for my opposable thumbs.

What have we learned today:
I like giant phones that fly in the face of common sense. And I’m not sorry.

The Darndest Things

You never know what can inspire you. For me it was my boss last week. I haven’t posted anything on this blog in months, but she managed to get my creative spirit flowing with just a few simple words. I had to write a little note about what we do all day for a newsletter, when my boss praised my prose. That is all it took. Suddenly I had ideas left, right, and center.

It may also have to do with spring being here and the winter blues bidding
everything adieu.

What we have learned:

  • My boss is cool
  • The smallest comments can make (or break) your day
  • GMaaaah.

    It’s not like there are crazy news. I took it. It went alright. It would have been really newsworthy if a random breakdance battle had broken out midway, or if a tiger suddenly jumped into the sterile computer room while we were taking the test. Alas, no such excited occured. Just another computer filled room with no windows, with young adults crammed inside wearing earplugs so as to maximize concentration.

    I never did understand the earplugs bit. It only served for me to hear my heartbeat. Or bloodflow. Or other internal workings that are really more of a distraction than anything else.

    What have we learned:

    • Totally did not mean to leave you, dear reader (hi mum!) hanging on the whole “I’m taking the GMAT” front.

    • Not a fan of earplugs

    Fail on all Fronts

    I am studying for the GMAT. There, I said it. I admitted it. I… regret it. Now you are going to judge me for not studying, because a good potential business school person studies at least an hour a day. I have not done that. Not even close.

     

    The main “issue”, and get ready for first world problems, is that I have amazing friends that I would much rather spend time with after work. I do not get home until seven-ish, and all the time after that is very precious. If my friends say, “hey come over for dinner”, I will say “of course, be there at 7ish” and there goes the evening.

    I then bargain with myself that I will study more on the weekend. That sort of happens. I will then cram about four hours into Sunday morning, provided Saturday night bedtime did not become Sunday morning.

     

    To sum up, what have we learned about me?

    • I procrastinate. A lot (just look at the frequency of posts on this blog.)
    • I am terrible at the “follow through” on study plans
    • I have excellent friends
    • I am an amazing dinner guest

     

     

    How you doin’?

    Yet another victim of the well-meaning friends who say things like “you should totally get a blog!” And what do you know. Here I am with a blog. Entirely unsure how that happened. I sit here, and suddenly I am no longer funny, cool, calm, or collected. To be fair, I am not sure I was any of that to begin with. I am now nervous. Standing before you, dear reader (are there any of you? Please? At least mum&dad?) and I feel fairly naked. That uncomfortable feeling when you get to the public pools and have to undress and be in a bathing suit and then you wish that you have actually followed through on all of those planned-yet-ignored gym sessions. *awkward wave*

    Basically, I am trying to find my voice. A lofty ideal, to be sure, but then I studied lofty things at university. They actually gave me a degree in that. So there we are. But as I sit here, with obvious disdain for the whole “never start a sentence with a preposition” rule, all I can think about is how I need a haircut. My hair is long enough for me to see the ends of it, and my goodness that is not a pretty sight. I really need a haircut. But I also want to dye my hair pink. Not all over, but definitely in streaks. Then I remember that I am currently employed in a bank, and pink hair might not go over too well with my superiors. The rebellious voice within says “whatever, it’s your hair”, while my visa bill is screaming “you need this job!” and so I find myself my very own Sophie’s Choice. Maybe I will settle for a few more tattoos that disappear beneath the work blouse, just so that I know that they are there but I won’t get fired. Can you imagine a bank employee with “thug life” tattooed on their knuckles? That would be amazing. If I owned a bank, I would hire such an individual in a heartbeat, potentially to act as an enforcer during meetings (“I said we will not give you more than xx-amount, or does my friend here need to school you in the finer arts of negotiation?” KAPOW!).

     

    To sum up, what have we learned about me?

    • easily distracted
    • wishes to find “voice”, whatever that may mean
    • when nervous, is self-conscious
    • terrible job of shrugging that off
    • wants pink hair (a maybe) and more tattoos (a must)

    What

    We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be

    Kurt Vonnegut

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