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ONE WEEK and COUNTING

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i'm a little nervous - i'm getting hunkered down to update my resume and write a cover letter for another job. it would pay $15/hour and be about 10-20 hours a week (minimum 100 hours in total) as a "research assistant" with not a lot of researching. mostly monotonous proofreading/database work, which i am well-experienced in and seem to enjoy. for some odd reason. probably because it involves beating up myself if things go wrong rather than someone else doing the beating. it also feels all academic and socially-worthless, which is always a plus in my book.

i'm seeing my parents this weekend. my mother is going to risk the drive into the city for the first time and take my brother and i back on friday night. now, i HATE highway travel. people attempt to make my fear of dying in a plane crash trivial by saying "you're more likely to get into a car accident on the way to the airport than you are to go down in a plane" but REALLY, you are not helping. though i know that boats and trains are no safer, i feel more comfortable on them as my frequency of using them as means of transportation is virtually non-existent. the more you use something, the higher that ratio of "will crash : will not crash" becomes.

of course, if i don't die on the way there, i look forward to the destination. once again, my father, my mother, the thai maid/mistress, all together again...as well as both my brothers (and grandpa) - should make for a rollickin' good time. my dad will surely be anxious to find out what my master's will do to increase my worth as a person. "what will happen after you get your master's?" over and over again. well, dad, you asked what would happen after i got my degree, and here i am. not a helluva lot has changed, so don't hold your breath. i'll be the same stinky disappointing person i've always been. SORRY.

i'm hoping that the occasion of my 25th birthday and my entry into higher higher education will prompt a donation of sorts from Dear Old Daddy. perhaps some guilt money for the fact that he most likely would not have written to me since the last time i saw him, had it not been for my own email telling everyone that i got into grad school? maybe he'll try and psych me out with the fact that i didn't email him for his birthday. well, i was in the middle of ruining my life by ending my relationship during that week, so i really didn't have chance to pop down to the drugstore and sent a card off to pakistan. hmph.

although i am not looking forward to the interactions that this trip will force in ANY way, i still, funnily enough, don't really feel anxious about it. there is no ulcer forming, no knots...could this be mental maturity? getting SO jaded that you just don't care anymore, not even to yell "stop it, mom and dad, just stop fighting?" no, i think i've reached that precious point in my life where i'm more inclined to mutter "fuck this" and stop off into the woods, not before grabbing the nearest bottle of booze.

now THAT is a sign of maturity.