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mermaidbubbles
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Name: Kristin
Interests: are ever-changing, yet always the same
Expertise: can always be improved upon
Occupation: Student
Industry: Media
Message: message me
Member Since:
4/30/2006
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| On campus, I've noticed a couple of things: most of the undergrads look really young, they seem to think leggings are acceptable pants, and no one told them how silly Ugg boots look. They can also go to class in pajamas, and no one calls them on it. The same goes for sneaking in late, if at all.
Things I've noticed in my classes: no one is late (and if they are, they don't get to sneak in), almost everyone wears real clothes, they take attendance, we can use big words, and being a dork/nerd is okay. Plus, we have snacks in one of my classes. We also have an ID card-accessed lounge to ourselves. Being one of the invisible grad students on campus has its perks. (The fact that I get asked if I'm a freshman makes it nice, too... haha)
Really, school is great! Even though I complain (and make fun of my program) sometimes, it sure beats the alternative. Ironically, I'm still counting down the days 'til I graduate. I've already started checking into ordering my hood  Jumping the gun, yes... but it's not that far off. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. On one hand, yes, it is a very good thing. On the other... I like school. I get excited about buying school supplies, for goodness' sake! There's something about being encouraged to think and do that I like. Yeah, that's the best part of it, thinking... my mind likes to go out and play 
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| Thus far, the meringue has squashed my attempts of forming its infamous peaks. In the last week or so, I've dared to attempt making it twice; both fell flat. The first was an attempt to make Baked Alaska. The pictures of it look like this:
 Mine, however, ended up as little cakes with a scoop of ice cream, covered in a pool of a meringue-like imposter. My second - also failed - attempt came today. I have a My Little Ponies coloring book, which has recipes in it. How profound, I know... getting culinary advice from something geared towards seven year old girls. (Advanced seven year olds, of course, why else would a coloring book have recipes?) In an effort to do everything in the book, I made the first recipe, "Pinkie Pie," aptly named after one of the ponies. It's supposed to be strawberries, covered in a meringue-like substance. Mine, however, ended up as strawberries, covered in a watery syrup that doesn't even qualify as syrup. Granted, that recipe had lots of things lining it up for failure, including directions to cook sugar and water until it formed some sort of soft ball. Yeah... about that... I had to print out some study questions before I headed off to class. So, I cooked it 'til it looked thick and goopy. That's close, right? Step two: add beaten egg whites to syrup, beating the whole time. The whole shebang is supposed to end up "thick and glossy." Apparently thick and frothy doesn't count... since I had to get going, I took my frothy syrup, and poured it over the strawberries, and left it in the fridge, hoping that it would calm down while my class was dissecting a crisis. Rather than calming down, it turned into soup! Now I'm trying to decide how much damage control I can work on this one  | | |
| It's not a secret anymore, but I still haven't told many people: I am going to grad school. There, now it's out! I had been keeping it quiet, until I told my boss... seeing as I left work for school. (And I'm so much happier now!) Yep, that means I'm currently without job, and loving every minute of freedom. 
But... enough about that; I start class in a little less than a week. The summer's a weird time to start, but when I was applying I was excited - and didn't want to defer. When I was talking to my adviser about it, he said it was okay to start in the summer; most people wait until fall, but it's not required.
I received a sheet in the mail with my userID and PIN for their online portal, so I registered myself for summer and fall classes, at about 2AM one day. (I guess some things will never change, eh?) That, and a medical form were the extent of the info I received... so today I decided I should, at the very least, get myself a parking permit and student ID.
Logically, one would go to the ID office to obtain an ID, or so I thought... so, I found the information desk in one of the buildings, and asked for directions to the ID office. The work-study kids (hehe - I can call them "kids" now) were bored, so one of them said she would take me to the office. On our walk up the hill, she said, "so, you're a freshman?"
"Actually, I'm starting grad school."
"Wow! You look really good," she exclaimed, "when you walked in, I thought you were definitely a freshman!"
I wasn't sure how to reply to that, but I took it as a compliment. I was unaware that I should have become horribly jaded and old looking within four years. (Since I skipped a year, and worked this past year, I'll still count it as the four years from when I would've been a freshman.)
When I went to the ID office, I went through the same thing, with the girl thinking I was a freshman... but anyway, it turns out I had to go to the office of graduate studies before I could get the card. She sent me to where the office used to be... though it had moved since then; I ended up basically back where I started.
When I found the office, I went in, and told the work-study girl what I needed. She looked puzzled, and asked, "what are you here for?"
I stood there for a second, not wanting to sound like a jerk when I finally stated the obvious, "uhh, grad school? I need to get an ID."
Thankfully she pointed me in the right direction, and the lady across the hall found my file, gave me the paperwork I needed for the ID card, the parking permit paperwork, and a campus map to boot! Whoohoo! Ironically, she also thought someone had helped me register, so she gave me the information for logging in to the online portal, and for unlocking my school email account, telling me that now I'd be able to register on my own.
I didn't want to burst her bubble by telling her that I'd already forged my way through those weeks ago - and that I had registered for classes on my own, just picking what I wanted and need. Apparently I'm on the self-orienting path, which is fine by me
She asked about my group, and I gave her a blank look, having no idea what group she was talking about. "Oh, you must be the only one in your group, starting in the summer. They must be doing an orientation for those starting in the fall."
When I went back to the ID office, the work study girl there had that what-took-you-so-long look on her face, but I didn't tell her what all I went through, finding the office. I gave her the paper, and she invited me into her office, hinting that I might want to check in the mirror before she took the photo. So I made small talk while I fixed my hair, or at least attempted to tame it a bit.
While I was waiting for the card to pop out, we were talking about the freshmen getting their cards, and what a big deal it always is... and what we were doing when we were first starting, and how we're finally starting to look a bit older; I showed her my last student ID card. She laughed, "yeah, you look older now... you lost the babyfat on your face."
Hahaha - it was definitely the first time I've gotten that one... but at least I look "good" for being a decrepit grad student
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| So, I'm growing my hair out... which is not exactly news, seeing as it's been a project for quite some time now. I was needing a trim, so I decided I might as well do it, since it's one of those things that has to get done. I was leaving work, and to make it quicker, I called ahead. "Sure, come anytime in the next hour."
I showed up about 20 minutes later. When I walked in, and the girl who checked me in looked like the Crayola factory exploded on her head, that should have been a warning sign. Was it? No... nor was it a warning sign when I recognized this girl as a former member of the 4-H club I was in until I got too old. She used to tickle me, and I would kick her, because she was trying to get get me lose silent contests... plus, I've seen what she did to her horse's mane! Did I walk out, like a reasonable person? Of course not!
Thankfully she appeared to only be checking people in, and sweeping the floor. Phew! There were plenty of other cutters around, but they all went to the back room, and didn't come out. What's up with that?! The one girl who was left in the front cutting finished the do she was working on, went back to the back... and came back in a huff. "I don't know why they're all just sitting back there. You both could've been finished by now!" She was not happy, to say the least.
Finally someone came out, and called my name. Seeing as I was the only one waiting, it - logically - should not be that hard to decide who to call. (Or maybe that's just me.) She asked what I wanted her to do, so I explained that I'm growing it out, and only wanted a trim, blah blah blah. Of course, she asked if I wanted it washed, too... and I really didn't care. I don't particularly like it, but I can understand them wanting to wash it prior to anything else... so I mean it when I say they can if they want, but it's okay if they don't.
She said it was fine, and she would just spray it down... and proceeded to spray me in the face. Thanks, I wanted my face washed, too. I didn't say anything, though... maybe she just had bad aim.
As she's going, she started combing it out, at which point, she pulled me out of the chair. By my hair. I had never had this happen, of course, not to mention that it hurt. But I found it really hard not to laugh... because, if you think about it, the situation is funny. You know, hairdresser pushing your head down, pulling your hair up - bringing your butt out of contact with the chair in the meantime. Sure, my hair gets a bit tangled in the wind sometimes, but it's not that bad. Not pull you out of the chair bad, that's for sure. I was biting my lip, trying not to laugh, trying not to look up - only to have my head pushed down again...
When she was done - about five minutes later - she had insulted my hair, and pulled out almost as much as she cut. "It's fine, so it gets tangled easily. Do you wear necklaces? Or pull it back? You shouldn't do either."
Thanks. I might have some ill hair habits... but that doesn't give you license to pull my hair out as you're cutting it, lady. The cut itself might be okay, but I was soured by the experience, so I don't like it. I've never really had a haircut that I really didn't like - until this one... and it might have been the whole getting it cut process that made this one so bad. Nonetheless, it was still so funny. (But I still made a mental note not to go there again.  ) Oh, and she did way more than just a "trim!" Aaah!
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| Shop: Pants for her. That's what the link said, so I clicked it. I don't like shopping for pants, but I probably should buy some soon. (Well, maybe... depending... on a few things.) Regardless of the reason, I checked it out.
The last section of the page, that should have something really good, right? Wrong! Instead of anything I would wear, I found the section for jumpsuits. Jumpsuits?! We wore rompers when we were little, in the 90s, when they were left over from the 80s.
It wouldn't be so bad if they were cool looking. I mean, I remember having some pretty sweet culottes, so there have to be nifty jumpsuits 20 years later. If they are there, I didn't find them... but I did find this great number from Neiman Marcus.
For only $325, you can look like a morphed gladiator clown! Sweet!
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