A fork in the road.

Yes, pageants.  I like them.  As fake and phony as some contestants may be (and I will keep names out of this) there are many who truly are genuine and wonderful people in their own right.  The Miss America Organization (you know, the one that has the talent competition?) awards tons of scholarships annually, allowing many women to go to college nearly for free (or at least reducing much of the cost for them).  Over the years, they've gone from being a bathing-beauty contest on the shores of Atlantic City, New Jersey, to a pageant that strongly identifies itself as a "scholarship organization" and is now located out of Las Vegas, Nevada.

Then you have the Miss USA pageant, which was created after Miss America 1955 Yolanda Betbeze didn't want to appear in a swimsuit after she won.  Sponsor Catalina Swimwear was so upset that they created the Miss USA pageant the next year, which counted equally in thirds swimwear, evening gown and interview- no talent competition.  Ownership has changed over the years, from Catalina to CBS to Donald Trump Miss USA was created specifically seeking beauty, and that is one thing that has stood the test of time.

So why all this talk about pageants?  Well, as with all nearly things, there comes a time when one becomes too old to continue participating in something (or just moves past it).  I am standing at a point in life where I am about to "age out" from Miss pageants.  I'm already too old to compete for any local, state, or national Miss America title, however, I still have two years left before I age out of Miss USA.  This realization has left me wondering- do I want to compete again?  Should I?  And most importantly, how would I afford it?

I competed in two Miss America local preliminary pageants when I was 17 and 18, but at that time I was young and didn't really understand what it takes to do well.  Now, I'm 24 and really think that I not only understand what it is that I would need to do to win but that I could do it.  Which leaves me here, wondering if it's reasonable, feasible to compete one more time.  I won't lie, I've always wanted to be the one to have her name called out as the winner.  To me, it's a testament that you can put your effort into something and succeed- really bring your "A" game.  But the economy is tough, and I don't even have a job- so I am stuck trying to weigh that against going out to local businesses and looking for sponsorships when I should probably just be looking for work (to which I then consider how hard I have been looking for work and yet not finding any).  

I have a decision to make, and while I'm not able to decide quite yet, just know that you may be seeing more on this later!

I can't believe this...

Right now, many of my friends are beginning the new school year as Arizona State (along with many other schools) has (have) their first day of classes today.  Sigh. I can't believe I am about to say this... I somewhat wish I was there with them.  

Now of course I'm happy to have graduated, thrilled I no longer have to take out student loans, and completely blissful to not have to work a full-time job and juggle classes.  However, there is part of me (which I just stumbled upon this fine Florida morning) that misses the hustle and bustle of a full schedule, misses morning trips to starbucks, and even misses parking her car in B.F.E. Lot 59.  I kind of miss being able to say "I go to ASU".

Now of course, I'm 24, so there is an upside to not being in school anymore.  I no longer have to feel like the old lady in all of my classes... and now, should I actually find a job, I'm free to work whatever schedule they so ask of me (*note to potential employers, 9-5, M-F please!).

Perhaps what I miss is really the idea of college, the anticipation for the end, and autumn in Arizona.  Oh. My. God.  I miss Arizona?  For all you California readers: you never thought I'd say that, did you?  I will admit, Arizona grew on me.  I love Scottsdale and downtown Phoenix.  The Biltmore area, as well as Paradise Valley and even parts of Chandler have begun to tickle my fancy.  I love the cold (but not too cold) November mornings/evenings that are just perfect for a nice sweater.  And I miss Mexican food.  And In-N-Out.  And I miss YOU people.

I can't believe this... but I'm starting to think I'll even miss Florida when I leave here.  Eh.  Maybe not.

Bucket List: Morbid or Meaningful?

Today I was thinking about bucket lists.  You know, that list of stuff you want to accomplish before you die?  I once had a friend tell me she thought it was very morbid to have one because writing one was anticipating your own death.  I have decided that I disagree.

Today I was in the car with Joe, and I we got talking about the Dave Matthew's band.  Joe mentioned he'd seen them at the Gorge in Washington, and I shared that I hoped to one day see them at Red Rocks.   My brother has seen a couple of concerts at Red Rocks and swears it's one of the best concert experiences he's ever had; I trust him since he's been to well over 200 (including five years of Coachella).  All this talk about what I "have to do" got me thinking about Bucket Lists.  

Where to begin?  Well, I began with the fact that I'm nostalgic, love music, and love beautiful people and places.  I am also a fat kid at heart, so I love good food.  Keeping those things in mind I was able to come up with a few categories that include travel, dining, design, amongst a few other things.  And now, I share with you all the humble beginnings of my very own bucket list.  I will also warn you, number two may not make any sense to you unless you enjoy beauty pageants.

1.  See a concert at Red Rocks (a really, really good one)

2.  Find out who Meemaw is

3.  Get married

4.  Have a baby

5.  Go skydiving

6.  Own a baby grand piano and play it very, very well

7.  Learn jazz piano (I only know classical)

8.  Go to a midnight showing of a movie

9.  Eat at one of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants

10.  Watch the Miss America Pageant live from the audience

11.  Go to Greece

12.  Go to Australia

13.  Go to Italy, for a month.

14.  Go to the Czech Republic

15.  have a book published

16.  Get my Master's

17.  Go to Washington, D.C.

18. See Ray LaMontagne in concert

19.  See Damien Rice in concert (again)

20.  See Billy Joel in concert

21.  See the Dave Matthews Band in concert

22.  Cook an entire "Julia Child" meal (appetizer, main course, dessert)

23.  Learn how to make and frost a cake with fondant

24.  Join a Master's swim club

25.  Compete in a triathlon

Now sure, it's still pretty brief, but in time I'm rather sure that the list will grow and keep me quite busy for a long time.  And while some people may think that a bucket list is rather morbid and anticipatory of our final fate, I think a bucket list helps people keep perspective and set goals.  It also helps people live the kind of life that they can look back at and be happy and proud.  For me, a bucket list gives life a little extra meaning.

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High School.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."  It was High School.

No matter how hard you try to run from it, either avoiding being of age that you must attend or running from it in that you would rather forget it, sooner or later those fortuitous years of high school will bite you in the butt.  I, of course, am no exception.  I had managed to all but forget most of the awkward experiences, bad hair, and acne until about two months ago when I decided it would be a good idea to go through a box of pictures I had tucked away in my closet.  I had completely forgotten about that box for about five years, but all of a sudden, there it was staring me in the face as I was packing for my cross-country move.

Sure, if you check my facebook you'll find that there are about 100+ people I attended high school with on my friends list, but even that wasn't enough to bring the awkward memories back; it was all thanks to that stupid, horrible box.  I find it rather apropos that two weeks before my college graduation I found myself sifting through a box of memories I hadn't looked at since my high school graduation, don't you?

That. Damn. Box.  As much as I hate it, I now thank it for the summation of the lessons I learned in high school, which I will now share with you:

1.  I was too worried about impressing everyone else than liking myself.  There. I said it.  I really was too concerned about "making friends" by "making people like me" than I was having people like me because I like myself.  It almost makes me sad to think about it.  Four years I could have spent having fun and enjoying things just because I like them was spent slightly melancholy and somewhat miserable because I couldn't understand why I had a handful of real friends, rather than the large circle I so hoped for.  I wish I'd only taken the time to truly appreciate what I'd had, since those friends are now located across the country from me.

2.  I was the kid picked last in dodgeball.  Okay maybe not literally, but I didn't get asked to my Senior Prom.  Actually, I didn't get asked to any dances at all.  Getting "left behind" while seemingly everyone I knew was asked to the Prom in one cute way or another sucked.  Lesson learned? Resilience.  Sure, I don't have a bunch of fancy pictures of me with some date, but I did pick myself up, dust myself off and went anyway.  Maybe I didn't have a date, and maybe it was a bit less fun than it could have been because of it (or maybe not), but at least I know what I would have missed out on.  Also, I got to hang out with some of the nicest people I could have imagined and their dates that night (shout out to Brooke and Mary).  Perhaps it wasn't prom as I would have imagined it due to my Saved-by-the-bell induced high school ideals (god, I miss that show), but it was mine.  And you can sure as hell bet that if/when my kids get that age I'll make sure that in the end they have a good time no matter how the situation plays out.

3.  I learned the value of hard work and how to juggle a full schedule.  I did a little bit of everything in high school, writing for the newspaper, playing a few sports and having a job once I turned 16.  I was always very busy, but somehow I found a way to fit it all in.  Oddly enough, the busier I was (within reason) the happier I was and the better I was at each thing I was involved in.  I'm not quite sure why that happened to work out that way, but I found it rather interesting that when I had no spare time my grades were at their best...

No matter how much I wish some things had gone differently, I wouldn't change them and you couldn't pay me to go back.  It doesn't matter how many experiences I've lived through that make me cringe with embarrassment (or make me wish I'd worn sunscreen or actually spent some time doing  my hair) these experiences have helped create compassion, understanding, and a work-ethic within me.  I guess it's all a case of "if I knew then what I know now," but aren't most of life's experiences?

(Somewhat angry) Musings on the service industry

**I will warn you, I may sound like Debbie Downer here- this is five year’s worth of pent-up aggression…  don’t be mad**

The service industry sucks.  I’m about to speak in generalities, so to those of you who do not agree with me or do not illustrate what I am about to say, I apologize.  However, I guarantee you there are many other people who fill this “stereotype”, or, they agree with me and are willing to back me up on what I am saying.

First, the entire industry is one massive popularity contest.  Let’s begin with the establishment you (or someone you know) work(s) at, shall we?  It could have great food and wonderful drinks, or awful food and drinks, or perhaps land somewhere in the middle.  But guess what?  If it isn’t a popular destination (for whatever it is that it serves), whether based on it being a meet-market or its own true merits, that place is going to shutter its doors quickly.  

Beyond that, you have the staff. Nine times out of 10, you’ll find that the bartenders are the “most popular” out of the entire staff.  At a normally functioning establishment, they are going to make the most money out of anyone, especially if it’s a place that has a heavy bar-appeal.  Add in the fact that bartenders usually serve food as well, and that they are tipped out by the rest of the staff, and you can see why their position is typically so lucrative (in places that have little to no seating at the bar you will find that bartenders make about as much as a server, if not a bit less).  However, getting your break into bartending can be rather troublesome, and usually, you have to know someone to get your chance.

Let’s move on to servers, shall we?  Like the bartender, you either have to know someone to get your break (whether promoted from a host/hostess/busser/runner or hired from the outside with little to no experience) or really be quite the go-getter.  Don’t fool yourself- you’re still just a peon.  You are at the mercy of your kitchen, your manager, your bartender, and even your host/hostess/greeter.  If your host person seats you three times in a row, guess what? You just got triple sat.  Deal with it.  If your kitchen runs out of something or takes an enormously long time to prepare the ticket you’ve just sent, guess what?  There’s little to nothing you can do but apologize and smile to your table.  Don’t forget that you get to deal with everything coming back at you from the table, from a “Miss, miss!” across the establishment because A. your table didn’t take the time to listen when you told them your name and B. they are too impatient on getting their appetizers which you put in two minutes ago to sit there and wait- to an arm lifted shaking an empty glass because apparently, there is a race at table 20 to see who can down their Dr. Pepper the fastest.  Servers get it from all sides.

Not that servers don’t deserve some of what they’re getting.  Most of the time, these people you find bringing you your food and drink are either A. Working your way through college (the upper echelon of the breed) B. huge potheads C. alcoholics or “pre-alcoholics” or D. a train wreck who didn’t even finish high school and earns the most money possible considering their education by serving.  These people are either counting the minutes till they get home and can study for their midterm, or counting the minutes till the party after work.  Seen Waiting?  If you haven’t, you should, and if you have, many times the industry is much like what you see in that movie.

Performance is utterly subjective- no matter how much I smile or laugh at your dumb jokes, how quickly I get your food and beverages to the table, or how may little “modifiers” I remembered in order to make sure your food came out sans “anything you didn’t want”, if I breathe wrong you can decide you don’t like me.  Not only that, but you can decide to mess with my tip, not tip me at all, complain to my boss, or even get me fired.  In the end, your scale by which you judge me may not even be right, but you are the customer, so since you THINK I did a bad job (whether or not I did), I can find myself in hot water.  Let’s take in to the account that at the most (unless I’m serving in California or one of the other five states that do not have right-to-work laws and server minimum wage) I am probably making (at most) $4 an hour before tips.  In fact, if someone stiffs me on a tip, I'm not just missing out on a tip, I'm losing money.

Additionally, the schedule is horrendous for “normal” people.  If you are married or have children and plan on spending any time with your spouse or children (after they get out of school), you can pretty much kiss it goodbye as you will be expected to (for the majority) work nights and weekends.  If you don’t have friends outside the service industry, don’t plan on making many, because most of the opportunities you’ll have to meet people outside of the service industry happen while you’re at work.

Perhaps my favorite part is when people speak to me (or just look at me) like I am stupid.  I have a college education (that I paid for).  That means I am more educated (perhaps more intelligent) than 71% of Americans.  I wonder what the likelihood is that any table that talks down to me has more of an education than I do?

The service industry, while it may be fine for a short while, or may help one achieve certain goals in the short-run definitely wears on those within it.  For this young lady, I’ve had my fill of trying to be what everyone else wants me to be, and for now, I will worry about two things: 1. Finding the elusive “grown up job” that I (and many of my friends) are currently seeking and 2.  Worrying about what makes me (and my God) happy.  I figure if my focus stays there, I can’t go wrong.

Where I Come From

For the first 19 years of my life, I lived in Orange County, California.  Born in Anaheim, my parents raised me in Placentia, a small town of 50,000 just ten minutes (as long as traffic is on your side) from Disneyland.  Still don't know where I'm talking about? Don't worry, I'm not offended, there are plenty of people from California who don't even know Placentia exists.  My little town was just that- a little town that just happened to be in the center of Orange County.  We've had a few people from there make it big, such as Olympians Janet Evans and Julie Swail, Director James Cameron, and even Audrina Patridge from The Hills, but for the most part Placentia just blends in with the rest of Orange County.

For the life of me, I can't quite understand people's fascination with "The OC".  I'm sorry, I'll correct you now, it is not THE OC just like it is not THE San Diego or THE Hollywood... it's just "OC" if you must shorten it, but please don't.   At some point, people began to become fascinated with the region I called home for so many years.  

While I was in High School, MTV decided it'd be a great idea to see what high schoolers in Orange County are like, and so the show Laguna Beach was born.  While I'll admit, there are plenty of well-off families in Orange County (mostly concentrated by the beach, but definitely seen in pockets throughout the rest of the county that include Anaheim Hills, Yorba Linda, and Irvine) the lives documented on this "reality show" were far from documenting the lives of your average Orange County high schooler.  In fact, more often than not, shows like Laguna Beach left the more average people I knew wondering, "this is what life here is supposed to be like?"  Nearly the same message was reinforced via Fox's The OC (I hate Fox for birthing that horrible moniker), not only did the show highlight the well-to-do, affluent Orange County image, but The OC also helped create a huge animosity towards the Inland Empire (or "The 909" or "The 951" as I've heard it referenced) that I personally had never noticed before.  I'm not even going to get into the "Real" Housewives of Orange County... 

Two major things amuse me about the media which has surrounded Orange County for the last decade or so: first, whenever someone finds out I was born (and raised) there, they automatically snap to judgement about me, assuming I'm rich and spoiled (neither are the case), or, they ask me what it was like to live there as though they're going to hear stories that rival an episode of Laguna Beach (thankfully, the latter has subsided over the past couple of years as the show hasn't been aired as much).  Secondly, the astronomical amount of people who chose to live outside of their means in order to portray that well-off OC lifestyle, and the amount of people who declared bankruptcy or had their home fall into foreclosure as a result.  While the financial pig-sty that has been left for my friends who still reside in Orange County is not a pretty picture, I wonder how much of it could have been averted had people not placed such value on upholding such an unrealistic value-system?

Don't get me wrong, I still miss Orange County, as it houses some of the most beautiful places I've ever seen and most of my dearest friends and family still live there.  But would I want to live there again if it meant getting caught up in the rat-race that seems to envelope it? Not on your life...

The whole "Marine wife" thing.

Okay so maybe I'm not actually a "Marine wife" (yet), but I did move across the country to be with Joe, so I still feel the same.  Last night we were talking, and I told him that this has been a bit harder than I had previously anticipated, and he got a bit of a disappointed look on his face.  "Is this something you can handle?" he asked me, and of course I answered the only way I knew how: "Well, it isn't easy, but when has my life ever been easy? And also, what's my other option? Being in Arizona, jobless, living with my parents again, and without you?  This may not be a walk in the park, but I'm not going to trade it in for that either."  To which he responded, "Well they say the hardest job in the Marines is that of the Marine wife."  This got me thinking...

So I (and all the women who actually ARE married to their marine) do what I (we) can by supporting Joe (and all those other Marines we love).  Joe (and all those other Marines out there) have essentially stepped up and said they are willing to not only die for their country, but sacrifice their lives for it.  "But Jill," you say, "they are the same thing!"  No, my friends, they are not.  Everyone knows that when you enlist you are taking a chance that you may one day have to die for your country, but beyond that, you are also saying that your entire life will revolve around what your country asks of you.  Joe and I can't up and live anywhere in the country we decide, and although we can ask for a specific base, in the end it is out of our hands.  It is quite possible that I will have a hard time having a real career for as long as we are moving around, unless I am blessed to be hired by a company that just so happens to have offices near every base we are sent to (home and abroad).

Working at the bar, I've had the opportunity to talk to a few of these wives.  Most of them are married to officers, so they make good enough money that most of the time, the wives don't have to work.  But nine times out of 10, these women are educated as well, and have Bachelor's, even Master's degrees, but can't find work.  Perhaps this is specific to the Gulf Coast and the way the economy is down here on the regular (not just because of the recession), but it makes me sad that these women even had to choose love over career so young.  

If this sounds like a bunch of whining, forgive me, because that isn't my intention.  Rather, I simply want others to know what the job of Marine (or any other military really) wife entails.  I have learned to respect many of these women for the sacrifices they have made to not only be with the one they love, but to support that person in their dreams.  While there are some wives that I feel lack a certain amount of character (and you can use your imagination here, because I'm going to leave it at that), you run into that anywhere you go with any group of people.   

Sidenote: when I was looking for pictures to post with this blog, I googled "Marine wife".  This is what I found:

This is Katherine Cathey, a Marine wife.  Her husband, 2nd Lieutentant James Cathey, was killed in Iraq.

When the casket was brought home, Katherine asked if she could stay with him though the night in order to sleep next to him one last time.  The marines made up a bed for her.

These photos were taken by Todd Heisler of the Rocky Mountain News, who won the Pulitzer Prize for them, and brought me to tears when I saw them and read their story.

You can see/read more about Mrs. Cathey's story here

cars and jobs...

Joe and I broke down and bought a new car two days ago.  Do I want to make a car payment? No, not really.  Given the current economic status, do I think it's the best time to be making large purchases? Probably not.  However...  driving a 1997 Ford F-350 in a town where nothing is near your home and gas prices are (again) on the rise had us spending about $250 a month on gas alone, which gave us reason number one to change our mode of transportation.

Reason number two: I (as you should all know by now) am currently job-hunting for a real-life grown up job.  The downside to this is two-fold: one, the job market in this area of the gulf coast is, shall we say, dismal- even for a college graduate such as myself.  Secondly, if there are jobs, they sure as heck aren't near us as we live more near the "vacation" end of town, rather than the "business" end.  Reliable, affordable transportation is a must.

Reason number three (or so we thought):  Cash for clunkers.  While I'm not a very big advocate of government spending programs, I quite fancy one that smashes Joe's giant white truck into a pancake.  Upon our arrival at the dealership we discovered we didn't qualify for the program since Joe had only owned his truck for eight months (the minimum ownership period is one year).  Bummer, but we were fortunate that we didn't want to buy an expensive car in the first place, and weren't completely sold that we absolutely had to leave the dealership in something new that day.  The dealership worked with us and we ended up with a 2009 Maroon Honda Civic.

I love Civics, I drove one for three years and I never really had any problems so I definitely kept that in mind when considering what we would want.  Plus, this is my first new car, so I'm really excited.  Am I nervous?  Perhaps a little.  Vacation season is winding down here so I'm not making as much money at the bar as I was, but as long as we are responsible with our money Joe and I should be fine.  Beyond that, I'm still looking daily for that elusive breed of employment known as "the grown-up job", so perhaps I will come across one soon?

Finally!

Finished my LAST homework assignment of my LAST class of my undergraduate career.

More tomorrow, that thing wiped me out!!

exes and ohs.

Julie Andrews, Kristin Chenoweth, and My Grandma Millie

As a child, I spent a lot of time doing two things: being sick (and thus, being cared for at my Grandmother's house) and watching movies.  Sometimes, I forget about the time I spent doing both; once in a while, my memory is jogged and I spend some time reminiscing over those moments.  

While playing around on Youtube this afternoon and showing the boyfriend who Kristin Chenoweth is, I was linked to a video of her singing "A Spoon Full of Sugar".  Immediately, a smile spread across my face as I recalled someone I spent many childhood days watching, listening to, and pathetically attempting to emulate: Julie Andrews.  You see, the copy of Chenoweth singing the Mary Poppins song is actually from The Kennedy Center Honors of Andrews, and combines two (well really, three) women I greatly admire.  

I can't count how many times I watched Mary Poppins or The Sound of Music, but no matter where I am when they begin to play, I instantly recall some of the best moments of my childhood, some of which have faded to the background over the years.  My maternal grandmother always had music in her house; a classically trained pianist, I could always listen to the record of The Sound of Music she had in her den.  My grandmother passed away when I was 11, but I am thankful and oh so fortunate for the impact she had on my life culturally.  Even now, from time to time, the boyfriend will catch me humming along to the opera streaming out of my macbook.  

What I pine for most of all is probably my childhood... and my piano (which used to be my Grandma's) and is currently located across the country.  Pardon my nostalgia...  

Penny Lane

For those of you not in Pensacola (read: everyone), I hereby formally introduce you to my puppy, Penny Lane.  Penny's name is an homage to Kate Hudson's prolific character in Almost Famous (one of my favorite movies), and therefore is also an homage to the Beatles' song of the same name.

Joe and I arrived in Pensacola at about 9 p.m. after a day of flying, so obviously we didn't do anything that night but go to sleep.  Side note: did you know it takes about eight hours to fly from John Wayne to Pensacola's meager airport? well it does... Anyhow, the next day Joe decided it'd be a good idea to drive me around and show me things.  So, we went to the base and I saw the National Museum of Naval Aviation and we checked out the beach on base... then we went to the Oar House for lunch (yes yes, hee hee funny name... The Oar House, but in all seriousness they do have some good food).

We'd been discussing the subject of getting a puppy, first, because we both really wanted one, secondly, because neither of us had been able to/allowed to have one prior, and thirdly, because I don't know anyone here and that's a pretty good time to get a dog since I'd have a lot of time to spend with it.  We didn't really think we'd end up getting a dog for a while, especially since Joe hadn't finished buying his house and dog's and trailers might not be a good mix, but we decided to head on over to the Humane Society and just take a look.  When we arrived, there was a pen of adorable little puppies out front, three that were obviously brother and sisters, and one Cocker Spaniel that clearly wasn't of the same brood.  It turned out that all but the Cocker Spaniel and the little girl puppy were adopted already, so I decided I'd play with the little girl.

One thing led to another, and I was hooked:

"Awrooooo"

"Hello!" 

(This is also the wallpaper on my phone)

With her "dad" during her first trip to the beach... she doesn't really like the water, but she tries to humor us because she knows we do.

So, of course, we fell in love (with the puppy, that is) and decided we didn't want to let her go... and that is how we became proud "parents" to Miss Penny Lane (who is frequently also known as "poo").  And now, these pictures are about three months old, so I surely need to get some more, but that will have to wait till she does something cute or I have time to deal with it, or both. It's amazing how she's the boss now, but I don't mind.  She really is (wo)man's best friend.

Graduation...

Me.  Cheese!

My Aunt Mel and Uncle Bob (my mom's brother) First of all, I love this picture.  Secondly, I was so happy they were able to come.  My Uncle is a building inspector in Orange County, and his work made him take this huge class the whole week of his vacation.  He got off work the evening before, they drove to their house in Havasu, and then made it down that morning.  What troopers!

Joe definitely gets the award for "person who traveled the furthest"... but he knows he had to.  Right Joe? ;)

My very favorite picture from all of my graduation festivities.  This picture was taken at the ceremony with President Obama.

The family... please don't ask me what was going through my brother's mind at this moment.  This picture also reminds me that I don't think I look any more like one of my parents than the other... but that's me.  Maybe I'm wrong?

Joe's mom and dad- in case you were wondering Joe's dad fills in for the Monopoly Man part-time

See? Told you Obama was there...

Florida

So I've been in Florida for two months now and it's... sticky (to say the least).  It wouldn't be so bad, but no matter how many times I sit it down and have that "do what I tell you to do" peptalk, I'm not really making any headway with it.  So, up on my head it goes.

I'm pretty sure I'm the only ASU fan that resides anywhere in SEC territory (read: sadface), but I will continue to rock my ASU sweatshirt in the winter and accept looks of pity from fans of football giants such as Florida and Georgia.  At least I can say my school is pretty awesome despite our (frequent) football blunders- most agree due to the sheer size, location, and party scene.  Oh, I almost forgot.  About ASU: apparently I didn't graduate in May? (Who knew?)  In my last semester I retook two classes- classes I thought I had withdrawn from.  Apparently, I didn't withdraw from both, but only one, and I received a passing (albeit poor) grade in one of them, causing me to receive credits for it.  I had no idea, so when applying online for Department of Defense jobs (DoD- Call Me!!) I figured it out.  I whined. I cried. I cursed the stupid transcript-checker program ASU uses- but in the end, I registered for English 114- English Linguistics.  Frustrated and annoyed, I must remember back to my Junior High English classes as well as do "diagrams" again (if you're a product of any form of private or honors/AP education at any point in time, you might know what I am referencing).  Fabulous news: Class is over in three days!!! Which means: Now I really AM graduating (on paper, that is).

Now, if I could just find a grown-up job.  I'm growing loathsome over the fact that four nights a week, as Joe gets off work I am just beginning it, severely limiting the time we spend together. Add in his classes at Embry-Riddle that he begins August 10 (I'm so very proud of my future Officer!!) and I will get to spend one quality day/evening/night with him a week. Not that I don't like serving (I love the fact that I always have cash in hand) I'm just growing weary of the schedule, and I'd like to think that going to college helped me get a better job.