Application

So you know how I am working on my Masters Degree? Yes? I keep reminding you? How could you forget? Right. Well, I am still doing that. And my class right now... Oh god, I love it. It is single handedly making me reevaluate what I want to do for a living. Not that that is extremely difficult. People talk about moving to Alaska to dig for gold and I am interested in signing up. I mean, you never know what you are good at until you try, right? And GOLD.... What could possibly go wrong??

Anyway, none of this is what this post is about. It isn't even about my class about Women's Health where I cannot seem to shut my damn mouth because apparently I feel that I know EVERYTHING about ANYTHING to do with reproductive health (which is our current topic). This post isn't even about the OTHER girl in class who keeps talking and I roll my eyes and say (in my head... of course) "PLEASE shut up! Let the professor talk. NOBODY CARES about your boyfriend's son's sex education class in middle school!" And then I catch myself on some spiel about some random 'body temping in relation to ovulation and family planning' (true example) and I realize that everyone in the class thinks that REALLY annoying girl and ME are exactly the same. *Hangs head in shame* *Raises hand again in class because I have just ONE MORE thing to add here...*

No, neither of those things are what this post is about, but clearly I should talk more about my class because I have LOTS to say. No, I am actually writing to tell you that I am in the process of applying for my graduate program. Which I bet you all assumed I was already in. Wrong! (Man, see how blogs can be misleading? Don't trust anything you read online these days. ) I have been taking these classes as a Post-Bach student, but last semester I hit my cap on classes allowed to be transferred into a program, so I have to apply to continue on with my degree.

No big deal, right? That's what I thought. I mean, it can't be much harder than just calling and telling them I want in, right? WHO WOULDN'T WANT ME?? Well, it remains to be seen if they actually want me, but the process of actually applying just might kill me. I have to have my transcripts sent, which is easy enough, but then I also have to enter in each class I have ever taken in my life. And not just like, write it out. Each one has to be entered in it's own little pop up box with like ten details. Do you all know how many classes I have taken? DO YOU? I just admitted to being sucked in to the idea of digging for gold. Can you IMAGINE how long it took me to pick a major?

On top of that I have to have 3-5 letters of recommendation, so I need to start talking to people about that. Not that I don't have people (I HAVE PEOPLE!) but just... I don't know. It seems like such a hassle to them.

But the gem of this entire process came up yesterday when I was asked to explain why I was placed on academic probation my freshman year. What exactly IS the politically correct way to say "I was young and stupid and partying and sleeping sounded SO MUCH MORE FUN than class!". Twitter was very helpful, telling me I should say "I was being treated for exhaustion". I wrote up a nice explanation which included things like  "Lack of focus... probation allowed me to realize education was important to me...As you can see, from then on I did extremely well" bla bla bla. I wrote it in word, then went to copy and past it into the program. I mistakingly thought it said I had no more than 600 words to explain, but when I pasted it I realized I only had 600 CHACATERS! Do you know how few that is?? DO YOU KNOW ME AND HOW MUCH I LOVE TO TAAAAAALK???

So anyway, the entire point of this post is to tell you that I did it. I managed to squeeze in my entire explanation for being a young dumb ass of a feshman into 600 characters. Actually, it was 598. That, right there, is Twitter's practical use in everyday life. If anybody asks why you are wasting time on there, just say you are perfecting the art of being concise. It really will pay off in the end.  You can use me as an example.  I don't mind.