(no subject)
The Echo was normal.
I sent my Peace Corps Medical Packet out today, via Priority Mail. Hopefully I'll get cleared, no problem, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they're going to make me get my third wisdom tooth extracted.
My mom's new house is amazing. Seriously.
The other day at work, my manager told me that the only reason she "ragged on me" was to "prepare me for the real world." I almost laughed in her face. Apparently living the life I've led up to now (which all of you are already 100% informed about, so I'm not sure I need to recount it), going to school full-time while working and volunteering full-time in order to graduate and pay my way without my parents help, so that I can get the hell out of that hell hole of a restaurant, join the Peace Corps and make something of my life, is not "the real world." The Real World, as has been defined by coworkers multiple times, is basically working at said restaurant for the rest of one's life. Please. I'm not saying I have it bad, because I sure as hell don't, but the Real World doesn't have to be defined as serving pizzas for the rest of one's life, getting knocked up at sixteen and regretting missed opportunities from here on out.
Oh, and I have a lot of rehauling to do in my life. A lot.
I sent my Peace Corps Medical Packet out today, via Priority Mail. Hopefully I'll get cleared, no problem, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they're going to make me get my third wisdom tooth extracted.
My mom's new house is amazing. Seriously.
The other day at work, my manager told me that the only reason she "ragged on me" was to "prepare me for the real world." I almost laughed in her face. Apparently living the life I've led up to now (which all of you are already 100% informed about, so I'm not sure I need to recount it), going to school full-time while working and volunteering full-time in order to graduate and pay my way without my parents help, so that I can get the hell out of that hell hole of a restaurant, join the Peace Corps and make something of my life, is not "the real world." The Real World, as has been defined by coworkers multiple times, is basically working at said restaurant for the rest of one's life. Please. I'm not saying I have it bad, because I sure as hell don't, but the Real World doesn't have to be defined as serving pizzas for the rest of one's life, getting knocked up at sixteen and regretting missed opportunities from here on out.
Oh, and I have a lot of rehauling to do in my life. A lot.