I think if you did a scientific study, you would find applying to graduate schools takes years off of your life.

I have until Monday to accept at Memphis, which I'm really excited about (I would get to be a TA, I like the course structures, cheap cost of living, etc). There were only two or three schools I would choose above Memphis. As it is, I am waitlisted at two of them (NC State and UNC Wilmington), and will not know if I have a spot until around April 15... 15 days after I must accept to Memphis.

On top of this, I haven't heard a peep from six other schools. So, essentially I'm about to accept an offer without knowing where I stand in half of the programs I applied too.

It's a good thing I like Memphis.

HAPPY EASTER!!!


Hopefully the Easter Bunny fared a little better in your home than he did in New Zealand.

Now I can say that I’ve run down the highway in San Antonio.

It all started with a trip to Sea World with my future in-laws. Our hotel was about 30 minutes away from Sea World, so we left in just enough time to arrive just a few seconds before Sea World opened. But, along the way, a dump truck apparently decided it was a good morning to flip in the middle of the highway and spill all of its contents across three lanes, confined within concrete walls.

Meanwhile, anticipating a warm day at an amusement park, I had gulped a ton of water before departing, thinking I could make it at least an hour until we arrived at the park. After driving twenty minutes, then sitting in traffic for ten minutes, I began to feel the call of nature. I didn’t worry, thinking traffic never stand stills for long.

After sitting for about twenty more minutes, it began to hurt. Once we had stood still for an hour, I was getting desperate (especially knowing that we still had sea world traffic to battle through, then a long walk from the parking lot).

I wasn’t the only one needing to go; it was apparently a backseat condition. So, Tim’s father and sister and I spotted a portapotty for the construction workers just to the side of the road. We decided to investigate.

We scaled the concrete barriers on the side of the road, but unfortunately, a 12 foot cliff separated us from the potty. But now we were on a mission. There was an Olive Garden about three-tenths of a mile away, off of an access road by the mall, so we scurried towards it. Along the way, people kept asking us how long we had been waiting (an hour), and what was wrong up there (we didn’t know at that point).

Once we had done our business at Olive Garden, David called Tim to tell him we were heading up. We jogged back up to the freeway, jumped over the concrete barrier, and ran past the stopped cars. If someone would have opened their passenger door, one of us would have been knocked out.

But alas, by the time we got ahold of Tim on the phone and returned to the spot where our car once was, Tim informed us that traffic was moving quickly and that it was impossible to reach us. We had run to catch up for nothing.

So we trudged back to the mall parking lot and waited to be picked up, and then went to Sea World the back way, along with the 10,000 other people who had all gotten caught up in the dump truck disaster, thus making it impossible to get tickets or lunch without waiting in line for an hour and a half. So goes the life of a tourist!

And here's Shamu, just because that's what you do at Sea World

(thanks to the Reavis' for the pictures)

Today my teacher informed me I had worn a different pair of shoes four days in a row. (I just happened to be wearing bright green shoes today, so a few people had commented they noticed.)

He then commented that I had one pair that looked like one piece of rope. I told him those were my sock boots.

So may this be a lesson to you. You might think your teachers don't notice what you are wearing, but they do. Even the guys.

Today there was a knock at the door. We had already been visited by the maintenance man, so I knew to be cautious. I asked who he was in my fiercest voice.

"Cable guy. We are tracking a cable problem and it seems to be coming from this apartment."

I was a little impressed. Everything seemed completely normal (except of course, our cable wasn't working). But under the radar, our little apartment was the headquarters of a neighborhood cable problem.

The diagnosis?

Cheap cable chords. My roommate informed me that they had cost about a dollar at Harps. I've been without Jay Leno and Bravo and Cartoon Network because of cheap cable chords.

The new ones were complimentary. Thanks, Cox.

Today, my family sprung ahead not just one hour, but two.

I find the story rather humorous.

As my dad is a pastor, it's, you know, somewhat important that he arrives at church on time. He was a bit worried about setting an alarm, however, since he normally uses his phone. He knew phones are suppose to automatically update, but there wasn't a guarantee it would happen by 5:30 in the morning, the time he planned on waking up.

He first asks if he can uses my mom's alarm, a normal clock, to make sure. But, thankfully, he discovered he can manually set the time on his phone, instead on relying on the cellphone network, so he goes to sleep confident that his alarm is set.

My mom never got the memo he wasn't using her clock, and went ahead and adjusted the time, planning to wake up later than my dad.

Unfortunately, cell phones automatically update, regardless of whether you have manually set the time or not. So, while my dad manually set the phone ahead, the cellphone network helped him and pushed the time ahead yet another hour.

When my Dad wakes up at 5:30, which is actually 4:30, he sees my mom's clock and knows that she hasn't set it ahead an hour (which she actually had). No panic there, he goes ahead and gets ready.

He then walks into the kitchen and notices the clocks are two hours behind what his phone says. No big problem there, he figures my mom or I actually pushed the clocks back an hour instead of ahead an hour. He quickly fixes the problem by pushing those clocks ahead 2 hours as well.

At 9:30, Mom wakes me up in a panic. She says I have overslept, and she is running behind too, because she doesn't know where the time had gone. She thought she had plenty of it, until she looked at the clock and it was, oh no, past nine!

I, half asleep, look at my cellphone and see it is 7:30 in the morning. This is greatly confusing, as I was just told it was 9:30. Even if my phone hadn't reset, it would still be 8:30.

CNN confirmed the truth: it was 8:30 central time. Dad realized his mistake once he got in the car, and spent the extra hour it cleaning on the way to church. He apparently didn't think to let Mom and I in on the mistake, but thankfully there was less than 10 minutes of panic and confusion.
It just goes to show, the mornings are hard.

I went home last night, just to enjoy a weekend with my parents (especially as they had snow and we didn't). I sat down for a little while, chatted about casual things, then my Dad mentioned there was an envelope from Memphis in the kitchen.

My heart sank. I had read on a blog that Memphis had called someone to notify them of their acceptance by phone, so I knew it had to be a rejection. I had gotten a similar looking one just a little before from George Mason.

I told them I didn't want to open it. Dad said it did look like a form letter, or else he would have already opened it. So, I waited a few minutes until I went to the kitchen for a diet coke, because a rejection letter wasn't worth the trip.

I opened it slowly, and skimmed the first line to look for the "we regret to inform you." Instead I saw something about, "we are glad to welcome you..." 

I ran into the living room and said it wasn't a rejection. I couldn't read the rest of the letter, so I handed it to my dad, who confirmed it was indeed an acceptance!

I immediately called Tim, who was in the middle of hearing Anderson Cooper and couldn't exactly talk. Oh well, not everything can be climatic. 

I am still waiting on, oh, 10 other schools or so, so it's not over yet.  Until then, I hope I sleep more than I have.

I have less than a month to finish my thesis. In some ways, this is a relief. In one month, I will have my thesis out of my life.

In other ways, it's quite terrifying. I have a lot to do in one month.

It just goes to show that everything in life is a rollar-coaster. There are very few things that I have always felt the same about. Which leads me to the most important point:

Never make major decisions after midnight.

If I had to pass on any advice to people entering college, that would be it.

I must say, while going to my last home basketball game as a student at the University of Arkansas is very sad...

...seeing your team beat the team that just beat the number 1 team is pretty sweet.

Watch out for cranky old women who are being forced to retire from the chocolate factory.

At least in our murder mystery party, they might murder the owner.