Where the Yellow Brick Road Stops
In a few days, it will all be over.
I cried the whole way through American Idol last night. Partly, because Catherine has no self-esteem, and I find that really sad. The other reason for the tears was because Taylor reminds me of me. When you watch him, you see his roots (I don't mean his hair), and you really see what this means to him. It's more than just winning. I also cried because I would rather be in an American Idol finale than defending my dissertation. That is sad.
Whenever I get nervous about my defense, I think, "at least you don't have to sing". I don't know if you have ever sung in front of an audience (other than when you are drunk on karaoke night), but I think it is much more difficult than giving a talk. If you mess up during a talk, you can go back and fix it--you can cover your ass on just about everything you say, other than if you accidentally yell out an obscenity. Once I said "crap" when my slides went crazy during a talk, and that was hard to cover. At least my brain was functioning enough to let crap slip instead of what I would say behind closed doors.
When you sing, however, everything is final. I'm glad I'm not singing.
I'm exhausted, and I'm confused, and I wish I had a job so I didn't have to worry about it. I thought that maybe I could work at a department store for a few months until I got the job thing settled, but when I went shopping this week, the department store girls were annoying and mean to me, and I don't want to work with them. Granted, I was "shopping" at Saks, but just because you sell clothes that I can't afford doesn't mean you can afford them either. This city is very pretentious at times.
Can you tell I'm all over the place today?