oh, let me tell you about the sad man

My lycra came in the mail! It is far more comfortable than it has any right to be, even though it's weirdly baggy on the knees. I'm excited, though! It will be nice not to have to wear shorts and tights to row and to vaguely look like I know what I'm doing. ... sigh, I really am going to end up writing a rowing AU. I JUST WANT A BUMPS RACE WHERE TAZER IS COXING AND REFUSES TO CONCEDE AND SO SOMEONE IN HIS BOAT ENDS UP CONCUSSED, OKAY. It's a totally valid thing to want and I will do it myself if no one else will, dammit. The only problem with this is that all my rowing knowledge is fairly specific to Oxbridge and the idea of any hockey player other than George Parros being at either uni is kind of funny. Whatever, whatever, that's what AUs are for and Frank's incompetent ways of flirting with A really would translate well.

I had my huge meeting to talk about what I should do to pursue the career I want and got the assurance of a stellar reference and the recommendation to go teach at one of the elite private schools in town. It's not -- I don't really want to work there, I would way rather be working in a place where I can actually make a difference (I mean, I guess I needed awesome teachers when I was at the elite private school, whatever), but it does make a lot of sense, just prestige-wise for my resume. Two of the four advertising right now are hiring in the humanities, so I need to start getting cover letters together and double-check some other references (Mom's pastor for the religious schools, my American history prof from undergrad for the position that's in American history). Oh god.

I don't want to be a real grownup. :(

I want to be a real grownup so little that instead of finishing my essay, I'm going to do another shot of cold medicine and go to bed. (I'm still sick, by the way. It's terrible. Have to essay a ton tomorrow and then go see a Vyv. I love that boy.)