Merci, y'all

I appreciate all the e-mails (and the comments) I got about my post 2 days ago. I'm not making a final decision for at least a week -- I'll be home a week from tomorrow -- but in the meantime I'm keeping all your advice at hand.

D. is making a final decision about college tomorrow! It's completely nerve-wracking, as she's absolutely torn between two EXCELLENT schools. She and I spent last night looking up facts about each school, and really getting to the heart of the important stuff. Like which school's founder/namesake is more attractive:

School A

or School B

(School A won. Dur.)

Anyway. School's wrapping up, I've sent home a few boxes and am beginning the rest of the packing process, and things are ending quite nicely here at DreamSchool! I can't help but think, though, if these are my last few days here. If yesterday's tour was the last tour I'd give. Etc., etc., etc.

We'll see. That's about all I can say in the meantime.


Square one?

So I spent a while last night talking to my dad about me. And DreamSchool. And the future.

(It really was a good conversation, I promise. Somewhat overwhelming, but good.)

Here's what it boils down to, though:

I love it here. I love DreamSchool more than I imagined. I love the school, I love the city, I love my job here, and I like my friends a lot.

But. (There's always a but, isn't there? There's a particularly large one on my backside that I'd appreciate if it got a bit smaller.)

Lately I've been troubling over the fact that I just can't justify spending $42,000+ a year to get an education that I don't plan to use.

Confused? Here's what it means: What I ultimately want to do doesn't require a college degree. When I applied to DreamSchool, I thought I wanted to be one thing. But now I know differently--essentially, it's not something I can see myself being truly happy in, and also most of the jobs in what I'm majoring in are disappearing at an alarming rate.

In the back of my head I've always been fascinated with childbirth. For a while in high school I toyed with the idea of becoming a midwife, but I wrote that off thinking I could never do that. So I focused on something else, something I loved (still love--just don't want to do professionally), and that's what lead me to DreamSchool.

Since I got to DreamSchool I honestly realized that I did want to do something with childbirth post-college. I've decided to become a doula after I graduate--take the necessary courses, get certified, do some time as an apprentice--and perhaps that'll lead to midwifery later on down the road. I also want to be a part of changing how pregnancy/maternity is gone about in the U.S. (it's so royally fucked up that I get angry just thinking about it). But this is what I want for the immediate future--to be a doula.

Which brings me back to paying $42,000+ per year to get an education I don't plan to use.

I love it here so much. But the money is a serious issue, because, well, I just don't have $130,000 to spend on the next 3 years of education here. Which means I'd be getting into pretty serious debt, especially with the economy in a shithole, financial aid is VERY sparse. There's also another issue that I can't discuss here yet but is weighing very heavily on my heart and making leaving DreamSchool a bigger possibility.

But every time I think about leaving here...

I know I have other options. I could leave DreamSchool and enroll in some random state school to finish up my education. I could do the community college route. Etc. etc. etc. But the thing is, I am so proud to be here at DreamSchool. I know how hard it is to get in here. I know how hard I work here, and I know how prestigious this school is. I'm so damn proud of myself for succeeding in this school thus far that I don't want to give it up and go to a state school or community college.

But. Money. Other-issue-that-I'm-not-discussing-here-yet. Etc.

It's a lot to think about. Assvice is, as always, welcomed.


I'm a phoney

Hi, I'm Nanny, and I blow through cell phones like it's nobody's business.

(hiiiii, Nannyyyyyy)

I've had 8 phones in 5 years. It's not my fault, y'all. Things just HAPPEN to my phones. Seriously.

1) My first phone I got on my 15th birthday. It was a basic silver flip phone. I didn't even know what texting was when I got that phone. I KNOW.

2) I had to get a new one about a year later because the hinges broke on that phone -- too much use, I guess. (I can't help it! I HAD to talk for work! You know, fielding babysitting calls! Duh!) It was the same model of the phone since I was still under warranty of the first one, so it was free.

3) About a year after that, we switched providers, so I got an entirely different phone. A boring black and silver flip phone.

4) One morning on the way to school, I spilled my glass of milk on it. Oops. I was out of warranty, so I had to buy the cheapest phone my provider had -- boooooring black flip phone.

5) About a year after that, we switched providers AGAIN. So I got an uber cute pink slide phone. I LOVED THAT.

6) A month later, the keys started to crack and threaten to fall off. So under warranty, I got another one of the same phone.

7) Four months after that, they keys again started to crack and fall apart. So I got another one of the same phone under warranty.

8) My phone completely fell apart. Literally. Like, dead apart. (That may or may not be related to the number of times I'd dropped it. Shhhh.) Warranty decided to send me an entirely new phone after MUCH drama and me spending literally 8-10 hours on the phone with AT&T and arguing and being nice and cursing and crying. This one's a red shiny slide phone and I. LOVE. IT.

Oh, but three days after I got my brand spankin' new shiny red phone, I may or may not have dropped it in the toilet.


Three rather tense days (and a LOT of prayers and blowing gently on my phone to dry it out) later, my phone decided it would work again. AND OH MY GOODNESS I WAS THANKFUL.

I'm hoping to hang onto this phone for a good while to come.

And in the meantime I'm staying far away from milk, toilets, and the floor. At least when I have my phone with me.


A bit of relief

I know it's been nearly 1.5 years since I worked for the R.'s. But when cleaning out my stuff tonight (beginning the stages of packing to go HOME for the summer!), I found a little drawing A. had done for me. We'd gone to the zoo with E., and were pretending to follow tiger tracks on an adventure. She drew me pictures of the tiger tracks.

I've been thinking about the girls all night. I loved (love) those girls passionately. I practically raised them from birth -- really, I spent far more time with them than their parents did. I parented them: I loved them, I disciplined them, I taught them. I was the only one there when E. took her first steps. A. took her first steps from me to her dad. I was there. I was there.

I also spend a lot of time wondering if I made the right decision in quitting. In leaving the girls with their monsters of parents. Wondering if I over-exaggerated my issues with Mr. & Mrs. R. -- were they really that bad? Was I a wimp?

Tonight, on a whim, I googled them. They own their own business in Texas, and without going into specifics, they deal with clients a LOT. Basically, it's all client interaction. Tonight I found a Web site filled with review after review of their business: all negative. Talking about how manipulative and threatening the R.'s were. Talking about how cruel they were. How demeaning. Person after person had come to that site to warn others not to deal with the R.'s.

It made me feel better. It made me feel like I wasn't alone in dealing with their crap. It made me think that just maybe, I did make the right decision in quitting. I still ache thinking about my sweet girls, but I had to get out of that environment. I just had to.


I triple-dog-dare you not to tear up watching this

(P.S. Yeah, yeah, it's my blog, I can post whatever I want to on it!)

(P.P.S. I'm leaving comments open. What do y'all think?)


Tales from the dorm

Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in my room.

Another thing I've discovered (my goodness, I'm learning more about myself since I posted that than ever before) about myself since coming here is that I? Need my alone time. Really.

With two roommates (practically three, since another girl is over all. the. time) in a TINY room, I'm rarely alone. We're all scrunched up on top of each other and usually at least one other girl is in here at all times. Lately, these past few weeks, it's become too much for me.

I feel trapped in my room, trapped by loud, squealing girls who talk about the boys they're crushing on or sing Michelle Branch songs obscenely loudly. I, on the other hand, scrunch up as much as I can into my bed and dream about silence. And alone time.

I love my roommates, I really do. But I can't take their constant cheeriness, the thousands of questions they ask me (they're worse than the kids I nannied for, truly), the music, the bright lights...hi, I'm a mellow yellow child. I like the lights dimmed, quiet music playing if anything at all (Philip Glass, Iron & Wine, Amos Lee, Norah Jones, "Stairway to Heaven"...you get the drift), and MY space.

Lately I've found myself having to escape. I'll flee to a friend's room nearby, where she rarely is, and savor the quiet. And peace. Just me. I'll go to the food court in the building next door (unaffiliated with my school) just to get OUT. And I dread going back into my room simply because I know once there, I'll be faced with: bright lights. Loud noise. Questions. More questions. Incessant cheeriness. And as I reach the end of the year, the stress of exams, final projects, moving out, HOLY CRAP I NEED STORAGE, etc., all weighing heavily upon my shoulders, I find myself desperately wishing to be home.

Next year will be better, I reassure my weary self. I'll have my own little room within a suite, my own space. In the meantime, I'm using my headphones even when I'm not playing music. I'm faking sleep so that they'll talk a bit quieter, turn the music down, use only lamps instead of our jarring overhead light. And I'm plunging headfirst into work, school, and packing up to move out.

Though, I'll leave you with a happy note amid this dreary post (just needed to get it out): I was leading a tour group, and after the traumatic elevator experience last month, I was VERY firm that only 10 people could be in the elevator. Since my tour group was bigger than that, I sent a group of 10 up and waited for another elevator with the remaining people.

"You could've gone with the first group, little lady," said a man. He was old, all wrinkled skin and flyaway white hair. "You weigh as much as half a person, you'd have fit in."

I know he was just being sweet, but still, it made my day!


I need an opinion, y'all

So here's the story.

I left class 1 day early to go home for spring break. We had to do it that way because the difference in cost of flights in that and then the next school day were ASTRONOMICAL ('scuse the pun).

We booked the flight about a month in advance. I my teachers know immediately that I would be missing that day, and asked for any assignments that needed to be done. One teacher just had me do some reading, the other had me do some reading and writing to make up for it. I also had all other work done. Both teachers assured me there was nothing else to do.

Imagine my surprise yesterday when I got a grading report from one of my teachers. He'd docked me 20% (TWENTY PERCENT) of my homework grade for missing that day -- because they ended up having an in-class assignment on a whim.

That he didn't tell me about.

I suppose it was my responsibility to follow up after spring break and say, "Did I miss anything last Friday?" But still. He'd assured me previously that there was nothing else I needed to do.

After class, I went up to talk with him, first to see if there was anything I could to do make up for the missed assignment that I didn't know existed. He said no, that it was an in-class assignment and therefore nothing could be done for it.

I reminded him (very politely, really) that I'd checked with him way in advance before the trip -- and reminded him before I left -- that I would be gone, and that he had told me I didn't need to do anything else. He said he hadn't planned on the assignment, but still, there was nothing he could do.

Now, 20% is a fair chunk of homework grade. So much so that it pushed my very worked-for A in the class to a B. I explained (very politely) that I didn't understand why I was being penalized for something I a) didn't know existed and b) couldn't have done anyway -- it wasn't like I was skipping class or not turning in homework. In fact, that was my first absence in the class, and I'd never missed a homework assignment. Ever.

He said since it wasn't an excused absence, he wasn't obligated to do anything. And if he helped me now, he'd have to help out EVERYBODY who hadn't turned in a homework assignment all semester. (UM. I turn in *every* homework assignment. This was an IN-CLASS assignment that I was gone for.)

Basically, we went (very politely) back and forth over this. Auntie Flo, of course, decided to help things along and smash a very large HORMONE EXPRESS TRAIN into me. And I started crying.

No joke, y'all. Not so much tears-streaming-down-the-face crying...more like lips-quivering-PLEASEGODDON'TLETMECRYINFRONTOFHIM crying. I could see then he felt a little bad. He's just a grad student, 3 years older than I am. But still. He refused to budge on the issue. (I will say, though, that he assured me that this wouldn't affect my final grade. Not quite sure what that means.)

Finally, when I felt the full-on sobs coming, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. And I ran there and tried to get ahold of myself (OH, AUNT FLO), which I managed to do after approximately five minutes of standing in front of the mirror and waving my hands frantically at my face.

After that, I shamefacedly went back to the classroom, got my stuff, and left. But this has been bugging me all weekend. So help me, y'all.

1) He says this isn't going to affect my final grade. But I can't see how it's NOT going to, seeing as it's dropped me down a letter grade.

2) Yes, it was an unexcused absence. But everything was squared away prior to my leaving and all other work was in.


So: I was pretty pissed off for a bit, there. Y'know, after the whole crying part. After talking to some friends, I think I'll wait to see my final grade, and if necessary I'll appeal it. Problem is, I have no actual proof that this went on. My teacher did acknowledge that I spoke with him prior to the trip to get everything taken care of, though.

But now I'm just feeling rather embarrassed. I mean, I cried. Do I e-mail him? Apologize for getting upset? Blame it on the hormones? (Kidding--I wouldn't do that. I'd say I was overly stressed, or something.) Or should I just drop it? I'm just worried things are going to be supremely awkward come class next week. Or that this whole thing will somehow negatively affect my ultimate grade?

I don't know. Assvice requested, please.


Damn, I already used that title

I was going to call this post "a weighty issue," but apparently I already titled something that.


I was thinking tonight. (I know, what a concept, right?) I was thinking about just how much more comfortable I feel about myself now that I'm at college. Appearance-wise.

Up here, I don't mind my thunder thighs. I embrace my beautiful bubble belly. While I'd love for my arms to be more toned, it's not the end of the world that they're not. And my chipmunk cheeks? Eh, my mom says they're cute.

I'm so much more comfortable up here because I'm not alone in my size. There are girls here of EVERY shape. There are girls who are smaller than I, sure. But there are girls my size. And there are girls who are bigger. And you know what?

Those girls, those bigger girls (myself included), they're not ostracized. People pay attention to them. And listen to them. Boys talk to them, are friends with them. Still, nearly 8 months since I've moved up to college, this still surprises me. And delights me, to be honest.

My high school was filled with girls who if they weren't a size 2, they were a size 0. Or they'd dipped down into the negative sizes (they exist. Really). They were all blonde with perfect skin, bright white teeth, manicured nails, flawless makeup. I, formerly at a size 12, was the biggest girl in the grade. Who didn't dye her hair. Who had never (and still has never) had a manicure. Whose makeup was quickly applied in the car on the way to school. I never felt pretty in high school. I felt ugly and fat.

I suppose that's another thing I've learned since being at college. I am not defined by my size. And people do not judge me for it.

I've caught myself looking around quite a few times lately, thinking, "My GOD, I'm just so happy to be me."

And that? Is one of the best feelings in the world.


Tomorrow is Day of Silence. I'd never heard of it until tonight -- we never did it in Texas. But we'll be trying to here tomorrow.


More bragging

I was 20 feet away from her today.

FYI--she looks *exactly* the same as her character in Mona Lisa Smile. Same hair and everything.


P.S. OH, what a day

I'm 'bout tuckered out, y'all. I present to you MY DAY:

1) Saying bye to D.
2) Presentation due in class
3) Spending 3 hours (THREE) either on the phone with AT&T or talking to the morons live, in person, at an AT&T store
4) Getting a jury duty notice (grooooan)
5) Finding out that all the footage I shot this weekend for a segment due TOMORROW is GONE. As in, bye bye, ain't comin' back, have-to-shamefacedly-email-my-teacher, I'll-have-to-make-time-to-reshoot-everything-tomorrow, tech-people-are-befuddled kind of GONE.
6) Realizing at 10 p.m. that paper corrections for history class are due, uh, TOMORROW as well. And then panicking.


Today was just so ridiculously sunny that I couldn't be upset for long. I just couldn't. That's one thing I've learned about myself since moving up here: my moods are really affected by weather. As in sun? Just makes everything better.

So, now, I'm off to do paper corrections. And cower in fear of my professor's upcoming response to my "OOPS!" e-mail.

I'm alive! Promise!

I just had the best weekend with D.--we played a TON of games (and I won most of 'em, wink wink. Though she might disagree), ate some amazing food, and just had a great time being AROUND each other!

For posterity, and to make y'all drool, and cause I love talking about (and eating) food, here's what I ate this weekend. No judging, please. We both went a little crazy.

Friday lunch: a marble (half pumpernickel, half rye) bagel with butter, and a strawberry/banana Naked juice (NOM)
Friday dinner: boring dinner on campus. Don't remember what I had.
Friday dessert: OM NOM NOM PASTRIES from a world-famous pastry place. D. had a 'whoopie pie' (oh, just google it) and I had just about the most orgasmic piece of chocolate fudge cake that I've ever had. ZOMG NOM.

Saturday lunch: a deeeelish bagel with hummus, lettuce, and onion. NOMNOMNOM.
Saturday dinner: nommy pasta with garlic & butter sauce
Saturday dessert: Ben & Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough (mmmmmm)

Sunday: leftover pasta, more Ben & Jerry's

I'm paying for it today as my pants are a bit tight, but OH it was so worth it. Great time with my BFF, nommy food...happy Nanny! Unfortch, this week is SWAMPED in work, but *squee* y'all can look forward to a post telling EXACTLY why I LOVE AT&T.



D. is here!!! She's conked out asleep in my bed as I type this (she's exhausted) :-) I'm ridiculously happy right now!



I've been rather deluged lately with Facebook friend requests from adults from waybackwhen. I met most of these people when I was very young, and saw them all on a regular basis through church until I was around 13, so they knew me very well. I thought they were all pretty much Boring Old Adults, but I liked them all enough.

Now that they're friending me on Facebook, though, it kinda ooogs me out a bit. I mean, these are people who knew the young Nanny. And I'm not young anymore. And while there's nothing on my Facebook page that I wouldn't want a potential employer to see (I know. I'm one of those freaks. I censor EVERYTHING), it's still...a bit weird.

But here's the problem: I feel guilty denying their FB friendship. Cause they know me. And they'd know that I've DENIED them. And that, my friends, is harsh. I just don't particularly want them to be my FB friends.


This is another reason I'm glad I use my blog name only on Twitter -- so that a) people IRL won't find me (hopefully) and b) that I can turn people down (my Tweets are locked) without feeling too guilty.

Though the bottom line? Is that if this is one of my biggest concerns du jour (it isn't, but it's definitely occupied valuable brain space as of late), I'm a pretty damn lucky girl.

The end.


Superficial? Me? NO!

So tonight my friend Sarah and I decided to take a walk.

We do this fairly regularly (usually nightly) but in a larger group -- however, everybody else was busy with their boyfriend/girlfriend/paper/laziness/etc. So it was just us. Her, looking for fresh air; me looking to escape the paper I have due Tuesday. (Note to self: START THE PAPER.)

It was around 9:30, 9:45, when we left, so it was completely dark. We're in a big city, so to be safe, we kept to well-lit, public areas. (Oh yes, we are big on safety here at DreamSchool. I could spend 10 minutes telling you all about public safety here at DreamSchool -- I had to memorize it for giving tours. Parents are usually very concerned with safety here. Kids? Notsomuch.)

We walked to a nearby river and back and just had a good talk. She spent a lot of time talking about how much she's changed since coming to college (I know -- more of these conversations) and I spent a lot of time talking about how grateful I am that everyone here at DreamSchool is not a size 0, with bleached-blonde hair and fake nails, like they were at my high school.

It was a good conversation. And a good walk. But the best part?

As we were walking back to DreamSchool, we passed four or five fairly sketchy guys. As soon as they saw us they started catcalling us and saying, "Hey beautiful!" and "Look at those beautiful girls!" and "I'd like to take those tights right off of you, girl!" and "Hey, can I be part of your plans later?"

You know what, y'all: feminism be damned, that made my night. Really.


Did I miss something?

So I was talking with several friends last night. Actually I lied. It was more than several and these conversations took place over several weeks' time.

But the common theme in all these conversations was that each and every one of my friends feel like since coming to college, they've each changed SO MUCH and have each learned SO MUCH about themselves.


Did I miss something? Was there a class in Changing and Learning About Yourself: 101 that I forgot to take? Cause, um, I don't really feel like I've changed. Or learned a lot about myself since coming up here.

I just feel kinda normal. I mean, I suppose I've learned to navigate the subway system pretty well. I'm fairly good at spending the least amount of money to get the most amount of food. And I've discovered that I can churn out a pretty damn good paper last-minute.

But as for any major revelations about who I am? Not so much. I still feel like the same old Nanny. I spend way too much time on the computer. I drool way too much over other peoples' babies. I still make way too many sexual innuendo jokes. I'm still, well, me.

Though I suppose I do have three more years after this one for further self-discovery.

And that's what she said.


Another celebrity, yo

Today I met Kevin Bright.

Co-creator of Friends.

Hi. I'm Nanny, and I have an addiction to Friends.

Like, seriously. It's bad. Don't make fun of me. No, stop, really. Stop laughing. IT'S A GOOD SHOW, OKAY?



That is all.

Friends, y'all.


P.S. Swear to God this isn't an April Fool's joke. That'll come later. Maybe.