april 8, 2000.

(to be sung in a sing song voice):

I'm sitting in my pjs. I finally have a day off. If I get tired, I can lie down. If I don't want to do something, I don't have to.

I really should've taken some more time off. This is the way to be sick, not bundling ugly sweaters over business clothes, not carrying a box of kleenex everywhere, not waiting for the pressure in my head to stabilize after I blow my nose and certainly not experiencing sudden unpredictable energy drains that make me want to lie down wherever I happen to be. But on the whole, it hasn't been so bad. I met a really super cool girl yesterday. In honour of her semi-goth leanings, she will bear the melodic pseudonym Julie Gloom. She works in my cubicle cluster, but had been off sick for a few weeks and in computer training for the rest of the time. Yesterday it was her job to train me and 2 other fluffy little temps how to use the new system. (I say 'fluffy' because the three of us are about as useful as goslings at this point). I knew I was going to like her when her outfit penetrated through my sickness fog: long black dress, six hole docs. I could see a glimpse of tattoo under the nape of her neck. And she had twice as many holes in her head as me.

We started off training with a 15 minute discussion of boots and Toronto clubs. We ate cookies & chatted about the wedding. They asked about Acadia, and my future plans. At one point we were discussing teenage whoredom and Julie Gloom loudly offered the fact that she didn't have sex until she was 18; I grinned & threw up my arms in comradeship. Then I found out that her boy plays NERO*. I'm positive we know people in common. Positive.

And just to put the cherry on the sundae, I was good at the computer stuff. Despite my cold & dulled reaction time, Julie Gloom praised me for my quickness. All in all, it was the friendliest & funnest computer training session I've ever experienced. I was sad to return to my cubicle, bordered on one side by the Sad Bride and on the other side by a new addition: a rather loud-talking girl who listens to Monica and Lenny Kravitz on repeat. After a whole day of semi-goth-sympathy, it was a very cold place indeed.

The fateful letter came from OISE on Thursday. They don't like me. In their letter they cited my "slug-like intelligence," my "pathetically inept social skills" and finally my "mule-ugly face" as grounds for rejection. I don't know what hurts the most.

Of course I'm kidding. I really was denied admission to the Ontario Institute for the Study of Education, but I was informed that I met all of the basic criteria. What killed my application was the amount of space in the program. And I can't say I'm surprised. OISE has expressed a strong commitment to admitting applicants who are currently under-represented in the teaching profession. I'm a white girl who wants to teach highschool English, and I'm already extremely over-represented. This isn't sour grapes, I swear. I'm completely supportive of the effort to get men into primary school, women into non-traditional subjects, and cultural minorities into everything. I'm certainly not going to complain about being born a non-oppressed minority in a prosperous middle class family.

Of course, I might've been a bit upset if I didn't already have an offer from Acadia, but as things stand I'm cool with the whole thing. It certainly made my choice a whole lot easier. Now it's Wolfville or nothing...and I can live with that.

Finally, I'm obliged to point out that the wonderful frog graphic was shamelessly stolen from Nigel. I'm mean like that.

* NERO = a role playing game in which you dress up like an elf, run around the woods and hit people with foam weapons. No, I'm not making this up.