Singing the application blues

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Looking for programs is fun-it’s like window shopping. Actually applying though, sucks. It’s boring, and time-consuming, and I don’t enjoy it at all. It makes me feel stressed, and insecure about my level of experience and how little I’ve actually accomplished. What was I doing when I wasn’t building an awesome resume? Having fun? What’s that garbage? So that’s where I am on the subject. I need to get going on this stuff though, because whining about it hasn’t actually translated into getting it done, and two of my applications are due on the 15th. Le sigh. I wish I kept 100% confident that I’m going to get in somewhere, because applying to seven programs is A) bunk, and B) expensive. Right now it seems impossible that I’ll ever actually get into nursing school, let alone become a midwife, and I don’t mean that in as negative a way as it sounds, but I honestly can’t picture it happening. When I try to imagine myself working as a midwife in Africa or someplace, it just looks like standing in front of scenery- the trees are all cardboard, and there are recorded-sounding bird calls playing offstage.

I’m close to back to normal after my candy overdose yesterday, thanks to lots of lemons. I’m working my way through a green smoothie monster (I realized today that they’re supposed to include apples, but that somehow made it worse. Why do I do this to myself, you might ask? Original sin. And the desire to feel healthy first thing in the morning, regardless of the cost), and I have spinach and veggie-filled pasta sauce for lunch today. I wasn’t going to admit this, but I didn’t have any vegetables yesterday. The closest I got were some toasted pumpkin seeds. I’m more on track today though, and it feels good. I’m not sure how I jumped the tracks, but I think it’s because we have So. Many. Leftovers.  There’s a big tupperware full of barley risotto that has been staring me down, making me feel guilty for not using it sooner, but I’ve somehow internalized the idea that it would taste like Kraft E-Z mac, (even though I know it doesn’t) and I don’t want to go near it. It’s too brightly orange.

I wish I could bring my mandolin to work with me.

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