Ah, it’s all sunny and nice outside so I prepare to ride home from class and enjoy the day…then I realized that it’s also really cold! Brr. I can’t wait to get home and get my heavy coat. At the present, I’m stuck with just piling on layers of sweatshirts.
So as I was leaving Cromem last night, I saw a sign posted to the bulletin board that screamed “make $18-$25 an hour!” Even though I’m never interested in the odd jobs, it’s hard not to glance at something that tells me I can make a pretty high hourly salary. Except this poster last night was an advertisement to come teach for the Princeton Review, you know, the group that tutors students on how to raise their SAT, GRE, MCAT, etc scores. I remember someone at Tech — I think it was Andrew — telling me that they tutored for the Princeton Review, and that it was a lot of fun. So now I’m thinking about applying for the part-time job. It would be fun, I would get a chance to see if I enjoy teaching as much as I think I would, and the extra money would be nice.
The issue, however, is time. (Isn’t that always the issue?) I know that I probably don’t have ten extra hours per week to devote to tutoring people. Maybe I could do it if I resolve to give up my free Saturdays (Saturday is the one day of the week that iI usually reserve for not doing homework)…but I don’t know if I want to do that. I guess I’ll think about it.
And in other news, I swear, one of my roommates must eat toilet paper or something. Our three-woman apartment runs through rolls like ravenous animals. Last summer Ron and Phil and I didn’t go through TP at even half this rate, and I know they’re guys and so they use less and all, but geez. Anyway, that’s my rant for the day. I’m off to Target to restock the bathroom.
(4:44 p.m.)
One thing I will miss whenever I do end up leaving grad school is California itself. The Bay Area is an awesome, strange, exciting, and beautiful place. I am moments away from a million things, from lovely foothills to the breakers of the Pacific to the calm waters of the bay. It really is amazing, when I stop long enough to take even the slightest advantage of it. After living in a beautiful area for a few months, I have to wonder what prompted anyone to ever make their home in a place like Houston…and to think that I will probably soon be living in that mess of asphalt, humidity, and oil refinery grime. If only Lyndon Johnson had been from California, and NASA’s premier space center could have laid its roots here in the hills instead of on the marshy and flat-as-a-pancake gulf coast. Sigh. It will make me sad to leave California. Maybe I will just decide to stay forever.
I guess this means I really can’t make fun of Courtney for being from California anymore. Now I see what she’s talking about.
I was reminded of all this today while running errands, of all things. It seemed an odd time for me to realize how much I like the area in which I’m living, but it happened all the same. (Side note: sometimes when I am doing errands, I just feel very…normal. I kind of like it.)
