counting.
I think bad things happen in clumps of three because the universe is a jerk and likes to kick you when you're down.
Last Monday pretty much devastated everyone, and that whole week was surreal and strange. This past Monday (the 23rd) two friends and I drove to Augusta, Georgia (which is about a 5.5 hour drive from Blacksburg) for my friend Ryan Clark's funeral. The service was wonderful and I think we all got some closure from going which was good. However, we didn't really know what to do after the service, none of us know anyone in Augusta so we decided to drive back. To summarize, it was a good roadtrip (my car companions were fantastic) but physically and emotionally draining. I don't know if I've ever been so tired in my life. When we finally got back I came back to my room and checked my email only to receive this:
Dear
Ms. Whalen, Thank you for applying for an internship
position with the National Center for Ethics in Health Care. Due to the large number of highly
qualified applicants and the limited number of positions available, we are not
able to offer you an internship this summer. We thank you for your interest in our
program. Best wishes in your future
endeavors. So I've been banking on an internship that I got turned down for. Super. Looks like I'll have to go home and find something to do in Virginia Beach this summer which is the LAST thing on the PLANET that I want to do. Everything is still in the air for grad school too so pretty much I'm screwed. I don't know how to get out, get better and get a job. The mom keeps harassing me to find an "adult job" which is stupid because her definition of "adult job" is something that makes a lot of money but you probably don't enjoy, but you keep the job because you make money. Bump that Pretty much I'm just waiting for the third thing to happen. I hope it doesn't suck too hard because if it does I might just get into bed and not get back out. Also, if anyone wants to let me live on their couch or knows where I can get a job this summer let me know.
