3 down...

To add to the last post, I got a letter from UNC today (Chapel Hill) that was very thin. It was, needless to say, a "sorry, we can't admit you, best of luck" letter. Alas.

But! This was one of the other "shoot for the moon" schools that I applied for, so if they had accepted me, I probably would have had a seizure, then my ability to speak English, much less my ability to study it, would disappear.

Anyway, all blabbing aside, I'm still relishing in yesterday's letter! (see previous post)

"The real UT..."

...as my Aunt Hilda calls it--you know, the aunt with orange Christmas ornaments, lawn decorations, sit-upons, clothing, and a veritable smorgasbord of fan accessories--has decided to admit me to their Master's program! AND they are going to pay me for it!

To catch up the rest of you folks (all 5 of you!), I got my first rejection letter from UT Austin a couple of weeks ago; see the first post for more info. So that makes it 1 yes, 1 no. 2 down, 8 to go. But already I have options.

Huzzah!!!

A ho for shows

As I mentioned in the last post, my income is hardly piling up on my doorstep. Despite this cold, hard fact, I've made it a priority while in Nashville to see all of the enticing entertainers that pass through this here town. So far, I've seen the musical Avenue Q at TPAC, several Vanderbilt sporting events (football and basketball, in Nashville, Oxford, and --go 'dores), and a Davidson vs. Samford basketball game in Birmingham, AL (Thanks Richardsons!).

I do have some things lined up for the next couple of months. At the end of this month, I'm going to a Nashville Predators Hockey game, which should be pretty interesting, considering I don't know the first thing about hockey. But it is "Fangtastic February," so as a new Nashvillian, I feel obligated to watch the preds get a beat-down from the Red Wings. The SoCon tournament is in Chattanooga this March, so hopefully I can make it to one of those games. In April I'll be geared up to see Flight of the Conchords (see story) at the Ryman and the Dave Matthews Band with Jason Mraz and Robert Earl Keen at the Vanderbilt Stadium. Alllllllriiiiight.

So what I'm really trying to say, here, is that regardless of my money makin' skillzzz (or lack thereof), I've resolved to buy tickets to see awesome shows while I'm here. It'll be worth it, even if I have to live off cereal and $2 bags of stir fry. . .which I would do anyway. . .gladly.

A little fun under the (however temporary) sun

It's not every Valentine's day that you receive the coolest gift ever. Because we are, by governmental definition, poor as dirt, Thomas and I decided the best thing we could do this Valentine's day would be to play outside in the reasonably good weather: very sunny, high 50s low 60s. Around 1:00, we took our baseball gear to the small park across from Thomas' apartments, and as Thomas was feeding me pop-flies, a small body edged his way onto the field, clutching a tiny metal bat. Well, we had to play with him because: a) he was ultra cute and b) he brought more kids with him: a cousin of the same age named Malik (his name was Michael, or "Michael Bryant, like my mom sometimes calls me," as he told me) and two older cousins with similar interest in our playtime. As younger kids usually are, Malik and Michael were all about playing with "the older kids" and getting to share the field with people who brought balls and gloves and a bat. The older kids (I guess they were about 12 or 13 or so) were all about showing off. It was pretty hilarious to watch them, but also a little awkward because the more talented one kept calling the other one a "stupid m___f___" and other choice terms of endearment that preteens sling around.

So we spent about 20 or 30 min playing baseball with the neighborhood chirruns before we had to call time and go watch the Tennessee/Vanderbilt game came on TV, which I watched a sufficient amount of before I took a swift nap of about 2 hours.

It was by all means a pretty "American" Valentine's day, because after that we went to Red Robin to eat burgers. And the garlic parmesean fries. With campfire sauce. Mmmm.

Move and Be Moved

I'm not one for reality shows, but this one takes the cake...or avoids it. I've been following The Biggest Loser on hulu, and it is the one of the most motivating tv shows (reality show, even!) I've seen yet. It is considered a competition because people are voted off, and it definitely has its share of stupid reality drama, like the ungodly amount of commercials and the placement of them before something "dramatic" is supposed to happen, or the clash of personalities (like that bi-atch Joelle), or even the music in the background; but the thing that sets this show apart from the others in the world of tele-crap is that the contestants on this show want the other contestants to win. Sure, they don't want to go home, but during a challenge or a work-out session, it's nothing but motivation. It's wonderful. And at the end, when the hapless contestant has to go home, the camera crews zoom into the future and you get to look at the weight they've lost on their own. It's so happy!!! Ugh, I can't handle it.

It stays with you, too. Because when I am running or kick-boxing (that's right...watch out predators), and I feel like walking or doing what the instructor calls "low intesity" versions of our work out (yeah right), I think to myself that I can do it, and my little Bob or Jillian shoulder angel (for those of you who watch the show, maybe Jillian should be the shoulder devil, except she does the opposite of tempt) says keep going!

Is that ridiculous or what?

And the heavens opened up and said, "Hi there, Hillary!"

A great amount of fortune shone my way this sixth of February, in the year of our Lord, two thousand and nine.

First, the great city of Nashville, TN experienced 60-degree weather today. It was sunny with a perfect breeze. Enough of that.

Foremost, today was the day that I would venture toward downtown to purchase tickets to the Flight of the Conchords show. Tickets were supposed to go on sale at 10:00, so a coworker of mine, Ellen, and I decided to go buy our tickets at the Ryman, and like the fans that we are, we planned to get there at 9:20 or so. We arrived at the Ryman auditorium, and found out (through eavesdropping, because that is the best source for pertinent information) that there would be a lottery for the tickets. GREAT. We get there early, only so we can have the chance of getting tickets. 10 'til 10, a young man who looks sort of like Jon Hamm announces that he's going to call the ticket numbers out and to go stand in line at one of the 3 windows when you hear your number. He calls the first number. He calls the second number. It's me! I won the lottery (I was 1st at the 2nd window)! Well, that's nice. Now it's time to buy the "best available" tickets you can get for $42.50 (that was the price for all of the tickets, after internet several pre-sales have already gone on). I get my tickets, and start heading out the door. I don't have the time to be around all these people who are probably staring at me because I was first in the 2nd line, and who are probably performing secret voodoo curses on me as I head toward the door. That lobby was pretty small to have 50+ impatient people waiting in it.
"Wait," Ellen says. "Let's see where we are sitting." Even though the ticket says something about a folding chair, which means we'll probably be shoved somewhere in the back behind some column or some commemorative statue of Conway Twitty.
The smily bald man with the map of the Ryman auditorium beckons us toward him. We show him our tickets and he says...

"Oh, that's the first row!"

Oh my god. What? Am I sweating?

So there you have it. Luck shined down on us today, and gave us front row seats to see Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie at the Ryman auditorium. I should never think I'd be so lucky!

And they let you take cameras into the Ryman.

-Hillary

Failblog and the First Post

There is absolutely no shame in doing something because everyone else is doing it, unless that thing is wearing leggings for pants, saying "totes" instead of "totally" in sincerity, or voting for Bush Junior the second time around. Other than being able to write for fun, that's why I've started this blog. Instead of succumbing to my own self deprication, thinking that no one would want to read this, I thought, "This will be a hell of a lot of fun." And it will be.

Today in the news:
I got a letter from Wayne Lesser of the University of Texas at Austin today, saying that he was "sorry to have to report" their decision to deny me admission into their graduate program. This is good for 2 reasons:
1. My expectations were met. I have not been thrown out of my Zen state of being. I rejoice to the heavens.
2. This means that the application process has probably started at all of the rest of the schools I applied to (1 down, 9 to go) are looking through my papers and I'll be hearing from them soon too.
Anyway, I'm glad Mr. Lesser informed me of my status there. I'm also glad that he referred to the admission process as "chastening." Please take from that what you will. I certainly did. :)

Signing off for now,
HAH