Weather: cold and sunny, periodically snowing
Taking a break from: thinking about starting to study psych

Suit. w00t.

The suit hanging on the right side of my closet is the only indication you'll find in my life that I have a medical school interview on Saturday. The interview used to be scheduled for the 25th, but it conflicted with another non-moveable one, so it got moved to the 4th, and I never actually updated my wall calendar. I didn't write it in a day planner (although my mother did). I think I'm mostly trying, and failing, not to think about it.

But yes, I have a suit. It's black, which is precisely the colour I DIDN'T want to get, but it has a fairly obvious pinstripe, so that's okay. (I had, like, an hour to buy one, so it wasn't exactly choice central.)

Actually, it's just the suit jacket hanging in my closet at the moment, since the pants are in being hemmed. I am very unused to having pants hemmed. I generally have the opposite problem with pants -- of them being too short. Zara, however, is a store that fits small and long, and my (size 6) suit pants pool over my feet when I have them on, even with the heels I plan to wear.

So I took the pants over to the alteration place on campus, and the lady there pinned one side up for me until it was just the right length. Perfect. I sit down in the dressing room to take them off, and -- horror of horrors -- the pants ride up to mid-calf. Of course, this is with my legs crossed, and I don't plan on crossing my legs in the interview -- but still! The right length standing is too short sitting; the pant leg that WASN'T pinned up is of course just perfect when I sit down, despite turning my foot into a puddle of fabric when I stand. I think the problem is that my leg from hip to knee is just too damn long. I look normal enough standing, but if my knee joint only came a few inches sooner, the fabric woldn't ride up so much when I sat down. (I'm not the first woman to curse her thighs, but I might be the only freak with this particular problem.)

In the end I just handed them in to be hemmed as they are. If they're a complete disaster when I get them back, I'll just rip it out and do it again myself. It's only $8. Seriously, of everything this week, this is not worth my stress. But I keep thinking about it nonetheless.

Oh, the trials and tribulations of office wear. It's a clothing category I've never had the cause or opportunity to dive into. I'm not sure how I feel about wearing a suit -- "Old", "Serious", "Professional", and "Costume" are all words that come to mind when I put it on. I'm not sure a suit really showcases my personality, but on the other hand, I do want to take these interviews seriously. Problem is, wearing a suit kind of makes me feel like I'm playacting the role of someone serious.

Ah well. It's all good. As long as I don't burst out laughing mid-interview.

~SQ
P.S. Yes, I did just discover the link-making tool in Blogger. Yes, I am slow.

Enneagram Test

the Peacemaker -- BX, or Enneagram type NINE.

"I am at peace"

Peacemakers are receptive, good-natured, and supportive. They seek union with others and the world around them.

How to Get Along with Me

-If you want me to do something, how you ask is important. I especially don't like expectations or pressure.
-I like to listen and to be of service, but don't take advatage of this.
-Listen until I finish speaking, even though I meander a bit.
-Give me time to finish things and make decisions. It's OK to nudge me gently and nonjudgmentally.
-Ask me questions to help me get clear.
-Tell me when you like how I look. I'm not averse to flattery.
-Hug me, show physical affection. It opens me up to my feelings.
-I like a good discussion but not a confrontation.
-Let me know you like what I've done or said.
-Laugh with me and share in my enjoyment of life.

What I Like About Being a Nine

-being nonjudgmental and accepting
-caring for and being concerned about others
-being able to relax and have a good time
-knowing that most people enjoy my company; I'm easy to be around
-my ability to see many different sides of an issue and to be a good mediator and facilitator
-my heightened awareness of sensations, aesthetics, and the here and now
-being able to go with the flow and feel one with the universe

What's Hard About Being a Nine

-being judged and misunderstood for being placid and/or indecisive
-being critical of myself for lacking initiative and discipline
-being too sensitive to criticism; taking every raised eyebrow and twitch of the mouth personally
-being confused about what I really want
-caring too much about what others will think of me
-not being listened to or taken seriously

Nines as Children Often

-feel ignored and that their wants, opinions, and feelings are unimportant
-tune out a lot, especially when others argue
-are "good" children: deny anger or keep it to themselves

Nines as Parents

-are supportive, kind, and warm
-are sometimes overly permissive or nondirective

Apocalyptic Images on a Monday

-in a strangely empty glassed-in eating area, a bird swooping down to the ground to grab a deserted french fry

-brightly-coloured posters, still stuck to a tackboard on a wall removed during construction, flapping in the wind

-the card reader remaining dull and blank despite repeated swipes of the card

-the vending machine, empty except for two rolls of Menthos

-a picture of the second year health sciences class, tacked askance on a bare wall, 8 random splodges of yellow paint obliterating several faces

-the word FUCK scrawled halfheartedly in chalk on an empty bulletin board

-dull grey sunlight glinting on dirty orange tarpaulin

-the half-eaten remains of a sandwich on a table under a flickering fluorescent light

-the view from a tall, thin window: a narrow pathway and the multitudinous tall, thin windows of the building on the other side; a view into an office, darkened except for the blood-red digital clock saying 6:13

-a half-finished game of pool on a ripped table with broken cues, in a room half-darkened by burnt-out lightbulbs

-the sodium lamp buzzing an angry orange as a dark silhouette scuttles beneath it, head bent against the snow

-in the library, a row of photocopiers with their lids up, each dusty glass surface bearing an "out of order" sign

-the compact shelving whirs, sliding three rows silently sideways; at the other end of the opening corridor, a sleeping form roused by the light blinks owlishly and pulls her coat tighter around herself

-2 packs of mini eggs abandoned on the closed food court counter, alongside a $5 bill and three plastic forks

-a living room, dark and deserted except for a TV displaying static

Some days, no matter how much goes on around you, it just seems like you're the last person on earth.

~SQ