A month...

I don't know why I never blog anymore. It's tough for me because I see these great blogs that are just so funny to read, so witty, and mine just isn't. Blah.

I officially got zero grad school acceptances. And oh, did it hurt. But I'm over it. I got pretty down at first, and cried each time I was rejected, and thought that maybe I just couldn't cut it as a writer and that I was stupid to even try...but I applied to sickeningly selective schools. Half of the ones I applied to have a less than 1% acceptance rate for fiction writers. That's, you know, awful. The other three schools have in the neighborhood of 5% acceptance rates. Seems so much better than .8 or .9%, but is obviously still quite terrible. So I'm trying not to beat myself up too much.

Aside from that, things have been going fairly well...I recently learned that I'll be doing an internship with Deep South Magazine, which is exciting...it's unpaid and I'll just be doing it from home, but it's experience. I got a story published in the university's student review (my first fiction publication - yay!). I've been writing a lot...just wrote a story that I am liking, and I'm several chapters into a novel. I'm at over 10,000 words and it's officially the longest writing project I've ever attempted. I've never made it this far before.

I actually didn't even sit down to blog right now, but to write, so I'm off. I need to keep plugging away at this...I'm already thinking a lot about next year's applications, and the key to success is having a great writing sample, so write I must. Au revoir!

Someone will pick it up.

I see people relatively frequently who make no effort to hide the fact that they're throwing trash on the ground. It often comes from their cars: they roll down the window, stick out a hand, and drop a cup, a paper, a bag on the ground, then roll the window back up and drive away. This happens when there are many other people around, like sitting at a stoplight in a line of cars, or like what happened yesterday. My friend Susan and I were in the drive-through (it will never be "thru" to me) of Panera. The guy in front of me almost angrily threw a paper cup on the ground. There was zero shame, no effort to hide it, and he looked mad at the world, like he was throwing the cup at the Earth, not just on it. I had to bite my tongue hard hard hard not to yell something, even just, "NICE!" Like, DUDE! What the hell? I SEE YOU!! Restaurants always have trash cans around...and why, exactly, should the Panera employees have to pick up your garbage? But that's the attitude people have. Someone will pick it up. I had some friends who were socially conscious people, presumably cared about the world, cared about such things as global warming, etc, but they admitted with no shame that they litter, and not only do they do it, but they find it acceptable. They think there's nothing wrong with it. Why? Because SOMEONE WILL PICK IT UP. It's disgusting.

Also, food for thought...this opinion is not popular, but I don't think that cigarette butts should be thrown on the ground any more than any other trash. I'm not sure why people who "don't litter" often DO think it's okay to drop a butt on the ground, stamp it with their foot, and walk on. Mad props to the people who make sure they're put out and find a safe receptacle, like a beer or soda can that's already in the trash. Way to go, people.

I bite my tongue because it takes a lot for me to want to talk to strangers, especially angrily, but beware: my children are the litter gestapo, and they will call you on it. "Mom, why did that guy throw his trash on the ground? DisGUSting!!" Yes, children. People are disgusting.

Depression Sucks

That's why I'm fighting it.

http://happymonkeyproject.blogspot.com/2011/02/about-happy-monkey-project.html

He sees you when you're sleeping...

So I thought of another reason not to do Santa.

We tell kids that Santa's watching them and that they'd better be good or they'll get a lump of coal in their stockings. Okay, well, I don't tell my kids this. I just sneer and shrug my shoulders when they ask me about Santa. But that's the idea, right, that Santa's watching and keeps tabs on who's naughty and nice.

But how often do you suppose parents actually withhold the Santa present from their kids, no matter the behavior? I can tell you I'd have a hard time doing it. The whole reason I started thinking about this is that Olivier has been full of attitude and grumpiness lately, and I thought he probably deserves a lump of coal, but there's already a big fat present hiding in the basement for him to share with his baby brother, and he's getting it, crappy attitude or not.

What does this teach kids? We tell them there will be consequences if they're not good, and then those consequences never come. They act like little punks and still wake up on Christmas morning to gifts under the tree and overflowing stockings, which really just tells them that no one really cares about their behavior and that they can do what they want and still get what they want.

If you don't have kids, it's easy to say, "No, my kids won't get presents from Santa if they're bad." You can do the whole elf on the shelf thing and threaten threaten threaten. But following through is another matter. It is not easy at all. Little kids have a hard time understanding consequences like that, the kind that aren't immediate. So it's really hard to reinforce the things we try to teach them. But telling them to be good or else without following through seems to me like it might do more harm than anything.

Yet another reason this whole Santa thing is a bad idea.

The Perks of Being Pregnant

It's been three months since my last blog post. What have I been doing? Getting fat, that's what. Big and fat. My fourth baby will be arriving next month, because I didn't have enough kids already.

This will be our fourth child, but it's my five hundred thousandth pregnancy. Yes, five hundred thousand. I must really like to be pregnant. I've been knocked up for much of the last eight years. Today, while examining my expanding abdomen, I began thinking about the pros of being knocked up. There are many that are not as obvious as one might think.

So here you have it. The Pensive Monkey's Perks of Being Pregnant:

1.) First of all, when you get fat enough, your belly button begins to pop out. Now, this might be gross, but at the same time, it's really quite convenient. My belly button is now 100% lint free. It's impeccably clean at all times.

My navel's cleaner than yours.

2.) You can use your huge belly as a shelf for snacks and drinks. Saves a ton of money on side tables.

3.) But don't stop there. You also have a built in shelf for all sorts of necessary items:

Books.

Staplers.

Stuffed monkeys.

Potted plants.

4.) Most hospitals give their patients these awesome water jugs. They're big, they're insulated, and they come with straws! Totally worth the pains of labor:

5.) Speaking of the hospital, if you want to avoid an epidural, one option is to receive an intravenous narcotic. I did this with my first. I was high as a kite, and it was totally legal. (I've since opted for the epidural, and it's really the way to go. But if you like to feel doped up, the option is there.)

6.) When strangers ask you when you're due, no one says you have to tell the truth. You can say, "I was due four days ago!" and they'll be none the wiser, but they'll be more likely to say, "Oh, you look so good!" If you tell them the truth, they'll probably say something that makes you feel fat. Which you are, but you don't need to be reminded day in and day out. So just lie, and you'll likely get a compliment!

7.) You're more likely to be the recipient of random acts of kindness when out in public. People might move to give you a seat on the bus or let you go ahead of them in line. I've been ushered to the front of the line at airports while hugely pregnant. Then again, you should never, ever expect this. Because really, most people are jerks. So. Forget number seven.

8.) That's all I got. Screw this. I'm not having any more babies. How many big hospital mugs does a person need anyway?

To Fall

Ah, fall. You snuck in and then blew your cool breath to extinguish the flames of summer. And I thank you.

This is my ode to Autumn, who I do so love. Summer is still here...but it's hanging by a thin thread. Fall will win. Summer will fall. The trees will soon begin to glow, and then golden leaves will rain upon the street. I've already dug out the sweaters and bought a snappy red trench coat. We're tossing around the idea of a fire pit. I'm mum shopping tomorrow. My apple cinnamon candles make me weak in the knees. Ah, fall.

Things are going well for me. This is my final semester as an undergraduate, and while I initially thought it would be a bit nightmarish, it actually seems quite manageable. I am in two fiction courses, which will leave me with three (hopefully decent) short stories at the end of the semester. I'm also acting as editorial assistant on a poetry anthology (exciting), and my senior seminar involves reading a stack of books that were on my to-read list. Nice.

Speaking of reading lists, if you enjoy reading and haven't already heard of http://www.goodreads.com/, you should check it out. You can rate what you have read and make a list of what you still need to read, which is pretty awesome, especially if you're like me and tend to wander into libraries and draw a blank. (I used to do the same with music stores, but now I just buy mp3s. But we've already discussed my feelings on digital books. Not happening.) You can add friends, straight from facebook, if that's how you roll, and see what they're reading, liking, disliking, etc. It's pretty sweet.

Standardized Tests...

...blow. I hate them. Loathe them. Bomb them.

I registered for the GRE last month, which was $160. I bought two practice books (one math, one verbal), and devoted some time to studying, although I'll admit that I lost steam rather quickly and decided not to try anymore. Oops. People said, "It's not that bad!"

It was that bad. I guessed on so. Many. Questions. Both in the math and verbal sections. Which is pathetic. I'm supposed to be smart. All these people think I'm smart. And I blew it.

I'm not going to post my scores here. I'm not particularly happy with them. Suffice to say, I scored well below average on the quantitative section, and above average, but not as high as I would have liked, on the verbal. I cried afterward. Yes. I felt that defeated.

Not only did the test itself suck, but I spent all that time and money on it, and I really just don't feel like a standardized test is a good measure of everyone's intelligence. I don't do well on objective tests like that, where there's one correct answer. I like a good essay question, where I can explain my logic.

Plus, I felt like I was applying to be a spy or something. They actually used metal detectors (ha, freudian slip...I just typed mental detectors -- no brains allowed!). I had to turn my pockets inside out. Etc. Overkill, maybe? No?

I'm applying to MFA programs. From what I've read, they don't care much about the GRE scores. Let's hope that's true.