Was an interesting experience.
They were hiring basically anyone on the spot, so needless to say, I got a job. Fortunately, I got one as a ticket seller, rather than someone running the games, rides, or concessions. Training took 45 minutes, because it was incredibly mindless. A 5th-grader could do it. My job consisted of sitting in an air-conditioned booth, selling tickets at 50 cents each with no tax (so the math was incredibly easy), taking people's money, giving them tickets using a self-explanatory touch-screen computer, and giving them correct change if they needed it. Literally anything else, like problems ("I want a refund!" "The dude at the ride took too many tickets from me!"), I was supposed to refer the customer to Customer Service. It was monotonous and simple. But I liked the people I was working with and made $8.10 an hour. I didn't go insane.
Of course, there were a lot of things I tired of that probably would have driven me insane had it lasted longer than 5 days. The thing I hated most was when there was a line at my booth, and my computer would crash or something (or my boss was madly insisting I go on break), so I'd close off the slots in the glass and say, very loudly, so that most of the people in the line should have been able to hear, "I'm having computer problems, so you'll have to go to the ticket booth over there, 10 feet to my right." But of course, the person next in line would apparently completely ignore my comment and step up, thrusting money in my face, declaring how many tickets they wanted, and I had to explain to them again, so that they stormed off exasperated by having to move 10 feet. Or they'd say "Well, I just want four tickets," as if them wanting four instead of 20 would magically make my computer work. Even if they couldn't hear me, you'd think they'd notice me telling something to everyone in front of them, and see everyone walking to the next booth, money still in hand, and pause to see what was up before thrusting cash at me. No one did. NO ONE. As I would take the time explaining and redirecting people, the line would still accumulate, requiring more explanations, and no time to fix my computer. I would even attempt to just ignore them and try to be even more obvious about my incredibly obvious business, but they'd still thrust money at me and yell what they wanted. Another ticket seller would have to come into my booth and one of us would stand there redirecting the customers while the other fixed the computer.
Another thing I tired of was being hit on. One notable instance was I was exiting a porta-potty, and the guy waiting outside of it (who was gross, of course) went "Hel-lo," in that skeezy way, and "How are you doing tonight?" I just walked away, but part of me wanted to stop and ask "First of all, I'm exiting a porta-potty. Second, I'm dressed as a carnie. Third, I'm wearing huge sunglasses covering half my face, so you can't even really tell if I'm attractive or not. Yet you still try to put the moves on me, and expect it to actually work? And what if we actually did work out? Would you be up for explaining to friends and family 'Yeah, we met when she was a carnie. I asked her out as she was leaving a porta-potty and I was going in to shit.'?"
But it was mostly a mostly painless job. On the last day I was working, Nik had the day off and came to visit, so that was a nice way to finish the whole event.
I continue seeking a "real" job, but still doubt anyone will hire me for just 2 months, and as more time passes, my chances lessen. So I'll probably just be poor and unemployed until I leave for Africa. I have a lot of books to read in preparation, anyway.
I haven't yet found a job for the summer. Although, I haven't been trying super-hard until recently because I've been back and forth from Vancouver, unsure of when I'd actually be in town for an interview or to start work. The Lakefair is this week, and they are accepting applications tomorrow. I may have a depressing week as a carnie. But at least it's money. I'm hoping to just cashier some place, at the least, but there are surprisingly few places hiring just for the summer, or at least for the next two months (until I leave for South Africa). I'm thinking I'll probably just be poor and unemployed for the summer.
In the meantime, since I have no school and nothing to do, I've been going into the WFAC more frequently. This past week I got a new (working) camera, and finally got some pictures of Pu-lynx at the WFAC, as well as a couple other cats.
Right: Lounging on the porch with one of his toys. One of the few times, aside from when he's asleep, that he was actually still.
Left: A close-up of Pu-lynx, as he starts to get sleepy from playing and laying in the sun.
Left: One of the bobcats. They make wonderfully amusing sounds that I wouldn't expect to come from a cat. Pu-lynx makes incredibly strange/adorable sounds too, but I don't know how much of that is kitten sounds or lynx sounds.
I have resurrected my bike. My dad visited yesterday, and bought me a rack, basket, and pump for it. I'm out-of-touch with it, though, and it needs a tune-up, but it works, and now that I live out in this beautiful area with so many trails nearby, I hope to ride it a lot more this summer than I have in previous years. Especially with the weather so beautiful. For the past week or so, there's been hardly a cloud in the sky, and hopefully it will continue to be this way for most of the remainder of summer. I look forward to many adventures.
So the other day I sent off my Wildlands application and short essay. I wish I'd had the drive to sit down and write the essay as soon as I got the application in the mail and send it off that very day, but instead I took a few days, since I was visiting Vancouver/Portland. "I bet it just filled up after they sent out this application," I kept thinking in my pessimistic manner, in regards to the South Africa program in fall. "I bet it's too much to hope to try to do this at the last moment." Well, I just got a voicemail and it turns out I was right -- the South Africa program had just filled up. But as the woman was opening my application, she received an e-mail from one of its students, canceling her participation. I got in, and into the Brazil project too. So I can officially let myself get excited now.
Spring quarter ended well. Holy shit am I glad to be done with another year. And the next year looks like it'll be pretty fun, if everything works out and Wildlands Studies accepts my application. Ideally, I will be participating in the South Africa Project for most of fall quarter, and the Brazil Project for most of spring quarter. Both projects involve field work with animals, discussing and encouraging conservation with the locals, an insane amount of backpacking, etc. During winter quarter, I've assumed I'll do an independent contract of some sort, though not exactly sure what. But at dinner last night with my family they were discussing a family vacation during that time and I suggested going to Indonesia, or maybe back to India (since basically I was only in one little corner of it when I went before), and they were quite excited about both. So hopefully I'll tie an independent contract into that. This is all little more than hopes and dreams at this point, but I'm still pretty stoked. Mostly abroad would be a great final year to spend college.
...Of Spring quarter, that is. YES. I still haven't quite figured out my contract for Summer, but I've decided not to worry about it until Tuesday evening, when all of my stuff for the current quarter is finished. I will be taking a class about illustrated narratives, which isn't related to zoology at all, but I really must get my art on. Since early high school I've had all these fragmented ideas for graphic novels tumbling about in my brainmeats, and I'm hoping this class will facilitate their transfer to paper. It'll be cool at any rate. Tomorrow I'm meeting with someone about studying abroad next fall. Or spring. Or the whole year. I got the impression that my dad was much more opposed to the idea than he actually is, so hopefully this will work out. Blah blah school.
I have not been getting into the programs I want and NEED in order to graduate. Even with registration priority. Last quarter, registration fucked me over. For next year, my senior year, my last chance, I was not selected to be in the class that fulfills all my requirements for graduation and my future, the class I'd been looking forward to since 12th grade (before it even involved studying abroad), because the teacher said she decided to choose a different student, one she hadn't taught before (unlike me), "in order to avoid undue favoritism". Of course she ended the e-mail on a high note, with compliments about how much I kicked ass in her class earlier this year, and apparently I'm #3 on the waitlist, but who is going to spend hours of effort on an application and then change their mind? I'm not resting my hopes on that happening. I don't rest hopes on anything.
I will begin my entry by first apologizing to the probably hundreds of barnacles, snails, and other invertebrates that I likely killed by stepping on last week. Invertebrate life in the tide pools is so abundant that there is hardly any area as large as my foot that is free of life.
The program I'm taking in school is focusing on invertebrates. It's pretty cool, actually. I expected to be disappointed -- but then again, I always do, which makes it all the more wonderful when I am pleasantly surprised instead. (And if I do end up being disappointed, hey, I was expecting it anyway, right?) Last friday we went out on a boat in Boston harbor to gather specimens. If it wasn't so exciting, I would have been pretty miserable, since it was rainy (and at times snowing) and I couldn't feel my arms, due to rooting around in the freezing water, grabbing mysterious squishy things. This past week we've been learning about worms, so on Tuesday we went out to the campus beach and dug some up. Yesterday we were focusing specifically on parasitic worms. My teacher had requested someone to bring in a dead raccoon, if they came across one, so we could cut up its intestines and see if there were parasites inside. I found one on the way to class. I had some strange looks from people, walking from my car to the building, and an awkward moment in an elevator with someone inquiring about my bloody trash bag. "It's for my teacher," I explained, although I'm sure that must have just raised more questions. There didn't end up being any worms in it anyway. What a waste.
Phew. Time for an update on my life, I suppose.
