Recently, I learned that my first semester of grad school is going to take place online. I had rosy dreams of riding the subway (this is how you know I’m a rookie), carrying my bag in one hand and my binder full of notes in the other. I would wear business casual clothes and stop at the gym or at the library between classes, both of which are located nearby. Then, I’d either have a study session with one of my friends at UCLA or bury myself in the fascinating world of neuropsychology. And all would be right in the world.
Well, that’s not quite how things are looking. Even if some of my classes take place in person, the underground subway, much like New York’s subway system, is a breeding ground for COVID-19 right now. Because parking is super expensive in the part of LA that my school is in, everyone will have to take the subway to class. It’s likely that most of my cohort will get COVID. I got a voicemail that went as follows: “Hello Vera, It’s *Daniel speaking from the admissions office of education of [your grad school]. I was just calling to let you know that we will start classes online this fall.” Okay, *Daniel, I thought to myself. As long as we don’t have to pay the campus fees, I guess I’ll choose the online option.
This is a ridiculous thing to write about, but I’m going to write about it anyway: lately, I’ve lost a couple pounds without wanting to. I usually do weight-lifting, but now that most of my workouts are cardio, the weight is dropping. Recently, I weighed myself and noticed that I lost 6 pounds. I googled “how to gain weight”. “What do you mean, how?” my dad joked. “Just eat cakes or something. This is a problem you’re going to daydream about for the rest of your life.” What else? Work is going well. I’m lucky to have two jobs. That said, I haven’t stuck to my goal of going to bed early. Last night, for example, I went to bed at 1 am after calling one of my best friends on the phone and then going on social media because I “wasn’t sure if I could fall asleep” (spoiler: I could). My weekends have been great, though. Everything is taking place at the beach now. It’s the only place in Los Angeles that is actually safe and open.
This is how I felt after 3 beach days in a row.
While at the beach, we had a whipped cream fight for my sister’s birthday. “I want a cheap cake,” she decided at first. You know the type: a heinous combination of frosting and glorified sponge. The problem? They’re not cheap. Which is why we opted for whipped cream. I made a rule that no one can get whipped cream into my hair. Luckily, my hair survived, but we all smelled like a dairy farm by the end. We had to drive home with the windows OPEN. On the HIGHWAY. It was hilarious.
That was my life the past few days. How was yours?