My boss came up to me to tell me that it was my last day today. Is this what it feels like to be let go or to be fired? It is ridiculously unfathomable. Like I cannot picture not coming back into work because it was so routine. I feel as though I am supposed to be rolling in tomorrow but I know that I can't. It's not like I can't come to visit, but I won't be working, therein lies the difference.
It seems surreal. Like this is just another day, even though it is my final day. Truthfully, I was hoping to work tomorrow and have tomorrow be my last day, versus having today be and ultimately cut abruptly short of just one day.
I don't feel like crying, I don't feel much of anything really. I cleaned out my folders where I stored things and had my boss tell me that she would need the keys to the drawers in her office. Again, just doesn't seem plausible. Like I will have another person come in and take over from where I left off in the Fall quarter. But I still don't seem to constrict in a general sense.
I will miss my coworkers, my boss, my other boss. Working the front desk and answering the telephone calls. Basically I will miss being an office assistant. And now I just wonder:
What am I going to do now?
I still have a Japan interview coming up, I still am waiting to hear from an Academic Advising position that my friend put in the good word for me. But as far as I am in life, I have no idea. Doesn't really scare me, it just leaves me wondering into different portals with the same constant thought:
What now?
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Reflection time part deux
I sometimes find it hard to actually have the urge to open up my macbook pro from its sleep mode and begin typing about my day, because it is very unproductive at the moment. I have only finals to think about.
But as I am procrastinating again on three edits that are due tomorrow in the morning, along with revision narratives one page each, I decided to reflect a bit and look back on my years.
My freshman year was less exciting than most. Where many were having fun and trying to get out, I was lucky enough to get a ride that first quarter because I didn't get my license over the summer. I luckily received it in october and began driving the car left and right. That habit died very quickly, as my parents constantly remind me.
On top of being in classes, I was unsure of the major that I was pursuing. I didn't know that I wanted to be a social worker. And the remedial English classes were deterring me from doing anything special with English. But I got good grades in my research papers, and teachers were praising me for the work I put into my English papers. And even more so, when it came to identifying the premise behind the story and not being corrected like I used to back in high gave me more incentive to venture into the world of English. By the end of my freshman year, I was getting enrolled in English.
Sophomore year had to have been the most dull that I can remember, because I was focusing a ton on my religious studies as well as a bit of writing classes. I took a religion class that both my advisor and I thought would help me but in the end I had to take a few additional religion classes, to which I am thankful for, because it helped me figure out where my true beliefs lie. I am not saying that I was converted. But I did feel more at ease with my spiritual and religious philosophies. I no longer stood petrified at the thought of life after death, and I simply just began living out what I have been calling life.
Junior year was a butt load of writing and English lit classes. I felt as though my popping out of story after story was proving to be uninterested, and started making me want to challenge my writing, and begin an outlet for creative non-fiction, which I loved. I still decided to write some fiction pieces, but without a thought I would have careless tossed in the trash bin where they belong. By junior year was also the time that I found a stable job that had specific hours to comply with, and I had people working under me and also working with me. Plus, it was on campus so that was also nice; I was saving up the gas.
Until finally, my senior year. I recall good memories and bad. I recall changing my position as a tutor towards an office assistant. I watched plays with friends and laughed when we talked about our stories in humor writing. I wrote with purpose again because I wanted to go for a humorous appeal while also contemplating what I would want to publish later on in my life. I studied an epic poem that further made me philosophically question my position in this world. I started a writing group which I intend to follow through in the summer as we collaborate and critique works. I have a checklist of books that are waiting for me to hop into bed with them, while the drawer light encompasses and gives me eyes I need due to my lack of night vision. I want to camp, go to the beach, run again, build up my knee strength to have it work again. But most importantly...
I need to find a job to pay my phone bill. *sigh*
But as I am procrastinating again on three edits that are due tomorrow in the morning, along with revision narratives one page each, I decided to reflect a bit and look back on my years.
My freshman year was less exciting than most. Where many were having fun and trying to get out, I was lucky enough to get a ride that first quarter because I didn't get my license over the summer. I luckily received it in october and began driving the car left and right. That habit died very quickly, as my parents constantly remind me.
On top of being in classes, I was unsure of the major that I was pursuing. I didn't know that I wanted to be a social worker. And the remedial English classes were deterring me from doing anything special with English. But I got good grades in my research papers, and teachers were praising me for the work I put into my English papers. And even more so, when it came to identifying the premise behind the story and not being corrected like I used to back in high gave me more incentive to venture into the world of English. By the end of my freshman year, I was getting enrolled in English.
Sophomore year had to have been the most dull that I can remember, because I was focusing a ton on my religious studies as well as a bit of writing classes. I took a religion class that both my advisor and I thought would help me but in the end I had to take a few additional religion classes, to which I am thankful for, because it helped me figure out where my true beliefs lie. I am not saying that I was converted. But I did feel more at ease with my spiritual and religious philosophies. I no longer stood petrified at the thought of life after death, and I simply just began living out what I have been calling life.
Junior year was a butt load of writing and English lit classes. I felt as though my popping out of story after story was proving to be uninterested, and started making me want to challenge my writing, and begin an outlet for creative non-fiction, which I loved. I still decided to write some fiction pieces, but without a thought I would have careless tossed in the trash bin where they belong. By junior year was also the time that I found a stable job that had specific hours to comply with, and I had people working under me and also working with me. Plus, it was on campus so that was also nice; I was saving up the gas.
Until finally, my senior year. I recall good memories and bad. I recall changing my position as a tutor towards an office assistant. I watched plays with friends and laughed when we talked about our stories in humor writing. I wrote with purpose again because I wanted to go for a humorous appeal while also contemplating what I would want to publish later on in my life. I studied an epic poem that further made me philosophically question my position in this world. I started a writing group which I intend to follow through in the summer as we collaborate and critique works. I have a checklist of books that are waiting for me to hop into bed with them, while the drawer light encompasses and gives me eyes I need due to my lack of night vision. I want to camp, go to the beach, run again, build up my knee strength to have it work again. But most importantly...
I need to find a job to pay my phone bill. *sigh*
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