I cannot concentrate.  A few days ago, one of the wonderful women from the animal rescue organization that I’ve helped out in the past sent me an email regarding a sweet Pit Bull that had been the victim of terrible abuse (all of her teeth were filed down, she had multiple wounds) and that faced euthanasia if no one rescued her soon.  I forwarded the email to basically every animal lover I knew (knowing that I couldn’t foster the dog because I’ll be travelling for most of the rest of this month) and a few days later I got an email saying that my friend X was going to foster her.  I was excited.  I must admit I had some reservations with X, but I thought that it was great that he had thought this through and decided to make the commitment.  His one issue was that he had to work on the evening that the little one was going to arrive.  Because we are neighbors, the rescue organization asked if I would mind keeping the little one for that first night before turning her over to X.  

 Of course, dear internet, I couldn’t say no.  She arrived skeletal and jittery.  I was reminded of just how truly un-glamorous the after-effects of abuse are (if anyone really needed to be reminded).  This little precious girl followed me everywhere.  She peed when frightened and really all the time because was suffering from incontinence.  When I wouldn’t let her up on my bed, she cried and cried until I finally called her up and then she slept next to me.   When I woke up in the morning, I found that she had had the diarrhea in three separate areas of my apartment–the kitchen, the study, and the entryway.  I was less than happy about it, especially when I discovered it by stepping in it.  But who could be mad?   I must admit that I did feel relieved that I was not the one would had made a commitment to this dog.  But, if I had, I would live by that commitment.

X came and picked up the little lady at around 2:00 pm and by 5:30 he had already decided that he couldn’t foster her.  He came over to my apartment and asked me if I would be a “co-parent” with him.  I told him I couldn’t because I will be going to Florida and Atlanta in a week. He said he had decided that we should not feel guilty for not keeping the little one.   I didn’t say anything, but I burned inside that he would involve me in his fuck-up.  In the moment, I didn’t have fight in me, but now, I just keep shuffling through all the things I should have said. URHGGGGG! 

I’ve been home for the last 2 days from work with a raging fever, a stuffed-up nose and an achy weak sensation emanating from my body.  I’ve also recently started to cough.  I have a lot to do.  I’m going to Florida two weeks and then to Atlanta for a few days, and the day after I return I have a mid-term in the accounting class I’m taking.  I’m finding it really hard to maintain the motivation to study accounting because it is, simply put, boring.   It’s not particularly difficult, but reading an accounting text book is particularly mind-numbing. 

I’ve spent hours in front of the tv, watching mindless reality tv competitions and CNN to hear the latest on the Spitzer fiasco.  The one productive thing I managed to do is throw two loads of laundry in, but other than that I’ve been a feverish slug. 

I finished a Statistics course at the Harvard Extension School last semester and did well.  The professor asked me to TA next fall which i’m thinking about depending on scheduling.  It would at least prove that I, a humanities major, can handle the quant work of business school.    I did fine on the GMAT, well above the average for Harvard, but my score was definitely tilted to the verbal side of things.  Outside of science classes, I really didn’t do quant course-work in college.  I’m planning on taking Macro and Micro Economics over the summer through UMASS.  Both courses are about 7 weeks long.  I’m taking Accounting right now which is completely fine.  Then, my alternate transcript should be pretty complete.  I thought about Calc. which I took in high school but I’m not really interested in taking it.  These other courses immediately appeal to me more, so hopefully it won’t matter.

 Post my HBS rejection, I’ve been thinking about additional schools that I’ll apply to next fall.  My choices are as follows listed in order of how much I would like to attend.

 1. Kellogg

2.  Chicago

3. Haas

4. Yale SOM

 I think those might be the only four which I apply.  Is it lame that I’m not interested in going to business school if I can’t attend one of these schools?  I remember when my S.O. was applying to law schools.  We were living in the middle east at the time and he was struggling to get his applications in to the 4 schools he had selected:  Harvard, Yale, Columbia, NYU.  He also said he had no interest in actually going to law school if it wasn’t going to involve one of these schools.

I feel like I’ve been haunted by attending a small liberal arts college that  a lot of folks have never heard of, especially here in Harvard land.  I’m not interested in repeating that decision with grad school. 

I went out last night.  First to dinner at a little spot near Central Square.  Then, to a party near Inman Square and then to another party in Union Square that was broken up by the Somerville Police within 30 minutes.  Funny enough, the first party was playing a 70’s documentary of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s quest to be Mr. Olympiad and his competition with the man who eventually played the Incredible Hulk.  I was mesmerized by what a massive Beast Ah-nold was, and at one point when my S.O. was mingling, I was sitting on a couch by myself watching the film when a guy came up next to me and began talking.  As luck would have it, he was a first year student at HBS.  Of course…  Though I don’t have official confirmation, I know thatI am now an HBS reject (why do they make me wait?!), and here I was talking to this guy who was from basically every angle a friendly, unadulterated dork.   I wondered what it was about him that HBS found so attractive.  He was from West Virginia, so I guess he was distinct in that fashion.  Whatever it was, I guess it was completely how unimpressive this guy was (at least from the surface) that has made me feel a bit better about my rejection.   

 We went to the next party where we danced until the cops came, and then, because the entire crowd left in one massive crowd, we couldn’t get a cab and we started walking home.  Unfortunately, it had been snowing and I was wearing high heels without any socks and my feet were freezing!  After 15 minutes of walking, we finally caught a cab and came home.  I woke up this morning, feeling better than ever about not going to Harvard. 

I’m feeling better now than I did when I wrote my previous post.  Hmmm… I’m becoming a foster parent tonight to a dog named Willie.  He comes from the same shelter in Tennessee where my girl, Leyla, hails from.  He’s a beagle and really, really cute.  My S.O. was worried and being a soon-to-be-lawyer, he nearly made me sign a written agreement that we would not end up with Willie full time.  We really can’t right now.  Our apartment is, well, an apartment and not a house with a yard and suitable running space for two dogs.  Leyla does ok and though I think she’d prefer a ground-level space where she could squirrel hunt at least through the window, she’s ok.  I’m going to start posting Willie on Craigslist in a few days when he’s had time to settle in. 

 My S.O. called me this morning crying because he had received a phone call from his parents saying that his grandmother had taken a turn for the worst.  She’s not breathing properly and now is not recognizing people.  I’m sad.  I’ve known gran for almost as long as I’ve known Adam.  She’s a spitfire of a lady and though in her nineties, she’s remained lucid and with it up until now.  Even a week ago, when the doctor explained that the outlook for her illness wasn’t good, she said, “I’m not ready to die.”  Thinking about that I realized, that you’re probably never ready to go. 

 Being almost 30, I think about aging more than I have in the past.  I also think about the accomplishments and goals I’ve achieved.  What has really mattered?  It’s really not winning an award or taking that trip you always wanted to take, I think it’s being loved and loving other people, as cheesy and trite as that may sound.  If you’ve got that, you’ve really got something special and something that endures. 

I’m annoyed today with nothing in particular and everything I can think of.  It was below freezing today which made being outside a miserable proposition.  I have a three day weekend, but I don’t really feel like doing much of anything.  I’m reading Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Orchard Keeper and it’s downright depressing.  I watched a terrible video about downed cattle and animal cruelty on the New York Time’s web-site which caused me, a vegetarian, to throw away all the beef-related products that I feed to my dog.  I’m somehow disgusted with the planet–the pollution, the cars, the greed, the cookie cutter housing, the self-centeredness, the shopping malls and highways, the rich, etc.  I’m in such a foul mood…

A few years ago, a friend of mine sent me a card with a powerful quote by Gerda Klein, a holocaust survivor.   I’ve thought of this quote so often, that it seems appropriate to write it down.

“Ilse, a childhood friend of mine, once found a raspberry in the concentration camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf. Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry and you give it to your friend.”

 I imagine the joy Ilse felt when she gave this raspberry to her friend; she discovered one of life’s secrets in that concentration camp, a secret that’s so easy to forget–that giving really can be more rewarding than taking.  I sound so sentimental…  Ilse later died in the concentration camp.  I only hope that throughout my lifetime I can be even a fraction of as generous as this little girl. 

Apply to Kellogg

Apply to Chicago GSB

Increase Start-Up Sales

Read two non-fiction books per month and keep a list of them

Get an “A” in Accounting Course

Write in this blog twice per week

Be a generous, sincere person

Bike to work every day

Become a more creative vegetarian cook (get some vegetarian cook books)

I applied to Harvard Business School this year during the Round 2 cycle.  Apparently, most interviews are sent by mid-February.  HBS was the only school in which I applied because my significant other is in law school at Harvard and geographically, my options were limited.  This waiting really sucks, but I’m certain that the rejection letter I’ll receive on March 26th will suck even more. 

It hurts to be rejected.  It feels a bit like when as an awkward, zitty ninth grader, I expressed my undying affection for an older senior boy in high school who immediately rejected me.  The hope is what hurts.  If you never thought it possible, if you never envisioned the possibility-you obviously wouldn’t be vulnerable to the hurt. 

 Another annoying problem is that most of the people my S.O. (significant other) and I know and hang out with here are Harvard students.  I can’t help but feel inferior and sort of feel disdainful of them as a consequence.  Generally, everyone is from an upper middle class background.  Their parents are professionals.  Legacies of privilege, they attended schools within the ridiculous ivy league in undergrad.   bleh!   I joke with my S.O. that while he was at camp during the summers, I was peeling potatoes.  poor me… boo hoo…

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