duck-shaped pain

The best news to be gleaned here is that most of the programs I'm applying to for graduate school don't care about one's quantitative score. Those that do care require some very low score on that section just to prove, I guess, that you're not an idiot and you can add well enough to realize how little money you'll be making as a graduate student. But I feel as if I should do better, just to not be in the dreaded 13th percentile.

There is a precedent for these scores, though. They neatly mirror my ACT scores from many years ago, where I scored 35s on the reading, science and vocabulary sections, and a sad, sad 16 on the math part. Oddly enough, I seem to be capable of surviving in everyday life with the math skills I do have. I actually do a lot of math at work, proofing and generating data, and I do that well, along with all sorts of other everyday math like taxes and crap, so my lack of acumen with the subject on tests is puzzling to me.

I have been successfully distracting myself from thinking about the upcoming semester and my dearth of work and other thoughts by thinking about ways in which I can use my free ticket that I received last weekend. I can go anywhere I want, within reason: no Canada or Albania for me. I would like to use it for spring break, if I can: I'll be working by then, so I can afford the other parts of the trip. My break is in early March, and frequent readers of this here thing will recall that I've traveled to San Francisco in March the last two years. I'm thinking about going again, since there's always things I want to do there, but I am open to recommendations.

I went to the Big Chain Bookstore this evening, which was slightly embarrassing, since I went there yesterday, as well. (I'm looking for ways to spend the gift certificate I got for Christmas, [1] since there was quite a bit left over after I bought the two things I wanted: a Spanish dictionary and the new Onion book.) I always feel utterly lame whenever I go to the bookstore more than once a week, and the lack of other things to do here means that I often do go there more than once. I always imagine that the staff there notices how often I am there, even though I have been assured by people who have worked there that no, it takes a Very Special Customer (such as someone who takes their pants off in the middle of the store, or who starts flinging books around in a fit) to get noticed in such a way. I can't wait until the Other Big Chain Bookstore moves into town in a few months, so I can spread my lameness out.

I know, though, that when I worked in retail, I would compile mental profiles of the customers that came in the score frequently. Like, what days they came in, and how long they stayed, and what they looked at, that sort of thing. My job was extremely under-stimulating, so I had to amuse myself somehow. Anyway, we had people who would come in quite often, and who would spend much, much time there, touching the jeans and trying shirt after shirt after shirt on. It was sort of odd, since I worked not in a bookstore, where there are things to read and comfortable chairs to sit in, but at the G*p, which does not lend itself to lingering at all.

Anyway, while I was there, looking at things I didn't buy, a woman sat down next in the chair next to mine. She was carrying a small dog carrier (the soft-walled bag type), with an actual dog inside. I've encountered these before: if I fly, the one person taking a dog as their carry-on luggage will invariably sit next to me and bark or make other noises. This dog was quiet, but jumpy. It moved around in its bag while its owner happily ignored it, gazing at decorating books. Soon, it found that it could move around in a way that would make the bag move, towards some desired direction. So as the owner read, the dog bag slowly crept along the floor, down the aisle, toward the self-help section. I imagine it was disconcerting to see an ambulatory handbag-like-thing moving through the aisles, if you didn't know what was in it. Eventually, the owner looked up and noticed her dog was missing, and went and rescued it.

Do I not want this espresso maker, although I cannot afford it? Oh, yes I do.

[1] I had a much better Christmas, gift-wise, that I expected. I didn't have any money to get anyone a decent gift, so I found the imbalance between what I gave and what I got fairly disheartening, since I wished I could have bought better presents. Anyway, I got a gift certificate, a brown (a brown that even I like [seeing as how I picked it out], a very rich, almost rusty brown) suede jacket, and a DVD player, which were all surprises except for the jacket.

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