So, I got the job.
I'm pretty excited about it and, after two days of training, I'm pretty sure I can handle it. So my new title is "Operations Specialist for Latin and South America, and the Middle East". I kind of forgot to about the "Middle East" part, but oh, well. It's not like it's a tourist hotspot of the moment. The impending war isn't really promising either.
"What exactly do you do?"
I'm so tired of hearing that. It's really hard to explain my job. I have my own office, with a door and a window, and more money. I confirm hotels and tours with our ground partners in the respective areas and handle customer service and emergencies.
And I really want a PDA. I think that it would help me in my job. My parents think I'm nuts. I just need to be really, really, really organized. The girl that I'm replacing is totally anally retentive and I'm trying to be that way because her system works so well. But I don't really have a good handle on time management.
I guess my brother didn't do very well his first semester. He's supposedly on academic probation. He feels really bad, and I really feel for him. I know what it's like to have such high hopes and then get your final grades. It's not his fault. He doesn't know time management either. He doesn't know how to study. My parents put a lot of pressure on us to do well academically and I think sometimes I forgot that they would love me no matter what. We were talking about that today. I told them not to be too hard on him because, like me, he's hard enough on himself. So what if you don't complete college in four years. No one does anymore. A lot of degree programs take almost five years. I obviously didn't finish college. And Annie, who's attending the University of Central Florida in Orlando and majoring in sport medicine (I think...and she's also on her 3rd college. No one knows what's up with our family and 3 colleges. I did it, Annie did it...maybe Greg will do it too, who knows?), won't finish in four years. And that's ok. I think we all have some kind of inherent need to make our parents proud, as if that means that we have their love forever. I had convinced myself that my parents would kill me if I didn't do well in school...and perhaps it's a little true. Greg was so cocky when he started at school. He had done great on his SATs and was signing up for honor classes, when he was never an honor student in high school. I was worried. I wanted to tell him to take it easy his first semester, get into a groove first and then try to show off. You want to college. You're doing better than more than half of the kids in your graduating class. You don't have to prove to anyone that you're smart by taking courses you're going to drown in. I think my parents were a little taken aback by his enthusiasm, but let him go with it. School is important to them...but if Greg is unhappy...or scared...or over his head, he needs to know that the money (he'll lose his scholarships if he doesn't get a 2.7) is not the big issue. Neither are his grades. What is important is that he's happy and healthy and trying the best that he can. Every time I get on a kick about this sort of thing, I feel like Stuart Smalley on SNL "because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me." College is not the most important thing in the world.
That's what my promotion meant to me. I could say "Look at me. Two and half years of college and I'm still fine." One could argue that I could be making more money if I had a degree, but I think that's bullshit. Especially at my job. And I happen to know for a fact that the people from my high school class who do have the all-holy college degree are working at jobs that have nothing to do with their degree...c'mon. I don't think Macy's cares wether or not you were on Dean's List four years in a row. Greg will be just fine. I just wish I could tell him that. There's always next semester, Gregwa. You can't live in the past and obsess over your mistakes. You can't change it. You can only go forward and you can't live to make other people happy. If you're happy, the people who truly love you will be happy too.
I guess I'm just worried about him. Worried about him the way I wish someone had worried about me.
Anyway, I'm tired of typing and listening to those stupid NBC ads talking about how 'Friends' were your friends. It's a TV show. Get over it.
I'm not looking forward to this week. Mikey's friend came up for a week. A week. I didn't know he was even coming until last night and wouldn't you think he would ask first? Of course not. I'm going to need my space. And if I rip his head off...well, that's not going to be my fault. We're not running a damn Holiday Inn. If he dirties dishes, he does them. Last time he was over, they both made dinner and used every freakin' pan in the house. I won't put up with it. I'm through being polite.
Hmmm...I bet Neil will yell at me for writing that. What if somebody sees....who cares!? This is my damn journal and I pay rent at the damn house. I can write whatever I want.
I really don't feel well...I don't want to get sick.