Do you ever feel like the entire world is just against you?
Like you’re MSU and UNC got a twenty point lead and man, you’re trying pretty hard, but there is just not enough hours in the day (like that sports allusion? Thanks. That’s all I’ve got).
I think I stay a little too busy maybe. I spend 15 hours a week in school, ten in work, seven training, 10 at fraternity events, and the rest studying. I’m so tired all the time. Even when I’m working super hard at everything, it feels like I’m never doing as well as I want to. I don’t want to just “do” everything. I want to be PERFECT at everything! Dammit! Perfection!
I’ve finally discovered the answer to succeeding at everything: A Nanny.
I need a nanny. It’s not just a desire, it’s a freakin’ necessity. Think of how much easier life would be with a nanny. No more time spent waiting for the bus to take you to and fro’. Nope, the nanny and her minivan can take me to class, to work, to Louis Street, to the library. And when I’m ready to go home? I’ll have one of those awesome Disney Princess cellphones that only have like, once number programmed: the nanny. And she’ll come fetch me.
I can have lunches delivered to me. Fresh lunches. No more Healthy Choice Soy Chicken nuggets! At night, I could have dinner! I think our apartment deserves to have its oven used at least once this year.
And the nanny would tutor me when I don’t understand everything for a class. She could make flashcards to quiz me and when I fail or don’t do so hot on something (as is my life currently), Nanny can rub my back and give me fresh baked chocolate chip cookies (Mama Ann’s recipe, of course) to make me feel all better.
Since I’m so busy, Nanny would have some down time. While I’m at school or work, Nanny can clean my room and do my laundry. She can also go grocery shopping for me, fix my dresser which broke a few weeks ago, sort through my clothes to give them away, and then she can take a nap. After all, even Nannies need a break.
Nanny could be my wingwoman on the weekends, picking me up and dropping me off from events I’m stuck going to. She can tell me if I look cute or if the outfit needs changing. And when I do long runs on the weekend, Nanny can time me, make sure I don’t die, and reassure me that in fact, I am not lost even though I am in a sketchy neighborhood (actually, maybe Nanny should take judo just to ensure that I am safe in said sketchy neighborhoods).
Nanny could also respond to the emails and voicemails I get, but am generally too lazy to do anything with. My friends would probably think something was wrong with me though if I just randomly started returning their calls or doing what their messages asked. I’d have to have Nanny send out an email clarifying that my life was now her duty, just so no one freaked out.
And now, since it’s late at night, Nanny would come into my room, rub my back, and whisper sweet stories about candy mountains and soft clouds until I fell asleep.
Anyways, the position is up for grabs. Obviously, since you’d be nannying a college student, the job would be extremely fulfilling morally, so that would be the reimbursement as opposed to pay. Please shoot me an email if you’re interested. Just give me a few weeks to respond.
Perpetual students need not apply.
Posted by M on Apr 6, 2009 in
Deep Thoughts It turns out, I’m getting old.
I turned 20 back in January. I still accidently tell people I’m 19. 19 is a much easier age. It’s a lot more acceptable to be like, “hey, forgive me, I’m young and I don’t know better, I’m only a teenager!” then to be like, “hey, I’m in my twenties still acting like I’m a teenager.” It’s depressing really. I mean, I’ve been in pretty heavy denial for some time. But the thing is, more and more signs are pointing to the fact that my childhood days are ending.
I knew I was getting old on my eighteenth birthday. The UPS man needed a signature of an adult and I qualified. It was kind of cool at the time. I was so old I could sign for UPS! Woo! Know what that means now? When the UPS guy rings our buzzer, I’m over 18 so I have to go all the way down two flights of stairs and sign for the stupid package. I’m old! I don’t have that kind of energy!
Nineteen was a pretty easy year. I was still basking in the glow of being a cute “19.” Guys love 19 year old girls. They’re just young enough to lead on and still believe a gentlemen’s tales, but old enough so you don’t get into trouble. They usually aren’t college freshmen, but they generally aren’t old enough wear all they’re thinking is “where’s my rock, where’s my rock.”
But twenty, man, twenty’s been all down hill.
First, my memory is fading. I used to be amazing at memorizing things quickly and recalling information like it was my day job. But, now I have to ponder for a few moments, try not to get distracted with the millions of other tasks on my mind, and eventually I pull up something that’s usually not exactly what I’m looking for, but close enough.
My liver has also taken a hit. My dad once told me when I was 18 that someday, drinking alcohol would not be fun. I’d get a hangover so bad or I’d get so sick that I’d throw in the drunk towel. And for a year and a half of college, I proved the man wrong. I didn’t so much as have a headache my entire freshman year. This year, sure, there were some mornings when I needed a little extra sleep, but nothing major. But as the twenties began, let’s just say if I never see a shot glass again, I’d be fine. So instead, I switched to the old lady drink of choice: wine. Of course, wine is kind of making a hip comeback, but I’m so old, I drink wine spritzers, which my boyfriend tells me is what all the 65 year old women at weddings he bartends request. Great. In the mere span of six months, I’ve gone from 19 year old party machine to 65 year old wine sipper.
I’m also starting to have this pathetic maternal longing. I see babies and I want one. Even when they’re crying, I can’t help but think they’re adorable. Even when they’re screaming. It melts my heart of ice.
My weekend social patterns have also gotten increasingly old. I used to be a Thursday, Friday, Saturday Night Weekend kind of girl. Now I’m like, “Well, Grey’s anatomy is on Thursday, so I shouldn’t go out then. Then, Friday night I really need to do laundry and maybe I’ll go to the gym Saturday night.” Nineteen year old Maggie would laugh at pathetic twenty year old Maggie.
Plus, aging is painful. In high school, I was a cross country runner. Now, given I didn’t take it so seriously, but I still did do it. And I did run 8 miles three or four times without any trouble. I ran 9.5 miles on Sunday. It was 48 hours ago and my body still hates me. It’s not like I just woke up and ran this, mind you. I’ve been training for months. But, I can feel every muscle in my legs, my arms, my butt. Even my back hurts! You know you’re old when your back hurts…
I’m also starting to get my priorities in order. Instead of always thinking about myself, I’ve started to think about other people. How annoying is that? I clean my apartment because I get worried my roommate will get frustrated if it’s too messy. When my grades took a hit this semester due to a busy schedule and harder classes, I made the conscious decision that I would try as hard as I could, but I would not let school affect how I feel about myself. Ugh. That’s such a grown up thought. I even decided to go on study abroad all alone because the experience would be worth the discomfort! Now I’m stuck experiencing an amazing trip without the catty girlfriends I’ve had since I was 12! The misery!
Nineteen Maggie would think Twenty year old Maggie is a huge buzz kill. I have this weird feeling though, that grown up Twenty five year old Maggie will think that Twenty year old Maggie was just coming into her own. Growing up sucks. But the nice thing about it, is once you’ve done it, it’s over. Now, I really should go drink some prune juice, knit, and watch Oprah. That’s what you old people do all day, right?