The Internet: The glory continues

Yes. We’ve all heard it.

http://newtgingrichbassethounds.tumblr.com/

Doesn’t exist anymore, but made my week a little more glorious.

How I feel about the upcoming papers and finals.

Violet the sloth will judge you.

I’m sort of obsessed with yogurt so this just had to be in here.

This week has been trying: my campus here still rears an ugly gender-biased head once in a while (maybe I’ll make a post about this later), and lately my photographs have felt uninspired. There are a lot of things coming up and sometimes I feel like I can’t handle it all.

Sources: Various Tumblrs- please don’t hate me for not having original sources! GAH!! These have been on my harddrive awhile. ūüė¶¬†

The ridiculousness of it all.

The internet is a glorious place.

Also, this is a majorly unsourced post. I saved most of these ages ago on my computer, mostly via Tumblr. I hate posting things without a legitimate source, sorry guys.

Anyway, as follows:

1. My future pet.

2. A map of Europe from a 1959 National Geographic, scanned by me.

3. An illustration by Quentin Blake for Roald Dahl’s¬†The Twits

4. What my mother would refer to as a “man of promise”. Clearly.

5. I hate cats, normally, but seriously best thing ever.

James Gillray: Talented cartoonist with razor sharp wit.

I love old engravings, prints, and paintings.

I also love humor.

So, the summation of these two would be the incredibly detailed and hilarious etchings and cartoons by none other than James Gillray.

As a side note, I pray that I never get gout, as the bottom etching makes it look most unfortunate to have a mustachio-ed beast attached to ones foot.

 

 

Job Interviews

So, you have a job interview today, right? (Maybe, but I definitely do.)

Here’s how the whole thing goes.

You wake up, feeling AWESOME. I’ve got this, you say to yourself! This job is MINE! I was born for it! WOO!

Then, you start to doubt yourself once you’re fully lucid. You start to think, but…what if my hands are sweaty? What if I don’t say the right thing?¬†Then, paranoia sets in.

OHMIGOSH WHAT IF MY PANTS RIP OR MY RESUME GETS DIRTY OR THE INTERVIEWER HATES WOMEN OR I FORGET TO PUT ON PANTS ALTOGETHER?!

Yup.

Then, you eventually go into this stage of resignation, with a hint of hope.

…Well, at the very worst, I won’t get it, and I’ll be no worse off. Maybe I’ll kick ass today, though!

Then, you actually get in the car/take the bus/train or begin walking there.

And you start to sweat.

Awesome.

So, you hopefully find the right place, remembered to wear clothes, and you have your resume, references, and all that jazz. You find the right guy. Now, time to do your thing. You’ve got this. What do normal people do at these things?!

First, the HAND SHAKE. I cannot capitalize it enough. Because it is THE. HAND. SHAKE. It says more about you than just about anything! They all say so! No sweaty palms. No weak dead-fish. No broken-bones-handshake, either. No. Firm, solid, good handshake, and a good look in your potential employer’s eye.

Okay. Smooth.

Sit down. Breathe. Remember to breathe. You are confident, cool, and classy. You are smart, capable, and knowledgeable. You. Will. Succeed.

(I was really just looking for an excuse to use this .gif)

The interview passes in a blur. Maybe the interviewer is an asshole, maybe they’re the coolest person in the world.

Maybe they remind you of your old sports coach or that one aunt that always mentions how skinny you are and how you need to eat more. Maybe they’re even like your last boss. Or, maybe they’re like somebody else entirely.

Then, you leave.

You’re exhausted. You feel a mix of triumph (WOO DONE!) and total deflation (Oh god, I probably did this-and-this-and-that wrong, I’m never going to win in life ever).

And then you go home and eat massive amounts of food, write a thank you note to the interviewer for giving you the opportunity, and then you fall into a massive coma made of a mix of fear, relief, and nervousness.

Done.

Wisdom from “The Simpsons”

(This one above feels especially relevant sometimes!)

Ridiculous, satirical, hysterical, and relevant. That is how I would describe “The Simpsons”. Not only one of TV’s longest running shows, but also one of my favorites. Of course, one has to be in a “Simpson”-y mood sometimes- Homer is not for everybody, but somehow through the last few years I have saved quite a few screen caps from episodes.

I apologize for not knowing what wonderful soul screen-capped these, so sourcing is nil. If you know, please don’t hesitate to inform me! Knowledge is power, and I feel terrible for unwittingly saving them sans-source.

How I feel about Finals Week.

Finals week seems like a great idea. At the end of every semester, you are tested on your knowledge and your grades reflect that knowledge you’ve gained. Woo! Easy peasy, ja?

Nein.

Finals Week is when all your professors act like they’re the nicest people in the world while really trying to see how many challenges they can hurl your way before you die at your desk. They tell you to get lots of sleep and take study breaks, then hand you a study sheet, and multiple ways you can fail at their exam, then bid you adieu.

The thing is, the math doesn’t work out. You’re supposed to get 8-9 hours of sleep a night, take study breaks, and somehow find the time to spend about 10 hours studying/writing for each exam/paper, while still finding time to eat, bathe, and maybe go to class, which is very important. You’re automatically screwed. Then, add in the time you’ll spend procrastinating!

Also, if you claim you do not procrastinate, I’m going to call you a liar by default. Saying you don’t procrastinate is like claiming you never lie: it’s automatically false.

Basically, Finals Week is akin to having your fingers being bitten off by rats while ¬†being forced to eat haba√Īero peppers and recite the¬†Odyssey by Homer with a smile on your face. It’s not possible to go through it gracefully or without pain.

Right now I’m in the midst of finals, and this is a procrastination post of inferior quality! Danke!

The Dead Matador by Edouard Manet

You have no taste for international cuisine.

Have you ever read Hark a Vagrant?

A hilarious, historically informed Canadian named Kate Beaton has made my weeks bearable with her “inside joke” feeling comics.

There are many about the Great Gatsby, Tesla the Celibate Scientist, Ben Franklin, Elizabeth I, Henry VIII, Marie Antoinette, Marquis de Pompadour, Queen Victoria, and many many more. ¬†Among my favorites are hers of Napoleon, his horrible love life, and Josephine, his wife who always seems to be shagging anybody but him, even as he’s heading off to war.

They’re intelligent and require you to actually know what’s going on for you to find them funny. They aren’t for the stupid.