Things I do NOT Miss About Uni... Part 2: Applications

When I decided to apply for a Masters course, I had totally forgotten about the stress that is applications.
Last time I had to worry about filling one of these in was about 4 years ago... Now I'm having a sense of déjà vu every time I yell at the screen willing my statement to write itself.
Its the same concept as cover letters, you shamelessly lie about your level of awesomeness in order for the Uni to accept you.
Fortunately, I managed to get into my course *cue for applause* so I thought to myself:

'Phew, so glad that's the last statement I'll ever have to write.'

WRONG!

Now my sister is applying for university herself... and she has shamelessly coerced me into 'helping' her write hers.
And by 'helping', I mean she writes me a list of ideas and we Skype. And then I end up rephrasing everything because 'it sounded so much better when you said it' and my sister seems to have forgotten how to structure an actual sentence.
Lies, I'm sure... but she's willing to suck up if it means I'll do most of the work! 
Sisters can be sneakily clever that way... although I'm pretty easy when it comes to being coerced. Put anything chocolate related that's edible in my way and I'll happily be your slave for day* (or a couple of hours... depends on what treat I get).
And boy does she know this... I find myself editing most of her work and helping her with assignments.
Luckily she keeps me well supplied with new music and book recommendations, so a possible win-win situation?
Well... we'll see if she gets accepted with my awesome personal statement advice. 
If not... It was nice knowing you all :)

*conditions apply

IT Guys... Self-proclaimed Gods of the Workplace

Something my mom might do...

... Or maybe just my workplace. 
Either way, I sometimes feel they lord the fact they're computer literate over you. Which isn't very nice, or encouraging. 
I'm pretty damn proud I haven't blown my computer up (as of yet) and haven't screwed it up irreparably (again... fingers crossed). 
Small victories where I'm concerned. As long as I'm slightly less useless at handling technology than my mom, I'll be happy. 
I'm more of a hand-written-papers girl if I'm honest. Something that drives our IT guy crazy. His face is priceless when I hand him my translations on paper... 

'What format is this?'
'Erm... paper?'
'How do I convert it?'
...

I've explained to him that I find it easier to do translations by hand, but he's still baffled by my choice of pen and paper. 
I keep receiving tonnes of emails a day with a lot of (mostly) useless links, to apps I'll never use or pages I'll never visit. 
And no explanations, just a bunch of links I promptly ignore... (whoops).
But one thing I really hate when dealing with IT guys (ok, I know I'm generalising... but this is the kind of people I've dealt with), is when they talk down to you like a small child just because you can't grasp some IT concept. 
I mean, I don't start patronising him for not being able to quote Keats or Shakespeare (not that I can either... but not the point). 
I think I'm a pretty fast learner, and if you took the time to explain I'd probably get by. But no, it's as if I'm not worthy of the time and get brushed off as that 'kid in the English department who doesn't know her .pdf from her .doc'.
What he doesn't count on is my stubbornness, which means I'd rather troll Google to find a solution to my problem than head up to IT to get the annoying child treatment. This has resulted in me becoming slightly more tech savvy in the past few months. 
Because when I do have to brave the IT department, its like walking repeatedly into a brick wall. It seems to take forever to transmit what you need to them because you attempt it in 'normal' speak and they counter in 'ITish' and then you have to convince them it's a legitimate change which can last about a day of back and forth between your desk and IT department.
... All this, so that by then end of the week nothing has changed, and you have to repeat the process again come Monday.
Who said being an adult was fun?

'No thanks Gran, I'm full' *piles more food on plate* 'Oh well, if you insist...'

And then I wonder why I put so much weight on over the holidays.

I'm starting to think that as soon as your first grandchild is born, some sort of switch must flip in your brain turning on GRANDMA MODE. Feeding becomes an obsession for them. 
You can tell them you dropped out of Uni: not a problem, maybe studying wasn't really your thing. 
You robbed a bank: no worries, I'm sure you needed the money. 
However, if your answer to the question 'Have you eaten yet?' is 'No'... well, prepare yourself for a barrage of food. A banquet fit for twenty odd people. And if your Grandma is anything like mine, all that food will be produced after her complaining about not having anything to eat. 

'Oh honey, you should've called before coming round. I would've made you something nice. I barely have anything for lunch today.' *bam!* She produces a roasted chicken from the oven, including side dishes.
Although sometimes, I think she just enjoys complaining. She does it regardless of if you ring her or not. If you don't go round to see her, she'll ring me (or my mother) and bitch because all her food went to waste. And if you go round without calling... well, refer to the sample conversation above. No way to win really. 
And if you don't answer her call, all you have to do is wait 20 minutes for one of my aunts to ring and complain about the phone call she just received. One of the perks of having a huge family: we're all interchangeable at times - mainly, when my Grandma needs someone to complain to.
To be fair, my Grandma is used to cooking for about 300 people, or what's the same, her 10 kids (which have the combined appetite of the aforementioned 300). So, she always has leftovers as well as a well developed empty-nest syndrome which results in her over-feeding her numerous grandchildren. 
And this would all be fine with me (I mean, who doesn't love to be pampered with food?), if once she were done with the feeding she wouldn't stop to give me a critical once-over and go: 
'Hmm... you're getting a bit chubby, don't you think? Maybe you should cut back a bit.' 
Unluckily for me, my family has a stupidly fast metabolism which means they can inhale food at alarmingly fast rates and still be a size 6/8. Hence the fact that all my Gran's pots and pans are massive. I'm not sure the woman knows how to cook for two... But anyway, this 'chubby' comment (sometimes followed by, 'Maybe walking a little more would help.') usually results in my aunts sniggering behind their hands (very adult hmpf), my mom face-palming and me generally confused. 
'Erm... Gran, I don't usually eat this much, you should know this...'
'Well, just say so! I won't serve you as much next time.' 
'But... I tried, the look you gave me was scary.'
'Oh, don't be silly! Now here, stop sulking and have some fruit for dessert. The neighbours just brought me some apples, I'll drizzle the pieces with honey.'
... And of course, I can't say no.

Note To Self: Never Accept Rides From Family Members - They Always Want Something...

Which is exactly how I found myself 'volunteering' to help my aunt move home.
I should have figured, seeing as it's very unusual for them to offer me rides so nicely. Usually I have to wear them down for a while, and make them feel sorry for me before they cave. So I shouldn't have been surprised when my uncle missed the turning into my street and headed straight to his old place. Maybe the fact we were in the minivan in the first place should have also given me some concern.
And if there is one thing I hate, it is moving. I just moved out myself, so packing somebody else's stuff wasn't exactly high on my To Do List. Not even halfway down really... likely not even on my list... But oh well, the things you do (or are forced to do) for family. But I've always found something slightly depressing about stuffing your life into boxes, especially once you're done and you stare at the small pile and think 'That's three years of my life, all neatly packed... doesn't take up much space, does it?'. 
I actually wish there were some sort of invention that sucked all of the stuff you own into some sort of vortex storage area, something easily carried, so you can set it down in your new place and have everything put into place with the click of a button. All in the same order of course, I'm not good at organising and wouldn't want to have to put all my books back into place. 

But sadly, technology is not so far advanced and we must rely on man (or in my case woman) power. Which I have almost none of - power, of course. I barely have energy to lift myself out of bed in the morning let alone help carry a wardrobe down the stairs. Add to that my innate lack of balance and you have the perfect recipe for disaster. Luckily, I wasn't the only one drafted to help out, else that lowering of a bookcase down the balcony could have ended very badly. As it was, we struggled to lower it. And I still maintain it was scratched before we even touched it!
But still, we managed to get most of the stuff out which led to phase 2: playing Tetris in the back of the van. Now that was fun. We had to re-arrange everything twice, before it was decided we'd better leave some stuff behind for next time... as if they'd be able to trick me into helping twice! Ha!
But oh well... after the massive detour I finally got dropped off at my place, successfully having avoided getting the bus. Small victory? Maybe.
But next time, I might be better of trying my luck at the bus station.