Class notes for my high school were due yesterday. After receiving an email from our perky, self-appointed class liaison, I went to the website to check them out. I thought about posting - after all, I've just achieved a milestone in my life. But my old shame rose up to block me: my classmates are all posting about MBAs, PhDs, babies, houses, careers, and here I've just graduated from college. I feel ten years behind, stuck in my adolescence, a loser among the cool kids. I try to remind myself that people only write into the alumni magazine when they have something to boast about. I look at the notes from my friends and think about how glad I am to hear from them, how nice their lives look on paper, purged of the trials and tribulations I've heard about along the way. I could narrate my life in that vein. I could joyfully proclaim my achievements and make them valid by doing so. However, I am stymied by my own doubt about the validity of my achievements. I am stopped by insecurity, the very emotion so often stirred by my experience at Choate and rekindled by my re-entry into the world of academia, social pressure, and the tyranny of success.
The epitome of the "class note"? A little update from a man who writes that he has "taken up triathlons," completing 7 in the last year. Yeah? Well I've watched 2 entire seasons of Entourage and one of Deadwood. Call it the triathlon of television.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Yesterday, whilst checking out Master's programs in Australia, I decided to Google "Australian citizenship". Here's what I found out:
1. "There's Never Been a Better Time to Become an Australian Citizen"
2. There are only 7 requirements for citizenship, the most difficult of which is residency in Australia.
3. Australia has Defence Forces! Who knew? (Also, if you become an Australian citizen, you have to be ready to defend Australia, "should the need arise".)
In contrast, when I visited the USCIS site, I couldn't find any clear instructions on how to become a US citizen. I had to navigate through three levels of the site before I could find out how to begin the process. However, along the way I was reminded that "citizenship is one of the most coveted gifts that the U.S. government can bestow" and told that the USCIS is "securing America's promise" and "protecting America" from all those pesky wannabe immigrants.
Now, if I could only get my parents and all my loved ones to entertain the thought of Australian citizenship, we could help the conservatives out by defecting en masse.
1. "There's Never Been a Better Time to Become an Australian Citizen"
2. There are only 7 requirements for citizenship, the most difficult of which is residency in Australia.
3. Australia has Defence Forces! Who knew? (Also, if you become an Australian citizen, you have to be ready to defend Australia, "should the need arise".)
In contrast, when I visited the USCIS site, I couldn't find any clear instructions on how to become a US citizen. I had to navigate through three levels of the site before I could find out how to begin the process. However, along the way I was reminded that "citizenship is one of the most coveted gifts that the U.S. government can bestow" and told that the USCIS is "securing America's promise" and "protecting America" from all those pesky wannabe immigrants.
Now, if I could only get my parents and all my loved ones to entertain the thought of Australian citizenship, we could help the conservatives out by defecting en masse.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
I figured out what I want to do next. This is kind of a big deal, but I am still being pretty critical of myself, unable to just pat myself on the back for only taking 6 days to figure it out. Anyway, I decided that I want to go back to South Hadley for July and August. This entails finding a (very) cheap place to live and enough odd jobs to keep me in kibble for two months. I spent the morning scouring craigslist, the Alumnae website, and my former professors (not literally, of course) for possibilities. Not looking so good. Maybe I need to give the plan more than 24 hours to happen...
Our big trip to Providence turned into a big bust (K was tired, cranky, and spacey, so we left after only 15 minutes of walking around). However, we were there just long enough to whet our appetites for a bigger, better visit sometime soon. We parked up next to the Brown University campus, which is absolutely gorgeous. Their Philosophy Department building is bigger than most mansions. The lawns were incredibly green and sheltered by huge old trees. The portion we checked out was enclosed by high brick walls punctuated by massive wrought iron gates. I spotted an intriguing sculpture and we went over to check it out. It was several times taller than a person, made entirely of saplings bent to form sinuous geometrical shapes, and had little rooms and alcoves in which to hide. The sculpture was assembled by Brown U students, faculty, and staff, in conjunction with the sculptor. They wound it around several pre-existing trees, which sprout out of the top of some of the "rooms". In short, it was stunning and wonderful. After thoroughly inspecting it, we strolled down the hill, past more mansions containing academic departments (oh, Merrill House, you would have wept) and several promising libraries and museums, into the downtown Providence area. We went to look at a huge statue and started to walk along the river promenade, at which point K completely pooped out and I suggested we return home. We agreed to a return visit next week. Luckily, it was a beautiful day for a drive, so all was not lost!
I'm enjoying my vacation more at this point. I've cut the anxiety down to 1 good bout per day, leaving many wonderful hours in which to loll about, watch movies, read romances, and chat with K. We venture out into the gigantic strip mall that is North Dartmouth at least once a day. Today we visited Office Max and Stop & Shop. But we could just as easily have chosen Walmart, Macy's, Dick's, Home Depot, Barnes and Noble, Target, Best Buy, Shaw's, and any one of a plethora of other options. It's really quite surreal to live amidst this landscape of parking lots, traffic lights, and large fake-adobe facades. Drive a few blocks off the main strip and you enter a perfect suburbia with beautiful lawns, manicured golf courses, and plenty of American flags fluttering from front stoops.
Our big trip to Providence turned into a big bust (K was tired, cranky, and spacey, so we left after only 15 minutes of walking around). However, we were there just long enough to whet our appetites for a bigger, better visit sometime soon. We parked up next to the Brown University campus, which is absolutely gorgeous. Their Philosophy Department building is bigger than most mansions. The lawns were incredibly green and sheltered by huge old trees. The portion we checked out was enclosed by high brick walls punctuated by massive wrought iron gates. I spotted an intriguing sculpture and we went over to check it out. It was several times taller than a person, made entirely of saplings bent to form sinuous geometrical shapes, and had little rooms and alcoves in which to hide. The sculpture was assembled by Brown U students, faculty, and staff, in conjunction with the sculptor. They wound it around several pre-existing trees, which sprout out of the top of some of the "rooms". In short, it was stunning and wonderful. After thoroughly inspecting it, we strolled down the hill, past more mansions containing academic departments (oh, Merrill House, you would have wept) and several promising libraries and museums, into the downtown Providence area. We went to look at a huge statue and started to walk along the river promenade, at which point K completely pooped out and I suggested we return home. We agreed to a return visit next week. Luckily, it was a beautiful day for a drive, so all was not lost!
I'm enjoying my vacation more at this point. I've cut the anxiety down to 1 good bout per day, leaving many wonderful hours in which to loll about, watch movies, read romances, and chat with K. We venture out into the gigantic strip mall that is North Dartmouth at least once a day. Today we visited Office Max and Stop & Shop. But we could just as easily have chosen Walmart, Macy's, Dick's, Home Depot, Barnes and Noble, Target, Best Buy, Shaw's, and any one of a plethora of other options. It's really quite surreal to live amidst this landscape of parking lots, traffic lights, and large fake-adobe facades. Drive a few blocks off the main strip and you enter a perfect suburbia with beautiful lawns, manicured golf courses, and plenty of American flags fluttering from front stoops.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
I've got to get over this whole "only post when I have something to say" fetish. I have nothing to say, and I write this proudly. Over the last two days, I have read blogs, checked my email often, read 2 romance novels and a New Yorker, watched an entire season of Entourage + 2 episodes of Deadwood, cleaned out K's spare room and set up an office, exercised once, and started a new diet. I think this list might comprise a busy 48-hour period for some and a disgusting lack of activity for others. For me, it falls somewhere in the middle. Which is to say, I will never be satisfied with the amount I am doing. What I really want for this vacation is to be completely relaxed AND satisfied. This combination is one I have rarely achieved, but I always seem to expect it of myself. I have this gnawing feeling that maybe I am relaxed and satisfied, underneath all my anxiety and consternation, but I just can't tell.
I keep trying to make little plans for myself, but invariably end up reneging. Today, I thought I'd go to Horseneck Beach but now that seems wildly ambitious. I feel isolated and stuck. But I think I am not really isolated or stuck, I just feel that way. I'm trying to strike a healthy balance between feeling my emotions fully and total denial. So, part of the day I wallow and part of the day I escape.
Tonight, K and I will go to the movies to see Knocked Up. Tomorrow, we will explore Providence a bit.
I keep trying to make little plans for myself, but invariably end up reneging. Today, I thought I'd go to Horseneck Beach but now that seems wildly ambitious. I feel isolated and stuck. But I think I am not really isolated or stuck, I just feel that way. I'm trying to strike a healthy balance between feeling my emotions fully and total denial. So, part of the day I wallow and part of the day I escape.
Tonight, K and I will go to the movies to see Knocked Up. Tomorrow, we will explore Providence a bit.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
So now I've got all this time on my hands. (Ew, gross, time is sticky and hard to wash off.)
Things I think I should be doing during this time (as opposed to thing I want to be doing, things I can do, etc.):
1. LOOK FOR A GODDAMN JOB. I mean, look for a job. This looms the largest, mainly because it caters to several different sources of insecurity and potential woe. Most urgently, I need money, because what I have is running out fast. Slightly less urgently, I feel like I should be working, because of my Puritan genes, the IMs society sends directly to my brain, and the excellent programming of Mount Holyoke to attempt/accomplish great things. Unfortunately, I don't want to find a job, mostly because I fear the job-finding process. I fear the resume-writing. I fear the job description-reading. I fear the interviewing. I fear the relocation. I fear the 9-to-5-ing. At this point in my thought process, I am huddled in a corner of the room, preferably underneath some sheltering object, making the sign of the cross over my head.
2. Applying to grad school. Or at least deciding about/researching grad schools. The need to make decisions about the future seems prominent. None of this namby-pamby waiting around to figure out what I really want. Just decide on something and DO IT. Ah, the fascist Nike commercial that is my brain...
3. Read good literature. At the very least, if I am not looking for a job or making stalwart decisions about the future, I ought to be expanding my mind with the reading of great books. I have a big pile of such books waiting for me. But all I want to do is read romance novels and The New Yorker, perhaps an occasional mystery to punctuate my days.
4. Write every day. But not in blog form or email form; I must write for the sake of writing, 2 hours each day, snippets of novels, short stories, poems, anything with a literary or self-improving bent.
Given the punishing and self-flagellating aspects of the above directives, I begin to see why it is difficult for me to enjoy myself during my down-time. There is always something else I should be doing, and those "somethings else" are elevated to a level of virtue and ambition that my actual thoughts and movements cannot achieve. Also, it turns out the the messages that I fear are only coming from my punishing unconscious are also coming from external sources. This creates an interesting sort of "proof," akin to that achieved by Fox News' referencing of two different sources for its false claims. If two separate voices, each with some sort of seeming authority, speak the same words, then those words take on the heft and force of facts.
The other paralyzing aspect of this situation is that I think it will last forever. I think my hesitation, fear, laziness, well-earned vacation, or whatever it is called, is a permanent state of inertia. However, this has never proven to be true. I do move, act, think, write, decide, change. I just do it on a schedule that seems to lag behind my expectations for myself. Since this topic comes up a lot, in therapy and in conversation with those trusted ones in my life, I even have a nice metaphor for it: my psyche moves in geologic time, while my expectations live in the fast-moving present, the tiny indentation of time in which humans flourish.
Things I think I should be doing during this time (as opposed to thing I want to be doing, things I can do, etc.):
1. LOOK FOR A GODDAMN JOB. I mean, look for a job. This looms the largest, mainly because it caters to several different sources of insecurity and potential woe. Most urgently, I need money, because what I have is running out fast. Slightly less urgently, I feel like I should be working, because of my Puritan genes, the IMs society sends directly to my brain, and the excellent programming of Mount Holyoke to attempt/accomplish great things. Unfortunately, I don't want to find a job, mostly because I fear the job-finding process. I fear the resume-writing. I fear the job description-reading. I fear the interviewing. I fear the relocation. I fear the 9-to-5-ing. At this point in my thought process, I am huddled in a corner of the room, preferably underneath some sheltering object, making the sign of the cross over my head.
2. Applying to grad school. Or at least deciding about/researching grad schools. The need to make decisions about the future seems prominent. None of this namby-pamby waiting around to figure out what I really want. Just decide on something and DO IT. Ah, the fascist Nike commercial that is my brain...
3. Read good literature. At the very least, if I am not looking for a job or making stalwart decisions about the future, I ought to be expanding my mind with the reading of great books. I have a big pile of such books waiting for me. But all I want to do is read romance novels and The New Yorker, perhaps an occasional mystery to punctuate my days.
4. Write every day. But not in blog form or email form; I must write for the sake of writing, 2 hours each day, snippets of novels, short stories, poems, anything with a literary or self-improving bent.
Given the punishing and self-flagellating aspects of the above directives, I begin to see why it is difficult for me to enjoy myself during my down-time. There is always something else I should be doing, and those "somethings else" are elevated to a level of virtue and ambition that my actual thoughts and movements cannot achieve. Also, it turns out the the messages that I fear are only coming from my punishing unconscious are also coming from external sources. This creates an interesting sort of "proof," akin to that achieved by Fox News' referencing of two different sources for its false claims. If two separate voices, each with some sort of seeming authority, speak the same words, then those words take on the heft and force of facts.
The other paralyzing aspect of this situation is that I think it will last forever. I think my hesitation, fear, laziness, well-earned vacation, or whatever it is called, is a permanent state of inertia. However, this has never proven to be true. I do move, act, think, write, decide, change. I just do it on a schedule that seems to lag behind my expectations for myself. Since this topic comes up a lot, in therapy and in conversation with those trusted ones in my life, I even have a nice metaphor for it: my psyche moves in geologic time, while my expectations live in the fast-moving present, the tiny indentation of time in which humans flourish.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Sic Transit Academia...
It was all a little too easy and a little too quick. In my frenzy of packing and self-imposed deadlines, I did indeed forget to savor the many "lasts": last time on campus as a student, last moment wearing the cap and gown, last night in my little garret room, last time letting Oscar out to pee and chase cats, last time positioning the trash just so on the curb, last time backing carefully onto the lawn, last time popping microwave popcorn in the world's slowest microwave; the list goes on. Of course, one can never savor such final moments while in the midst of them. I suppose what I can savor is that there were so many sweet, small things to savor - even in the apartment I was sure I hated. My last night was lovely once I let it be. After a sleepy dinner at the Florence Diner with E and M, I bought a six-pack of Newcastle, intending to drink a couple and leave the rest for my roommates. I left E and M at their new house, after a bewildered but fervent goodbye. We have been living in each other's pockets for many months. So much air and space will be a shock.
I was so exhausted from the two previous days (indeed, the previous week) that I feared I would not be able to finish up my packing. I brewed some coffee, called K, and hoped. While I was attempting to rally, C called and wanted to stop by to drop off something I'd left at her house the night before. This was somewhat mysterious, as I hadn't left anything at her house. In a few minutes, she and Em stopped by and dropped off a lovely graduation/vacation package, including bath gel, a well-worn and beloved book, a journal, and a beautiful bath sponge. C's note was perfect and made me feel hopeful about my upcoming time of not-knowing. I felt blessed to have a friend who so perfectly understood my needs and fears at this tremulous juncture. (Yes, I've been reading romance novels aplenty and their language seeps into my blog, spreading corrosive juices into the cracks.)
After C left, I rallied and packed for about 2 hours, finally forcing myself to stop. I made up a bed on the couch, moved Oscar's bed down to the living room, popped some popcorn, and loaded up the bad movie of the evening: Because I Said So. Oscar and I shared the popcorn equally, as he eschewed his bed on the floor for the opposite end of the couch, creeping ever closer in his attempt to get more kernels. The movie was satisfyingly awful, with that odd mix of irreverence and conventionality common to many modern romantic comedies. I did not drink any of the beer, fearing the results. I slept fitfully but well enough and woke reinvigorated enough to finish my packing, load the car, and bid Oscar farewell. I pulled out of the driveway at 12:15pm, only 15 minutes later than my goal. I returned my videos, made a stop at the FP House to drop off more clothes and books, drove past my house one last time to see if the mail had arrived, and got on the Mass Pike around 1pm. I made good time, even in my overloaded car, and arrived at K's house in North Dartmouth a little after 3pm. It is truly astounding how easy it is to shed one life and move on to the next. I've slept and my body has recovered a bit, but my mind lags far behind, casting about for some purchase in this new beginning. I want to nestle back into the comfortable, stimulating, and surprising life I found in South Hadley for the past 3 years, but I am always aware that that specific time is over. Even the passage of a mere 2 days makes it impossible to go back. Man, that's heavy. So, here I am, in this familiar-but-strange in between time, wondering how much I'll be able to enjoy, and what lurks at the other end.
It was all a little too easy and a little too quick. In my frenzy of packing and self-imposed deadlines, I did indeed forget to savor the many "lasts": last time on campus as a student, last moment wearing the cap and gown, last night in my little garret room, last time letting Oscar out to pee and chase cats, last time positioning the trash just so on the curb, last time backing carefully onto the lawn, last time popping microwave popcorn in the world's slowest microwave; the list goes on. Of course, one can never savor such final moments while in the midst of them. I suppose what I can savor is that there were so many sweet, small things to savor - even in the apartment I was sure I hated. My last night was lovely once I let it be. After a sleepy dinner at the Florence Diner with E and M, I bought a six-pack of Newcastle, intending to drink a couple and leave the rest for my roommates. I left E and M at their new house, after a bewildered but fervent goodbye. We have been living in each other's pockets for many months. So much air and space will be a shock.
I was so exhausted from the two previous days (indeed, the previous week) that I feared I would not be able to finish up my packing. I brewed some coffee, called K, and hoped. While I was attempting to rally, C called and wanted to stop by to drop off something I'd left at her house the night before. This was somewhat mysterious, as I hadn't left anything at her house. In a few minutes, she and Em stopped by and dropped off a lovely graduation/vacation package, including bath gel, a well-worn and beloved book, a journal, and a beautiful bath sponge. C's note was perfect and made me feel hopeful about my upcoming time of not-knowing. I felt blessed to have a friend who so perfectly understood my needs and fears at this tremulous juncture. (Yes, I've been reading romance novels aplenty and their language seeps into my blog, spreading corrosive juices into the cracks.)
After C left, I rallied and packed for about 2 hours, finally forcing myself to stop. I made up a bed on the couch, moved Oscar's bed down to the living room, popped some popcorn, and loaded up the bad movie of the evening: Because I Said So. Oscar and I shared the popcorn equally, as he eschewed his bed on the floor for the opposite end of the couch, creeping ever closer in his attempt to get more kernels. The movie was satisfyingly awful, with that odd mix of irreverence and conventionality common to many modern romantic comedies. I did not drink any of the beer, fearing the results. I slept fitfully but well enough and woke reinvigorated enough to finish my packing, load the car, and bid Oscar farewell. I pulled out of the driveway at 12:15pm, only 15 minutes later than my goal. I returned my videos, made a stop at the FP House to drop off more clothes and books, drove past my house one last time to see if the mail had arrived, and got on the Mass Pike around 1pm. I made good time, even in my overloaded car, and arrived at K's house in North Dartmouth a little after 3pm. It is truly astounding how easy it is to shed one life and move on to the next. I've slept and my body has recovered a bit, but my mind lags far behind, casting about for some purchase in this new beginning. I want to nestle back into the comfortable, stimulating, and surprising life I found in South Hadley for the past 3 years, but I am always aware that that specific time is over. Even the passage of a mere 2 days makes it impossible to go back. Man, that's heavy. So, here I am, in this familiar-but-strange in between time, wondering how much I'll be able to enjoy, and what lurks at the other end.
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