It's Monday night again, and of course, I can't sleep.
This week, at least, it was not due to a nightmare or anything of that sort. I don't know why I can't sleep, to be perfectly honest with you. When I went to bed a little before 9PM, I was indeed tired and ready to get some rest. And then I simply laid there for two hours, not even dozing, before giving up and coming back upstairs.
It's 11:30 PM. I know, and my body knows, that I must be awake to get ready, and go to school to teach, when the alarm goes off at 5AM. That's my wake-up time. It's when I shower, drink lots of coffee, and get dressed for the day, before leaving the house around 7. There's no getting around it; I have a job, and that job is being a responsible GTA who teaches two sections of English twice a week.
Yeah, well, tell that to my sleep cycles, will you?
I've had friends ask me if I ever took anything to make myself sleep better. As in, sleeping pills or the like. The answer is not usually, no. Most of the time, my career as a graduate student keeps me so sleep-deprived that I don't need such things -- when I get the opportunity to sleep, I readily do so. While I do have some melatonin tablets I can take (an entire bottle of them, actually), I've found that they either don't work, or they work too well, and I'll end up sleeping ten hours or more. Too risky to trust on a school night. I believe I have some sample packs of Lunesta somewhere around the house as well, but they will definitely make me sleep around ten hours or more, a luxury I don't have but on the weekends...when sleep doesn't matter anyhow.
Most of you would attribute my lack of sleep, or inability to do so, to stress. Either that or residual effects of no longer having a girlfriend to sleep with. I don't think it's either one, really. I'm not particularly stressed out; I'm busy, yes, but I get all of my work done without problems and still have some relaxation time thrown in, and it doesn't stress me out. At least not now -- believe me, when Thanksgiving rolls around and papers start coming due, it will. The last three or four weeks of the fall semester is hell.
As for not having anyone to physically sleep with...eh. I think, for the most part, I got used to that a while back. I've been single for six weeks now ("But," as Suri said a few days ago, "Who's counting?"), and the vast, vast majority of those nights I've slept just fine. The cats -- all three of them -- have learned to curl up with me in a big furry pile when I go to bed, so it's not like I'm sleeping alone. Pete will even sleep on the pillow with me, or under my arm like a teddy bear (a habit he's had since he was just a tiny kitten). So really, I don't think it's that either. Though I would probably sleep better with a companion every once in a while, it's not like it's required. I've always been a rather solitary person.
As you know if you read my last post, I offered my parents the option of coming out here to visit over Christmas break for a few days in an email to my mother. She replied telling me the drive would be too long and hard on the dog, and that they'd have to board the cats (they also have three), which would be expensive for such a long time -- plus my dad always spends Christmas at his parents', which I of course knew -- and told me that it would be much easier if I were to just come out there.
The reply perplexed me on multiple levels -- the first being that she couldn't bring the dog anyhow; it's forbidden in my lease to have dogs in the house even for a visit, after the last tenant had a lab that tore up the place. It's why the former girlfriend couldn't bring her Australian Shepherd here to live with us when we moved here. Her mother brought the dog by once for a visit, and the entire time I was paranoid someone would see her and report us to the landlord for it.
The second perplexing point is why she/they would even fathom driving out here instead of simply flying (y'know, like I've always flown out there to visit) and saving a shitload of time/gas money/wear-and-tear on a vehicle in the process.
I sent another email telling her that while it would be preferable to see them both, of course, I realize that Dad has his own family plans for around the holidays, but that shouldn't immediately stop her from coming alone if she wants to -- flying, of course -- because I am perfectly capable of picking her up from and taking her back to the airport in Wichita. The same goes for anyone who wants (or is able) to come visit me, obviously. This would also prevent her from needing to board the animals, as well, since my dad would be at home. While it would be regrettable that I wouldn't get to see him, it would be very nice to see my mother.
I also added, very nicely, at the end of the email that though it may be easier for them for me to fly out there to visit, for me it's anything but -- especially now that I'm living single and not only have to worry about all of my school stuff, but about household stuff, the cats, the car, and paying all of the bills, amongst all other things entailed in living alone and on a budget. I just wanted to offer an option that may actually allow me to see my mother, at least, at some point this year -- and during the holidays, at that. Truthfully, I have no idea what's going to happen between now and Christmas, or between now and next semester for that matter. I've never been able to plan anything ahead with absolute certainty, and while both of my parents have an abundance of vacation days they can take at any time from their jobs, I do not. With my current financial state and the lack of any sort of real "safety net" to catch me and save my ass if something goes wrong -- as well as a lack of anyone else here to watch over the cats or house now -- everything's a risk.
Yes, that is part of the reason I don't like to leave the house much except when I have to; for example, if the car blows up and strands me somewhere, I don't have anyone to rescue me anymore, or anyone to tell me that it'll be fixed, everything will be okay, etc. -- because, more than likely, it won't be okay, and will more than likely will be a horrific pain in the ass and emptier of my bank account. If for some reason I got stranded in West Virginia during a visit (due to winter weather or other factors), it would be that much worse.
Remember a few days back when I said I had a strong cynical streak, despite my outward optimism? Yep, here it is.
I somehow doubt my mother will want to fly out here to visit me, and by herself at that; the woman's not been on an airplane in almost 25 years, and I'm not sure she'd want to fly even to see me. I don't necessarily blame her, of course, but I wanted to offer it as an option. Of all people who might want to visit me here in Kansas, I figure she'd be at the very top of the list for those who would jump at the chance first. Especially since, well, nobody else has. I'll have to wait to see what she says.
Anyway.
After reading Burney's Evelina for most of Saturday and Sunday, and becoming thoroughly disgusted with the pace of the novel and the fact that nothing important happens in it until the very last page, I was hesitant to pick up the book I had to read for my Asian/Middle Eastern Lit course, Pramoedya Ananta Toer's This Earth of Mankind. I was afraid I'd be burned again, stuck reading another novel I had no interest in whatsoever, and another novel where nothing of consequence happened.
I was wrong. The book is fantastic. That's high praise coming from a guy who reads 700-800 pages during any given week (and no, that's not an exaggeration) for his classes. Most texts are just that, texts. This is one of the best novels I've read in years. I love the narration, I think the characters are extremely interesting, and the novel's use of foreshadowing is awesome. Maybe it's just my excessive boredom talking, but I had a hard time putting the book down tonight when I tried to go to bed earlier. After I finish this post, I plan to continue reading it until I may (or may not) fall asleep again.
In the morning, as you probably know, I teach, but can come home again directly afterwards. If I don't get any real quality sleep tonight, I can at least sleep then. I'm lucky that my three-day work week, despite the fact that two of those days are very long ones, seems to go a lot faster than my "weekends."
I don't know if I mentioned it here before except in passing, but I wrote the $750 deposit repayment check to the former girlfriend last week. She sent me a message tonight telling me that she'll more than likely be going to her parents' this coming weekend, which means she'll be able to deposit it (her bank has no branches here in Wichita or the surrounding area, much like my own). As I've been expecting the hit to my bank account and indeed have been bracing for it, I am even more grateful that we get paid again on Friday. My paycheck should stifle the brunt of it, which is good -- I still have to renew my car's registration this month, as well as pay all of the normal bills and rent. My budget is going to be operating lightly for the next several weeks, as I have no other real choice in the matter, to be honest. I must allow a few paychecks to accumulate before I buy anything extraneous like a new lawnmower or vacuum, especially since I don't really need either one right this moment. Even with the student loan I received a month ago, it's not like I have a ton of money to work with, and the vast, vast majority of all of my money goes into gas for the car as well as bills/rent. Sometimes it sucks living alone and being poor, as you could probably imagine.
On that note, I'm going to continue trying to read my book and eventually fall back asleep. I've set the alarm on my phone, so if I do fall asleep, I'll still get up on time.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Like a Burning Torch
Fall semester: day sixteen
Last week, I received this email from Suri during our normal correspondences back and forth when we're not on campus. I asked her permission to post it here, because I think it's not only interesting, but true -- and bears repeating.
"P.S. I'M not worried about you. Not a bit. I don't think declining to participate in grad-planned activities is a worrisome thing at all. (This is in response to your blog post about people getting worried about you now that you're all isolated and not social). Of course, this comes from someone who glories in isolation and avoids all social activities unless there is something free that she wants, but heh. There's at least one person who knows you and isn't concerned that you're going to douse yourself and your kitties in gasoline and go out like a burning torch one night.
So yeah. Comforting, I'm sure."
My response, was, of course, "Go out like a burning torch one night? Seriously?"
Suri gets it. She understands, even if her situation is a bit different from mine (she, for one, has a boyfriend in town who she's been with for five years). She also lives almost as far away from campus -- at least in terms of travel-time spent driving -- as I do.
She's also right in the fact that she knows me. As I've mentioned before, Suri is one of the very few people I've been comfortable enough to be free and open with while living here in Kansas. The only other two people I can think of offhand who know me as well are the former girlfriend and one other person who, for all intents and purposes, no longer really associates with me and really has no interest in doing so anymore -- which I'm fine with. Of those three, obviously, Suri is the one constant -- the one person I have to talk to who understands me and doesn't judge me, and who I have no prior (or blemished) history with to atone for.
There are others, of course, such as Rae, Jay, and Kay -- all of whom read this blog -- who I've "let in" to a certain extent just by letting them know this blog exists and by their reading of it, but would I sit down with them and tell them in detail about my extensive tie-dye underwear collection? Well, probably not, if they didn't already know about it. It's things like that which are the difference.
In other news, my mother sent me an email this morning asking if I'd like to come out and visit over Thanksgiving or Christmas this year.
"Thanksgiving's out," I told her. "I may have friends visiting from out of town, and/or I may be cooking a Thanksgiving dinner for those of us GTAs who stick around in town during that week."
All of this is true; I'm trying to work out a visit with one or more people over that week, and I'd like to cook a dinner for my friends who are still around -- it may be the only time I'll coerce any of them to actually drive up here to Newton to visit me. I'll create an event for it on Facebook within the next few days or so to gauge interest.
Thanksgiving week is also the only week I have to begin/continue writing the several large papers I'll have due by the end of the semester, much like last year. If you're a longtime reader, you'll remember that last year I skipped Thanksgiving with the former girlfriend's family so that I could write two 20-page papers and a third that was about 10-11 pages. Ah, the joys of being an English major in graduate school, right? I've got a similar workload this semester, and Thanksgiving week is about the only time I have to take care of all of it yet again. After this fall, though, I will have taken care of most of my required courses for graduation, so I will theoretically be taking a lot of electives, more fun courses, and will hopefully be able to sort of coast through the rest of my graduate school career, focusing a lot more (read: desperately needed) time on my writing and studying for comps.
"As for Christmas," I added, "If nothing's going on, I was going to ask you guys to come out here. This place is huge, and it's just me and the cats. More than enough room. I've been out there twice since moving out -- it's about time you two saw where I live and what I do in my day-to-day life."
This is also true; I have flown back to West Virginia twice since I moved to the midwest in 2006. My parents have never visited me out here, mainly due to time and space constraints in whatever places we (because it was me and the former girlfriend, then) lived. Now that I'm single, I have a full, large house to myself with a lot of extra space, and as far as I know, neither of my parents have been to Kansas. Well, maybe my dad has in his band-touring travels in the '70s and '80s, but I'm sure my mother hasn't. I'm sure there's a lot here both of them would enjoy, even in the winter, including two great Mexican restaurants and several nice shopping venues.
Anyway.
The rest of today will be spent writing/revising poetry, reading a large chunk of "This Earth of Mankind," the next novel I need to read for my Asian/Middle Eastern lit class, and taking care of a few things around the house, such as folding leftover laundry and finding something to cook for dinner. I need to chop up more carrots and celery for snacks/lunches this week, too.
Last week, I received this email from Suri during our normal correspondences back and forth when we're not on campus. I asked her permission to post it here, because I think it's not only interesting, but true -- and bears repeating.
"P.S. I'M not worried about you. Not a bit. I don't think declining to participate in grad-planned activities is a worrisome thing at all. (This is in response to your blog post about people getting worried about you now that you're all isolated and not social). Of course, this comes from someone who glories in isolation and avoids all social activities unless there is something free that she wants, but heh. There's at least one person who knows you and isn't concerned that you're going to douse yourself and your kitties in gasoline and go out like a burning torch one night.
So yeah. Comforting, I'm sure."
My response, was, of course, "Go out like a burning torch one night? Seriously?"
Suri gets it. She understands, even if her situation is a bit different from mine (she, for one, has a boyfriend in town who she's been with for five years). She also lives almost as far away from campus -- at least in terms of travel-time spent driving -- as I do.
She's also right in the fact that she knows me. As I've mentioned before, Suri is one of the very few people I've been comfortable enough to be free and open with while living here in Kansas. The only other two people I can think of offhand who know me as well are the former girlfriend and one other person who, for all intents and purposes, no longer really associates with me and really has no interest in doing so anymore -- which I'm fine with. Of those three, obviously, Suri is the one constant -- the one person I have to talk to who understands me and doesn't judge me, and who I have no prior (or blemished) history with to atone for.
There are others, of course, such as Rae, Jay, and Kay -- all of whom read this blog -- who I've "let in" to a certain extent just by letting them know this blog exists and by their reading of it, but would I sit down with them and tell them in detail about my extensive tie-dye underwear collection? Well, probably not, if they didn't already know about it. It's things like that which are the difference.
In other news, my mother sent me an email this morning asking if I'd like to come out and visit over Thanksgiving or Christmas this year.
"Thanksgiving's out," I told her. "I may have friends visiting from out of town, and/or I may be cooking a Thanksgiving dinner for those of us GTAs who stick around in town during that week."
All of this is true; I'm trying to work out a visit with one or more people over that week, and I'd like to cook a dinner for my friends who are still around -- it may be the only time I'll coerce any of them to actually drive up here to Newton to visit me. I'll create an event for it on Facebook within the next few days or so to gauge interest.
Thanksgiving week is also the only week I have to begin/continue writing the several large papers I'll have due by the end of the semester, much like last year. If you're a longtime reader, you'll remember that last year I skipped Thanksgiving with the former girlfriend's family so that I could write two 20-page papers and a third that was about 10-11 pages. Ah, the joys of being an English major in graduate school, right? I've got a similar workload this semester, and Thanksgiving week is about the only time I have to take care of all of it yet again. After this fall, though, I will have taken care of most of my required courses for graduation, so I will theoretically be taking a lot of electives, more fun courses, and will hopefully be able to sort of coast through the rest of my graduate school career, focusing a lot more (read: desperately needed) time on my writing and studying for comps.
"As for Christmas," I added, "If nothing's going on, I was going to ask you guys to come out here. This place is huge, and it's just me and the cats. More than enough room. I've been out there twice since moving out -- it's about time you two saw where I live and what I do in my day-to-day life."
This is also true; I have flown back to West Virginia twice since I moved to the midwest in 2006. My parents have never visited me out here, mainly due to time and space constraints in whatever places we (because it was me and the former girlfriend, then) lived. Now that I'm single, I have a full, large house to myself with a lot of extra space, and as far as I know, neither of my parents have been to Kansas. Well, maybe my dad has in his band-touring travels in the '70s and '80s, but I'm sure my mother hasn't. I'm sure there's a lot here both of them would enjoy, even in the winter, including two great Mexican restaurants and several nice shopping venues.
Anyway.
The rest of today will be spent writing/revising poetry, reading a large chunk of "This Earth of Mankind," the next novel I need to read for my Asian/Middle Eastern lit class, and taking care of a few things around the house, such as folding leftover laundry and finding something to cook for dinner. I need to chop up more carrots and celery for snacks/lunches this week, too.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
To My Credit
I did not, after all my waffling, end up attending the grad student mixer yesterday afternoon. I didn't actually leave the house at all, despite my best intentions to do so.
Once I'd made my decision, I didn't tell anyone that I wouldn't be going, though I didn't deliberately plan it that way or anything -- I was still burnt-out after my exceedingly long Thursday of classes and teaching, and didn't even wake up until around 1PM or so. In the afternoon, before the storms rolled in, I got dressed enough to mow the grass one final time this summer, which also had the added benefit of allowing me to completely run the last of the gas out of the mower, as the former girlfriend requested I do before she picks it up sometime within the next few weeks.
I do, of course, eventually have to purchase a new lawnmower. Believe me, it's on my list of "big things I need to buy," which also still includes a decent vacuum and a proper block of steak/prep knives, amongst other things.
I also have to renew my Playboy subscription, as that is even more important now that I'm a single man, but that's beside the point.
I later received a text message from Rae telling me that the grad student mixer had now limited alcohol consumption to but two beers per person, so I was glad I hadn't gone and wasted time/gas money to get but two free beers. That, I think, will be the death rattle for any future mixers or other festivities held at the museum if they decide to keep that new policy -- nobody's going to waste their time for two beers; they'll just not show up. I know graduate students; I am one. I don't know who actually ended up going, but Rae and her officemate-in-poetry, Kay (because that's just the easiest codename for her I can think of) were the only ones who asked where I was, so I apparently wasn't missed that much -- either that, or no one else bothered to show up.
The rest of last night I spent working on various tasks around the house, as is customary for me to do on any weekend, really; I cooked up some steaks for dinner, did the dishes for the week, did all of the laundry that had slowly piled up to overflowing in my large hamper, and ended the night by talking with an old, dear friend back home for a few hours until we both needed sleep. So yeah, that was my Friday. I didn't get much accomplished in the way of schoolwork, I was incredibly fatigued for most of it, and I basically blew off even the concept of leaving the house.
This morning, to my credit, I awoke with vigor and a game plan in place. So that I could devote all of the rest of my weekend to schoolwork, starting this afternoon, the morning hours would be spent running the errands I would normally otherwise run on Monday. This included going to the post office -- where I finally mailed out the volley of four thank-you packages that I'd been meaning to mail out for a good week or so now -- as well as putting gas in the car, air in my sagging tire, and making a trip to Walmart to pick up the essentials.
This week, one of the "essentials" was the X-Men: First Class special edition DVD. As I said on Facebook earlier today, one at a time, ladies. One at a time.
That's becoming one of my new favorite phrases, by the way, simply for the irony involved when I say it.
This afternoon, over the span of about two hours, I vaulted through all of my students' rough drafts of their first papers that they'd provided me on Thursday, giving all of them constructive and helpful criticism individually via email. I did it quickly (but thoroughly), as I knew if I didn't, they wouldn't receive my feedback with enough time to properly rewrite/revise their papers, and because I wanted to get it taken care of -- usually reviewing rough drafts takes a long, long time. However, today I was smart -- I created a numbered list in a simple text document that served as a form letter of sorts, which covered the most important and/or pressing issues I knew I'd see in these rough drafts -- namely formatting/citation errors, as well as typos. After this was done, once I read through a student's paper, I was able to cut-and-paste parts of, or the entirety of, that list into my email reply to them, thus saving me hours of typing time.
All of you who collect rough drafts from your students and email them your comments? I highly recommend creating some sort of form letter like this. It was a brief stroke of genius on my part.
Normally I don't collect rough drafts, and if I do it's on a purely voluntary basis, usually because the student wants me to look it over and offer pointers on his/her paper over the weekend before it's due. However, in the Science Writing class, time for it was written into the schedule by my supervisor, and as we have vigorous class discussions anyhow, it can only serve to help them outside of class -- so I kept it on there. For the most part, I have some truly remarkable writers in my classes, but that's to be expected as they're all generally Engineering scholarship students. I can't wait to see the interesting topics they'll be writing about later in the semester. They fill me with hope.
I'm not sure I mentioned it here, though I did mention it on Twitter a few days ago, that I ordered a $30 twin-size airbed from Amazon for "guest use," as well as for a place to stretch out and read, or nap, that's upstairs -- taking a nap on the couch is just cramped and painful for my joints, and I'd rather be able to lay flat on something up here than go downstairs, make the huge bed, and more than likely end up sleeping a lot longer than originally planned due to my near-constant fatigue. I figured an airbed would serve the dual purpose of creating a napping spot as well as giving any visitors (or me) a place to sleep. When it arrived on Thursday, before I went to bed Thursday night, I placed it in the former girlfriend's old office (now the spare room/extra storage room), inflated it, and put a set of sheets on it.
After I finished my critiques, I went in there this afternoon with Evelina, the next book I have to read for my Graduate Studies in Fiction course, laid down on the airbed, and read about 40 pages of it before completely passing out, again. That should give you some indication of how boring that book can be to a contemporary reader such as myself, because the airbed certainly isn't that comfortable to sleep on.
I was awakened three hours later by screaming children chasing a dog around the neighborhood. Apparently the dog's name was Lola, and even more apparently it was being a pain in the ass to all involved. No wonder it was trying to get away; I'd be running from a bunch of fucking annoying, screaming kids too.
It was only at that point, however, that I looked at the wall clock I'd put on the wall in that room specifically for that purpose, and saw that three hours had passed. I looked at the book again. I looked at the clock again. I realized that I had basically wasted three hours of the day that I needed to get work done because I'd been so fatigued that I couldn't stay awake. In three hours I could've read through the vast majority of that book, more than likely. It's not a hard read, it's just ponderous and large; very wordy, needs to get to the point, etc. This is, of course, typical of most 18th century "literature." Oh, how I long to read an actual novel that's been written in the past 50 years or so, one that is interesting and doesn't move at the pace of a snail's orgasm.
I plan to finish the book tonight and tomorrow, as I sort of have to -- I need to start another book for my Asian/Middle Eastern Lit class, and must still do my reading/critiques for poetry workshop as well as create a lesson plan for next week's classes I'll be teaching...amongst numerous other little school-related things that, when combined, suck away almost all of my free time. And people wonder why I rarely leave the house.
In other news, I filled out an application for a Capital One card and mailed it off. I don't really want a credit card (I've never owned one, even now, and I'll be 29 this year), but in the case that something major happens to the car and I have to get it fixed immediately, such as a blown tire or radiator, transmission, starter/alternator, etc. -- being able to put it on a credit card means I won't have to bankrupt my bank account to get it fixed. Same goes for any other emergency as well, or something that I may need to pay off in installments, such as if my computer blows up. In the meantime (if they accept my application, that is) I'll be able to use it every other week or so to get gas or small foodstuffs with, pay it off every month, and slowly build a credit report -- because I have zero credit history on record. Believe me, I checked.
I also found that's part of the reason that my car insurance is so high on the Monte Carlo -- because I didn't have a credit history they could check it against, or any previous insurance record fully in my name. They basically gave me the sports car rate, the new driver rate, and the no credit rate all bundled into one. This is why it costs me more per year to insure that car than it did to purchase, title, license, and register it. I wish I were making that up, by the way. I think they should wrap them all together and call it the bullshit rate, but that's just me. Maybe it'll eventually go down in cost, but I doubt that'll happen for a while.
The rest of my weekend, as per the usual, will be spent doing my normal weekend work for my classes (as mentioned previously), with the added bonus of not needing to leave the house again until I teach class on Tuesday morning. In that time I should be able to get most, if not all, of my tasks completed. Yes, as I've said before, it's a lonely, boring life, but I get shit done.
Once I'd made my decision, I didn't tell anyone that I wouldn't be going, though I didn't deliberately plan it that way or anything -- I was still burnt-out after my exceedingly long Thursday of classes and teaching, and didn't even wake up until around 1PM or so. In the afternoon, before the storms rolled in, I got dressed enough to mow the grass one final time this summer, which also had the added benefit of allowing me to completely run the last of the gas out of the mower, as the former girlfriend requested I do before she picks it up sometime within the next few weeks.
I do, of course, eventually have to purchase a new lawnmower. Believe me, it's on my list of "big things I need to buy," which also still includes a decent vacuum and a proper block of steak/prep knives, amongst other things.
I also have to renew my Playboy subscription, as that is even more important now that I'm a single man, but that's beside the point.
I later received a text message from Rae telling me that the grad student mixer had now limited alcohol consumption to but two beers per person, so I was glad I hadn't gone and wasted time/gas money to get but two free beers. That, I think, will be the death rattle for any future mixers or other festivities held at the museum if they decide to keep that new policy -- nobody's going to waste their time for two beers; they'll just not show up. I know graduate students; I am one. I don't know who actually ended up going, but Rae and her officemate-in-poetry, Kay (because that's just the easiest codename for her I can think of) were the only ones who asked where I was, so I apparently wasn't missed that much -- either that, or no one else bothered to show up.
The rest of last night I spent working on various tasks around the house, as is customary for me to do on any weekend, really; I cooked up some steaks for dinner, did the dishes for the week, did all of the laundry that had slowly piled up to overflowing in my large hamper, and ended the night by talking with an old, dear friend back home for a few hours until we both needed sleep. So yeah, that was my Friday. I didn't get much accomplished in the way of schoolwork, I was incredibly fatigued for most of it, and I basically blew off even the concept of leaving the house.
This morning, to my credit, I awoke with vigor and a game plan in place. So that I could devote all of the rest of my weekend to schoolwork, starting this afternoon, the morning hours would be spent running the errands I would normally otherwise run on Monday. This included going to the post office -- where I finally mailed out the volley of four thank-you packages that I'd been meaning to mail out for a good week or so now -- as well as putting gas in the car, air in my sagging tire, and making a trip to Walmart to pick up the essentials.
This week, one of the "essentials" was the X-Men: First Class special edition DVD. As I said on Facebook earlier today, one at a time, ladies. One at a time.
That's becoming one of my new favorite phrases, by the way, simply for the irony involved when I say it.
This afternoon, over the span of about two hours, I vaulted through all of my students' rough drafts of their first papers that they'd provided me on Thursday, giving all of them constructive and helpful criticism individually via email. I did it quickly (but thoroughly), as I knew if I didn't, they wouldn't receive my feedback with enough time to properly rewrite/revise their papers, and because I wanted to get it taken care of -- usually reviewing rough drafts takes a long, long time. However, today I was smart -- I created a numbered list in a simple text document that served as a form letter of sorts, which covered the most important and/or pressing issues I knew I'd see in these rough drafts -- namely formatting/citation errors, as well as typos. After this was done, once I read through a student's paper, I was able to cut-and-paste parts of, or the entirety of, that list into my email reply to them, thus saving me hours of typing time.
All of you who collect rough drafts from your students and email them your comments? I highly recommend creating some sort of form letter like this. It was a brief stroke of genius on my part.
Normally I don't collect rough drafts, and if I do it's on a purely voluntary basis, usually because the student wants me to look it over and offer pointers on his/her paper over the weekend before it's due. However, in the Science Writing class, time for it was written into the schedule by my supervisor, and as we have vigorous class discussions anyhow, it can only serve to help them outside of class -- so I kept it on there. For the most part, I have some truly remarkable writers in my classes, but that's to be expected as they're all generally Engineering scholarship students. I can't wait to see the interesting topics they'll be writing about later in the semester. They fill me with hope.
I'm not sure I mentioned it here, though I did mention it on Twitter a few days ago, that I ordered a $30 twin-size airbed from Amazon for "guest use," as well as for a place to stretch out and read, or nap, that's upstairs -- taking a nap on the couch is just cramped and painful for my joints, and I'd rather be able to lay flat on something up here than go downstairs, make the huge bed, and more than likely end up sleeping a lot longer than originally planned due to my near-constant fatigue. I figured an airbed would serve the dual purpose of creating a napping spot as well as giving any visitors (or me) a place to sleep. When it arrived on Thursday, before I went to bed Thursday night, I placed it in the former girlfriend's old office (now the spare room/extra storage room), inflated it, and put a set of sheets on it.
After I finished my critiques, I went in there this afternoon with Evelina, the next book I have to read for my Graduate Studies in Fiction course, laid down on the airbed, and read about 40 pages of it before completely passing out, again. That should give you some indication of how boring that book can be to a contemporary reader such as myself, because the airbed certainly isn't that comfortable to sleep on.
I was awakened three hours later by screaming children chasing a dog around the neighborhood. Apparently the dog's name was Lola, and even more apparently it was being a pain in the ass to all involved. No wonder it was trying to get away; I'd be running from a bunch of fucking annoying, screaming kids too.
It was only at that point, however, that I looked at the wall clock I'd put on the wall in that room specifically for that purpose, and saw that three hours had passed. I looked at the book again. I looked at the clock again. I realized that I had basically wasted three hours of the day that I needed to get work done because I'd been so fatigued that I couldn't stay awake. In three hours I could've read through the vast majority of that book, more than likely. It's not a hard read, it's just ponderous and large; very wordy, needs to get to the point, etc. This is, of course, typical of most 18th century "literature." Oh, how I long to read an actual novel that's been written in the past 50 years or so, one that is interesting and doesn't move at the pace of a snail's orgasm.
I plan to finish the book tonight and tomorrow, as I sort of have to -- I need to start another book for my Asian/Middle Eastern Lit class, and must still do my reading/critiques for poetry workshop as well as create a lesson plan for next week's classes I'll be teaching...amongst numerous other little school-related things that, when combined, suck away almost all of my free time. And people wonder why I rarely leave the house.
In other news, I filled out an application for a Capital One card and mailed it off. I don't really want a credit card (I've never owned one, even now, and I'll be 29 this year), but in the case that something major happens to the car and I have to get it fixed immediately, such as a blown tire or radiator, transmission, starter/alternator, etc. -- being able to put it on a credit card means I won't have to bankrupt my bank account to get it fixed. Same goes for any other emergency as well, or something that I may need to pay off in installments, such as if my computer blows up. In the meantime (if they accept my application, that is) I'll be able to use it every other week or so to get gas or small foodstuffs with, pay it off every month, and slowly build a credit report -- because I have zero credit history on record. Believe me, I checked.
I also found that's part of the reason that my car insurance is so high on the Monte Carlo -- because I didn't have a credit history they could check it against, or any previous insurance record fully in my name. They basically gave me the sports car rate, the new driver rate, and the no credit rate all bundled into one. This is why it costs me more per year to insure that car than it did to purchase, title, license, and register it. I wish I were making that up, by the way. I think they should wrap them all together and call it the bullshit rate, but that's just me. Maybe it'll eventually go down in cost, but I doubt that'll happen for a while.
The rest of my weekend, as per the usual, will be spent doing my normal weekend work for my classes (as mentioned previously), with the added bonus of not needing to leave the house again until I teach class on Tuesday morning. In that time I should be able to get most, if not all, of my tasks completed. Yes, as I've said before, it's a lonely, boring life, but I get shit done.
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Mock Profile
Fall semester: day fifteen
This afternoon, Andrea and I were discussing dating websites like Match.com, and specifically how all of the single people in my hometown of Morgantown, West Virginia are unattractive.
"You know why?" I asked. "Because pretty single people don't use websites like Match.com. Delete your account; you're not one of them."
The them I was referring to was the people who use said website or others like it, obviously. Andrea is very pretty. She doesn't need it. While I don't believe that only ugly people populate dating websites, I do believe that said sites are indeed (for the most part, anyway) havens for those people who are desperate, socially awkward or otherwise inept at real life.
Some of you (okay, most of you) can probably point out the irony in my writing that.
This being said, I will mention that I used to be a member of at least one or two dating sites in my undergrad years at WVU, back when I was hopelessly fat, sheltered, awkward, and -- well -- not getting laid. Though I did make a friend or two through the sites, I let my memberships lapse long before the former girlfriend and I got together, which should tell you how long ago it actually was. However, Andrea and I began talking about the sorts of profiles we've written and/or seen on sites like these.
"Truthfully, I'd make my profile brutally honest," I said.
And, of course, I then began to construct one. Just for fun (believe me, I'm not joining any dating site), within our conversation. What follows is an expanded version of that mock profile I created in my conversation with Andrea, simply for your amusement. I figure if nothing else, it will let you into my head a little more:
THE OBLIGATORY "ABOUT ME" STATEMENT:
I live in the small town of Newton, KS, alone, with three cats. I will talk about said cats at length; be prepared. I wrote a book, but talk about it as little as possible in mixed company. I drive a beat-up Monte Carlo with a Decepticon logo on the hood. Because I'm a nerd. I will also talk about my car at length, including any problems it's currently having; again, be prepared. I collect comic books and comic book t-shirts, and can quote most (if not all) Kevin Smith movies verbatim. I have limited social skills, yet (most of the time) I am full of confidence and somewhat narcissistic, and due to that combination, most people find me at least somewhat grating. I've just escaped an almost seven-year relationship with a woman who tried to change almost everything about me and failed to do so, as I refuse to be anything but who I truly am. Some would say I'm an asshole, while others would say I'm one of the kindest, most introspective and caring men they've ever met. It's up to you to be the judge.
WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR:
I'm looking for a woman roughly around my age (read: rapidly approaching thirty) who doesn't want to be coy, dick around playing hard to get, or just meaninglessly date or have meaningless sex. None of that interests me. I'm getting older, and when I was younger I thought I'd be married with children by now, so I don't waste my time with people who aren't in the mindset of at least being open to the prospect of settling down for a commitment of a stable relationship and a future together. With people my age, in my profession or both, that sort of thing is extremely hard to find. Also of note: my confidence only goes so far, so even if I think we'd be a good match, if I consider you to be "out of my league" (as in way too good/pretty/popular) to date someone like me, you'll have to be the one to make the first move, as I'll not be brave enough to ask you out due to the high probability of rejection as well as a strong cynical streak I possess. Age isn't really important, though maturity is. Body shape or type is even less important, as what attracts me to a woman is more often her personality and sense of humor than her looks -- and no, that's not bullshit. Glasses are a plus, however, as I find them remarkably sexy. Non-religious, liberal types are preferred, though as long as you don't push your beliefs on me or let them affect our relationship, it doesn't matter to me what you believe in. More than anything else, though, I want someone normal -- no hang-ups, no stalking, no craziness...and certainly no yelling, throwing things, or hitting me, either.
THINGS I DO:
The first thing you should know about me, before anything else, is that I tend to live the life of a recluse, and for the most part this is my choice. In my free time I am usually closed up in my home office (or, as I call it, my "Man Cave") blogging, Facebooking/Tweeting, and downloading or listening to podcasts. When I'm not doing that, I'm either at school for obscenely long days, asleep, cleaning, or occasionally watching college/NFL football or a good nerdy movie on the couch...when I'm not reading a 400-page novel every week for my lit classes, writing new poetry, or writing/grading my students' papers and quizzes. I'm a very lonely, busy person, and there's always something on my figurative plate. Despite that, I will make as much time for you as possible, and can always clear some of those things from my schedule for a while.
MY POSSIBLY-DEALBREAKING CHARACTER FAULTS:
I smoke like a chimney, and have done so pretty much from age eighteen to the present. I am, however, willing to give it up. When I drink, I usually drink to excess and generally do not/can not stop until I am either sick or unconscious, though everyone says I'm a happy drunk. I'm overweight, but not overly so; I am not gargantuan. I am in graduate school, therefore I only make $8500 a year from teaching (before taxes) and am forced to live on student loans to survive. This, of course, means I can't really afford extravagant dates or gifts for you. My car is almost sixteen years old, has 217,000+ miles on it, and sucks gas like crazy (in addition to numerous other small problems it has). I am 24 miles from the nearest real metropolitan area (Wichita), so a willingness to actually come up here on a regular basis is a must. I do not like groups of people or the "bar scene" at all, and avoid both as much as humanly possible. I can be somewhat vain and cocky at times, though that's usually just my way of dealing with awkwardness. I drink milk from the carton, never a glass. I like to wear tie-dye shirts and mirrored aviator sunglasses, frequently at the same time. I will usually go a few weeks at a time without shaving. I am not particularly well-endowed. I have no monetary inheritances coming to me, and I have no clue where my life or career is headed after grad school, only that grad school is giving me a purpose and a job for the three years I'm attending it. I don't necessarily like the outdoors. I am much more eloquent in writing or typing than I am in person. I hate the telephone. I sing in the car. I sing in the shower. I dance, poorly, when no one is looking (and sometimes when people are). I talk to my cats too much. I have a hairy chest and back. I am slowly losing my hair and may be bald by age 40. I hate most country and rap music. I write mediocre poetry, but can't stand reading most poetry. I think Tucker Max and Seanbaby are comedic geniuses. There is a toy TIE Fighter hanging from the ceiling in my office at work, complete with pilot. I want to be Slave Leia (or Sailor Mercury) for Halloween at some point, just to see how many people I can disgust. I will eventually ask you to dress like Sailor Mercury in the bedroom. Yes, I will. You are allowed to decline this request, as everyone else I've asked has. I am still addicted to all of the Pokemon games, even at my age. I own and wear a leather motorcycle jacket, despite the fact that I have never owned a motorcycle. I am a huge proponent of the bathrobe, and see no need in getting dressed for the day if I'm not planning to leave the house. I wear sandals everywhere in the spring/summer/fall except on days when it's too cold or wet to do so. My daily vitamin regimen makes my pee neon highlighter yellow. When I write my next book, you will more than likely end up as a character in it -- and if I really like you, you may end up on the Special Thanks page.
One at a time, ladies. One at a time.
This afternoon, Andrea and I were discussing dating websites like Match.com, and specifically how all of the single people in my hometown of Morgantown, West Virginia are unattractive.
"You know why?" I asked. "Because pretty single people don't use websites like Match.com. Delete your account; you're not one of them."
The them I was referring to was the people who use said website or others like it, obviously. Andrea is very pretty. She doesn't need it. While I don't believe that only ugly people populate dating websites, I do believe that said sites are indeed (for the most part, anyway) havens for those people who are desperate, socially awkward or otherwise inept at real life.
Some of you (okay, most of you) can probably point out the irony in my writing that.
This being said, I will mention that I used to be a member of at least one or two dating sites in my undergrad years at WVU, back when I was hopelessly fat, sheltered, awkward, and -- well -- not getting laid. Though I did make a friend or two through the sites, I let my memberships lapse long before the former girlfriend and I got together, which should tell you how long ago it actually was. However, Andrea and I began talking about the sorts of profiles we've written and/or seen on sites like these.
"Truthfully, I'd make my profile brutally honest," I said.
And, of course, I then began to construct one. Just for fun (believe me, I'm not joining any dating site), within our conversation. What follows is an expanded version of that mock profile I created in my conversation with Andrea, simply for your amusement. I figure if nothing else, it will let you into my head a little more:
THE OBLIGATORY "ABOUT ME" STATEMENT:
I live in the small town of Newton, KS, alone, with three cats. I will talk about said cats at length; be prepared. I wrote a book, but talk about it as little as possible in mixed company. I drive a beat-up Monte Carlo with a Decepticon logo on the hood. Because I'm a nerd. I will also talk about my car at length, including any problems it's currently having; again, be prepared. I collect comic books and comic book t-shirts, and can quote most (if not all) Kevin Smith movies verbatim. I have limited social skills, yet (most of the time) I am full of confidence and somewhat narcissistic, and due to that combination, most people find me at least somewhat grating. I've just escaped an almost seven-year relationship with a woman who tried to change almost everything about me and failed to do so, as I refuse to be anything but who I truly am. Some would say I'm an asshole, while others would say I'm one of the kindest, most introspective and caring men they've ever met. It's up to you to be the judge.
WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR:
I'm looking for a woman roughly around my age (read: rapidly approaching thirty) who doesn't want to be coy, dick around playing hard to get, or just meaninglessly date or have meaningless sex. None of that interests me. I'm getting older, and when I was younger I thought I'd be married with children by now, so I don't waste my time with people who aren't in the mindset of at least being open to the prospect of settling down for a commitment of a stable relationship and a future together. With people my age, in my profession or both, that sort of thing is extremely hard to find. Also of note: my confidence only goes so far, so even if I think we'd be a good match, if I consider you to be "out of my league" (as in way too good/pretty/popular) to date someone like me, you'll have to be the one to make the first move, as I'll not be brave enough to ask you out due to the high probability of rejection as well as a strong cynical streak I possess. Age isn't really important, though maturity is. Body shape or type is even less important, as what attracts me to a woman is more often her personality and sense of humor than her looks -- and no, that's not bullshit. Glasses are a plus, however, as I find them remarkably sexy. Non-religious, liberal types are preferred, though as long as you don't push your beliefs on me or let them affect our relationship, it doesn't matter to me what you believe in. More than anything else, though, I want someone normal -- no hang-ups, no stalking, no craziness...and certainly no yelling, throwing things, or hitting me, either.
THINGS I DO:
The first thing you should know about me, before anything else, is that I tend to live the life of a recluse, and for the most part this is my choice. In my free time I am usually closed up in my home office (or, as I call it, my "Man Cave") blogging, Facebooking/Tweeting, and downloading or listening to podcasts. When I'm not doing that, I'm either at school for obscenely long days, asleep, cleaning, or occasionally watching college/NFL football or a good nerdy movie on the couch...when I'm not reading a 400-page novel every week for my lit classes, writing new poetry, or writing/grading my students' papers and quizzes. I'm a very lonely, busy person, and there's always something on my figurative plate. Despite that, I will make as much time for you as possible, and can always clear some of those things from my schedule for a while.
MY POSSIBLY-DEALBREAKING CHARACTER FAULTS:
I smoke like a chimney, and have done so pretty much from age eighteen to the present. I am, however, willing to give it up. When I drink, I usually drink to excess and generally do not/can not stop until I am either sick or unconscious, though everyone says I'm a happy drunk. I'm overweight, but not overly so; I am not gargantuan. I am in graduate school, therefore I only make $8500 a year from teaching (before taxes) and am forced to live on student loans to survive. This, of course, means I can't really afford extravagant dates or gifts for you. My car is almost sixteen years old, has 217,000+ miles on it, and sucks gas like crazy (in addition to numerous other small problems it has). I am 24 miles from the nearest real metropolitan area (Wichita), so a willingness to actually come up here on a regular basis is a must. I do not like groups of people or the "bar scene" at all, and avoid both as much as humanly possible. I can be somewhat vain and cocky at times, though that's usually just my way of dealing with awkwardness. I drink milk from the carton, never a glass. I like to wear tie-dye shirts and mirrored aviator sunglasses, frequently at the same time. I will usually go a few weeks at a time without shaving. I am not particularly well-endowed. I have no monetary inheritances coming to me, and I have no clue where my life or career is headed after grad school, only that grad school is giving me a purpose and a job for the three years I'm attending it. I don't necessarily like the outdoors. I am much more eloquent in writing or typing than I am in person. I hate the telephone. I sing in the car. I sing in the shower. I dance, poorly, when no one is looking (and sometimes when people are). I talk to my cats too much. I have a hairy chest and back. I am slowly losing my hair and may be bald by age 40. I hate most country and rap music. I write mediocre poetry, but can't stand reading most poetry. I think Tucker Max and Seanbaby are comedic geniuses. There is a toy TIE Fighter hanging from the ceiling in my office at work, complete with pilot. I want to be Slave Leia (or Sailor Mercury) for Halloween at some point, just to see how many people I can disgust. I will eventually ask you to dress like Sailor Mercury in the bedroom. Yes, I will. You are allowed to decline this request, as everyone else I've asked has. I am still addicted to all of the Pokemon games, even at my age. I own and wear a leather motorcycle jacket, despite the fact that I have never owned a motorcycle. I am a huge proponent of the bathrobe, and see no need in getting dressed for the day if I'm not planning to leave the house. I wear sandals everywhere in the spring/summer/fall except on days when it's too cold or wet to do so. My daily vitamin regimen makes my pee neon highlighter yellow. When I write my next book, you will more than likely end up as a character in it -- and if I really like you, you may end up on the Special Thanks page.
One at a time, ladies. One at a time.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Out of It
Fall semester: day twelve
I was actually very alert and lucid for my time on campus today. This was despite the fact that I was so dog-tired before leaving the house that just moving around made me ache, and my stomach was upset from all the caffeine I'd ingested to make me a functional human being.
I did make my customary pot of coffee at work once I got there as well, though that was mostly out of habit and needing that bit of an extra boost to keep going. I taught my classes, was able to lecture without becoming too addled or flustered (though there were a few places where I tripped over my own words a little too much), and before I left my office this morning to teach, I made sure I carried all of my stuff with me in my messenger bag so that when I was done, I could go directly back to the parking lot and hop into the Monte Carlo to come home.
This was, really, exactly what happened. As soon as I was done I sped back up 135 and came home, ate the leftovers of a frozen pizza I'd made, and summarily went downstairs to pass the fuck out for about seven hours or so. I was asleep shortly after 1:30, and when I awoke fully, it was 8:30 and dark outside. I woke up only once during my slumber, when the garbagemen made an awful racket around 4:30-ish.
This, of course, means my sleep schedule has been completely thrown off once more, and that I will more than likely be awake for most of the night tonight. This is fine, really, as I don't have to be on campus tomorrow until 1:30 for one of my own classes. I'll probably actually get there around 10 or 11, as I usually do. It lets me get some stuff done around the office, and my sleep schedule will right itself tomorrow night when I have to go to bed as soon as I get home in order to get up at 5AM on Thursday.
I did not make it to the post office today to mail everyone's packages out; as you may have guessed, I was deliriously tired not only this morning, but by the time I got home this afternoon I had ridden the crest of the proverbial wave back down, and was simply ready to crash. If I get up early enough in the morning, I may mail them out then. If not, they'll have to wait until Friday, when I go back out and run errands.
Even after I slept today, my mind is still rather hazy. I had full intentions of writing my first paper for my studies in fiction class tonight, and may still do it, but I'm out of it, as they say. It's hard to focus on anything, and I'm in that phase of being tired where I'm not tired enough to sleep, but too tired to actually be motivated (or clear-minded enough) to do anything. I'm in this phase a lot, I've found, at least during the semester. I hesitate to drink more coffee to wake myself up enough to focus, as well, as I don't want to get into the cycle of staying awake 24-28 hours at a time before I actually get any real sleep. Getting into that sort of cycle would royally fuck me over for Friday, as well.
Friday, as most of you know, is the grad student mixer being held for all of us at the museum on campus. Suri has now decided not to go, as she called and found out that she can't bring her boyfriend -- we in fact cannot bring any guests at all -- so she's out. I'm planning to go, if just to get out of the house and make an excuse for myself to go to Target thereafter. The operative word here, of course, is planning. I've not committed myself to anything yet, despite everyone's insisting that I should go, show up, show my face, etc.
"You're the most...unique of all of us," Rae told me this morning, "since you never do any of this stuff."
"...thanks?" I replied. I honestly didn't know how to respond to that sort of statement.
"And I know, yes, you live up there because you want to, and you're very solitary and isolated," she added, referring to my living in Newton, "but still."
A normal person may have taken "solitary" and "isolated" as insults, but I didn't. Rae's not that type of person anyhow.
"Rae, it's a long fucking drive," I told her. "For me, anyway. That car's expensive to drive anywhere."
"I know, and I understand that," she said, "but all of us are starting to get worried about you."
This. This is what I don't get, the one piece of the puzzle that won't fit. Look, I am very, very appreciative and thankful for all of my friends on campus who care about me, worry about me, and want to include me in things, because that does indeed make me feel special and wanted, but it's not like I'm going to wither away and die up here in Newton just because I don't attend every social function anymore. A large part of it is that people don't realize the main reason why I went to most of the social functions around or involving members of the department in the past is because the former girlfriend wanted me to go with her, not because I necessarily wanted to go myself. Yes, there were a few that I genuinely wanted to go to of my own volition, such as the Halloween party last year, the department Christmas party held in the penthouse of one of our longtime professors, and Rae & Jay's end of the semester blowout in May. As for the rest? Eh.
I will say that I am up for another Halloween party this year, if only as an opportunity to get pictures of me taken dressed up like an absolute nerd. I'm thinking of going as Slave Leia this year.
I'll give you a moment to try to scrub that image from your mind before I continue.
Can't do it, can you? You're welcome.
So, really, I'm not completely sure on the grad student mixer thing on Friday. I'll try to go if I'm motivated to do so in the least (or awake, for that matter), but I'm not making any promises.
As for now, I'm going to attempt to go back to bed, and when I get up in the morning perhaps I'll be fully rested and feeling normal/ready to take on the world again.
I was actually very alert and lucid for my time on campus today. This was despite the fact that I was so dog-tired before leaving the house that just moving around made me ache, and my stomach was upset from all the caffeine I'd ingested to make me a functional human being.
I did make my customary pot of coffee at work once I got there as well, though that was mostly out of habit and needing that bit of an extra boost to keep going. I taught my classes, was able to lecture without becoming too addled or flustered (though there were a few places where I tripped over my own words a little too much), and before I left my office this morning to teach, I made sure I carried all of my stuff with me in my messenger bag so that when I was done, I could go directly back to the parking lot and hop into the Monte Carlo to come home.
This was, really, exactly what happened. As soon as I was done I sped back up 135 and came home, ate the leftovers of a frozen pizza I'd made, and summarily went downstairs to pass the fuck out for about seven hours or so. I was asleep shortly after 1:30, and when I awoke fully, it was 8:30 and dark outside. I woke up only once during my slumber, when the garbagemen made an awful racket around 4:30-ish.
This, of course, means my sleep schedule has been completely thrown off once more, and that I will more than likely be awake for most of the night tonight. This is fine, really, as I don't have to be on campus tomorrow until 1:30 for one of my own classes. I'll probably actually get there around 10 or 11, as I usually do. It lets me get some stuff done around the office, and my sleep schedule will right itself tomorrow night when I have to go to bed as soon as I get home in order to get up at 5AM on Thursday.
I did not make it to the post office today to mail everyone's packages out; as you may have guessed, I was deliriously tired not only this morning, but by the time I got home this afternoon I had ridden the crest of the proverbial wave back down, and was simply ready to crash. If I get up early enough in the morning, I may mail them out then. If not, they'll have to wait until Friday, when I go back out and run errands.
Even after I slept today, my mind is still rather hazy. I had full intentions of writing my first paper for my studies in fiction class tonight, and may still do it, but I'm out of it, as they say. It's hard to focus on anything, and I'm in that phase of being tired where I'm not tired enough to sleep, but too tired to actually be motivated (or clear-minded enough) to do anything. I'm in this phase a lot, I've found, at least during the semester. I hesitate to drink more coffee to wake myself up enough to focus, as well, as I don't want to get into the cycle of staying awake 24-28 hours at a time before I actually get any real sleep. Getting into that sort of cycle would royally fuck me over for Friday, as well.
Friday, as most of you know, is the grad student mixer being held for all of us at the museum on campus. Suri has now decided not to go, as she called and found out that she can't bring her boyfriend -- we in fact cannot bring any guests at all -- so she's out. I'm planning to go, if just to get out of the house and make an excuse for myself to go to Target thereafter. The operative word here, of course, is planning. I've not committed myself to anything yet, despite everyone's insisting that I should go, show up, show my face, etc.
"You're the most...unique of all of us," Rae told me this morning, "since you never do any of this stuff."
"...thanks?" I replied. I honestly didn't know how to respond to that sort of statement.
"And I know, yes, you live up there because you want to, and you're very solitary and isolated," she added, referring to my living in Newton, "but still."
A normal person may have taken "solitary" and "isolated" as insults, but I didn't. Rae's not that type of person anyhow.
"Rae, it's a long fucking drive," I told her. "For me, anyway. That car's expensive to drive anywhere."
"I know, and I understand that," she said, "but all of us are starting to get worried about you."
This. This is what I don't get, the one piece of the puzzle that won't fit. Look, I am very, very appreciative and thankful for all of my friends on campus who care about me, worry about me, and want to include me in things, because that does indeed make me feel special and wanted, but it's not like I'm going to wither away and die up here in Newton just because I don't attend every social function anymore. A large part of it is that people don't realize the main reason why I went to most of the social functions around or involving members of the department in the past is because the former girlfriend wanted me to go with her, not because I necessarily wanted to go myself. Yes, there were a few that I genuinely wanted to go to of my own volition, such as the Halloween party last year, the department Christmas party held in the penthouse of one of our longtime professors, and Rae & Jay's end of the semester blowout in May. As for the rest? Eh.
I will say that I am up for another Halloween party this year, if only as an opportunity to get pictures of me taken dressed up like an absolute nerd. I'm thinking of going as Slave Leia this year.
I'll give you a moment to try to scrub that image from your mind before I continue.
Can't do it, can you? You're welcome.
So, really, I'm not completely sure on the grad student mixer thing on Friday. I'll try to go if I'm motivated to do so in the least (or awake, for that matter), but I'm not making any promises.
As for now, I'm going to attempt to go back to bed, and when I get up in the morning perhaps I'll be fully rested and feeling normal/ready to take on the world again.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Nightmares and Nightmare-like Things
I went to bed around 9PM, had a terrible nightmare, and could not go back to sleep. At around 11, I gave up and came back upstairs. If I do go back to sleep tonight, it will more than likely be on the way-too-small-for-me-lengthwise couch upstairs in the living room.
The book, surprisingly, has been selling moderately well. If you look to your upper left above my profile, I've posted a direct link to the page for it on Amazon. Suri purchased a copy and has been enjoying it quite a bit, but has taken the initiative to tell me that despite the careful reads and edits I've made, she's still found a typo or two. Oh well. I went through another re-edit and re-upload of the manuscript a few nights ago, to see if I could rectify (or at least better) the formatting errors and bunched text that occurs with the transition to the Kindle format. From the preview I saw, even after spending hours upon hours trying to get the Kindle version to look like the actual manuscript -- which, I assure you, indeed is a book, and a properly-formatted one at that -- my work didn't do much good. Everything is still somewhat screwy in the transition to electronic format, and I ask you to bear with it if you're willing to purchase and read the book. For those of you who have purchased it previously and have noticed all of these weird formatting changes (excluding Suri, who bought it after I attempted to fix most of them), you might want to see if you can "reload" or what-have-you, to see if you can get the newest version to see if that helps. Like I said, I don't know why it's all screwy in some places; it doesn't affect its readability, just how it looks on the "digital page."
The problem is that it makes me look unprofessional as an author, which is what irritates me. It makes me look like I don't know what paragraphs, chapters, and line/page breaks are. In the print version, which will be coming soon (because I am sick of all of these issues, frankly) once I can figure out how to do it, it will be rectified.
I should have been asleep four hours ago. I don't know if I'll get back to sleep at all now.
I have decided I will more than likely go to the grad student mixer, even if it may not be a great idea for me. It will, however, get me out of the house, and Suri is planning to go as well -- possibly bringing her longtime boyfriend, who I have yet to meet. It looks like a lot of us -- at least those of us who already know about it -- are going to the mixer. I get the feeling that most of us usually attend the events at the museum, if only because free beer is provided, and there's no limit -- meaning, once you're there, unless you're vomiting, they won't cut you off. Even If I do nothing but get out of the house for a few hours and spend a little time with some friends before coming back home, it will be better for my mental state than sitting here staring at the cats and worrying about the papers I need to write/grade. Three of the guys, one of whom is my officemate, are musicians and are playing what appears to be at least two different shows at the Donut Whole (the best donut/coffee shop in Wichita) afterwards, which I imagine most of my colleagues will be attending as well. Depending on my state of inebriation by the time the mixer is over, I'll probably attend that as well -- though I'll be hitching a ride from someone, to be sure, if I do. If anything, coffee and donuts can only serve to sober me up.
I may be able to have an old friend from West Virginia come visit me at some point this semester for at least a few days; we've been trying to arrange something for a while now. I hesitate to say much more for fear that I'll not only jinx myself but because it's a rather private sort of thing, and it's one of those situations that I don't really feel comfortable writing about here (and I may not even write about it if she does end up coming to visit, at least not for a while anyhow), though it is someone I've mentioned here in the blog in the past month or so. If she does get to make it out here, it will be fun to catch up, and it will be like a little piece of home visiting me here in my humble abode. I've even ordered a $30 self-inflating airbed for any and all visiting guests (or me) to sleep on. Despite owning a king-size bed and only ever using one side of it, it would probably be more than a bit creepy for any of my female friends to share it with me, even with my promises that I wouldn't violate them in the night.
Hm. Violate them in the night. There's a line for one of my poems.
Anyway.
I miss my friends and family in West Virginia; that, of course, should go without saying at this point. I've not lived out there since November 2006, and that makes five years this fall. I've visited twice since I moved out here, but both times I was barely able to catch up with anyone from high school or college except for Andrea and my friends Travis and Matt. Schedule conflicts (or the fact that most of my other friends got out of the state and disappeared) hindered much other interaction with anyone I knew, and Morgantown is much different now compared to how it was when I left it. As much as I don't necessarily want to move back to West Virginia after I graduate in 2013, I may end up doing it anyway if I can find a job there or if other circumstances that shall, for the moment, remain unwritten -- fall into place.
As I said before, there are many things going on behind the scenes that I, as of yet, refuse to write about, and there are many variables in play. Nothing bad, mind you; I'm just working in a lot of different arenas right now, so to speak, and there are very few people I care to discuss it with.
No, before you ask, I'm not doing gay porn. Believe me, I'm not...ahem...talented enough to do regular porn. Shit, I'm not talented enough to be the cameraman.
I've decided that my next book isn't necessarily going to be a simple memoir of graduate school, but rather something along the lines of humorous memoir combined with tips on how to survive it. That is, of course, provided I survive it first. It will take a while to write if that's what I choose to do, and while I will include stories that I've touched upon in the blog over the years, none of the content in it will directly come from here. I fancy myself a humorist, a nonfictionist -- this sort of writing is what I'm best at, like it or not. Might as well make it work for me.
Aside from the cable bill, which arrives now on a different payment schedule since the internet account was switched into my name, today I paid all of the other bills for the house, as well as wrote out the check to the former girlfriend to repay her for the deposit on this place that she signed over to my name last month. With my trips to Walmart and the Dollar Tree on Sunday, as well as the gas I put in my car on top of that, I have spent entirely too much money in the past week, but it couldn't be avoided. We are, at least, getting paid again now -- and will actually receive three paychecks this month because of when the paydates fall -- so at least my bank account isn't bleeding itself to death anymore. Now, it's just a minor wound that's slowly oozing.
Truth be told, even with the regular paychecks, I still spend more money per month than I bring in, in bills and rent alone -- and I am not, of course, counting food for myself and the cats, or the +/-$100 in gas I'll put in the Monte Carlo over any given month of classes. We, as GTAs alone, make less than $800 a month.
No, I'm not kidding. See why any function offering free beer is so enticing to us?
It would be impossible for me to survive had I not taken the student loan I accepted for the fall/spring. My rent here is relatively low for the place I have (a place like this would easily be $800 a month in Wichita), but the cost of it at all -- as well as the cost of gas -- makes surviving on less than $400 every two weeks nearly impossible. Would I be able to save money on gas if I had a newer, more fuel-efficient car? Probably, but I can't afford a new car, and the costs would be negligible over the long run at best. Would it be cheaper to live in Wichita? Maybe, but not incredibly likely. Not with three cats, and I'd more than likely have to make the sacrifice of having about 1/2 to 1/3 of the space I have now, with no garage and the possibility of getting mugged, shot, or stabbed at any given time.
As an aside, if the Monte Carlo ever does blow a major, expensive part that I can't afford to fix, I've already made the vow that I'll be looking for another Monte Carlo of around the same model year (though hopefully in better condition) almost immediately. Even with its problems, I have to say I love that car. It's like owning a low-rent Batmobile -- it's sleek, fast, and its engine has a growl like no other car I've driven, with the exception of the '91 Trans Am I test-drove in Hutchinson a month or so before I bought the Monte Carlo.
The only reason I didn't buy that car, as some of you know, is because the gas pedal had problems -- you literally had to mash it to the floor to get the car to move, an issue indicative of much larger problems I'd eventually have to deal with, more than likely.
It is 2:15 AM. Fuck it, I said to myself. I made coffee. I'm awake for the long haul now.
Today I'll teach at 9:30 and 11, but after that I'm done and can come home to crash, if needed and/or warranted. I need to get to the post office on my way home from classes so that I can mail out a volley of thank-you packages to friends, as well as a birthday/thank-you package (with card and presents) to Andrea. Luckily, I don't have to get up early on Wednesday morning, as I don't have class until 1:30. This means, basically, that once I get home tomorrow I can go to bed and sleep any time I want for as long as I want in order to reboot my system. Damned nightmares. I was originally tired tonight, too.
The nightmare, in case you were wondering, was about the friend who may come visit me sometime this fall, and the consequences of me somehow finding a way to screw up that visit. Pretty tame, yes, but then again it's not like I lead a wild life.
X-Men: First Class comes out on DVD on Friday (yeah, I know, weird release date; I'm just going by what Amazon tells me). I'm considering organizing a watch party here at the house for those nerds and/or nerdy ladies who would like to see it on my new (small) HDTV, but who haven't had the chance yet. Phenomenal film if you read and like the comics. Highly recommended. Of course, if I'm going to do that, I actually need to purchase the film first. If anyone's interested, let me know. Please visit me; I won't molest you.
I haven't heard anything from my parents in several days; it's been radio silence from them over the long weekend, so who knows what's going on back home.
Yes, I realize this post is de-evolving into just random observations and thoughts. Right now that's what I need.
I found a can of hair mousse that the former girlfriend left behind when she moved. I'm glad she left it, because it's perfect for styling my new, shorter hair into a sort of "spiked up" look.
I showered last night before bed, but will probably shower again in about an hour or so just so I can shave, trim the beard, and re-mousse the hair. Yes, for a while at least, I'm going to be one of those guys who uses product in his hair. The very thought of it makes me shudder, but I look good, so for the moment it may be a necessary evil. I really can't wait to see my students' reactions to my haircut today in class. Hell, I can't wait to see some of my colleagues' reactions as well.
Speaking of colleagues, I've spoken with a few of them at length about getting together once a week or so to record a podcast of some sort, even if it's something that we have to record in my office on campus. Headsets and microphones are incredibly cheap -- I just bought a VOIP microphone/headphone set for Skype use on Amazon for $10 -- and with all sorts of recording software available both commercially and free (especially for Linux systems like mine) I am serious about getting some sort of podcast off the ground, hopefully involving the themes of grad school/humor/poetry/life in general. I could record it now from my house and put it on the web myself, but I really need guests/cohosts to get some good conversations going. Just me talking isn't going to do much as I live a really boring life.
As for Skype itself, as I've just installed the program within the past two weeks and have been learning how to use it, it's awesome. Almost all the time when I'm on the computer now and have free time to talk, I've got it online at the ready to make/receive calls, or talk to friends via its IM function. I don't have a camera, but I can see how it will prove indispensable in the future for contact between friends not only here in town, but in other cities/states.
On that note, as I've basically run out of anything to write about that will either keep me awake longer or keep you reading longer, I'm off to shower and, if tired enough afterwards, collapse on the couch for an hour or so before I have to start my day and head off to campus. I have the feeling that it's going to feel much longer than it actually will last. Maybe if I'm really tired I'll hold off on the post office stuff until tomorrow morning, so that I can just come home and crash.
The book, surprisingly, has been selling moderately well. If you look to your upper left above my profile, I've posted a direct link to the page for it on Amazon. Suri purchased a copy and has been enjoying it quite a bit, but has taken the initiative to tell me that despite the careful reads and edits I've made, she's still found a typo or two. Oh well. I went through another re-edit and re-upload of the manuscript a few nights ago, to see if I could rectify (or at least better) the formatting errors and bunched text that occurs with the transition to the Kindle format. From the preview I saw, even after spending hours upon hours trying to get the Kindle version to look like the actual manuscript -- which, I assure you, indeed is a book, and a properly-formatted one at that -- my work didn't do much good. Everything is still somewhat screwy in the transition to electronic format, and I ask you to bear with it if you're willing to purchase and read the book. For those of you who have purchased it previously and have noticed all of these weird formatting changes (excluding Suri, who bought it after I attempted to fix most of them), you might want to see if you can "reload" or what-have-you, to see if you can get the newest version to see if that helps. Like I said, I don't know why it's all screwy in some places; it doesn't affect its readability, just how it looks on the "digital page."
The problem is that it makes me look unprofessional as an author, which is what irritates me. It makes me look like I don't know what paragraphs, chapters, and line/page breaks are. In the print version, which will be coming soon (because I am sick of all of these issues, frankly) once I can figure out how to do it, it will be rectified.
I should have been asleep four hours ago. I don't know if I'll get back to sleep at all now.
I have decided I will more than likely go to the grad student mixer, even if it may not be a great idea for me. It will, however, get me out of the house, and Suri is planning to go as well -- possibly bringing her longtime boyfriend, who I have yet to meet. It looks like a lot of us -- at least those of us who already know about it -- are going to the mixer. I get the feeling that most of us usually attend the events at the museum, if only because free beer is provided, and there's no limit -- meaning, once you're there, unless you're vomiting, they won't cut you off. Even If I do nothing but get out of the house for a few hours and spend a little time with some friends before coming back home, it will be better for my mental state than sitting here staring at the cats and worrying about the papers I need to write/grade. Three of the guys, one of whom is my officemate, are musicians and are playing what appears to be at least two different shows at the Donut Whole (the best donut/coffee shop in Wichita) afterwards, which I imagine most of my colleagues will be attending as well. Depending on my state of inebriation by the time the mixer is over, I'll probably attend that as well -- though I'll be hitching a ride from someone, to be sure, if I do. If anything, coffee and donuts can only serve to sober me up.
I may be able to have an old friend from West Virginia come visit me at some point this semester for at least a few days; we've been trying to arrange something for a while now. I hesitate to say much more for fear that I'll not only jinx myself but because it's a rather private sort of thing, and it's one of those situations that I don't really feel comfortable writing about here (and I may not even write about it if she does end up coming to visit, at least not for a while anyhow), though it is someone I've mentioned here in the blog in the past month or so. If she does get to make it out here, it will be fun to catch up, and it will be like a little piece of home visiting me here in my humble abode. I've even ordered a $30 self-inflating airbed for any and all visiting guests (or me) to sleep on. Despite owning a king-size bed and only ever using one side of it, it would probably be more than a bit creepy for any of my female friends to share it with me, even with my promises that I wouldn't violate them in the night.
Hm. Violate them in the night. There's a line for one of my poems.
Anyway.
I miss my friends and family in West Virginia; that, of course, should go without saying at this point. I've not lived out there since November 2006, and that makes five years this fall. I've visited twice since I moved out here, but both times I was barely able to catch up with anyone from high school or college except for Andrea and my friends Travis and Matt. Schedule conflicts (or the fact that most of my other friends got out of the state and disappeared) hindered much other interaction with anyone I knew, and Morgantown is much different now compared to how it was when I left it. As much as I don't necessarily want to move back to West Virginia after I graduate in 2013, I may end up doing it anyway if I can find a job there or if other circumstances that shall, for the moment, remain unwritten -- fall into place.
As I said before, there are many things going on behind the scenes that I, as of yet, refuse to write about, and there are many variables in play. Nothing bad, mind you; I'm just working in a lot of different arenas right now, so to speak, and there are very few people I care to discuss it with.
No, before you ask, I'm not doing gay porn. Believe me, I'm not...ahem...talented enough to do regular porn. Shit, I'm not talented enough to be the cameraman.
I've decided that my next book isn't necessarily going to be a simple memoir of graduate school, but rather something along the lines of humorous memoir combined with tips on how to survive it. That is, of course, provided I survive it first. It will take a while to write if that's what I choose to do, and while I will include stories that I've touched upon in the blog over the years, none of the content in it will directly come from here. I fancy myself a humorist, a nonfictionist -- this sort of writing is what I'm best at, like it or not. Might as well make it work for me.
Aside from the cable bill, which arrives now on a different payment schedule since the internet account was switched into my name, today I paid all of the other bills for the house, as well as wrote out the check to the former girlfriend to repay her for the deposit on this place that she signed over to my name last month. With my trips to Walmart and the Dollar Tree on Sunday, as well as the gas I put in my car on top of that, I have spent entirely too much money in the past week, but it couldn't be avoided. We are, at least, getting paid again now -- and will actually receive three paychecks this month because of when the paydates fall -- so at least my bank account isn't bleeding itself to death anymore. Now, it's just a minor wound that's slowly oozing.
Truth be told, even with the regular paychecks, I still spend more money per month than I bring in, in bills and rent alone -- and I am not, of course, counting food for myself and the cats, or the +/-$100 in gas I'll put in the Monte Carlo over any given month of classes. We, as GTAs alone, make less than $800 a month.
No, I'm not kidding. See why any function offering free beer is so enticing to us?
It would be impossible for me to survive had I not taken the student loan I accepted for the fall/spring. My rent here is relatively low for the place I have (a place like this would easily be $800 a month in Wichita), but the cost of it at all -- as well as the cost of gas -- makes surviving on less than $400 every two weeks nearly impossible. Would I be able to save money on gas if I had a newer, more fuel-efficient car? Probably, but I can't afford a new car, and the costs would be negligible over the long run at best. Would it be cheaper to live in Wichita? Maybe, but not incredibly likely. Not with three cats, and I'd more than likely have to make the sacrifice of having about 1/2 to 1/3 of the space I have now, with no garage and the possibility of getting mugged, shot, or stabbed at any given time.
As an aside, if the Monte Carlo ever does blow a major, expensive part that I can't afford to fix, I've already made the vow that I'll be looking for another Monte Carlo of around the same model year (though hopefully in better condition) almost immediately. Even with its problems, I have to say I love that car. It's like owning a low-rent Batmobile -- it's sleek, fast, and its engine has a growl like no other car I've driven, with the exception of the '91 Trans Am I test-drove in Hutchinson a month or so before I bought the Monte Carlo.
The only reason I didn't buy that car, as some of you know, is because the gas pedal had problems -- you literally had to mash it to the floor to get the car to move, an issue indicative of much larger problems I'd eventually have to deal with, more than likely.
It is 2:15 AM. Fuck it, I said to myself. I made coffee. I'm awake for the long haul now.
Today I'll teach at 9:30 and 11, but after that I'm done and can come home to crash, if needed and/or warranted. I need to get to the post office on my way home from classes so that I can mail out a volley of thank-you packages to friends, as well as a birthday/thank-you package (with card and presents) to Andrea. Luckily, I don't have to get up early on Wednesday morning, as I don't have class until 1:30. This means, basically, that once I get home tomorrow I can go to bed and sleep any time I want for as long as I want in order to reboot my system. Damned nightmares. I was originally tired tonight, too.
The nightmare, in case you were wondering, was about the friend who may come visit me sometime this fall, and the consequences of me somehow finding a way to screw up that visit. Pretty tame, yes, but then again it's not like I lead a wild life.
X-Men: First Class comes out on DVD on Friday (yeah, I know, weird release date; I'm just going by what Amazon tells me). I'm considering organizing a watch party here at the house for those nerds and/or nerdy ladies who would like to see it on my new (small) HDTV, but who haven't had the chance yet. Phenomenal film if you read and like the comics. Highly recommended. Of course, if I'm going to do that, I actually need to purchase the film first. If anyone's interested, let me know. Please visit me; I won't molest you.
I haven't heard anything from my parents in several days; it's been radio silence from them over the long weekend, so who knows what's going on back home.
Yes, I realize this post is de-evolving into just random observations and thoughts. Right now that's what I need.
I found a can of hair mousse that the former girlfriend left behind when she moved. I'm glad she left it, because it's perfect for styling my new, shorter hair into a sort of "spiked up" look.
I showered last night before bed, but will probably shower again in about an hour or so just so I can shave, trim the beard, and re-mousse the hair. Yes, for a while at least, I'm going to be one of those guys who uses product in his hair. The very thought of it makes me shudder, but I look good, so for the moment it may be a necessary evil. I really can't wait to see my students' reactions to my haircut today in class. Hell, I can't wait to see some of my colleagues' reactions as well.
Speaking of colleagues, I've spoken with a few of them at length about getting together once a week or so to record a podcast of some sort, even if it's something that we have to record in my office on campus. Headsets and microphones are incredibly cheap -- I just bought a VOIP microphone/headphone set for Skype use on Amazon for $10 -- and with all sorts of recording software available both commercially and free (especially for Linux systems like mine) I am serious about getting some sort of podcast off the ground, hopefully involving the themes of grad school/humor/poetry/life in general. I could record it now from my house and put it on the web myself, but I really need guests/cohosts to get some good conversations going. Just me talking isn't going to do much as I live a really boring life.
As for Skype itself, as I've just installed the program within the past two weeks and have been learning how to use it, it's awesome. Almost all the time when I'm on the computer now and have free time to talk, I've got it online at the ready to make/receive calls, or talk to friends via its IM function. I don't have a camera, but I can see how it will prove indispensable in the future for contact between friends not only here in town, but in other cities/states.
On that note, as I've basically run out of anything to write about that will either keep me awake longer or keep you reading longer, I'm off to shower and, if tired enough afterwards, collapse on the couch for an hour or so before I have to start my day and head off to campus. I have the feeling that it's going to feel much longer than it actually will last. Maybe if I'm really tired I'll hold off on the post office stuff until tomorrow morning, so that I can just come home and crash.
Variables at Play
Fall semester: day eleven
(yes, even though it's Labor Day, it still counts)
Right now, there are all sorts of things going on within my head. Some of them are good, some of them are bad, and some of them I am really not open enough with you people, no offense, to write about here yet. There are also many things going on around me outside of what I'm thinking about, outside my head -- and in some cases -- outside the state of Kansas.
Last night I wrote what could now be constituted as a "poor me" sort of blog post here. It was up for maybe an hour before it was taken down, because I wasn't comfortable with some of the things I said in it, and what those things revealed about myself. In it, I basically laid bare my mental state, while also laying out my intentions to become, basically, a social recluse -- or, as I like to call it, entering full hermitude, mainly because for the most part I don't have the time or energy to devote to social interaction, and don't really have the desire or patience to foster new friendships or relationships with anyone right now.
While all of that is true to a certain extent, I've now had the presence of mind to realize that closing myself off from most people in favor of leading a rather boring life here in Newton with the cats doesn't exactly help anything. Despite what I may think at times, I can be social and function normally.
The truth is, however, that there are all sorts of variables at play right now, and all sorts of things going on out of my control; I have to be careful with what I do and say, and I have to be careful with who I associate with and mentally attach myself to. Right now, I can't really say much more than that.
Last night, during the longest conversation I've had with the former girlfriend since our breakup, she told me that my "mood swings" are starting to concern our mutual friends, and are, more seriously, making it hard to be my friend at all.
I won't lie, I was surprised by this. I didn't realize I was having "mood swings" of any sort. To my friends, whether they're shared with the former girlfriend or not, I've always been as normal as possible, specifically so that I'm not treated any differently as a person than I was before. Keep in mind that I've written here at length in the past few weeks about how some of my ancillary friends have been walking on eggshells around me as of late, or not really talking to me at all, despite the fact that I'm fine, I still function normally -- I talk and laugh, and I'm the same Brandon I always was. For those who can't disconnect the blog from how I am in normal life around everyone else (and I do believe that is a problem, at least for some of my friends) keep in mind that the blog is an internal monologue; it's me basically talking to myself, and it is a separate entity from the person I am in public. Whether you folks read it or not, it is a place for me to sort my thoughts into neat little rows for later processing. I can't -- and no one else should, for that matter -- think of it as anything more than that. Yes, sometimes the blog will contain much different subject matter than my outward personality. It's a blog. It's a place I lay out my fears and apprehensions, my internal thoughts and inner demons. I'm a writer. That's what writers do. If anything, it should be looked on as a tool, a tool that lets me sort myself out on my own time at my own pace, and make any readers I have think "Oh, good, he's processing things, he's okay, this is just how he does it."
Call that "mood swings" if you wish, but before you do, ask yourself (if you know me in person, of course) if I've been any different in person than I was before, or if my outward personality has changed at all aside the fact that I'm now single, know it, and show it.
However, as an opposing point of view...
I like to say that I'm mature in all the ways that count, but that usually pertains to the fact that I'm an intelligent grad student and accomplished writer/instructor, yet still buy all the Pokemon games and collect action figures and comic books. When it comes to emotional maturity, however? Who knows where I am with that, to be honest. I don't have a whole lot of life experience; I lived with my parents until I was nearly 24, and I just got out of a stable six-plus-year relationship that not only moved me across the country, but kept me relatively sheltered during the years that most people normally forge the sorts of habits and relationships that shape who they are as human beings. I thought I was done. I thought my levels of adulthood had reached their apex, as I was rapidly approaching thirty and expected (well, not expected, but hoped) to be married in a few years, with nothing needed after that. As it turned out, I'm now single and can give a lot of advice on what not to do in a relationship, but that's about it.
The lady I asked out, in case you were wondering, declined my offer for a date. She has her reasons, all of which I understand fully (and, additionally, support), and there are no hard feelings about it, obviously. She is one of the few new recruits I've actually gotten to know a bit since we started school this fall, and I'm honored to be able to call her a friend. She is a very sweet, kind woman with a killer sense of humor.
As for becoming a social recluse of sorts, I'm not sure. It's true that I really don't have the time or desire to go out and mingle -- I've said it before, folks, I'm getting old. I feel old. My classes this semester are very busy, and I've found that I have to spend a lot more time devoted to my work for them than I thought I would. Gas prices are astronomical right now too; I put another $32 of gas into the Monte Carlo yesterday, and even though it seems to be getting much better gas mileage since I put the complete fuel system cleaner through it (I'm estimating it went from a previous 18mpg or so to somewhere around 24-25mpg), that doesn't change the fact that the beat-up car is expensive to drive and still ends up using around two gallons of gas every trip I make to Wichita and back, not to mention the mileage on it that keeps racking up with every week of classes. At this rate, it'll breach 220,000 by the end of the semester, and I'll probably have to get an oil change done around Thanksgiving or so.
"Stop making excuses," the former girlfriend told me. "At least go to the [museum] mixer on Friday."
"Wait...you're actually telling me to get out of the house and do something?" I replied.
"Yes. Or even take an hour or so to go over to the [student union] for a beer, or something. I still manage to get out and do stuff with my schedule. It's not easy, but I make time for it."
"You know, it's easier for you," I said. "You live down there right in the middle of everyone and everything."
This is true; the former girlfriend now lives in what can only be described as a two-mile radius of not only the vast majority of our colleagues and classmates, but around popular grad-student hangout spots.
I know I'm worrying my friends that I'm not accepting any of their invitations to do things, or go out drinking with them or what-have-you -- this afternoon, Rae and Jay are throwing a Labor Day BBQ that I also declined to attend -- but believe me, I always have reasons for not doing any of this stuff, and it's not to slight anyone who's invited me out to do any of it. I'm just really not a social person (unless it's a one-on-one, date-like thing), and it's a long drive with more gas to use. I also have things to do (a book to finish and a response paper to write), and I'm planning to make a big pot of soup tonight, which will take several hours to cook. This may sound like more excuses, and maybe they are -- but my life is just so different than everyone else's right now. Maybe in a few months I'll be more receptive to this sort of stuff, but right now I want to make it clear that I don't want to disappoint my friends or make them worry about me because I'm not doing this stuff -- it's just disinterest, and things that I need to take care of taking preference and priority.
On that note, I must take care of those things now. I've wasted the vast majority of the day sleeping and writing here.
(yes, even though it's Labor Day, it still counts)
Right now, there are all sorts of things going on within my head. Some of them are good, some of them are bad, and some of them I am really not open enough with you people, no offense, to write about here yet. There are also many things going on around me outside of what I'm thinking about, outside my head -- and in some cases -- outside the state of Kansas.
Last night I wrote what could now be constituted as a "poor me" sort of blog post here. It was up for maybe an hour before it was taken down, because I wasn't comfortable with some of the things I said in it, and what those things revealed about myself. In it, I basically laid bare my mental state, while also laying out my intentions to become, basically, a social recluse -- or, as I like to call it, entering full hermitude, mainly because for the most part I don't have the time or energy to devote to social interaction, and don't really have the desire or patience to foster new friendships or relationships with anyone right now.
While all of that is true to a certain extent, I've now had the presence of mind to realize that closing myself off from most people in favor of leading a rather boring life here in Newton with the cats doesn't exactly help anything. Despite what I may think at times, I can be social and function normally.
The truth is, however, that there are all sorts of variables at play right now, and all sorts of things going on out of my control; I have to be careful with what I do and say, and I have to be careful with who I associate with and mentally attach myself to. Right now, I can't really say much more than that.
Last night, during the longest conversation I've had with the former girlfriend since our breakup, she told me that my "mood swings" are starting to concern our mutual friends, and are, more seriously, making it hard to be my friend at all.
I won't lie, I was surprised by this. I didn't realize I was having "mood swings" of any sort. To my friends, whether they're shared with the former girlfriend or not, I've always been as normal as possible, specifically so that I'm not treated any differently as a person than I was before. Keep in mind that I've written here at length in the past few weeks about how some of my ancillary friends have been walking on eggshells around me as of late, or not really talking to me at all, despite the fact that I'm fine, I still function normally -- I talk and laugh, and I'm the same Brandon I always was. For those who can't disconnect the blog from how I am in normal life around everyone else (and I do believe that is a problem, at least for some of my friends) keep in mind that the blog is an internal monologue; it's me basically talking to myself, and it is a separate entity from the person I am in public. Whether you folks read it or not, it is a place for me to sort my thoughts into neat little rows for later processing. I can't -- and no one else should, for that matter -- think of it as anything more than that. Yes, sometimes the blog will contain much different subject matter than my outward personality. It's a blog. It's a place I lay out my fears and apprehensions, my internal thoughts and inner demons. I'm a writer. That's what writers do. If anything, it should be looked on as a tool, a tool that lets me sort myself out on my own time at my own pace, and make any readers I have think "Oh, good, he's processing things, he's okay, this is just how he does it."
Call that "mood swings" if you wish, but before you do, ask yourself (if you know me in person, of course) if I've been any different in person than I was before, or if my outward personality has changed at all aside the fact that I'm now single, know it, and show it.
However, as an opposing point of view...
I like to say that I'm mature in all the ways that count, but that usually pertains to the fact that I'm an intelligent grad student and accomplished writer/instructor, yet still buy all the Pokemon games and collect action figures and comic books. When it comes to emotional maturity, however? Who knows where I am with that, to be honest. I don't have a whole lot of life experience; I lived with my parents until I was nearly 24, and I just got out of a stable six-plus-year relationship that not only moved me across the country, but kept me relatively sheltered during the years that most people normally forge the sorts of habits and relationships that shape who they are as human beings. I thought I was done. I thought my levels of adulthood had reached their apex, as I was rapidly approaching thirty and expected (well, not expected, but hoped) to be married in a few years, with nothing needed after that. As it turned out, I'm now single and can give a lot of advice on what not to do in a relationship, but that's about it.
The lady I asked out, in case you were wondering, declined my offer for a date. She has her reasons, all of which I understand fully (and, additionally, support), and there are no hard feelings about it, obviously. She is one of the few new recruits I've actually gotten to know a bit since we started school this fall, and I'm honored to be able to call her a friend. She is a very sweet, kind woman with a killer sense of humor.
As for becoming a social recluse of sorts, I'm not sure. It's true that I really don't have the time or desire to go out and mingle -- I've said it before, folks, I'm getting old. I feel old. My classes this semester are very busy, and I've found that I have to spend a lot more time devoted to my work for them than I thought I would. Gas prices are astronomical right now too; I put another $32 of gas into the Monte Carlo yesterday, and even though it seems to be getting much better gas mileage since I put the complete fuel system cleaner through it (I'm estimating it went from a previous 18mpg or so to somewhere around 24-25mpg), that doesn't change the fact that the beat-up car is expensive to drive and still ends up using around two gallons of gas every trip I make to Wichita and back, not to mention the mileage on it that keeps racking up with every week of classes. At this rate, it'll breach 220,000 by the end of the semester, and I'll probably have to get an oil change done around Thanksgiving or so.
"Stop making excuses," the former girlfriend told me. "At least go to the [museum] mixer on Friday."
"Wait...you're actually telling me to get out of the house and do something?" I replied.
"Yes. Or even take an hour or so to go over to the [student union] for a beer, or something. I still manage to get out and do stuff with my schedule. It's not easy, but I make time for it."
"You know, it's easier for you," I said. "You live down there right in the middle of everyone and everything."
This is true; the former girlfriend now lives in what can only be described as a two-mile radius of not only the vast majority of our colleagues and classmates, but around popular grad-student hangout spots.
I know I'm worrying my friends that I'm not accepting any of their invitations to do things, or go out drinking with them or what-have-you -- this afternoon, Rae and Jay are throwing a Labor Day BBQ that I also declined to attend -- but believe me, I always have reasons for not doing any of this stuff, and it's not to slight anyone who's invited me out to do any of it. I'm just really not a social person (unless it's a one-on-one, date-like thing), and it's a long drive with more gas to use. I also have things to do (a book to finish and a response paper to write), and I'm planning to make a big pot of soup tonight, which will take several hours to cook. This may sound like more excuses, and maybe they are -- but my life is just so different than everyone else's right now. Maybe in a few months I'll be more receptive to this sort of stuff, but right now I want to make it clear that I don't want to disappoint my friends or make them worry about me because I'm not doing this stuff -- it's just disinterest, and things that I need to take care of taking preference and priority.
On that note, I must take care of those things now. I've wasted the vast majority of the day sleeping and writing here.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Knowing the Real Me
Logging in here this morning was a totally new experience for me, as between yesterday afternoon and now, Blogger has completely changed around their entire dashboard and posting system, giving it a fancy, Star Trek-ish overhaul to seemingly streamline things. It's pretty enough I suppose, but it's something I'll have to get used to.
I have not yet received one of those two most frightening words/answers in the English language of "Yes" or "no" from the lovely lady I asked out on a date this weekend. She's just as busy as the rest of us, though, so it's not like I've been sitting here staring at my screen, waiting for a reply with great anticipation -- I've been taking care of the stuff I have to do this weekend just like everyone else.
It's just as well for the moment, anyhow; I've got so much work to do this weekend that I'm using the blog as a reason to procrastinate. Hell, today is the first Saturday of the long-awaited return of college football, it's on television right now, and I'm sitting here typing in silence.
I don't remember when I went to bed last night; it was late, and I fell asleep here in my chair at my desk beforehand for an undetermined amount of time. When I went downstairs, I realized that since I'd washed the bedsheets/pillowcases/mattress pad, the mattress was still bare. I was too tired to care, grabbed a sheet and a pillow, and slept on the bare mattress -- cats gathering around me on the bed in various places shortly thereafter.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the life of a single man, a guy who doesn't care if he sometimes sleeps on a bare mattress.
Could be worse; before the ex got a frame for the bed about a year ago, it simply sat on the floor -- mattress and box springs flat on the carpet. I don't like the frame that much, but it was too big to take with her in her move, and at least the bed's no longer on the floor.
Today would be the perfect day to mow the grass, were I actually motivated to do so in the least. I'm still fatigued and tired, and if I have to choose between mowing the grass and getting my schoolwork done this afternoon, schoolwork is going to win that battle. Truthfully, schoolwork wins every battle. This is why I'll have no real social life to speak of this semester, and why I rarely leave the house -- every second spent doing something else (like...um...blogging) is a second that I'm not getting everything I need to do done.
Rae sent me a text last night saying that she'd read my blog, and that I should come down there to hang out -- she and Jay (her longtime boyfriend and a close friend of mine as well) would be my "dates." I declined politely, as I was forty minutes or so into baking a set of turkey cutlets for dinner, but otherwise I probably would've taken her/them up on the opportunity.
I'm afraid I'm beginning to be thought of as the "lonely charity case" within the department, the single guy who lives 24 miles north of town, by himself in a large house, and talks to his cats way more often than he should. Or, the guy who had a rough summer, went through a breakup, and needs to get out of the house more. While all of those things may be true, it's not like I want to be thought of in those ways. I love having friends who genuinely care and want me to spend time with them -- believe me, they wouldn't ask me to do stuff with them if they didn't want me around -- but I'm really hoping they're not asking out of a "poor Brandon, he's all alone" mentality, or some sort of mental obligation they have to include me in things. Because, believe me, I'm fine -- I live up here in Newton because I choose to stay here, and stay isolated, not because I have to. It may be a tad inconvenient at times, but I've weighed the options carefully. If I lived in Wichita, I would turn into a drunk, I would get myself into situations and drama that I don't want to be in, and I would never, ever get any of my work done. For now, at least, staying put and remaining in good academic standing at the university is the top priority, because really, that good academic standing is all I have going for me in life.
This afternoon (in about three hours, in fact) is the EGSA's party/mixer thing in Wichita. I had been iffy on it for most of the week, and despite numerous requests to go to it (again, see previous paragraph), I was never sure of whether or not I'd attend -- even though the lovely lady I asked on a date yesterday will more than likely be there. It came down to my motivation levels, how much gas I had in the car, and how much work I'd gotten done by that point, in addition to who else was going.
Well, I haven't filled the gas tank in the car (it seems to be getting around 25 miles to the gallon now, oddly enough; perhaps that fuel system cleaner helped it somewhat), I have done very little actual work this weekend thus far, and if my motivation levels were higher I would've mowed the grass this morning when I woke up.
It looks like it's going to be most of the guys of the department anyway -- guys who I get along with and who like me, but who I don't have much reason to hang out with outside of class or around campus, as they're fun but their personalities are vastly different than my own, and we don't have much in common. As for anyone else, such as Rae and Jay, or Suri (the latter of whom I sincerely doubt will be there), I spend inordinate amounts of time with them on campus already anyhow, since I'm stuck there a lot during the week. So, three hours from now when this "party" thing starts, I will be sitting on the couch in the living room, reading, writing, and doing school-related tasks, and will not be in attendance.
Next Friday, however, is the museum's Grad Student Mixer, something that I have already made my vows to attend -- provided, of course, that nothing happens to me, my car, or my workload between now and then. As I already know that it will be a somewhat wild night, even a week in advance, I already foresee parking the Monte Carlo somewhere in Wichita early in the evening and crashing for the night at a friend's place to avoid driving home, more than likely. Whose place, obviously, remains a mystery. It may be the one and only night between now and the end of the semester that I'll actually be open to going out drinking and socializing with a group of friends, something that (as you know) I am usually quite opposed to, despite the amount of fun I tend to have when I do.
I'm probably getting the reputation of the boring guy in the department already, even though (once people get to know me well) they realize I am anything but. I can, even now, imagine conversations going like this:
"Who's not here?" they'll ask. "Everyone's here but him, I think."
"Oh, well, that's Brandon for you. He never does this stuff. Never leaves the house."
That's fine, really; I'm content with only letting a very small handful of people here really get to know the real me. Suri knows the real me, and so do Rae and Jay, for the most part, along with maybe one or two others who I won't name here (as I've not yet been given permission to write about them or name names). I'd be happy to let the lovely lady I asked out get to know me better as well, obviously. Otherwise? Eh. As long as I have some friends somewhere, it's not a huge concern. Let people think what they want about me, boring or otherwise.
On that note, I shall now retire to the living room couch, where I will spend the rest of my day, evening, and probably part of the night working on class-related things. I may lead a boring life, but I get shit done.
I have not yet received one of those two most frightening words/answers in the English language of "Yes" or "no" from the lovely lady I asked out on a date this weekend. She's just as busy as the rest of us, though, so it's not like I've been sitting here staring at my screen, waiting for a reply with great anticipation -- I've been taking care of the stuff I have to do this weekend just like everyone else.
It's just as well for the moment, anyhow; I've got so much work to do this weekend that I'm using the blog as a reason to procrastinate. Hell, today is the first Saturday of the long-awaited return of college football, it's on television right now, and I'm sitting here typing in silence.
I don't remember when I went to bed last night; it was late, and I fell asleep here in my chair at my desk beforehand for an undetermined amount of time. When I went downstairs, I realized that since I'd washed the bedsheets/pillowcases/mattress pad, the mattress was still bare. I was too tired to care, grabbed a sheet and a pillow, and slept on the bare mattress -- cats gathering around me on the bed in various places shortly thereafter.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the life of a single man, a guy who doesn't care if he sometimes sleeps on a bare mattress.
Could be worse; before the ex got a frame for the bed about a year ago, it simply sat on the floor -- mattress and box springs flat on the carpet. I don't like the frame that much, but it was too big to take with her in her move, and at least the bed's no longer on the floor.
Today would be the perfect day to mow the grass, were I actually motivated to do so in the least. I'm still fatigued and tired, and if I have to choose between mowing the grass and getting my schoolwork done this afternoon, schoolwork is going to win that battle. Truthfully, schoolwork wins every battle. This is why I'll have no real social life to speak of this semester, and why I rarely leave the house -- every second spent doing something else (like...um...blogging) is a second that I'm not getting everything I need to do done.
Rae sent me a text last night saying that she'd read my blog, and that I should come down there to hang out -- she and Jay (her longtime boyfriend and a close friend of mine as well) would be my "dates." I declined politely, as I was forty minutes or so into baking a set of turkey cutlets for dinner, but otherwise I probably would've taken her/them up on the opportunity.
I'm afraid I'm beginning to be thought of as the "lonely charity case" within the department, the single guy who lives 24 miles north of town, by himself in a large house, and talks to his cats way more often than he should. Or, the guy who had a rough summer, went through a breakup, and needs to get out of the house more. While all of those things may be true, it's not like I want to be thought of in those ways. I love having friends who genuinely care and want me to spend time with them -- believe me, they wouldn't ask me to do stuff with them if they didn't want me around -- but I'm really hoping they're not asking out of a "poor Brandon, he's all alone" mentality, or some sort of mental obligation they have to include me in things. Because, believe me, I'm fine -- I live up here in Newton because I choose to stay here, and stay isolated, not because I have to. It may be a tad inconvenient at times, but I've weighed the options carefully. If I lived in Wichita, I would turn into a drunk, I would get myself into situations and drama that I don't want to be in, and I would never, ever get any of my work done. For now, at least, staying put and remaining in good academic standing at the university is the top priority, because really, that good academic standing is all I have going for me in life.
This afternoon (in about three hours, in fact) is the EGSA's party/mixer thing in Wichita. I had been iffy on it for most of the week, and despite numerous requests to go to it (again, see previous paragraph), I was never sure of whether or not I'd attend -- even though the lovely lady I asked on a date yesterday will more than likely be there. It came down to my motivation levels, how much gas I had in the car, and how much work I'd gotten done by that point, in addition to who else was going.
Well, I haven't filled the gas tank in the car (it seems to be getting around 25 miles to the gallon now, oddly enough; perhaps that fuel system cleaner helped it somewhat), I have done very little actual work this weekend thus far, and if my motivation levels were higher I would've mowed the grass this morning when I woke up.
It looks like it's going to be most of the guys of the department anyway -- guys who I get along with and who like me, but who I don't have much reason to hang out with outside of class or around campus, as they're fun but their personalities are vastly different than my own, and we don't have much in common. As for anyone else, such as Rae and Jay, or Suri (the latter of whom I sincerely doubt will be there), I spend inordinate amounts of time with them on campus already anyhow, since I'm stuck there a lot during the week. So, three hours from now when this "party" thing starts, I will be sitting on the couch in the living room, reading, writing, and doing school-related tasks, and will not be in attendance.
Next Friday, however, is the museum's Grad Student Mixer, something that I have already made my vows to attend -- provided, of course, that nothing happens to me, my car, or my workload between now and then. As I already know that it will be a somewhat wild night, even a week in advance, I already foresee parking the Monte Carlo somewhere in Wichita early in the evening and crashing for the night at a friend's place to avoid driving home, more than likely. Whose place, obviously, remains a mystery. It may be the one and only night between now and the end of the semester that I'll actually be open to going out drinking and socializing with a group of friends, something that (as you know) I am usually quite opposed to, despite the amount of fun I tend to have when I do.
I'm probably getting the reputation of the boring guy in the department already, even though (once people get to know me well) they realize I am anything but. I can, even now, imagine conversations going like this:
"Who's not here?" they'll ask. "Everyone's here but him, I think."
"Oh, well, that's Brandon for you. He never does this stuff. Never leaves the house."
That's fine, really; I'm content with only letting a very small handful of people here really get to know the real me. Suri knows the real me, and so do Rae and Jay, for the most part, along with maybe one or two others who I won't name here (as I've not yet been given permission to write about them or name names). I'd be happy to let the lovely lady I asked out get to know me better as well, obviously. Otherwise? Eh. As long as I have some friends somewhere, it's not a huge concern. Let people think what they want about me, boring or otherwise.
On that note, I shall now retire to the living room couch, where I will spend the rest of my day, evening, and probably part of the night working on class-related things. I may lead a boring life, but I get shit done.
Friday, September 2, 2011
The Art of Courting, and a Lack of Hair
Fall semester: day ten
This afternoon, I was finally able to cut my hair. Afterwards, the upstairs bathroom looked like I murdered a wookiee.
Is it short? Well, yeah, but not too short. I tried to get pictures (not of the hair cut off, but of me afterwards) but my camera isn't being as cooperative as I'd like. Lots of dark and shadows. This is about the best one I can offer, and it's a few years old -- from the last time I had hair this short. You should get the idea, as it's about the same -- though the lighting's not great on this one either:
Yeah, so, eh. I will say that my head definitely feels a lot lighter and cooler. The hardest part about doing it was not the emotional attachment to my hair (as many of you may have been expecting), but shaving the back of the neck without two large mirrors. I had to engineer a hand mirror balancing precariously on the shelves in the bathroom, turn around with my back to the main mirror, and keep my arm out of the line of sight while shaving -- which is even harder than it sounds, trust me.
My actual hair ended up being a little bit shorter than I'd like, but that's always the case when it comes to using clippers, so whatever works. At least it's not as short as I had it during high school and/or at the end of my undergraduate career at WVU, when I had several unflattering photos taken of me looking like a skinhead.
No, I am not going to share those photos with you here -- because they're horrible -- though my high school graduation photo (taken eleven years ago) is still on Facebook, I believe. I don't suggest looking for it -- if you thought I was babyfaced without the full beard now, you should've seen me then.
Anyway, at least I know this time around that if I end up not liking it too much, it'll grow out more in a few weeks. No biggie. In the meantime, perhaps I won't sweat as much when it's 110 degrees outside now, as it has been for the majority of this week.
In other news, I've not been sleeping well. Last night I had two separate nightmares, which are rare for me to begin with, but to have two in one night is nothing short of bizarre. I think my mental state is changing. Obviously, life is stressful -- everyone's life is to a certain extent -- but apparently my underlying stress channels itself through nightmares. Of course, it could have also been that when I went to bed, I'd been awake for almost 24 hours straight, and was deliriously tired. Might've hit REM sleep hard and fast, and might've started the bad dreams then. I was so tired that I don't even know what time of night/early morning I had them, but I know that after around 10 or so, I couldn't sleep anymore.
Also, for those of you who may be interested, I haven't asked she who shall not be named out yet.
According to my friend Jane, my reasoning for not doing so is because the word "no" is the scariest word in the English language. I asked Jane what the second-scariest word was, already knowing the answer that she would tell me a few moments later: "Yes."
Why am I so afraid? I've never been afraid of anything or anyone, at least in this sense, ever before. Yet now, when I'm at the most independent stage of my life I've ever had, when I'm single and can afford groceries, gas for the car, and occasionally a nice dinner and/or movie date, why am I at my most apprehensive to move forward? Especially despite all of my wanting to and desire to do so.
It's not just those words yes and no. I've been thinking about this for a few days. It's because I've never really dated anyone before -- or, as Suri would call it, I have no experience in the art of courting. My first real girlfriend, when I was an undergrad at WVU, was in a relationship with me for about six weeks. I've never talked about her here on the blog for fairly obvious reasons, but she was three years older than me, a great deal more experienced in life, and we never actually dated. We met, immediately felt some sort of connection, and dealt with it the only way two college students of that age know how, ahem, without going into details, before the relationship dissolved over the course of that summer. There were no actual "dates," there was no actual "courting."
Of course, with the former girlfriend, most of you know the story already -- we met online in 2005, I moved out here in 2006, and we were together until earlier this summer. While we would later have many dinner-and-movie dates, it was after I'd moved out here and long after we'd established ourselves as an exclusive couple; any "courting" of any sort was done online, over the first few weeks we were talking but not yet a couple. She is also almost five years younger than I am.
This new girl I've been talking to is, really, not a girl at all but a woman. She's two years older than I am. She's lived in various areas of the country (as well as around the world) and more than likely has much, much more life experience than I do, judging solely by the conversations we've had. She's mature in all the ways I still may not be or ever be, though she does have a biting sense of dry humor that I greatly adore and appreciate. I'm also skirting a fine line by even saying this much, as I know she's read this blog before -- at least one or two posts, anyway -- though I'm not sure she's a regular reader. I sadly haven't had the opportunity to talk to her enough since then to know otherwise, therefore if she is reading this, it may be either a very good or very bad thing.
Regardless, I'm skewing away from the point, and the point is that she is the type of woman that I would like to court. She's the type that, in my eyes, needs and deserves to be courted, dated, and the type that I'd like to get to know better with no expectations. That last part, to me at least, is important. With no expectations, I should be experiencing no fear, and should have no real fears of rejection or eventual letdown. So why do I?
Those of you who have read recent posts here may be thinking that this sort of rationale violates my code of "don't actively pursue anything, but pay close attention to anything that comes my way" or whatever it was I wrote before, and you're probably right with that assumption, but here's the thing -- I don't read signals well. I can't tell when or if someone is cautiously interested in me, or would be receptive to interest from me. As I told Suri, I've been out of the game far too long, and getting back into it now is all new and confusing. I'm also one of those guys who don't tend to pick up on a lot of subtleties, and occasionally need to be bashed over the head with the proverbial "obvious stick."
"Look," Suri said. "It's clear that she wouldn't be talking with you or making time to hang out with you if she wasn't at least interested a little bit."
"Is it?" I replied. "I really don't know. I can't read minds, I'm not psychic. I don't know what you women are thinking about anything."
As you know, this is the problem that has plagued all males since the beginning of time.
"Besides," I added, "I just don't know enough information about the big picture. I've definitely been known to misinterpret things over the years. This could be one of those 'you're nice, so I'm going to be nice and friendly in return' sort of situations that I'm grossly, totally misinterpreting. I have no clue."
Rose-colored glasses and all that, seeing things the way I want to see them, or seeing things that aren't there. Not only is that certainly possible, but due to my scathing inner cynicism, I wonder if it's not more probable than possible.
And that, I think, is what's holding me back the most. Yes, I'm over-analyzing things. Yes, I've been stressed out and tired, and my mind may not be necessarily firing on all cylinders, which could certainly contribute to some sort of long, drawn-out misunderstanding. When I'm fatigued, my outer optimism gets replaced by my inner cynicism, and I find myself second-guessing everything.
"Whichever way you roll," Suri told me, "It'll work out, I'm sure."
Of course, this long, detailed post about my haircut and hemming and hawwing over something as trivial as asking someone out for a simple date would not be complete if I did not tell you that I finally relented, and actually did so. The two of us have been talking back and forth via private message on Facebook for the past week and a half or so (as well as in person when we're both free for a few hours of the day), so this afternoon -- shortly before finishing this post, I took the initiative and asked her if she wanted to get out of the house and do something this weekend. Fortune favors the bold, etc.
Yes, those were my exact words, though at the end I added "You and me?" at the end of it so that she wouldn't think it was a group activity or something.
So, as in all cases, we'll see what happens. I am cautiously optimistic for the time being.
This afternoon, I was finally able to cut my hair. Afterwards, the upstairs bathroom looked like I murdered a wookiee.
Is it short? Well, yeah, but not too short. I tried to get pictures (not of the hair cut off, but of me afterwards) but my camera isn't being as cooperative as I'd like. Lots of dark and shadows. This is about the best one I can offer, and it's a few years old -- from the last time I had hair this short. You should get the idea, as it's about the same -- though the lighting's not great on this one either:
Yeah, so, eh. I will say that my head definitely feels a lot lighter and cooler. The hardest part about doing it was not the emotional attachment to my hair (as many of you may have been expecting), but shaving the back of the neck without two large mirrors. I had to engineer a hand mirror balancing precariously on the shelves in the bathroom, turn around with my back to the main mirror, and keep my arm out of the line of sight while shaving -- which is even harder than it sounds, trust me.
My actual hair ended up being a little bit shorter than I'd like, but that's always the case when it comes to using clippers, so whatever works. At least it's not as short as I had it during high school and/or at the end of my undergraduate career at WVU, when I had several unflattering photos taken of me looking like a skinhead.
No, I am not going to share those photos with you here -- because they're horrible -- though my high school graduation photo (taken eleven years ago) is still on Facebook, I believe. I don't suggest looking for it -- if you thought I was babyfaced without the full beard now, you should've seen me then.
Anyway, at least I know this time around that if I end up not liking it too much, it'll grow out more in a few weeks. No biggie. In the meantime, perhaps I won't sweat as much when it's 110 degrees outside now, as it has been for the majority of this week.
In other news, I've not been sleeping well. Last night I had two separate nightmares, which are rare for me to begin with, but to have two in one night is nothing short of bizarre. I think my mental state is changing. Obviously, life is stressful -- everyone's life is to a certain extent -- but apparently my underlying stress channels itself through nightmares. Of course, it could have also been that when I went to bed, I'd been awake for almost 24 hours straight, and was deliriously tired. Might've hit REM sleep hard and fast, and might've started the bad dreams then. I was so tired that I don't even know what time of night/early morning I had them, but I know that after around 10 or so, I couldn't sleep anymore.
Also, for those of you who may be interested, I haven't asked she who shall not be named out yet.
According to my friend Jane, my reasoning for not doing so is because the word "no" is the scariest word in the English language. I asked Jane what the second-scariest word was, already knowing the answer that she would tell me a few moments later: "Yes."
Why am I so afraid? I've never been afraid of anything or anyone, at least in this sense, ever before. Yet now, when I'm at the most independent stage of my life I've ever had, when I'm single and can afford groceries, gas for the car, and occasionally a nice dinner and/or movie date, why am I at my most apprehensive to move forward? Especially despite all of my wanting to and desire to do so.
It's not just those words yes and no. I've been thinking about this for a few days. It's because I've never really dated anyone before -- or, as Suri would call it, I have no experience in the art of courting. My first real girlfriend, when I was an undergrad at WVU, was in a relationship with me for about six weeks. I've never talked about her here on the blog for fairly obvious reasons, but she was three years older than me, a great deal more experienced in life, and we never actually dated. We met, immediately felt some sort of connection, and dealt with it the only way two college students of that age know how, ahem, without going into details, before the relationship dissolved over the course of that summer. There were no actual "dates," there was no actual "courting."
Of course, with the former girlfriend, most of you know the story already -- we met online in 2005, I moved out here in 2006, and we were together until earlier this summer. While we would later have many dinner-and-movie dates, it was after I'd moved out here and long after we'd established ourselves as an exclusive couple; any "courting" of any sort was done online, over the first few weeks we were talking but not yet a couple. She is also almost five years younger than I am.
This new girl I've been talking to is, really, not a girl at all but a woman. She's two years older than I am. She's lived in various areas of the country (as well as around the world) and more than likely has much, much more life experience than I do, judging solely by the conversations we've had. She's mature in all the ways I still may not be or ever be, though she does have a biting sense of dry humor that I greatly adore and appreciate. I'm also skirting a fine line by even saying this much, as I know she's read this blog before -- at least one or two posts, anyway -- though I'm not sure she's a regular reader. I sadly haven't had the opportunity to talk to her enough since then to know otherwise, therefore if she is reading this, it may be either a very good or very bad thing.
Regardless, I'm skewing away from the point, and the point is that she is the type of woman that I would like to court. She's the type that, in my eyes, needs and deserves to be courted, dated, and the type that I'd like to get to know better with no expectations. That last part, to me at least, is important. With no expectations, I should be experiencing no fear, and should have no real fears of rejection or eventual letdown. So why do I?
Those of you who have read recent posts here may be thinking that this sort of rationale violates my code of "don't actively pursue anything, but pay close attention to anything that comes my way" or whatever it was I wrote before, and you're probably right with that assumption, but here's the thing -- I don't read signals well. I can't tell when or if someone is cautiously interested in me, or would be receptive to interest from me. As I told Suri, I've been out of the game far too long, and getting back into it now is all new and confusing. I'm also one of those guys who don't tend to pick up on a lot of subtleties, and occasionally need to be bashed over the head with the proverbial "obvious stick."
"Look," Suri said. "It's clear that she wouldn't be talking with you or making time to hang out with you if she wasn't at least interested a little bit."
"Is it?" I replied. "I really don't know. I can't read minds, I'm not psychic. I don't know what you women are thinking about anything."
As you know, this is the problem that has plagued all males since the beginning of time.
"Besides," I added, "I just don't know enough information about the big picture. I've definitely been known to misinterpret things over the years. This could be one of those 'you're nice, so I'm going to be nice and friendly in return' sort of situations that I'm grossly, totally misinterpreting. I have no clue."
Rose-colored glasses and all that, seeing things the way I want to see them, or seeing things that aren't there. Not only is that certainly possible, but due to my scathing inner cynicism, I wonder if it's not more probable than possible.
And that, I think, is what's holding me back the most. Yes, I'm over-analyzing things. Yes, I've been stressed out and tired, and my mind may not be necessarily firing on all cylinders, which could certainly contribute to some sort of long, drawn-out misunderstanding. When I'm fatigued, my outer optimism gets replaced by my inner cynicism, and I find myself second-guessing everything.
"Whichever way you roll," Suri told me, "It'll work out, I'm sure."
Of course, this long, detailed post about my haircut and hemming and hawwing over something as trivial as asking someone out for a simple date would not be complete if I did not tell you that I finally relented, and actually did so. The two of us have been talking back and forth via private message on Facebook for the past week and a half or so (as well as in person when we're both free for a few hours of the day), so this afternoon -- shortly before finishing this post, I took the initiative and asked her if she wanted to get out of the house and do something this weekend. Fortune favors the bold, etc.
Yes, those were my exact words, though at the end I added "You and me?" at the end of it so that she wouldn't think it was a group activity or something.
So, as in all cases, we'll see what happens. I am cautiously optimistic for the time being.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Burnout and Crash, Part II
When we last left our intrepid hero...
According to my friend Suri, who just started reading this blog over the past few days (and has since read all of it since its reboot), apparently I tend to reveal a bit more about my character and personality on here than I ever realized. Well, at least until this afternoon, when she told me things like "Yeah, I knew about that, I read it on your blog."
Hm. And close to 80-90% of my friends and colleagues now read my blog.
Oh dear. This can't be good for my modesty.
...waitaminute. What modesty?
Look on the bright side, folks -- at least all of the potentially-troublesome things I've written have been about myself, and nobody else. Well, at least nobody that I've named. And if I haven't named them it's mainly to cover my own ass.
As I mentioned before, though, it's not like my life isn't an open book anyway for those who care to ask the questions. It's just that few care -- or have time -- to ask the questions, especially when most of them get answered here (in a roundabout fashion, of course). I've not exactly made anything a secret if you know how to read things and decipher key clues within this text, and don't plan to start anytime soon.
I just know that some of you will now begin reading back through these posts again trying to "decipher key clues."
Good luck.
Anyway.
There is a reason these two posts today have been entitled "Burnout and Crash," and it's probably not a reason I have to fully explain (especially for those of you who are GTAs as well). Fall semester is a killer, folks. It is one of those times that as a student, will wear you down and make you completely sleep-deprived, at least for the first few weeks. Spring semester is easier; there's only a month's break between the two, there are less students in the classes you'll teach (generally speaking, anyway), and at least for the first-years, they'll have enough experience under their belts to get back into the swing of things quickly and with much vigor. But fall? Fall just saps the life out of your bones. There's always something to be read, something to be written or graded, or something to take precedence over sleep, socializing, and generally living any semblance of a normal twenty-something's (or, for some of us, thirty-something's) life.
As you've probably guessed, it is Thursday night (or, as the clock suggests, 12:52 Friday morning), and I have basically failed in my attempts to find something to do this weekend, or a date.
This is, of course, entirely my fault.
I've been asked by several of the guys of the department to, y'know, seriously consider coming to the EGSA party-mixer-thing on Saturday afternoon, being held at some bar/restaurant in one of the nicer areas of town (I received directions as to how to get there early this morning, in case I wanted to go).
"You guys realize that anywhere I go I have to drive back and forth from Newton, right?" I asked.
For those of you new to the blog, Newton is 24 miles north of Wichita if you take I-135, which is a straight shot between my house and the city. My beat-up Monte Carlo, as you may recall, likes interstate driving just fine for the most part, but it gets an estimated 18 miles per gallon. On a good day. So every trip to Wichita and back is a fair amount of gas money to spend, as you might imagine, and that adds up with gas prices out here hovering around $3.60 now. Between leaving the house Monday and pulling back into my driveway tonight, I put 152 miles on the car this week alone. And that's about average for a week of classes and various small errands around town.
"You're the one who's always saying you need to get out of the house more," one of the guys said. "Well, here's your chance."
"And point taken," I replied, "but you know me and the bar scene, man. I'm just not a fan of that, I don't go out and mingle that well when I'm...well...around people I know."
This was, of course, the most gentle way I could put it. Truth be told, as some of you know, me + bar + friends + cheap beer or other drinks = Brandon gets into lots of trouble. I am not a fan of trouble, yet when I'm drunk it seems to find me in one way or another. Or, rather, for some reason I tend to go looking for it. Either way, it never ends well. This is why I rarely drink with others, or at least others in public.
Attempts to find some sort of a "date" over this long weekend have also failed, and that is also entirely my fault.
"You know you're going to ask her out," Suri told me this afternoon, the "her" in question being someone I've been talking with this week. "I can tell. Just do it. The worst she can do, of course, is say no."
As an aside here, I have been friends with Suri, continuously, since we both entered the program last fall. We've had several classes together, have worked on projects and presentations together, and this semester we're even working on a presentation for the novel Comfort Woman for our Middle Eastern/Asian lit class together. I trust her without question, and she probably knows me -- and my personality -- the best out of anyone else in the department, and knows many things about me and about my life that I wouldn't necessarily write here. She is also one of the most frequent purchasers of my tie-dye t-shirts I make and sell as a hobby during the summer. So, when I say here that she knows me, and knows how I think, she does.
"I don't know how to go about dating again," I said. "I've been out of the game for way too long. I'm old now. I'm not sure I can interact anymore with anyone but myself."
This, I will freely admit, is true. The sense of what the former girlfriend described as complacency, though there is probably a better term for it, is what partially led to our breakup, though there were many other reasons -- almost all of them my fault as well. Suri herself isn't single; she's been in a long-term, serious relationship for quite some time.
noun, plural -cies.
Yeah, that's about right.
Anyway.
"You'll do it," she said. "I know you will. Stop analyzing it so much."
It's not that simple, I wanted to say. There are lots of variables involved. Options to weigh. Possible outcomes to predict. Problems unforeseen. Awkwardness to ensue.
Yeah. Suri's right. I'm over-analyzing things.
I'm not sure what my plans are for tomorrow yet. I probably won't awaken until around noon, which at this point could only be a good thing. I really need to mow the grass this weekend, but I've been so addled with work/school-related stuff that I haven't even had the chance to check the weather, and I'm long past the ability to care about anything tonight but sleep and kitty-time.
According to my friend Suri, who just started reading this blog over the past few days (and has since read all of it since its reboot), apparently I tend to reveal a bit more about my character and personality on here than I ever realized. Well, at least until this afternoon, when she told me things like "Yeah, I knew about that, I read it on your blog."
Hm. And close to 80-90% of my friends and colleagues now read my blog.
Oh dear. This can't be good for my modesty.
...waitaminute. What modesty?
Look on the bright side, folks -- at least all of the potentially-troublesome things I've written have been about myself, and nobody else. Well, at least nobody that I've named. And if I haven't named them it's mainly to cover my own ass.
As I mentioned before, though, it's not like my life isn't an open book anyway for those who care to ask the questions. It's just that few care -- or have time -- to ask the questions, especially when most of them get answered here (in a roundabout fashion, of course). I've not exactly made anything a secret if you know how to read things and decipher key clues within this text, and don't plan to start anytime soon.
I just know that some of you will now begin reading back through these posts again trying to "decipher key clues."
Good luck.
Anyway.
There is a reason these two posts today have been entitled "Burnout and Crash," and it's probably not a reason I have to fully explain (especially for those of you who are GTAs as well). Fall semester is a killer, folks. It is one of those times that as a student, will wear you down and make you completely sleep-deprived, at least for the first few weeks. Spring semester is easier; there's only a month's break between the two, there are less students in the classes you'll teach (generally speaking, anyway), and at least for the first-years, they'll have enough experience under their belts to get back into the swing of things quickly and with much vigor. But fall? Fall just saps the life out of your bones. There's always something to be read, something to be written or graded, or something to take precedence over sleep, socializing, and generally living any semblance of a normal twenty-something's (or, for some of us, thirty-something's) life.
As you've probably guessed, it is Thursday night (or, as the clock suggests, 12:52 Friday morning), and I have basically failed in my attempts to find something to do this weekend, or a date.
This is, of course, entirely my fault.
I've been asked by several of the guys of the department to, y'know, seriously consider coming to the EGSA party-mixer-thing on Saturday afternoon, being held at some bar/restaurant in one of the nicer areas of town (I received directions as to how to get there early this morning, in case I wanted to go).
"You guys realize that anywhere I go I have to drive back and forth from Newton, right?" I asked.
For those of you new to the blog, Newton is 24 miles north of Wichita if you take I-135, which is a straight shot between my house and the city. My beat-up Monte Carlo, as you may recall, likes interstate driving just fine for the most part, but it gets an estimated 18 miles per gallon. On a good day. So every trip to Wichita and back is a fair amount of gas money to spend, as you might imagine, and that adds up with gas prices out here hovering around $3.60 now. Between leaving the house Monday and pulling back into my driveway tonight, I put 152 miles on the car this week alone. And that's about average for a week of classes and various small errands around town.
"You're the one who's always saying you need to get out of the house more," one of the guys said. "Well, here's your chance."
"And point taken," I replied, "but you know me and the bar scene, man. I'm just not a fan of that, I don't go out and mingle that well when I'm...well...around people I know."
This was, of course, the most gentle way I could put it. Truth be told, as some of you know, me + bar + friends + cheap beer or other drinks = Brandon gets into lots of trouble. I am not a fan of trouble, yet when I'm drunk it seems to find me in one way or another. Or, rather, for some reason I tend to go looking for it. Either way, it never ends well. This is why I rarely drink with others, or at least others in public.
Attempts to find some sort of a "date" over this long weekend have also failed, and that is also entirely my fault.
"You know you're going to ask her out," Suri told me this afternoon, the "her" in question being someone I've been talking with this week. "I can tell. Just do it. The worst she can do, of course, is say no."
As an aside here, I have been friends with Suri, continuously, since we both entered the program last fall. We've had several classes together, have worked on projects and presentations together, and this semester we're even working on a presentation for the novel Comfort Woman for our Middle Eastern/Asian lit class together. I trust her without question, and she probably knows me -- and my personality -- the best out of anyone else in the department, and knows many things about me and about my life that I wouldn't necessarily write here. She is also one of the most frequent purchasers of my tie-dye t-shirts I make and sell as a hobby during the summer. So, when I say here that she knows me, and knows how I think, she does.
"I don't know how to go about dating again," I said. "I've been out of the game for way too long. I'm old now. I'm not sure I can interact anymore with anyone but myself."
This, I will freely admit, is true. The sense of what the former girlfriend described as complacency, though there is probably a better term for it, is what partially led to our breakup, though there were many other reasons -- almost all of them my fault as well. Suri herself isn't single; she's been in a long-term, serious relationship for quite some time.
noun, plural -cies.
m-1. a feeling of quiet pleasure or security, often while unaware of some potential danger, defect, or the like; self-satisfaction or smug satisfaction with an existing situation, condition, etc.
Yeah, that's about right.
Anyway.
"You'll do it," she said. "I know you will. Stop analyzing it so much."
It's not that simple, I wanted to say. There are lots of variables involved. Options to weigh. Possible outcomes to predict. Problems unforeseen. Awkwardness to ensue.
Yeah. Suri's right. I'm over-analyzing things.
I'm not sure what my plans are for tomorrow yet. I probably won't awaken until around noon, which at this point could only be a good thing. I really need to mow the grass this weekend, but I've been so addled with work/school-related stuff that I haven't even had the chance to check the weather, and I'm long past the ability to care about anything tonight but sleep and kitty-time.
Burnout and Crash, Part I
Fall semester: day nine
I'd like to think that, eventually, I'll get used to the lack of sleep I accrue over a week's time, and that getting up at 5AM will no longer affect me in the way it does now. I'd like to think that, eventually, it won't be over 90 degrees outside when I go to bed at night, or over 80 still when I get up in the morning a few short hours later.
My work week doesn't appear to be long to a lot of you, as I'm only on campus three days a week, but over those three days I've realized that I spend a total of about 30-32 hours either in class, in my own office at work, or teaching class. Roughly estimated, of course. That can be bumped up to 35 hours if you count the time spent in the car driving back and forth from Newton.
When all of us second-years started grad school last fall, our director told us never to actually do the math and count up the time spent on campus and/or doing school-related tasks to compare to our stipend as GTAs to see exactly what we'd make "per hour" as if it were an hourly job. Doing so, he told us, would be excruciatingly depressing and demoralizing.
Because I've never wanted to be depressed, I've never been curious enough to crunch the numbers myself. I will tell you, however, that when I worked at Cash Register Hell / New Hell -- the setting of my recently-released book -- I made more than double than what I make as a GTA every year. More than double. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why for people like myself, student loans are a dire necessity if one wants to survive, eat, and pay bills. It's not a pleasant necessity, but unless you're independently wealthy otherwise, it's a necessity.
I'm beginning to get to know a few of the new recruits a bit better, albeit slowly. Most of them have schedules that don't really mesh well with mine (shocking, I know, considering how much I'm there), and therefore, during the many hours per week I'm in town and/or otherwise on campus, most of the department tends to be empty. Apparently, I have a fairly unique schedule. This week, a lot of the students up there are celebrating a five-day weekend, as they have a Monday-through-Wednesday class/teaching schedule -- which means they not only have today off, but they have our normal Friday off as well as Labor Day. Still, in what little free time I have, I've been hanging out with a few of the new people who have the time, and they seem really friendly.
"Seems we have a really friendly group this year," the director told me yesterday afternoon when he and I were discussing the semester.
"I think so too," I said. "some of them certainly seem to be more social than some of us were when we started."
I would later learn that the director knows that the former girlfriend and I broke up, though he didn't want to bring it up before out of respect for both of us and our working environment there in the department. He mentioned that in his years there, he'd seen many relationships begin and end between graduate students, and that it was good at least that ours ended amicably. I gave him the brief rundown, as I've given pretty much anyone in the department who was curious about what happened -- though I did not, of course, tell him about this blog, and completely forgot to tell him about the book. He has two books of his own and is always working on another, so I didn't want to make him think I was trying to get money/publicity/etc. from him or anyone else by mentioning it.
I've been slowly gaining readers to this blog; it seems now that about 80-90% of my colleagues and fellow grad students -- even a few of the new recruits -- at least know about it, if not read it regularly. Many of them have found it through my Twitter (as most of us with Twitter tend to follow one another), while others have found it via Rae's site, tracing my comments on her posts back here. There are a few people I didn't expect to be reading it, but as almost all of my unique hits now come from Wichita or the surrounding area, I can tell that I have a growing following and fanbase, which is both something to be proud of as well as something humbling. If I thought my life was an open book before, it's now even more open. I'm fine with that, though; it's not like I have any secrets to hide.
I have been mostly unsuccessful in trying to find something to do this weekend, though it's not for lack of trying. One of the things I've found about being single is that my confidence, as shaky as it was to begin with, is starting to come back -- and therefore, I don't feel apprehensive or nervous, really, about asking people (especially women) "Hey, have any plans for the weekend? Want to do something?" It may come as a shock to a lot of you that I've ever had any confidence issues at all, as laid back/open and blunt I am in casual conversation, but it's true -- throughout my high school and undergraduate years, I was a very quiet, brooding, perpetually shy person with very little self-esteem.
Fast forward 5-10 years or so and you'll find that I now perceive myself to be awesome and want everyone to know it. It's like a night-and-day switch, isn't it?
Regardless, I have not yet made plans of any sort for the weekend. The EGSA is doing some sort of get-together on Saturday afternoon that all of us have been invited to, but (of course) it entails going out to a bar of some kind, from what I can tell, and at this point you folks should know what I think of that sort of activity.
On that note, I'll continue this later, as now I have to hop in the car for that delightful morning jaunt to Wichita, not returning home until well after 10PM. It can't come soon enough.
I'd like to think that, eventually, I'll get used to the lack of sleep I accrue over a week's time, and that getting up at 5AM will no longer affect me in the way it does now. I'd like to think that, eventually, it won't be over 90 degrees outside when I go to bed at night, or over 80 still when I get up in the morning a few short hours later.
My work week doesn't appear to be long to a lot of you, as I'm only on campus three days a week, but over those three days I've realized that I spend a total of about 30-32 hours either in class, in my own office at work, or teaching class. Roughly estimated, of course. That can be bumped up to 35 hours if you count the time spent in the car driving back and forth from Newton.
When all of us second-years started grad school last fall, our director told us never to actually do the math and count up the time spent on campus and/or doing school-related tasks to compare to our stipend as GTAs to see exactly what we'd make "per hour" as if it were an hourly job. Doing so, he told us, would be excruciatingly depressing and demoralizing.
Because I've never wanted to be depressed, I've never been curious enough to crunch the numbers myself. I will tell you, however, that when I worked at Cash Register Hell / New Hell -- the setting of my recently-released book -- I made more than double than what I make as a GTA every year. More than double. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why for people like myself, student loans are a dire necessity if one wants to survive, eat, and pay bills. It's not a pleasant necessity, but unless you're independently wealthy otherwise, it's a necessity.
I'm beginning to get to know a few of the new recruits a bit better, albeit slowly. Most of them have schedules that don't really mesh well with mine (shocking, I know, considering how much I'm there), and therefore, during the many hours per week I'm in town and/or otherwise on campus, most of the department tends to be empty. Apparently, I have a fairly unique schedule. This week, a lot of the students up there are celebrating a five-day weekend, as they have a Monday-through-Wednesday class/teaching schedule -- which means they not only have today off, but they have our normal Friday off as well as Labor Day. Still, in what little free time I have, I've been hanging out with a few of the new people who have the time, and they seem really friendly.
"Seems we have a really friendly group this year," the director told me yesterday afternoon when he and I were discussing the semester.
"I think so too," I said. "some of them certainly seem to be more social than some of us were when we started."
I would later learn that the director knows that the former girlfriend and I broke up, though he didn't want to bring it up before out of respect for both of us and our working environment there in the department. He mentioned that in his years there, he'd seen many relationships begin and end between graduate students, and that it was good at least that ours ended amicably. I gave him the brief rundown, as I've given pretty much anyone in the department who was curious about what happened -- though I did not, of course, tell him about this blog, and completely forgot to tell him about the book. He has two books of his own and is always working on another, so I didn't want to make him think I was trying to get money/publicity/etc. from him or anyone else by mentioning it.
I've been slowly gaining readers to this blog; it seems now that about 80-90% of my colleagues and fellow grad students -- even a few of the new recruits -- at least know about it, if not read it regularly. Many of them have found it through my Twitter (as most of us with Twitter tend to follow one another), while others have found it via Rae's site, tracing my comments on her posts back here. There are a few people I didn't expect to be reading it, but as almost all of my unique hits now come from Wichita or the surrounding area, I can tell that I have a growing following and fanbase, which is both something to be proud of as well as something humbling. If I thought my life was an open book before, it's now even more open. I'm fine with that, though; it's not like I have any secrets to hide.
I have been mostly unsuccessful in trying to find something to do this weekend, though it's not for lack of trying. One of the things I've found about being single is that my confidence, as shaky as it was to begin with, is starting to come back -- and therefore, I don't feel apprehensive or nervous, really, about asking people (especially women) "Hey, have any plans for the weekend? Want to do something?" It may come as a shock to a lot of you that I've ever had any confidence issues at all, as laid back/open and blunt I am in casual conversation, but it's true -- throughout my high school and undergraduate years, I was a very quiet, brooding, perpetually shy person with very little self-esteem.
Fast forward 5-10 years or so and you'll find that I now perceive myself to be awesome and want everyone to know it. It's like a night-and-day switch, isn't it?
Regardless, I have not yet made plans of any sort for the weekend. The EGSA is doing some sort of get-together on Saturday afternoon that all of us have been invited to, but (of course) it entails going out to a bar of some kind, from what I can tell, and at this point you folks should know what I think of that sort of activity.
On that note, I'll continue this later, as now I have to hop in the car for that delightful morning jaunt to Wichita, not returning home until well after 10PM. It can't come soon enough.
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