I spent the weekend eating sushi and drinking raspberry mojitos and getting massages (okay, just one massage, but it was wonderful and I really wish I could get one monthly because I think it's really good for my body) and now I don't really feel like being responsible anymore.
I had a midterm in my class tonight and I feel like I did okay considering how little I studied and how much I just don't care right now. That's the only problem with knowing that I already have a plan for the fall if I want it: now I don't see the point of putting much effort into stuff here when even if it's just mediocre it's not really going to make a difference. I just have to pass. I just have to finish. And I can do both of those things with a minimal amount of effort, so I can already feel myself getting incredibly lazy.
I am going to finish my thesis this week, though, or at least attempt to finish the bulk of it, if only because I really don't want to have to worry about it over spring break.
Just out of curiousity, I started looking online at apartments in my potential future home today. Not that this is a necessary step at this point because nothing is definite right now, obviously, but it was just something to do to waste time when I should have been studying. The thing is, it just stressed me out because they're already renting apartments for fall 2007 and I feel like by the time I'm actually ready to look for an apartment anywhere, everything "good" is going to be gone. It also stressed me out because it's hard to find an apartment that is pet friendly. It's even harder to find a pet friendly apartment or house that would give me the space to get a second dog, which is what I really want. I'm already trying to talk myself out of the idea of getting a sibling for Cohen. I don't think he's unhappy being my only dog, I just know he'd be happier in the long run if there was another canine member of our "pack" and I'd hate to wait until he's 6 or 7 years old to try to introduce a second dog. The weird thing is that all of the places I was reading about today have "pet rent", a monthly charge I'd have to pay for Cohen and Jose. I'm not opposed to that, and obviously I'm going to do whatever I need to do to keep my animals with me, but I find the pet rent concept really strange and would rather just pay a one-time pet deposit like you do here. The nice thing, however, is that the cost of renting an apartment doesn't seem to be substantially more expensive up there than it is here.
It's still so weird to think that in a few months I'll be living somewhere else (well, in a few months I'll probably be living in El Paso, but THEN I'll be living somewhere else). I'm not going to lie, I'm sort of nervous about it. I just don't like the six month adjustment period. Part of it is really exciting and fun, but there's the lonely part, too, which will be lonelier than ever this time since this will be the first time I'll move and truly know NOBODY where I'm going. And then there's the fact that I just really hit my stride here a year or so ago, so it seems too early to already be leaving here. I love my friends here. I love the way all of us grad students get along so well this year. Even the professors are commenting these days on what a unique, cohesive group we are and how great it is that we get along so well with each other. I think if you didn't know which of us were second years and first years and which of us were history/crit or directing you'd never be able to tell just by watching us together. It's great, the feeling that we all belong here and were meant to end up together here at this point in our lives. That sounds cheesy, but it's true. So I'm going to hate to leave everyone here. I'd never dream of staying, of course, because you can't hold on to times like this. These circles of friends form under specific circumstances and in specific moments and even if nobody leaves they eventually fall apart anyway. Still, it's going to be hard to leave in May.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Vacation Planning
With less than three weeks until we're in New York, Mandi and I finally got with the program tonight and did some real planning. We (me, Mandi, and Kymberli) now have tickets to see Spring Awakening and Talk Radio. I'm really excited about both, especially Spring Awakening, which I've been hearing really great things about. We wanted to try to get tickets to Wicked, too, but I'm not about to pay $250+ for tickets to a show. That's ridiculous. The only seats left were "premium seats". I figure maybe we'll try the lottery or the TKTS booth for that one, or maybe we'll decide that two Broadway shows is enough for us and we have other things to do.
As for other things I really want to do while I'm there, the only thing I'm dead set on trying to do is visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art because I've been to New York three times but somehow never been there. Other than that I'm hoping that Mandi will want to call a lot of the shots, because it is her first time there and I feel like she needs to try for her ideal experience (and I'm happy to do anything, frankly). I'm getting really excited about seeing Kymberli, too. It already feels like it has been years since we saw each other in Las Vegas.
I'm still on an emotional high from getting into a Ph.D. program so everything has been making me happy lately [incidentally, when I do have 100% definite plans I will do a post letting you know what program(s) accepted me...it will just be a temporary post, but I don't intend to leave you in the dark forever if you actually read my nonsense regularly]. I'm also really excited because my parents are coming to town tomorrow and we have a fun weekend planned. Tomorrow a big group of us is going to dinner at Kenichi. Sushi! It's Shane's belated birthday dinner since he turned 20 earlier this month. Shane is bitching (in a mostly joking way) that now it has turned into a celebration for me, too, but as far as I'm concerned it's still Shane's birthday party and that's it. Then since my parents are being all extravagant and staying at the Four Seasons again (lucky bastards), Mom made us massage appointments at their spa for Sunday, which I'm so excited about. I'm afraid my massage therapist is going to be horrified, though, because my entire body is covered in bruises from that stupid scene I did earlier this week. Zak and I tried to be careful and not actually injure each other, but I have a fairly visible bruise on my right calf, another one on my back, and a HUGE bruise on the upper part of my right thigh. I am so amazed by this bruise that I kind of want to take pictures and document it, except that's disgusting. I think it will be bathing suit season before this bruise fades completely, that's how intense it is. Sick.
Sunday Chelsea and I are also going to try to have a little birthday party for Morty and Cohen. Speaking of which, today is Cohen's birthday! My "baby" is two years old now! Time flies. I remember when I could hold him in one hand, and now he's 46 pounds of howling hound dog.
What I haven't figured out yet is when I'm going to get any thesis work done this weekend and when I'm going to study for my midterm on Tuesday because my weekend schedule is basically
Saturday:
8:30-10:30: Wake up and clean the apartment/groom the basset (ideally-I may in fact sleep in spite of my best intentions)
10:30-4ish: Shift at the restaurant
6:00: Run box office for the show
8:00: Dinner with everyone, and I'm sure I'll get home way too late to get anything accomplished
Sunday:
11:00: Work out (again, ideally)
12:30: Another box office shift
3:00: Massage
4:30ish: Dog birthday party
Evening: Dinner with my family, probably
So I can probably do a tiny bit of work tomorrow afternoon if I get ambitious, and I can hopefully get some work done late Sunday night. But basically, the bulk of my studying/writing will have to get done Monday and during the day on Tuesday, and I don't have a whole ton of time then, either, because rehearsals for Richie's show are in high gear now since we open March 6th. Plus we need to spend Monday morning at Goodwill looking for props.
But don't even bother telling me how stupid it is to prioritize things like dog birthday parties and massages over my studies because I realize how ridiculous I am. I also realize life is too short to be responsible all the damn time.
As for other things I really want to do while I'm there, the only thing I'm dead set on trying to do is visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art because I've been to New York three times but somehow never been there. Other than that I'm hoping that Mandi will want to call a lot of the shots, because it is her first time there and I feel like she needs to try for her ideal experience (and I'm happy to do anything, frankly). I'm getting really excited about seeing Kymberli, too. It already feels like it has been years since we saw each other in Las Vegas.
I'm still on an emotional high from getting into a Ph.D. program so everything has been making me happy lately [incidentally, when I do have 100% definite plans I will do a post letting you know what program(s) accepted me...it will just be a temporary post, but I don't intend to leave you in the dark forever if you actually read my nonsense regularly]. I'm also really excited because my parents are coming to town tomorrow and we have a fun weekend planned. Tomorrow a big group of us is going to dinner at Kenichi. Sushi! It's Shane's belated birthday dinner since he turned 20 earlier this month. Shane is bitching (in a mostly joking way) that now it has turned into a celebration for me, too, but as far as I'm concerned it's still Shane's birthday party and that's it. Then since my parents are being all extravagant and staying at the Four Seasons again (lucky bastards), Mom made us massage appointments at their spa for Sunday, which I'm so excited about. I'm afraid my massage therapist is going to be horrified, though, because my entire body is covered in bruises from that stupid scene I did earlier this week. Zak and I tried to be careful and not actually injure each other, but I have a fairly visible bruise on my right calf, another one on my back, and a HUGE bruise on the upper part of my right thigh. I am so amazed by this bruise that I kind of want to take pictures and document it, except that's disgusting. I think it will be bathing suit season before this bruise fades completely, that's how intense it is. Sick.
Sunday Chelsea and I are also going to try to have a little birthday party for Morty and Cohen. Speaking of which, today is Cohen's birthday! My "baby" is two years old now! Time flies. I remember when I could hold him in one hand, and now he's 46 pounds of howling hound dog.
What I haven't figured out yet is when I'm going to get any thesis work done this weekend and when I'm going to study for my midterm on Tuesday because my weekend schedule is basically
Saturday:
8:30-10:30: Wake up and clean the apartment/groom the basset (ideally-I may in fact sleep in spite of my best intentions)
10:30-4ish: Shift at the restaurant
6:00: Run box office for the show
8:00: Dinner with everyone, and I'm sure I'll get home way too late to get anything accomplished
Sunday:
11:00: Work out (again, ideally)
12:30: Another box office shift
3:00: Massage
4:30ish: Dog birthday party
Evening: Dinner with my family, probably
So I can probably do a tiny bit of work tomorrow afternoon if I get ambitious, and I can hopefully get some work done late Sunday night. But basically, the bulk of my studying/writing will have to get done Monday and during the day on Tuesday, and I don't have a whole ton of time then, either, because rehearsals for Richie's show are in high gear now since we open March 6th. Plus we need to spend Monday morning at Goodwill looking for props.
But don't even bother telling me how stupid it is to prioritize things like dog birthday parties and massages over my studies because I realize how ridiculous I am. I also realize life is too short to be responsible all the damn time.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Accepted!
You can ignore this morning's post if you want to, because I just checked my mail and had an official letter that says "Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you of your admission to The ___ ____ University Doctor of Philosophy degree program for Theatre for Autumn Quarter 2007."
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My mind is completely blown. I seriously never thought I'd get in anywhere for the fall. To know that I have been accepted somewhere and have a place to go in the fall for sure is such a weight off my shoulders. I'm not going to have to move back to El Paso and bartend indefinitely! I have a plan! A plan that might change if I somehow manage to get accepted somewhere else, too, but still! A plan!
I'll be starting a Ph.D. program in the fall. It feels so good to type that!
There are still a ton of unknowns. I don't know what sort of financial package or job they're offering me (if any) for one thing. And I suppose there is a little bit of chance that I could end up with more than one offer, in which case I have no idea what the heck I'd do. But maybe I won't have that (admittedly good to have) dilemma. Maybe I'm already set and just don't know it yet.
Either way, today is a day for celebrating.
On the downside, I guess this means I actually do have to finish my thesis on time and pass my comprehensive exam because, hey, I have things to do! My regalia came in the mail yesterday, too, another incentive to get my act together and finish up here. I can't believe that all of this is actually going to happen.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My mind is completely blown. I seriously never thought I'd get in anywhere for the fall. To know that I have been accepted somewhere and have a place to go in the fall for sure is such a weight off my shoulders. I'm not going to have to move back to El Paso and bartend indefinitely! I have a plan! A plan that might change if I somehow manage to get accepted somewhere else, too, but still! A plan!
I'll be starting a Ph.D. program in the fall. It feels so good to type that!
There are still a ton of unknowns. I don't know what sort of financial package or job they're offering me (if any) for one thing. And I suppose there is a little bit of chance that I could end up with more than one offer, in which case I have no idea what the heck I'd do. But maybe I won't have that (admittedly good to have) dilemma. Maybe I'm already set and just don't know it yet.
Either way, today is a day for celebrating.
On the downside, I guess this means I actually do have to finish my thesis on time and pass my comprehensive exam because, hey, I have things to do! My regalia came in the mail yesterday, too, another incentive to get my act together and finish up here. I can't believe that all of this is actually going to happen.
Not Exactly Jumping Up and Down Yet, But...
So I woke up about an hour ago and on a whim I decided to check my application status at all of the schools I applied to last month. I already know Stanford said no (yes, it was Stanford, if I never mentioned that...do you see why I'm not exactly surprised that I didn't get accepted there? It really is quite a bit out of my reach, and more of a directing program than a dramaturgy program to boot, so not surprising at all). Also, I figure I can tell you the names of the schools I don't get into because the only reason I'm not telling you the others is that if I do get accepted and end up moving there I don't want to give out that much identifying information. Not that any more than six people actually read this thing, but still, I'm a little paranoid.
Anyway. I couldn't remember my screenname or password to log onto my application at the other California school, and I gave up on trying to figure it out, so I still don't know about that one. One of the schools up north is still pending, as is never-gonna-happen-longshot-number-two-east-coast school. And at the other east coast school I went to check my application and it says my application status is incomplete, which is completely screwed up because I'm 100% positive it was complete when I submitted it and paid the application fee last month. I'm hoping that the website is just being wonky and that they do in fact have all of my information on file; I have an e-mail out to someone right now hoping to clear that all up.
So then I checked my application status at the other school up north, and it listed all of my information and the program I'd applied to and all of that stuff, and then it said this:
"Status: You will receive a letter requesting that you confirm your plans to attend ____ _____University. Please confirm your intentions to enroll by APRIL 16, 2007."
I haven't received anything else from them yet, not an official letter or anything like that. They did send me a personal e-mail last week requesting my FAFSA information (you know, an e-mail addressed to me that didn't feel computer-generated and as if it had been sent to every applicant automatically), but that's all I've gotten so far. Still...does that sound like an acceptance to you?
I mean, surely that's not their idea of an "application pending" message. If so, that would be very misleading. If they're wanting me to confirm my intentions to enroll, that probably means I'm in, right?
I'm going to wait a week or two to see if I get an actual letter in the mail, and if not I'll call them to clarify. But...I think I might have actually gotten accepted somewhere!
This could still just be blah. They might be offering me no money at all whatsoever. It might be a computer error. I'm not counting my chickens yet, exactly.
But I'm feeling pretty hopeful right now, I must say.
Anyway. I couldn't remember my screenname or password to log onto my application at the other California school, and I gave up on trying to figure it out, so I still don't know about that one. One of the schools up north is still pending, as is never-gonna-happen-longshot-number-two-east-coast school. And at the other east coast school I went to check my application and it says my application status is incomplete, which is completely screwed up because I'm 100% positive it was complete when I submitted it and paid the application fee last month. I'm hoping that the website is just being wonky and that they do in fact have all of my information on file; I have an e-mail out to someone right now hoping to clear that all up.
So then I checked my application status at the other school up north, and it listed all of my information and the program I'd applied to and all of that stuff, and then it said this:
"Status: You will receive a letter requesting that you confirm your plans to attend ____ _____University. Please confirm your intentions to enroll by APRIL 16, 2007."
I haven't received anything else from them yet, not an official letter or anything like that. They did send me a personal e-mail last week requesting my FAFSA information (you know, an e-mail addressed to me that didn't feel computer-generated and as if it had been sent to every applicant automatically), but that's all I've gotten so far. Still...does that sound like an acceptance to you?
I mean, surely that's not their idea of an "application pending" message. If so, that would be very misleading. If they're wanting me to confirm my intentions to enroll, that probably means I'm in, right?
I'm going to wait a week or two to see if I get an actual letter in the mail, and if not I'll call them to clarify. But...I think I might have actually gotten accepted somewhere!
This could still just be blah. They might be offering me no money at all whatsoever. It might be a computer error. I'm not counting my chickens yet, exactly.
But I'm feeling pretty hopeful right now, I must say.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Sundays
So it's Sunday night at 11:30, and I'm once again doing what I always do on Sunday nights now. Namely, I'm thinking of a million ways to procrastinate so I don't have to do any thesis writing even though I desperately need to be working on it because I have pages due on Tuesday morning, as usual. This week will mark the halfway point for me, if I actually get any writing done. I'm just finding this whole process really tiring, because each week I get a little bit done and I feel that relieved, mission accomplished feeling, but then the next day it starts all over again and I'm really tired of it. This does not bode well for possibly writing a dissertation one of these days, huh? At least I'm still on track. And I've already finished my reading for class this week, so that's...something.
The play I'm stage managing is going really well. As long as the actors keep up their end of the bargain and get off book this week like they're supposed to, I think we'll be in good shape. The scene I'm acting in is going less well, although it has been getting better lately. It has just been the most frustrating experience because basically the scene is a comedic attempted rape. Yes. Comedic attempted rape. Thank you, Peter Shaffer, for writing the most impossible scene ever. There is nothing funny when a guy pushes you down onto a bed and forces you to kiss him and tries to do more when you're not interested. It's just not funny. It's hard to play things like "frustrated" and "oh ho ho, he's so goofy and nerdy and going about this the wrong way", because really, it's just kind of scary. I think in real life, even if the person is your best friend and you're almost 100% positive that nothing much will actually happen against your will, it's still scary. So I'm having a heck of a time finding motivation in this scene. Plus my scene partner has to push me backwards off of a chair onto the floor and then pick me up and toss me onto a bed and kiss really forcefully and sloppily along my neck and jaw and he's kind of scruffy so I leave rehearsals now with my entire neck and jawline bright red. And I'm bruising myself from all the crashing around. And he's trying not to hurt me but apparently I suddenly have the most sensitive skin ever. Also, I'm sure there's a safer, saner way to block this scene but we're all about the realism and frankly, I don't have time to spend hours learning believable stage combat. It's stupid, but in my mind a little pain is worth the time saved. Plus I get to say, "I do my own stunts!" as I'm crashing out of the bed for the dozenth time.
I'm taking my cat and my dog to the vet together tomorrow. Jose needs his annual check-up, and Cohen needs his bordatella vaccine so he can stay at the kennel for a few days while I'm in New York (Chels will watch him the rest of the time). I booked their appointments together so I wouldn't have to make two vet trips this month, but now I'm thinking that poor Jose is going to be stressed out by basset baying as he's getting his shots. Poor cat.
Last night I had a very bizarre exchange with a guy at a bar in Austin. I was out with a bunch of my friends (Mandi and Jason, Jason's best friend whose name I can't spell, Debbie, and Richie) and we went to this bar on west 6th at the end of the night. As Debbie and I were standing at the bar ordering our drinks, this guy standing down the bar from me caught my eye. He was really good looking so I gave him one of those "Yes, I saw you looking at me and now I'm acknowledging that I'm looking at you, too, so feel free to approach me" looks, and I saw him lean over and say something to his friend and gesture at me and Debbie, and then I lost sight of him in the crush of people at the bar. A moment later the guy was standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders, and he sort of rubbed my shoulders and said, "So, can we use your credit card?" I pulled out from under his hands and said, "What? What are you talking about?" (I was using cash to buy my drink, which was the least of the problems with his question) and his buddy said, "You're buying, right?" and I was a bit taken aback so I didn't say anything right away and Debbie goes, "Did he just ask for your credit card?" and the first guy goes, "I thought you girls liked to have the power," and then he went to put his hands on my shoulders again and I pulled away again and walked away quickly, and Debbie said under her breath (although I wish she'd said it to his face), "Yeah. That's why we're buying our own drinks." What an asshole. Has that bit ever worked on anybody? I really hope not. I guess I could give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was just joking and I misinterpreted him and walked away from the situation too quickly, but no. I'm pretty sure he was just an asshole. The uninvited shoulder massage was a pretty good sign of that. I don't know you. Don't touch me. Weirdo.
I would really like to meet a normal, dateable guy.
I'll leave this disjointed entry at that.
The play I'm stage managing is going really well. As long as the actors keep up their end of the bargain and get off book this week like they're supposed to, I think we'll be in good shape. The scene I'm acting in is going less well, although it has been getting better lately. It has just been the most frustrating experience because basically the scene is a comedic attempted rape. Yes. Comedic attempted rape. Thank you, Peter Shaffer, for writing the most impossible scene ever. There is nothing funny when a guy pushes you down onto a bed and forces you to kiss him and tries to do more when you're not interested. It's just not funny. It's hard to play things like "frustrated" and "oh ho ho, he's so goofy and nerdy and going about this the wrong way", because really, it's just kind of scary. I think in real life, even if the person is your best friend and you're almost 100% positive that nothing much will actually happen against your will, it's still scary. So I'm having a heck of a time finding motivation in this scene. Plus my scene partner has to push me backwards off of a chair onto the floor and then pick me up and toss me onto a bed and kiss really forcefully and sloppily along my neck and jaw and he's kind of scruffy so I leave rehearsals now with my entire neck and jawline bright red. And I'm bruising myself from all the crashing around. And he's trying not to hurt me but apparently I suddenly have the most sensitive skin ever. Also, I'm sure there's a safer, saner way to block this scene but we're all about the realism and frankly, I don't have time to spend hours learning believable stage combat. It's stupid, but in my mind a little pain is worth the time saved. Plus I get to say, "I do my own stunts!" as I'm crashing out of the bed for the dozenth time.
I'm taking my cat and my dog to the vet together tomorrow. Jose needs his annual check-up, and Cohen needs his bordatella vaccine so he can stay at the kennel for a few days while I'm in New York (Chels will watch him the rest of the time). I booked their appointments together so I wouldn't have to make two vet trips this month, but now I'm thinking that poor Jose is going to be stressed out by basset baying as he's getting his shots. Poor cat.
Last night I had a very bizarre exchange with a guy at a bar in Austin. I was out with a bunch of my friends (Mandi and Jason, Jason's best friend whose name I can't spell, Debbie, and Richie) and we went to this bar on west 6th at the end of the night. As Debbie and I were standing at the bar ordering our drinks, this guy standing down the bar from me caught my eye. He was really good looking so I gave him one of those "Yes, I saw you looking at me and now I'm acknowledging that I'm looking at you, too, so feel free to approach me" looks, and I saw him lean over and say something to his friend and gesture at me and Debbie, and then I lost sight of him in the crush of people at the bar. A moment later the guy was standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders, and he sort of rubbed my shoulders and said, "So, can we use your credit card?" I pulled out from under his hands and said, "What? What are you talking about?" (I was using cash to buy my drink, which was the least of the problems with his question) and his buddy said, "You're buying, right?" and I was a bit taken aback so I didn't say anything right away and Debbie goes, "Did he just ask for your credit card?" and the first guy goes, "I thought you girls liked to have the power," and then he went to put his hands on my shoulders again and I pulled away again and walked away quickly, and Debbie said under her breath (although I wish she'd said it to his face), "Yeah. That's why we're buying our own drinks." What an asshole. Has that bit ever worked on anybody? I really hope not. I guess I could give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was just joking and I misinterpreted him and walked away from the situation too quickly, but no. I'm pretty sure he was just an asshole. The uninvited shoulder massage was a pretty good sign of that. I don't know you. Don't touch me. Weirdo.
I would really like to meet a normal, dateable guy.
I'll leave this disjointed entry at that.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Sorority Snooping and Other Things
I wrote ten more pages tonight! So that's twenty pages down, about fifty more to go. I figure I'm more or less 1/3rd of the way finished, especially when I take into consideration that I did a ton of research yesterday for a bunch of sections beyond the two that I was actually working on this week. I still have the trickiest sections yet to write, though, so...eh. I normally like to do the hardest bits first and save the easier stuff for later, but that just hasn't been working for me this time around. I'm finding it hard to fight the writer's block on this project for some reason, so I guess I figure if I can get the easiest parts done with first I'll at least be able to go, "Look, you've already written this much, just finish the crazy thing." At least I'm sticking to my personal schedule so far. I'm proud of myself for that.
In other news, I think my College Ex must be between girls right now because he called me last night and spent forty minutes talking about how incredible and unique I am and how jealous he is of my accomplishments (huh?) and how much I inspire him and how much he loves me (eh). And while you may think that sounds lovely, it's not really. It's flattering, yes. Of course it's flattering. But it's flattering for about three minutes and then I'd like to have an actual conversation about what's going on in my life and what's going on in his life, but no, instead I just have to listen to the endless, rambling litany of praise. It gets old quickly. And although you'd never believe it by reading how much I brag about myself here, listening to someone babble on and on about me just makes me feel incredibly awkward. By the end of the conversation I was keeping a mental tally: Times he's talked about being jealous that I presented at an academic conference-3, times he has mentioned how great it was the last time he came to visit me here-9, times he has talked about how much he loves my family-4, times he has said some variation on, "You're going to get whatever you want from life"-712 million. I tried to change the subject a dozen times, but each time I got about three sentences from him and then he was right back to talking about how wonderful I am. And you might think I'm exaggerating when I say this went on for forty minutes, but no, I'm not. And it was three in the morning. I don't know why I answered the phone, honestly, since I'm sure he was drunk or high or something. I'd forgotten how exhausting it can be to try to have an actual two-sided conversation with him. I can't figure out what's going through his mind when he calls me like that. I guess I mostly get annoyed with it because I don't feel like he's really being sincere, but since I no longer let him sleep with me in any way, shape, or form and he's well aware of that, what's the point of all the flattery if it's not sincere? It also bothers me because it's not at all mutual. As much as we had a good time together in college (we did) and as much as I care about him as a friend (I do) and as much as I don't regret all the time we spent together (I don't-at least not most of it), I don't love him like he claims to love me. From my perspective, our entire relationship was based on sexual chemistry, something I sort of realized but didn't fully acknowledge at the time, even though I was well aware that my favorite thing about him was not the sparkling conversation or the respect he showed me (ha!). The minute the sexual chemistry died, though--and what exactly killed it is still sort of a mystery, but it did die for me, utterly and completely, a little more than a year ago--everything else died, too. Unlike my feelings for Mike, I have no pressing, incessant desire to keep this guy in my life. I value his friendship and am happy to see him when I see him, but it's not a friendship that I feel the need to continue to put a lot of effort into. Talking once or twice a year would be perfectly adequate, as far as I'm concerned. And I certainly don't rehash and analyze our relationship. In my mind, it breaks down like this: I was at a point where I felt like experimenting with a casual relationship, we had a lot of sex and it was good, I tried to convince myself that maybe we could have something more than just sex but knew all along that really I was just in it for the sex, I eventually got tired of just sex and no commitment, I know he's not the sort of guy I want to be committed to, end of relationship. It's so simple. Yet it seems like in his mind it's something different. He has seemingly put me on a pedestal now that it's over, and the fact that he thinks of me like that or even feels the need to pretend to think of me like that when I rarely think of him at all makes me feel a little guilty.
And last night he told me he wants to come down here and visit me again, which...why? I just don't get it what's going through his head, I really don't.
Speaking of guys, Mike is talking to me again. My plan worked. I'm happy about that. Who knows how long the peace will last this time, but I like it better when we're trying to be friends, so that's good. And I'm proud of myself for being so rational and having it actually work in my favor.
Finally, on an entirely unrelated note, I seem to have somehow accidentally ended up on an e-mail list for the Delta Gamma sorority chapter here on campus. I have no idea how this happened, but I have yet to bother to get anyone to correct the error because I am horribly amused by the e-mail I have been getting. It seems to mostly be e-mails from an upperclassman to a group of new members. She types everything with exclamation marks. She also uses a pink font. Every e-mail ends with the phrase "Go out and Do Good!", and so I assume Do Good is a play on DG/Delta Gamma. This week's e-mail was particularly hilarious because first she referred to the "date party" over the weekend (oh man) and then she told everyone that they have to bring a flower representing themselves to this week's meeting (I really hope someone has a sense of humor and shows up with a dead flower or a weed) and then she talked about some "Daddy and Daughter" dinner which, I'm sorry, is that not incredibly creepy? "Father/Daughter" is acceptable, but "Daddy and Daughter" somehow just gets a little too Freudian and weird for my taste. And a little too "I'm sixteen years old and I'm whining because I got the BMW instead of the Jag I really wanted at my outrageously overpriced birthday party which will be featured on MTV". The best part was the part where everyone was reminded to "Dress in a Valentine's theme for the meeting: red, pink, or white shirt, jeans, and cute shoes!"
Why, why, why would any sensible woman in this day and age want to belong to a group that demands she wear "cute shoes!"? I understand--okay, I don't understand--but I could probably be convinced to see some of the positives of sorority life. Like, um...sisterhood (mostly patently false, but I bet you do meet at least a few true friends, as you do in any group of people). And I like traditions so doing something hundreds of other women have done before you, okay, that's cool. And the networking opportunities, okay, fine, I'll buy that, too. But I'm not going to include charitable contributions as a positive because only about 2 girls in any given sorority really want to do the charity work and would do it regardless of their sorority affiliation.
So yeah, I grudgingly admit there are some positives to sororities. But the simple fact is that all of those things--the friendship, the traditions, the networking--can be found in other venues. There are service fraternities, there are religious groups if that's your thing. There are a ton of groups you can join if you're that sort of join-y person that don't involve mandates on the kind of clothes you can wear and don't have philosophies that belong in the 1950s (only a twisted, corrupted 1950s where girls don't even pretend to be classy anymore and instead slut around in their halter tops and cute shoes...I'll bet you half of them got wasted before going to said "date party").
I know I technically am in no position to judge, if only because I haven't experienced it first-hand and how can you judge something if you've never tried it yourself? But I've seen it secondhand, and that's more than enough to leave me wondering why any sensible girl with a reasonable amount of self-esteem would subject herself to that sort of environment.
*Also, I'm fully aware that I make most of these judgments based on the view of sorority life I got living on campus at TCU and living with Katy [who dropped out of her sorority eventually, incidentally] I've been told by people at other schools that their sororities "aren't like that" and that TCU is an extreme case...but from what I've seen they're exactly the same here and at UT as they were there, so I think it's safe to assume that Texas at least is kind of screwy about this sorority stuff.
**Also, please don't take this as an assumption that I dislike sorority girls. Individually, I like almost all of the sorority girls I got to know personally in college. I love Katy, and she started out as the ultimate sorority girl. It's the philosophy of sororities that I'm railing against, not the people that subscribe to that philosophy.
In other news, I think my College Ex must be between girls right now because he called me last night and spent forty minutes talking about how incredible and unique I am and how jealous he is of my accomplishments (huh?) and how much I inspire him and how much he loves me (eh). And while you may think that sounds lovely, it's not really. It's flattering, yes. Of course it's flattering. But it's flattering for about three minutes and then I'd like to have an actual conversation about what's going on in my life and what's going on in his life, but no, instead I just have to listen to the endless, rambling litany of praise. It gets old quickly. And although you'd never believe it by reading how much I brag about myself here, listening to someone babble on and on about me just makes me feel incredibly awkward. By the end of the conversation I was keeping a mental tally: Times he's talked about being jealous that I presented at an academic conference-3, times he has mentioned how great it was the last time he came to visit me here-9, times he has talked about how much he loves my family-4, times he has said some variation on, "You're going to get whatever you want from life"-712 million. I tried to change the subject a dozen times, but each time I got about three sentences from him and then he was right back to talking about how wonderful I am. And you might think I'm exaggerating when I say this went on for forty minutes, but no, I'm not. And it was three in the morning. I don't know why I answered the phone, honestly, since I'm sure he was drunk or high or something. I'd forgotten how exhausting it can be to try to have an actual two-sided conversation with him. I can't figure out what's going through his mind when he calls me like that. I guess I mostly get annoyed with it because I don't feel like he's really being sincere, but since I no longer let him sleep with me in any way, shape, or form and he's well aware of that, what's the point of all the flattery if it's not sincere? It also bothers me because it's not at all mutual. As much as we had a good time together in college (we did) and as much as I care about him as a friend (I do) and as much as I don't regret all the time we spent together (I don't-at least not most of it), I don't love him like he claims to love me. From my perspective, our entire relationship was based on sexual chemistry, something I sort of realized but didn't fully acknowledge at the time, even though I was well aware that my favorite thing about him was not the sparkling conversation or the respect he showed me (ha!). The minute the sexual chemistry died, though--and what exactly killed it is still sort of a mystery, but it did die for me, utterly and completely, a little more than a year ago--everything else died, too. Unlike my feelings for Mike, I have no pressing, incessant desire to keep this guy in my life. I value his friendship and am happy to see him when I see him, but it's not a friendship that I feel the need to continue to put a lot of effort into. Talking once or twice a year would be perfectly adequate, as far as I'm concerned. And I certainly don't rehash and analyze our relationship. In my mind, it breaks down like this: I was at a point where I felt like experimenting with a casual relationship, we had a lot of sex and it was good, I tried to convince myself that maybe we could have something more than just sex but knew all along that really I was just in it for the sex, I eventually got tired of just sex and no commitment, I know he's not the sort of guy I want to be committed to, end of relationship. It's so simple. Yet it seems like in his mind it's something different. He has seemingly put me on a pedestal now that it's over, and the fact that he thinks of me like that or even feels the need to pretend to think of me like that when I rarely think of him at all makes me feel a little guilty.
And last night he told me he wants to come down here and visit me again, which...why? I just don't get it what's going through his head, I really don't.
Speaking of guys, Mike is talking to me again. My plan worked. I'm happy about that. Who knows how long the peace will last this time, but I like it better when we're trying to be friends, so that's good. And I'm proud of myself for being so rational and having it actually work in my favor.
Finally, on an entirely unrelated note, I seem to have somehow accidentally ended up on an e-mail list for the Delta Gamma sorority chapter here on campus. I have no idea how this happened, but I have yet to bother to get anyone to correct the error because I am horribly amused by the e-mail I have been getting. It seems to mostly be e-mails from an upperclassman to a group of new members. She types everything with exclamation marks. She also uses a pink font. Every e-mail ends with the phrase "Go out and Do Good!", and so I assume Do Good is a play on DG/Delta Gamma. This week's e-mail was particularly hilarious because first she referred to the "date party" over the weekend (oh man) and then she told everyone that they have to bring a flower representing themselves to this week's meeting (I really hope someone has a sense of humor and shows up with a dead flower or a weed) and then she talked about some "Daddy and Daughter" dinner which, I'm sorry, is that not incredibly creepy? "Father/Daughter" is acceptable, but "Daddy and Daughter" somehow just gets a little too Freudian and weird for my taste. And a little too "I'm sixteen years old and I'm whining because I got the BMW instead of the Jag I really wanted at my outrageously overpriced birthday party which will be featured on MTV". The best part was the part where everyone was reminded to "Dress in a Valentine's theme for the meeting: red, pink, or white shirt, jeans, and cute shoes!"
Why, why, why would any sensible woman in this day and age want to belong to a group that demands she wear "cute shoes!"? I understand--okay, I don't understand--but I could probably be convinced to see some of the positives of sorority life. Like, um...sisterhood (mostly patently false, but I bet you do meet at least a few true friends, as you do in any group of people). And I like traditions so doing something hundreds of other women have done before you, okay, that's cool. And the networking opportunities, okay, fine, I'll buy that, too. But I'm not going to include charitable contributions as a positive because only about 2 girls in any given sorority really want to do the charity work and would do it regardless of their sorority affiliation.
So yeah, I grudgingly admit there are some positives to sororities. But the simple fact is that all of those things--the friendship, the traditions, the networking--can be found in other venues. There are service fraternities, there are religious groups if that's your thing. There are a ton of groups you can join if you're that sort of join-y person that don't involve mandates on the kind of clothes you can wear and don't have philosophies that belong in the 1950s (only a twisted, corrupted 1950s where girls don't even pretend to be classy anymore and instead slut around in their halter tops and cute shoes...I'll bet you half of them got wasted before going to said "date party").
I know I technically am in no position to judge, if only because I haven't experienced it first-hand and how can you judge something if you've never tried it yourself? But I've seen it secondhand, and that's more than enough to leave me wondering why any sensible girl with a reasonable amount of self-esteem would subject herself to that sort of environment.
*Also, I'm fully aware that I make most of these judgments based on the view of sorority life I got living on campus at TCU and living with Katy [who dropped out of her sorority eventually, incidentally] I've been told by people at other schools that their sororities "aren't like that" and that TCU is an extreme case...but from what I've seen they're exactly the same here and at UT as they were there, so I think it's safe to assume that Texas at least is kind of screwy about this sorority stuff.
**Also, please don't take this as an assumption that I dislike sorority girls. Individually, I like almost all of the sorority girls I got to know personally in college. I love Katy, and she started out as the ultimate sorority girl. It's the philosophy of sororities that I'm railing against, not the people that subscribe to that philosophy.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
There is No Narrative Flow to This Entry
Just an update to let you know that I was absolutely right about my idiot manager at work. Remember how he only scheduled me four times during the two weeks I was here over winter break not doing anything at all whatsoever, with tons of time to kill, time in which I would have liked making money? Remember how I said something about how knowing his idiocy he'd start scheduling me for five shifts a week once school started and I was really busy? Yeah. That is EXACTLY what happened. The past two weeks I had five shifts each week. This week I had four. I realize they're short staffed right now, but I'm really starting to get pissed off. I'm actually managing my time alright right now, and I have to admit that the money I'm making is making me very happy. He has also been scheduling me for all day shifts, which is a good thing. Still, I'm annoyed that I was right about him.
I still kick around the idea of quitting, but I am finally at a point where I like my coworkers and kind of look forward to seeing them at work (some of them, anyway). And did I mention I like the money? It's nothing but extra money in my pocket, money that doesn't have to go towards bills or food, money that I can fritter away on alcohol and dinner out and concert and airplane tickets and all that fun stuff, although I try to be smart and save at least part of it. Plus I doubt I'd use the hours I'm currently working productively anyway if I wasn't working. I'd probably just sleep and read more blogs, to be honest. So I won't actually quit, at least not right now. But I might threaten to quit if I don't start getting a more reasonable 2-3 shifts a week schedule. I think I am a good enough employee that if I threatened to quit at this point they'd do what they need to do to keep me. It's hard to find people who actually prefer to work day shifts in the restaurant business.
Speaking of my tip money, I used some of it to go out in Austin last night and had one of the best nights I've had in a while. Debbie's boyfriend is in town, and since none of us have ever met him before she decided we all needed to go out together, so EVERYONE went to Austin for dinner. It was a really mixed group: a bunch of my usual gang of grad student buddies-Debbie (of course), Richie, Amanda, and John-and then Amanda's roommate Claire, Claire's boyfriend Jacob, Jeff (an actor in the play Richie and I are working on), and then three people I'd never met before-Chris (Debbie's boyfriend) and two of Debbie's friends from her hometown, Laura and Jake. There were enough of us that they gave us a private room at the Indian restaurant we went to for dinner, which we were thankful for because theatre people are loud. I don't think it can be helped, we just are. And it doesn't seem to matter whether or not you're an actor, because actually most of my friends here are either historians or directors, and we're still always the loudest table in any given bar/restaurant. We acknowledge this, and we try to keep it down, and we don't do ridiculous things on purpose for attention (which, stereotypical but true, is a young actor thing to do) but we're just loud. So having a private room was nice. After dinner we went to the pub across the street and I had a cider beer and just enjoyed the company. It was one of those nights where I looked around a warmly-lit room at a bunch of laughing people and thought, "I adore being with these people, and if this is as good as my life is ever going to get, then I have done pretty darn well for myself."
Which is a good feeling, considering I somehow managed to lose a friend this week. Everything had been going well between me and Mike since the new year began. I made a resolution that this is the year I stop caring about him in any sort of romantic way, and it seemed to be working. I wrote here after Rachel's wedding that I suddenly knew I really was done with him romantically, and that honestly seems to be true. It's liberating, I feel good, and I was happy with our friendship. And then suddenly as of last Monday, we're no longer speaking. And it's the damndest thing, because I don't even remember what exactly we were talking about when he said, "Fuck you, leave me alone." We were having a kind of serious conversation about some of our typical hot button issues, the things that we've argued about on and off for the past five years (things on this list include: me moving to Fort Worth for college and supposedly choosing my career over our relationship, me leaving him for my college ex, me maintaining that he was the one to suggest an open relationship in the first place all those years ago [which is TRUE!], him leaving me for Jenny last year, him choosing sex with random girls over our relationship, him holding onto unnecessary jealousy and anger and blaming me for things he won't let me fix, me worrying that he doesn't know what he really wants, me claiming that I can't trust anyone who says they love me now that he said he saw himself marrying me but then changed his mind, him claiming I screwed him up for life as far as relationships go and all his meaningless sex is my fault [perhaps that Numerology report wasn't so off the mark after all?] etc., etc.). But I didn't think we were talking about anything that major, and we certainly weren't talking about anything we haven't already talked about before. I didn't say a single thing about him or me that he didn't already know, and yet now after that conversation he's no longer speaking to me. I spent a few days text messaging him a lot and calling him a few times a day only to have him reject my call every time, and finally yesterday I was like, "Why am I doing this?" He had a severe overreaction to the whole conversation, which leads me to believe that there is something bad going on his life right now that has absolutely nothing to do with me. So I'm not going to blame myself, and I'm not going to keep pushing him to tell me why he wants to stop speaking to me. When you really think about it, who cares why? No matter what he tells me I'm sure I won't think it's a good, valid reason. So what's the point in knowing? The fact of the matter is, for reasons only he knows, he needs to not be speaking to me right now.
So in a very major step for me, I've decided not to try to force a reconciliation. I'm still going to text him when I feel like it and IM him once in a while, and maybe someday he'll feel like answering again. Because as much as he can be a brat sometimes (that's what this really is more than anything, just pure brattiness on his part), I don't like burning bridges and now that I've come to terms with my complicated emotions about him, I'd like to have him in my life in some aspect. And I find it hard to believe that he'll ignore my friendly, innocuous comments forever. At some point he'll start feeling okay again and start responding to me again, I hope. His anger and depression has nothing to do with me, despite what he thinks. If it did, he'd be willing to just be with me, which would I imagine fix all his problems, were the problems in fact my fault. But they're not my fault, and I can't fix them, and I'm not going to try. I'm just going to be waiting around and reaching out so he knows I'm there, and when he feels like being friends again we will be. And if he never feels like being friends again, at least I am content in the knowledge that this break was not my fault and that I tried my best to maintain the friendship.
Well, that certainly got long-winded! Enough of this, I have stuff to do. I have a workout to do, an episode of Grey's to watch, and I'm supposed to be meeting Richie, Debbie, and Chris for drinks later tonight. I also have ten thesis pages to write, but that's what tomorrow is for. Apparently I will be procrastinating on my pages every single week! What wonderful study habits I have!
I still kick around the idea of quitting, but I am finally at a point where I like my coworkers and kind of look forward to seeing them at work (some of them, anyway). And did I mention I like the money? It's nothing but extra money in my pocket, money that doesn't have to go towards bills or food, money that I can fritter away on alcohol and dinner out and concert and airplane tickets and all that fun stuff, although I try to be smart and save at least part of it. Plus I doubt I'd use the hours I'm currently working productively anyway if I wasn't working. I'd probably just sleep and read more blogs, to be honest. So I won't actually quit, at least not right now. But I might threaten to quit if I don't start getting a more reasonable 2-3 shifts a week schedule. I think I am a good enough employee that if I threatened to quit at this point they'd do what they need to do to keep me. It's hard to find people who actually prefer to work day shifts in the restaurant business.
Speaking of my tip money, I used some of it to go out in Austin last night and had one of the best nights I've had in a while. Debbie's boyfriend is in town, and since none of us have ever met him before she decided we all needed to go out together, so EVERYONE went to Austin for dinner. It was a really mixed group: a bunch of my usual gang of grad student buddies-Debbie (of course), Richie, Amanda, and John-and then Amanda's roommate Claire, Claire's boyfriend Jacob, Jeff (an actor in the play Richie and I are working on), and then three people I'd never met before-Chris (Debbie's boyfriend) and two of Debbie's friends from her hometown, Laura and Jake. There were enough of us that they gave us a private room at the Indian restaurant we went to for dinner, which we were thankful for because theatre people are loud. I don't think it can be helped, we just are. And it doesn't seem to matter whether or not you're an actor, because actually most of my friends here are either historians or directors, and we're still always the loudest table in any given bar/restaurant. We acknowledge this, and we try to keep it down, and we don't do ridiculous things on purpose for attention (which, stereotypical but true, is a young actor thing to do) but we're just loud. So having a private room was nice. After dinner we went to the pub across the street and I had a cider beer and just enjoyed the company. It was one of those nights where I looked around a warmly-lit room at a bunch of laughing people and thought, "I adore being with these people, and if this is as good as my life is ever going to get, then I have done pretty darn well for myself."
Which is a good feeling, considering I somehow managed to lose a friend this week. Everything had been going well between me and Mike since the new year began. I made a resolution that this is the year I stop caring about him in any sort of romantic way, and it seemed to be working. I wrote here after Rachel's wedding that I suddenly knew I really was done with him romantically, and that honestly seems to be true. It's liberating, I feel good, and I was happy with our friendship. And then suddenly as of last Monday, we're no longer speaking. And it's the damndest thing, because I don't even remember what exactly we were talking about when he said, "Fuck you, leave me alone." We were having a kind of serious conversation about some of our typical hot button issues, the things that we've argued about on and off for the past five years (things on this list include: me moving to Fort Worth for college and supposedly choosing my career over our relationship, me leaving him for my college ex, me maintaining that he was the one to suggest an open relationship in the first place all those years ago [which is TRUE!], him leaving me for Jenny last year, him choosing sex with random girls over our relationship, him holding onto unnecessary jealousy and anger and blaming me for things he won't let me fix, me worrying that he doesn't know what he really wants, me claiming that I can't trust anyone who says they love me now that he said he saw himself marrying me but then changed his mind, him claiming I screwed him up for life as far as relationships go and all his meaningless sex is my fault [perhaps that Numerology report wasn't so off the mark after all?] etc., etc.). But I didn't think we were talking about anything that major, and we certainly weren't talking about anything we haven't already talked about before. I didn't say a single thing about him or me that he didn't already know, and yet now after that conversation he's no longer speaking to me. I spent a few days text messaging him a lot and calling him a few times a day only to have him reject my call every time, and finally yesterday I was like, "Why am I doing this?" He had a severe overreaction to the whole conversation, which leads me to believe that there is something bad going on his life right now that has absolutely nothing to do with me. So I'm not going to blame myself, and I'm not going to keep pushing him to tell me why he wants to stop speaking to me. When you really think about it, who cares why? No matter what he tells me I'm sure I won't think it's a good, valid reason. So what's the point in knowing? The fact of the matter is, for reasons only he knows, he needs to not be speaking to me right now.
So in a very major step for me, I've decided not to try to force a reconciliation. I'm still going to text him when I feel like it and IM him once in a while, and maybe someday he'll feel like answering again. Because as much as he can be a brat sometimes (that's what this really is more than anything, just pure brattiness on his part), I don't like burning bridges and now that I've come to terms with my complicated emotions about him, I'd like to have him in my life in some aspect. And I find it hard to believe that he'll ignore my friendly, innocuous comments forever. At some point he'll start feeling okay again and start responding to me again, I hope. His anger and depression has nothing to do with me, despite what he thinks. If it did, he'd be willing to just be with me, which would I imagine fix all his problems, were the problems in fact my fault. But they're not my fault, and I can't fix them, and I'm not going to try. I'm just going to be waiting around and reaching out so he knows I'm there, and when he feels like being friends again we will be. And if he never feels like being friends again, at least I am content in the knowledge that this break was not my fault and that I tried my best to maintain the friendship.
Well, that certainly got long-winded! Enough of this, I have stuff to do. I have a workout to do, an episode of Grey's to watch, and I'm supposed to be meeting Richie, Debbie, and Chris for drinks later tonight. I also have ten thesis pages to write, but that's what tomorrow is for. Apparently I will be procrastinating on my pages every single week! What wonderful study habits I have!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Running on Empty
I only got four hours of sleep last night, but I can't complain because it's my own fault. I put off writing my thesis pages for most of the week. There were just always so many other things to do! On Wednesday and Thursday I was busy working on a play report and at the restaurant during the afternoons and in rehearsal at night. On Friday I had to get my sister to help me film the dogs for that same play report, and then there was a lot of Guitar Hero to play. I don't remember what I did on Saturday, but I'm sure it was important. And then Sunday was the Super Bowl, which Debbie, Amanda, Claire, John, Richie and I used as an excuse to lounge around Debbie's living room drinking Shiner, eating my no-bake cookies and Debbie's queso, and talking our heads off. I think we watched a grand total of ten minutes of the game itself. We did watch and critique all the commercials, however, and argued about Prince's sex appeal and marveled at his androgyny, so, ya know, good enough.
So then yesterday rolled around and I'd only written two pages so far, which is why I ended up typing on the couch from 1o:30 when I got home from rehearsal until 4:30 AM, when I finally finished my goal for the week and went to bed. It would be a lie to say I was working on my thesis that whole time. I spent a good hour IMing and at least another hour reading articles on Salon and another half hour having a snack break.
But you know what? I have ten whole pages of my thesis completed now! And I gave them to my advisor today and the only changes I need to make are very minor and involve punctuation and particular word choices, and that's it! HaHA! I'm going to try to keep up a pace of at least 10-15 pages a week so I don't get stuck having to do something insane like write thirty pages in my last week.
I did take a break tonight, though. I had Class&Ren tonight and showed the video Chelsea and I made, which was surprisingly a hit with my classmates. See, we have to do these play reports with a performative element of some sort and this round my play report was on Aristophanes' The Wasps, which I actually really loved (I literally laughed out loud while reading the play). The play just happens to have a scene where a dog is put on trial for stealing a wheel of cheese, and so I couldn't resist using Cohen and Morty in my performance project and had Chelsea help me film a video in which Cohen was the plaintiff and Morty was the defendent and Chelsea and I did our best not to look like complete idiots but didn't succeed. Like I said, it surprised me by being such a success with everyone, but I can't take any credit for that. I think people mostly just liked seeing Morty in his new camo vest and Cohen in his striped sweater. Big dogs in clothes are pretty much always hilarious (little dogs in clothes, however, are just...little dogs in clothes).
After class a bunch of us went out for dinner and drinks but ended up being stuck with our least favorite guy in our cohort. You know how most every group has that strange outcast guy that nobody really likes and everybody thinks is odd but you don't have a specific, valid reason to dislike him other than he's just weird and so you can't blatantly say, "Sorry, you're not invited" like you would to an actual enemy? Well, that's this guy. I think John I. described him best with the simple phrase, "Tommy...what the fuck?!" and a baffled shake of the head. He's much older than the rest of us-probably in his sixties, which is old even by grad school standards-and he's just WEIRD. I can't give you the best examples of his strangeness, because it wouldn't be easy to explain them without a whole lot of background information, but...well, tonight, for instance, he referred to our main graduate advisor and the head of our program and our primary professor as "Dr. What's-Her-Name". Dr. What's-Her-Name?! He has been a student here now since August, and this is a woman that he sees and deals with on at least a weekly basis, if not more often than that. She's effectively his boss. And he doesn't know her name?! Amanda and I also realized over the course of dinner that he doesn't know our names, either, or the names of any of the girls in our group (which, come to think of it, probably says a lot about him since he does seem to know almost all of the guys' names). And maybe you don't think that's weird, but I sure do. I think it's weird because there are only about 15 graduate students in this department. and even if you're a looney outsider who likes to make strange outbursts about sex and the Japanese flag and other things not at all related to the class discussion, you can't learn the names of a mere 15 people that are presumably going to be your colleagues in some way for the rest of your career? Honestly?
Maybe something is really wrong with him. Maybe we shouldn't make fun of him and stand around awkwardly until he leaves the room and we can make weekend plans without him. Maybe I'll have a round of bad karma for cringing every time he opens his mouth to speak. But as another one of the grad students pointed out, "It's not very Christian of me to say this, I know, but I really don't want to go out with you all if he's going to be there. I'm going to have to take a raincheck." She probably had the right idea. Poor guy. But really.
So then yesterday rolled around and I'd only written two pages so far, which is why I ended up typing on the couch from 1o:30 when I got home from rehearsal until 4:30 AM, when I finally finished my goal for the week and went to bed. It would be a lie to say I was working on my thesis that whole time. I spent a good hour IMing and at least another hour reading articles on Salon and another half hour having a snack break.
But you know what? I have ten whole pages of my thesis completed now! And I gave them to my advisor today and the only changes I need to make are very minor and involve punctuation and particular word choices, and that's it! HaHA! I'm going to try to keep up a pace of at least 10-15 pages a week so I don't get stuck having to do something insane like write thirty pages in my last week.
I did take a break tonight, though. I had Class&Ren tonight and showed the video Chelsea and I made, which was surprisingly a hit with my classmates. See, we have to do these play reports with a performative element of some sort and this round my play report was on Aristophanes' The Wasps, which I actually really loved (I literally laughed out loud while reading the play). The play just happens to have a scene where a dog is put on trial for stealing a wheel of cheese, and so I couldn't resist using Cohen and Morty in my performance project and had Chelsea help me film a video in which Cohen was the plaintiff and Morty was the defendent and Chelsea and I did our best not to look like complete idiots but didn't succeed. Like I said, it surprised me by being such a success with everyone, but I can't take any credit for that. I think people mostly just liked seeing Morty in his new camo vest and Cohen in his striped sweater. Big dogs in clothes are pretty much always hilarious (little dogs in clothes, however, are just...little dogs in clothes).
After class a bunch of us went out for dinner and drinks but ended up being stuck with our least favorite guy in our cohort. You know how most every group has that strange outcast guy that nobody really likes and everybody thinks is odd but you don't have a specific, valid reason to dislike him other than he's just weird and so you can't blatantly say, "Sorry, you're not invited" like you would to an actual enemy? Well, that's this guy. I think John I. described him best with the simple phrase, "Tommy...what the fuck?!" and a baffled shake of the head. He's much older than the rest of us-probably in his sixties, which is old even by grad school standards-and he's just WEIRD. I can't give you the best examples of his strangeness, because it wouldn't be easy to explain them without a whole lot of background information, but...well, tonight, for instance, he referred to our main graduate advisor and the head of our program and our primary professor as "Dr. What's-Her-Name". Dr. What's-Her-Name?! He has been a student here now since August, and this is a woman that he sees and deals with on at least a weekly basis, if not more often than that. She's effectively his boss. And he doesn't know her name?! Amanda and I also realized over the course of dinner that he doesn't know our names, either, or the names of any of the girls in our group (which, come to think of it, probably says a lot about him since he does seem to know almost all of the guys' names). And maybe you don't think that's weird, but I sure do. I think it's weird because there are only about 15 graduate students in this department. and even if you're a looney outsider who likes to make strange outbursts about sex and the Japanese flag and other things not at all related to the class discussion, you can't learn the names of a mere 15 people that are presumably going to be your colleagues in some way for the rest of your career? Honestly?
Maybe something is really wrong with him. Maybe we shouldn't make fun of him and stand around awkwardly until he leaves the room and we can make weekend plans without him. Maybe I'll have a round of bad karma for cringing every time he opens his mouth to speak. But as another one of the grad students pointed out, "It's not very Christian of me to say this, I know, but I really don't want to go out with you all if he's going to be there. I'm going to have to take a raincheck." She probably had the right idea. Poor guy. But really.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Suitcase
I don't know exactly what to make of dreams. I don't believe the theory that they are simply the result of a random firing of neurons in the brain. If that were the case, why would people have recurring dreams? What are the odds of the same exact pattern of neurons randomly firing twice in a lifetime, much less dozens of times?
At the same time, I don't necessarily believe that we need to find some deep meaning in all of our dreams. I mean, what is my lactose-intolerant friend Brandon supposed to make of the dream he has every time he consumes dairy products that involves Matthew McConaughey as a drunk, belligerent neighbor who trashes Brandon's apartment, breaks his plasma TV, and then attempts to replace everything with Legos? Surely there is absolutely no deep meaning he's supposed to take from that dream and it's just the milk allergy talking.
But sometimes I can't help wondering what is going on in my subconscience. I'm fascinated by dreams and sometimes go through phases where I try to record everything I can remember about mine. I don't know why I do this, except that I have a vague idea that it will help me to be a more creative, inspired person. Uh, yeah. Anyway, I recently started keeping a dream journal again and this morning I discovered that every single dream I've remembered so far in 2007 has had something to do with packing and hotel rooms. Every single one. What am I supposed to make of that, a dozen dreams about suitcases and transiency?
I normally love hotels, but these are not relaxing dreams, they've mostly been unsettling and vaguely frightening at best (I opened the door to my hotel room and found a white tiger lurking inside, for example) and frantic at worst (throwing cans of tuna fish into a suitcase as everyone in my family yells at me to hurry up or we'll miss our plane).
It seems too early for my brain to already be freaking out about the idea of moving in May, although I guess I wouldn't put that past me considering how much I despise moving. And I don't know what else these dreams could be trying to tell me, other than I'm nervous about not knowing where I'll be in the fall and I'm scared that I'm not at all prepared for whatever comes next. But I already know that.
I suppose I should just be grateful that I'm no longer having constant dreams about being pregnant and in painful labor, which was my recurring dream through most of my junior and senior years of college. That dream SUCKED.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should let you know I got my first Ph.D. rejection letter today. It doesn't seem to be bothering me at this point, probably because I knew from the start that I was reaching out of my league in applying to this school in the first place so I'm not surprised. I'm not disheartened yet, I still have five chances. Five chances where each school is only accepting 2-3 people, but still, five chances. And I still feel positive that I will get into a Ph.D. program eventually, it might just take a few years. I keep trying to tell myself that whatever happens now is the "right" thing for me, it's just scary right now, not knowing what to do.
At the very least I'll have my MA by the end of this year. Actually working on my thesis tonight would help with that particular goal.
At the same time, I don't necessarily believe that we need to find some deep meaning in all of our dreams. I mean, what is my lactose-intolerant friend Brandon supposed to make of the dream he has every time he consumes dairy products that involves Matthew McConaughey as a drunk, belligerent neighbor who trashes Brandon's apartment, breaks his plasma TV, and then attempts to replace everything with Legos? Surely there is absolutely no deep meaning he's supposed to take from that dream and it's just the milk allergy talking.
But sometimes I can't help wondering what is going on in my subconscience. I'm fascinated by dreams and sometimes go through phases where I try to record everything I can remember about mine. I don't know why I do this, except that I have a vague idea that it will help me to be a more creative, inspired person. Uh, yeah. Anyway, I recently started keeping a dream journal again and this morning I discovered that every single dream I've remembered so far in 2007 has had something to do with packing and hotel rooms. Every single one. What am I supposed to make of that, a dozen dreams about suitcases and transiency?
I normally love hotels, but these are not relaxing dreams, they've mostly been unsettling and vaguely frightening at best (I opened the door to my hotel room and found a white tiger lurking inside, for example) and frantic at worst (throwing cans of tuna fish into a suitcase as everyone in my family yells at me to hurry up or we'll miss our plane).
It seems too early for my brain to already be freaking out about the idea of moving in May, although I guess I wouldn't put that past me considering how much I despise moving. And I don't know what else these dreams could be trying to tell me, other than I'm nervous about not knowing where I'll be in the fall and I'm scared that I'm not at all prepared for whatever comes next. But I already know that.
I suppose I should just be grateful that I'm no longer having constant dreams about being pregnant and in painful labor, which was my recurring dream through most of my junior and senior years of college. That dream SUCKED.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should let you know I got my first Ph.D. rejection letter today. It doesn't seem to be bothering me at this point, probably because I knew from the start that I was reaching out of my league in applying to this school in the first place so I'm not surprised. I'm not disheartened yet, I still have five chances. Five chances where each school is only accepting 2-3 people, but still, five chances. And I still feel positive that I will get into a Ph.D. program eventually, it might just take a few years. I keep trying to tell myself that whatever happens now is the "right" thing for me, it's just scary right now, not knowing what to do.
At the very least I'll have my MA by the end of this year. Actually working on my thesis tonight would help with that particular goal.
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