From a GChat convo with Justin S. tonight:
Justin: Heh
I miss 9-5, no lie
You get shit done
And more importantly
Then you're done
me: yup
for this reason my holy grail is a strict personal schedule
so i could once again feel entitled to relax fully that was at established times
...that's the worst thing i have ever written
18 year old me is crying her face off right now
Showing posts with label adult life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adult life. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Slide!
The events of the past week or so are making me increasingly convinced - or perhaps more accurately, resigned to the fact - that Brandon Flowers is my spirit animal.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Home Improvements
So I just had one of those moments where I realized that I've unconsciously crafted a life for myself that in many little quirky ways (and some less little and less quirky ways) adheres to the values and habits of my own family - specifically in this case my mother. (This is a totally random opener, I'm aware.) Moments like this are almost always positive for me - they make me feel good about the adult I've become, about how my background has stayed a part of me through it all (even if I sometimes feel like there's nothing left to me but work, my love for my cats and a growing case of OCD about neatness).
What was it you ask that triggered this feeling? Scissors. Or more specifically, the realization that I own three pairs (four if you count the kitchen shears) - and thus can always, always find a pair when I need them. This felt surprisingly good - like realizing you've unconsciously managed to live up to some small but significant parental expectation. Which I guess is kind of what it is. Like Grampa and his perennial insistence on always having a flashlight in the car (something that's become a staple family in-joke at this point), always putting the scissors back in their place so they are they for the next person is something I remember being a thing growing up. Except the reason I likely remember it is because no one ever did it. Like, ever. So it was always hell finding some when you needed to wrap a gift, clip an article, cut a tag. (This is why I have the incurable habit of ripping my tags.) So as a result our house eventually just had scissors more or less everywhere. Junk drawer? Ancient slightly rusty black-handled scissors that looked like they'd been around since prohibition. Top drawer of the sewing machine? Slick uber-sharp heavy-duty mauve-handled shears that Mom would kill you if you didn't put back. Drawer of the huge heavy metal desk in the basement? More old-school metal ones. My top right desk drawer? Normal paper-cutting scissors. Kitten's room? Some safety scissors. Sewing basket? Embroidery shears.
...I'm digressing. And possibly exaggerating somewhat. But the point is: today I needed scissors twice in quick succession, and was able to quickly locate a pair in two separate locations, right where they belonged - and then I instinctively put them back. And it made me feel good about the life I'm building, a reassurance that there's always going to be more making me up than the last three years, and that graduate school is temporary but being a Tarsa is forever.
And thank God for that.
What was it you ask that triggered this feeling? Scissors. Or more specifically, the realization that I own three pairs (four if you count the kitchen shears) - and thus can always, always find a pair when I need them. This felt surprisingly good - like realizing you've unconsciously managed to live up to some small but significant parental expectation. Which I guess is kind of what it is. Like Grampa and his perennial insistence on always having a flashlight in the car (something that's become a staple family in-joke at this point), always putting the scissors back in their place so they are they for the next person is something I remember being a thing growing up. Except the reason I likely remember it is because no one ever did it. Like, ever. So it was always hell finding some when you needed to wrap a gift, clip an article, cut a tag. (This is why I have the incurable habit of ripping my tags.) So as a result our house eventually just had scissors more or less everywhere. Junk drawer? Ancient slightly rusty black-handled scissors that looked like they'd been around since prohibition. Top drawer of the sewing machine? Slick uber-sharp heavy-duty mauve-handled shears that Mom would kill you if you didn't put back. Drawer of the huge heavy metal desk in the basement? More old-school metal ones. My top right desk drawer? Normal paper-cutting scissors. Kitten's room? Some safety scissors. Sewing basket? Embroidery shears.
...I'm digressing. And possibly exaggerating somewhat. But the point is: today I needed scissors twice in quick succession, and was able to quickly locate a pair in two separate locations, right where they belonged - and then I instinctively put them back. And it made me feel good about the life I'm building, a reassurance that there's always going to be more making me up than the last three years, and that graduate school is temporary but being a Tarsa is forever.
And thank God for that.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
[sings] "99 Horrible Tasks on My List, 99 Horrible Tasks..."
Take a few down, deal with their shit, still plenty of horrible tasks on the wall!
So I finally "[went] to the motherfucking bank like an ADULT," as Ali of hyperboleandahalf would say, and (surprise surprise) it turned out to be relatively painless. To my delight, my first instinct about the mystery charges proved correct - they were not mine. Apparently sometimes banks make adorable little "keying errors" and clear checks from your account that were not in fact written by you. This is what happened to me, leading to overdraft charges and overdue payments for those charges...but while it was a bit time-consuming, the man who helped me was very nice and dismissed all the charges, so I will not in fact have to ride my bike home for Christmas. (I did think he should have been a bit more apologetic, though - I mean, the name on the check was "Dominic Daniels" or something, pretty clearly not me.)
I also managed to get some smaller-scale things done today despite having very fragmented time chunks, something I don't usually excel at. I read the relevant essays out of a book I just got for papers, wrote up feedback on 4 of 5 student presentations from yesterday, wrote my WC records for tonight (it's slow)...not too bad. When I get home I will endeavor to write up the last presentation response, then go to sleep because damn I've been staying up too late.
So several major stresses are dealt with now, leaving me that much more energy for paper-writing goodness. I might even be able to get into a groove this weekend where I can enjoy the process a little. We shall see.
So I finally "[went] to the motherfucking bank like an ADULT," as Ali of hyperboleandahalf would say, and (surprise surprise) it turned out to be relatively painless. To my delight, my first instinct about the mystery charges proved correct - they were not mine. Apparently sometimes banks make adorable little "keying errors" and clear checks from your account that were not in fact written by you. This is what happened to me, leading to overdraft charges and overdue payments for those charges...but while it was a bit time-consuming, the man who helped me was very nice and dismissed all the charges, so I will not in fact have to ride my bike home for Christmas. (I did think he should have been a bit more apologetic, though - I mean, the name on the check was "Dominic Daniels" or something, pretty clearly not me.)
I also managed to get some smaller-scale things done today despite having very fragmented time chunks, something I don't usually excel at. I read the relevant essays out of a book I just got for papers, wrote up feedback on 4 of 5 student presentations from yesterday, wrote my WC records for tonight (it's slow)...not too bad. When I get home I will endeavor to write up the last presentation response, then go to sleep because damn I've been staying up too late.
So several major stresses are dealt with now, leaving me that much more energy for paper-writing goodness. I might even be able to get into a groove this weekend where I can enjoy the process a little. We shall see.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
[sings] "I Saw Five Hundred Thousand Tasks Come Sailing In, Come Sailing In, Come Sailing in..."
- Just cited my professor in the paper I'm writing for him. Here's hoping I'm correct in thinking his is not one of the articles I grossly misrepresented in my annotated bibliography, since I pulled the text from there...
- I fucking hate not having a parking space. I've literally paid more in tickets than I would have to get a spot. I need to do something about this. Anyone have a driveway/garage spot I can rent for the winter? (Bonus points if I can pay in cookies, hugs or stimulating discourse on visual rhetoric.)
- So while I'm slowly working to distance myself from my self-assigned title as the Worst Graduate Student of All Time, I'm falling deeper and deeper into the pit of being the Worst Adult of All Time. See: unpaid parking tickets, unspeakably stressful UW Credit Union debaucle, failure to have bought AN single Christmas gift, the fact that upon waking this morning and realizing I had eaten the last of my Candy Cane Kisses my first thought was "dammit, what the hell am I going to eat for breakfast now?", etc.
- I have still not watched the film upon which the bulk of my aforementioned paper's argument will rest. My draft currently starts with "[insert stuff about the scene where he walks btwn Towers here.]" That scene is the basis of my whole case.
- I discovered that Penny's recent gastric distress was almost certainly due to her new habit of eating my hair elastics. Guess that's a good reason to follow through on my constant resolutions to stop leaving them all over the house.
- It's been a year since I wrote a long paper so I might simply be forgetting (altering my own memory of the historical narrative, if you will - which you shouldn't), but I do not recall having this much trouble organizing the initial presentation of my idea. Sheesh. Turns out situating yourself in a scholarly context is complicated. Yeesh.
- [A bit later:] ...okay. I might have dramatically underestimated what I have to say for Mike. For the first time EVER, I think I have too much theory and context to present and not enough of my own ideas. I might not have to come up with a new argument for Christa - I might just split the idea further and make Mike's paper entirely about framing the kind of images I'm looking at and Christa's entirely about Man on Wire and what it's doing with 9/11. Maybe. Because I am looking at some serious length issues here.
Fucking ideas. And standards. Bah. I'm going to Woodman's.
(A second later - How is all that typing only 2 pages long???????)
- I fucking hate not having a parking space. I've literally paid more in tickets than I would have to get a spot. I need to do something about this. Anyone have a driveway/garage spot I can rent for the winter? (Bonus points if I can pay in cookies, hugs or stimulating discourse on visual rhetoric.)
- So while I'm slowly working to distance myself from my self-assigned title as the Worst Graduate Student of All Time, I'm falling deeper and deeper into the pit of being the Worst Adult of All Time. See: unpaid parking tickets, unspeakably stressful UW Credit Union debaucle, failure to have bought AN single Christmas gift, the fact that upon waking this morning and realizing I had eaten the last of my Candy Cane Kisses my first thought was "dammit, what the hell am I going to eat for breakfast now?", etc.
- I have still not watched the film upon which the bulk of my aforementioned paper's argument will rest. My draft currently starts with "[insert stuff about the scene where he walks btwn Towers here.]" That scene is the basis of my whole case.
- I discovered that Penny's recent gastric distress was almost certainly due to her new habit of eating my hair elastics. Guess that's a good reason to follow through on my constant resolutions to stop leaving them all over the house.
- It's been a year since I wrote a long paper so I might simply be forgetting (altering my own memory of the historical narrative, if you will - which you shouldn't), but I do not recall having this much trouble organizing the initial presentation of my idea. Sheesh. Turns out situating yourself in a scholarly context is complicated. Yeesh.
- [A bit later:] ...okay. I might have dramatically underestimated what I have to say for Mike. For the first time EVER, I think I have too much theory and context to present and not enough of my own ideas. I might not have to come up with a new argument for Christa - I might just split the idea further and make Mike's paper entirely about framing the kind of images I'm looking at and Christa's entirely about Man on Wire and what it's doing with 9/11. Maybe. Because I am looking at some serious length issues here.
Fucking ideas. And standards. Bah. I'm going to Woodman's.
(A second later - How is all that typing only 2 pages long???????)
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Well this is surprising
I'm proud of myself.
This isn't something I find myself noticing all that often anyhow, but the fact that I'm feeling that despite having spent most of yesterday eating three days' worth of food while watching 20 episodes of Community is especially surprising. (And I wish I was exaggerating either of those numbers, but I am sadly not.)
I'm not doing perfectly. I still sleep too much, watch too much TV, drink too much, don't read enough for class, never cook. And that all gets me down a lot, because I know I'm capable of doing better than I have been. I can take better care of myself, work harder, make more adult decisions (in quality and quantity). And that's all still true now, at the end of this week.
But things are looking up all the same. I worked out twice, I started really thinking about final papers, I went and talked to someone about my teaching insecurities, I drank less. And I made an very difficult decision about my personal life and stuck to it - even under duress. I also mailed back an RSVP card the day I got it. That's big.
What I need to remember is that I'll never be doing everything perfectly. So what's important to notice is the improvements I *am* making, the good things I find ways to do anyhow. People close to me have been telling me this for a few years now, but I'm starting to believe that I really can frequently be too hard on myself. But it's important to give myself credit for the things I accomplish, however small - because if not, that's how I end up believing I can't do anything.
I actually had a nightmare the other night about this - in which I had a paper rejected from an undergraduate research symposium on picture books and fled weeping into MBD's office pleading for affirmation that I wasn't in fact just an experiment in - and this is 100% true - "the restorative power of rhetoric." The "nightmare" part is clearly just how mortifying it was that I had done this at all, since it was one of those dreams that felt suuuuuuper real. Ugh.
So. Yes. I need to be less negative about myself and remember I'm not entirely a weak-willed fuck-up with no work ethic. I can make changes, I can have good ideas, I can be strong enough to stand up for what's best for me.
And I can eat like "a fat girl trapped in a thin girl's body" as Justin famously put it, and I can appreciate the genius of Community. (Even if I sometimes wish a little too deeply that my life looked more like that - god, so much cleanly resolved drama! And so much entertaining sexual tension! It's like my dream world, except in Colorado and...well, at community college. But who knows - with this market, I'll be lucky for Prof. Slater's job.)
This isn't something I find myself noticing all that often anyhow, but the fact that I'm feeling that despite having spent most of yesterday eating three days' worth of food while watching 20 episodes of Community is especially surprising. (And I wish I was exaggerating either of those numbers, but I am sadly not.)
I'm not doing perfectly. I still sleep too much, watch too much TV, drink too much, don't read enough for class, never cook. And that all gets me down a lot, because I know I'm capable of doing better than I have been. I can take better care of myself, work harder, make more adult decisions (in quality and quantity). And that's all still true now, at the end of this week.
But things are looking up all the same. I worked out twice, I started really thinking about final papers, I went and talked to someone about my teaching insecurities, I drank less. And I made an very difficult decision about my personal life and stuck to it - even under duress. I also mailed back an RSVP card the day I got it. That's big.
What I need to remember is that I'll never be doing everything perfectly. So what's important to notice is the improvements I *am* making, the good things I find ways to do anyhow. People close to me have been telling me this for a few years now, but I'm starting to believe that I really can frequently be too hard on myself. But it's important to give myself credit for the things I accomplish, however small - because if not, that's how I end up believing I can't do anything.
I actually had a nightmare the other night about this - in which I had a paper rejected from an undergraduate research symposium on picture books and fled weeping into MBD's office pleading for affirmation that I wasn't in fact just an experiment in - and this is 100% true - "the restorative power of rhetoric." The "nightmare" part is clearly just how mortifying it was that I had done this at all, since it was one of those dreams that felt suuuuuuper real. Ugh.
So. Yes. I need to be less negative about myself and remember I'm not entirely a weak-willed fuck-up with no work ethic. I can make changes, I can have good ideas, I can be strong enough to stand up for what's best for me.
And I can eat like "a fat girl trapped in a thin girl's body" as Justin famously put it, and I can appreciate the genius of Community. (Even if I sometimes wish a little too deeply that my life looked more like that - god, so much cleanly resolved drama! And so much entertaining sexual tension! It's like my dream world, except in Colorado and...well, at community college. But who knows - with this market, I'll be lucky for Prof. Slater's job.)
Friday, September 10, 2010
So...maybe I'd like this to be 1/15th of the male population's Bible
Oh Don Draper. Even though you're violently antitype as well as antihero, I still kind of want to go on a bad date with you.
Though I mean, any fool could do it, right?
Also, as stated on Facebook, steps one and two - and hell, maybe also three and four - apply equally well to performing in grad seminars.
----
In other news - not to jinx things, but I'm feeling shockingly stable and decisive about both my personal and professional life. Which is remarkable considering it's been years since both were at such stages of upheaval. True, this is largely because I had no professional like until I came to UW and therefore have never before articulated a connection between them in this fashion, but still. Let me bask in my moment. Lord knows all I'll have to bask in for the next 9 months is Brad's loving displeasure about my inevitable failings as an employee and the warmth of knowing that I put myself a year behind to join a field I'm slightly better at but understand vaguely if at all.
...this post just became the definition of taking what you can get. But even so - I got unmistakeably angry up in someone's grill this week. In BeccaLand, that's a gold star no matter how you cut it.
Plus, Adam comes tomorrow. So even if I could hardly call it the best week ever, it's had a lot going for it.
...and despite some guilt about not working much for school yesterday or today, I find I feel something very close to happiness. For reasons I created myself. Plus the realization I have some sweet friends.
It's a wonderful life, girl. You might even end up a Capra film with the last scene intact.*
*Incalculable Becca points if you know the reference and are not also Jamie Anderson.
Though I mean, any fool could do it, right?
Also, as stated on Facebook, steps one and two - and hell, maybe also three and four - apply equally well to performing in grad seminars.
----
In other news - not to jinx things, but I'm feeling shockingly stable and decisive about both my personal and professional life. Which is remarkable considering it's been years since both were at such stages of upheaval. True, this is largely because I had no professional like until I came to UW and therefore have never before articulated a connection between them in this fashion, but still. Let me bask in my moment. Lord knows all I'll have to bask in for the next 9 months is Brad's loving displeasure about my inevitable failings as an employee and the warmth of knowing that I put myself a year behind to join a field I'm slightly better at but understand vaguely if at all.
...this post just became the definition of taking what you can get. But even so - I got unmistakeably angry up in someone's grill this week. In BeccaLand, that's a gold star no matter how you cut it.
Plus, Adam comes tomorrow. So even if I could hardly call it the best week ever, it's had a lot going for it.
...and despite some guilt about not working much for school yesterday or today, I find I feel something very close to happiness. For reasons I created myself. Plus the realization I have some sweet friends.
It's a wonderful life, girl. You might even end up a Capra film with the last scene intact.*
*Incalculable Becca points if you know the reference and are not also Jamie Anderson.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Not Martha yet, but...baby steps, baby steps
So not to jinx it, but I think I've become a neat person.
Even though I've been trending this way for a few years now - really since graduation - it still kind of shocks me to realize this. But yesterday evening as I tidied away a camera, a camera cord, a box of crayons and a coloring book because they were "cluttering up" my living room, it hit me that I've been regular and persistent about keeping my living space very tidy for four straight months now. It's beyond habit - it's just how I've become. If my house is not clean, I can't deal.
Now, this is not to say I'm a clean freak. With my cats and my schedule, that is still unattainable. But I feel I now can honestly say I Live Like a Grown-Up. I don't think everyone has "cleans house regularly and does not tolerate clutter" as a large part of that designation, nor do I think everyone should. But I grew up in a messy (and admittedly comfortable and much-loved) house, and even though I was the laziest and worst child ever at helping with cleaning it, it did leave a mark on me in some way. I think because I felt guilty about not cleaning I've made the act part of my definition of responsibility - if I'm responsible for myself and doing it well, my house should be clean.
We'll see how this goes when school starts. But I'm optimistic. It makes me feel good, damn it, to clean everything and then enjoy my nice apartment. And I love where I live, so that helps too.
Will I next conquer my incredible inability to remain organized? Stay tuned...
Even though I've been trending this way for a few years now - really since graduation - it still kind of shocks me to realize this. But yesterday evening as I tidied away a camera, a camera cord, a box of crayons and a coloring book because they were "cluttering up" my living room, it hit me that I've been regular and persistent about keeping my living space very tidy for four straight months now. It's beyond habit - it's just how I've become. If my house is not clean, I can't deal.
Now, this is not to say I'm a clean freak. With my cats and my schedule, that is still unattainable. But I feel I now can honestly say I Live Like a Grown-Up. I don't think everyone has "cleans house regularly and does not tolerate clutter" as a large part of that designation, nor do I think everyone should. But I grew up in a messy (and admittedly comfortable and much-loved) house, and even though I was the laziest and worst child ever at helping with cleaning it, it did leave a mark on me in some way. I think because I felt guilty about not cleaning I've made the act part of my definition of responsibility - if I'm responsible for myself and doing it well, my house should be clean.
We'll see how this goes when school starts. But I'm optimistic. It makes me feel good, damn it, to clean everything and then enjoy my nice apartment. And I love where I live, so that helps too.
Will I next conquer my incredible inability to remain organized? Stay tuned...
Friday, August 13, 2010
Movin' On Up...
So the vacation of 1135 is in full swing now, and while it's just as annoying a task as ever, I've reached the point where I'm not really stressed about it anymore. 90% of my stuff is packed, I can see I have enough boxes, half Andy's books are moved to his new place...basically the way ahead is pretty clear, and I feel confident we'll finish in plenty of time. (Well - that we'll finish in time. Plenty might be pushing it.)
Now the only thing really dragging on me is Saturday. Up at 7:30 to pick up truck, having to drive and park a 16' truck on Madison's tiny streets, moving Renee out and in, moving anything left of Andy's out and in, moving the few things of Gwen's left out and wherever, moving my stuff out, finding a place to stash the truck overnight, finishing the (likely significant) cleaning remaining over here, and getting to sleep in time to not wake up a half-dead shell of a person so that I can finish this horrible process by moving in to the new place. Also - moving Polo. Bah. (Though Virginia is awesome and has offered me use of her second bedroom to house them for the night, bless her.)
I had my big Sad Moment about the move when I got home last night...walking in to this torn-apart chaos storm and realizing that no, I don't really live here anymore. I had a great, great year in this apartment. I loved it, put so much work into it with Andy, loved being here so much I basically became a shut-in, brought the cats home here for the first time, threw my first surprise party, had my first custom curtains made up for it...I loved it, and I'm sad to go. The new place is going to be great, no doubt, but it's not home yet, and this was. It's definitely not all bitter though - living here showed me I can in fact live like a (quasi-)adult, and hammered home even further how much happier I am when I live somewhere I like.
So onward - to a new neighborhood, new roommate, new place. Without the memories, it's true...but with amenities I thought I'd only see after tenure, the Weary and loads of awesome people just around the corner, and with all sorts of new decorating possibilities.
It's time.
Now the only thing really dragging on me is Saturday. Up at 7:30 to pick up truck, having to drive and park a 16' truck on Madison's tiny streets, moving Renee out and in, moving anything left of Andy's out and in, moving the few things of Gwen's left out and wherever, moving my stuff out, finding a place to stash the truck overnight, finishing the (likely significant) cleaning remaining over here, and getting to sleep in time to not wake up a half-dead shell of a person so that I can finish this horrible process by moving in to the new place. Also - moving Polo. Bah. (Though Virginia is awesome and has offered me use of her second bedroom to house them for the night, bless her.)
I had my big Sad Moment about the move when I got home last night...walking in to this torn-apart chaos storm and realizing that no, I don't really live here anymore. I had a great, great year in this apartment. I loved it, put so much work into it with Andy, loved being here so much I basically became a shut-in, brought the cats home here for the first time, threw my first surprise party, had my first custom curtains made up for it...I loved it, and I'm sad to go. The new place is going to be great, no doubt, but it's not home yet, and this was. It's definitely not all bitter though - living here showed me I can in fact live like a (quasi-)adult, and hammered home even further how much happier I am when I live somewhere I like.
So onward - to a new neighborhood, new roommate, new place. Without the memories, it's true...but with amenities I thought I'd only see after tenure, the Weary and loads of awesome people just around the corner, and with all sorts of new decorating possibilities.
It's time.
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