Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
late night moving panic.
In many ways I am grateful for having a year off of school before heading back into the grad school gauntlet. However, the hardest thing has been knowing exactly what I am going to do when I am done and yet not being able to do much planning. I am, of course, an excellent planner (although notably less excellent on the following through part) but it is just too early to plan many parts of the move. I occasionally peruse Craigslist in hopes of finding an apartment gem but it generally just induces panic. My stress often manifests into dreams and moving is no exception; I often dream that I forgot to ever find a place to live and end up trying to take everything I own to each of my classes.
The worst part of finding a place to live in Atlanta is that everything costs approximately 1 billion dollars per square inch. That might be an exaggeration but compared to the small Iowa college town I have called home for eight years it is startling to think about spending that much money on walls and a roof. Of course the logical solution to high prices is to split the cost with someone else. Unfortunately, no one wants to split the cost unless they can live there too. I have lived alone for so long that I am terrified of the idea of a roommate. Partially out of fear that they will be a freakshow and partially out of fear that they will discover my inner freakshow. I have been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy lately and if you have seen it you know that they make the roommate plan seem totally workable. Maybe it would be if I pretended to be part of some tv series. I recognize that normal people do not make serious decisions about living arrangements based on television but I am at a loss for how to make this decision.
The truth is that I will probably make the final decision in a split second when an opportunity arises based on what my gut tells me that particular day. I know this and yet I still spend countless hours terrorizing myself with the anxiety of moving. I took a year off to relax a little and have ended up spending 75% of it fixated on the impending stress of moving. It is freakshow tendencies like this that I am worried about a roommate discovering.
The worst part of finding a place to live in Atlanta is that everything costs approximately 1 billion dollars per square inch. That might be an exaggeration but compared to the small Iowa college town I have called home for eight years it is startling to think about spending that much money on walls and a roof. Of course the logical solution to high prices is to split the cost with someone else. Unfortunately, no one wants to split the cost unless they can live there too. I have lived alone for so long that I am terrified of the idea of a roommate. Partially out of fear that they will be a freakshow and partially out of fear that they will discover my inner freakshow. I have been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy lately and if you have seen it you know that they make the roommate plan seem totally workable. Maybe it would be if I pretended to be part of some tv series. I recognize that normal people do not make serious decisions about living arrangements based on television but I am at a loss for how to make this decision.
The truth is that I will probably make the final decision in a split second when an opportunity arises based on what my gut tells me that particular day. I know this and yet I still spend countless hours terrorizing myself with the anxiety of moving. I took a year off to relax a little and have ended up spending 75% of it fixated on the impending stress of moving. It is freakshow tendencies like this that I am worried about a roommate discovering.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
This morning I realized enough time had passed that I could finally east oatmeal for breakfast again. So I made some and put it in the microwave and went on about my business. I knew just how long to put it in for and had just the right amount of time to get juice and carry it over to the table. I returned to the microwave just as it counted down the final three seconds.
As I opened the door in eager anticipation I was greeted by an oatmeal explosion. Definitely a breakfast fail if ever there had been one. But I just stood and watched - thinking about the wasted oatmeal and the mess that had already begun to harden. Who changed the rules on oatmeal? I took a few months off and all of a sudden it began coming with tnt flavor packets? Before cleaning up the mess, before making the call about which portions were still edible and which were not, before checking the box for any new cooking instructions, before any of that I just stared. Fully soaking up this breakfast trainwreck.
Time to just stare at your own messes a while is good for the soul. It locks it into your brain, presumably so you won't ever do it again, and gives you something else to do to distract you from tossing the whole damn microwave out the kitchen window.
Tonight I went back and cleaned up the oatmeal crime scene to the point where you would never know it had happened. But it did. And so tomorrow I am going to eat yogurt.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
As I opened the door in eager anticipation I was greeted by an oatmeal explosion. Definitely a breakfast fail if ever there had been one. But I just stood and watched - thinking about the wasted oatmeal and the mess that had already begun to harden. Who changed the rules on oatmeal? I took a few months off and all of a sudden it began coming with tnt flavor packets? Before cleaning up the mess, before making the call about which portions were still edible and which were not, before checking the box for any new cooking instructions, before any of that I just stared. Fully soaking up this breakfast trainwreck.
Time to just stare at your own messes a while is good for the soul. It locks it into your brain, presumably so you won't ever do it again, and gives you something else to do to distract you from tossing the whole damn microwave out the kitchen window.
Tonight I went back and cleaned up the oatmeal crime scene to the point where you would never know it had happened. But it did. And so tomorrow I am going to eat yogurt.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Monday, January 5, 2009
all in good time.
Always being the short girl has it ups and downs but I really hate the process of taking pants to the tailor to get hemmed. Now I know that I could just do it myself. However, after a very memorable night in Chicago I learned that hemming pants just isn't something I will ever get motivated enough to learn to do well. So off to the tailor I go. The problem is that after I part with some of my hard-earned money to buy something I want to take my something home immediately. I want to play with my new toys, wear new clothes, eat new food, etc. This is why I hate paying for insurance; I don't ever get any new somethings to play with. Right now I feel like my new pants are spending the first week of our relationship with some guy in the mall. But alas on Wednesday we will be reunited and I am sure we will live happily ever after.
I have been spending my vacation in Des Moines and although the whole tailor debacle is a downer it does give me a nice excuse for staying another couple days. I know that few people ever feel ready to go back to work but still. I love my job but I wish it was in this city. If anyone out there is planning on shifting some tectonic plates in the near future might I suggest putting Des Moines, Cedar Falls/Waterloo, and Atlanta all right next to each other? That would be superb.
I have been spending my vacation in Des Moines and although the whole tailor debacle is a downer it does give me a nice excuse for staying another couple days. I know that few people ever feel ready to go back to work but still. I love my job but I wish it was in this city. If anyone out there is planning on shifting some tectonic plates in the near future might I suggest putting Des Moines, Cedar Falls/Waterloo, and Atlanta all right next to each other? That would be superb.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
sans widsom
I will always remember the small sign which was perpetually displayed on my dad's fridge: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Now, I have that sign which has been permanently stained from spaghetti sauce explosions and sticky fingerprints. Although I struggle with that whole gee-oh-dee thing, I have continually tried to let the serenity prayer guide me, admittedly with more success at some times than others. At some point the wisdom snuck out and doesn't seem to be coming back. (It is entirely possible that while leaving, wisdom held the door open and let in the mouse. The mouse is now missing as well.) It seems like a relatively easy task to deal with an issue once you know whether or not you have any control over it. What then, are we supposed to do when we genuinely have no idea whether or not we have any control at all? Wisdom? Baby? You can come home now.
Monday, November 10, 2008
in. love.
This weekend I went to the Metro Arts Two Rivers Expo and found my new favorite thing. Last week was a little rough so I am quite grateful for those things in which I can find a little joy and peace. An Iowa City artist named Bekah Ash immediately won over my heart. I need to be saving money for a variety of important necessities but it would be SO SO SO much more fun to save money to buy one of her larger pieces. For now I settled for a smaller print but I am completely and totally in love with it. She has bunches of her work on flickr and I have already spent far more time than I should sifting through her work and drooling all over myself. I found the print I bought on her flickr site:
totally. in. love.
totally. in. love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)