let's stumble towards success and pack some snacks for little breaks

It's been a long time since I gave LJ a general rundown of how my life is going, hasn't it?

I don't think I ever updated here about the UChicago thing. I let them fly me out and woo me, and the program seemed really excellent; I would definitely have done it if they'd given me full tuition and stipend, like the program I actually applied to would have. I'm not going to go into further debt, though, and it would have been expensive. But I did have a spectacularly productive conversation with the director of the program! This program shoos a whole lot of students off to Ph.D. programs, and so they see a whole lot of acceptances and rejections, which gives them data about things like GRE score cutoffs. This guy went through my application and told me what exactly I need to improve on and how. He also told me what the admissions committee liked, and which parts of the application they don't actually care about. It was immensely helpful. If I'd had all this information in senior year of college, I might have my doctorate by now.

So I'm retaking the GRE this fall, and adjusting a few other things on the application. I'm also pulling together a journal article on which I will be first author, which I'm hoping we can get submitted in time to put on my applications. I've been doing some soul-searching about what exactly I want to accomplish in my life and whether grad school is something I need for that, and I've concluded that I could potentially live a happy and fulfilling life without a doctorate but would really rather have one.

In less pleasant news, Pi and I broke up. Not because it wasn't working out--god, we worked so well together--but our long-term situations weren't ever going to align, and she needed to be able to start setting up the life she eventually wants. It's the first time I've ever broken up with someone when everything still felt right, when I still really desperately wanted to be in the relationship, and that was hard. It was really hard for a while. She came to my birthday party and picked up the variety cryptic Mike made me and quietly got the hang of it right off the bat while helping me color in posterboard for the giant Set deck, because understated brilliance in the midst of efficiency is just her, and my heart hurt a whole damn lot. But I'm okay now, mostly. It had to happen, and I guess I'm glad it happened now, because I was only ever going to get more attached to that girl the longer I was with her.

Mike and I are at six years now and still doing great. We took a road trip to California last month to see my grandpa, who's not doing so well. It was really good to see him; I got to know him pretty well the year I lived there as a teenager, and I miss his subtle humor and habitual kindness. He's hard-of-hearing, so it can be difficult to talk on the phone. We visited a few other people in the Bay Area I hadn't seen in forever, too, and that was awesome. I've always thought I wanted to end up living there if I could, and I do think I'd be very happy there, but... we came back after a week and Seattle felt like home. I have never loved a city like I love this city. Dr. K's been pestering me to apply to UW again, and even though they've rejected me twice, I'm considering it.

I've been skating two or three times a week since April, and can't see myself getting sick of it. Actually, I think I'm addicted--if I go more than three or four days without making it to the rink, I start feeling antsy and crappy. I'm looking into hockey gear, and I have two road trips to Vancouver planned for NHL games this upcoming season, assuming I can get tickets: one to see the Coyotes by myself in November, and one to see the Penguins with friends in February. Hockey will be the death of my bank account.

Besides the hockey, though, I've been doing okay at money management. The last few months I'm averaging over 40% of my income put toward savings and paying off my student loans, and I'm almost ready to start a personal investment account. The kind of fascination I have for finance right now is the same kind I usually experience with fandoms. It's interesting to examine because that kind of fixation almost always comes with a dollop of guilt for not doing more productive things instead, whereas stuff like obsessively calculating a plan for paying off different student loans on different schedules that overlap based on a combination of balance and interest rates is just about the most adult, responsible use of my time possible. So I'll get lost in this for an hour and resurface automatically going "oh man, what time is it, I should be..." and then realize that no, there's nothing I should be doing instead. It sort of makes me question the guilt I feel about watching movies or reading webcomics or whatever, because... you know, it's okay to do things that make me happy. And yet somehow that's instinctively difficult to accept.

I'm still watching kids for a living. It's not my ideal career, but it's still going fine. There's actually a lot of opportunity for applying psychological concepts and thinking about preference and decision-making in the process of wrangling little kids. They're both great kids, and the two-and-a-half-year-old has been turning into a super awesome little person lately--she has shitpiles of grit and she's getting pretty good at things like negotiating for things she wants and chasing down follow-through on promises.

Other things... I've gone to a couple Mariners games, and started learning and appreciating baseball, which has been fun. I've taken a couple of really cool geology field trip courses, and learned a lot about Washington's geological history. I recently finished a "Welcome to Night Vale"-related audio project I'm very pleased with, and am impatient to release. I've been vidding a bit; the one I'm most proud of is the Nathan Fillion one (NSFW). I'm working on some non-fandom writing projects, slowly but surely. I'm working PAX again in a couple weeks, at a booth I think will be a lot of fun. I made a local fannish mailing list and started hosting fannish dinner parties a little over a year ago--haven't had time to do one in a few months, but I love doing them and I've met a bunch of amazing people through that group.

Overall, life is going really well, and I'm grateful for that.

( The list )

I actually wrote about my first kiss in some detail right after it happened, because I knew I'd want to remember it later in life. Unfortunately, that text document appears to have been lost. Sigh.

It was at the Lodi juggling festival in 2003. I was thirteen and he was seventeen, to the surprise of absolutely no one who knows me. His name was Josh Simon, and we'd met about twelve hours beforehand. We were practicing the three-ball cascade together--you know, when you stand next to each other and each use your outer hand for the pattern and kind of awkwardly put the inner arms around each other's shoulders and giggle a lot. That's how we did it, anyway. After a while of that, he asked if I wanted to go for a walk, which was when I figured out that we'd been flirting. (I hadn't been quite sure.)

We found a neat little Buddhisty-type garden. It was outside visiting hours, but we hopped the fence to get in. It was a lovely place; I'd like to go back there and wander around someday, for nostalgia's sake. The kissing itself was kind of eh, but the excitement made it worth it, which I imagine is how most people feel about their first kiss.

He was with a group from a school or something, and he got in major trouble for wandering off with me. He had to stay within fifteen feet of the group's chaperone for the rest of the weekend, so we didn't get up to anything else. By the next juggling festival, I was already smitten with another boy in our little group, and Josh was completely head-over-heels for devils_reject, neither of which worked out very well for anyone involved in the end. But it was fun while it lasted, and I don't regret it.

We're friends on Facebook, but he never posts, and we haven't had a real conversation in about five years. I think he's living in Vegas now.

Well, not really a moment. More of a semester-long hangup.

For my big history group project on the New Deal, I'm supposed to either research an initiative that affected the Kansas City area or interview someone who was born before 1931. It seems like a no-brainer: I like talking to people, I'm editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, and I live right next to a friendly elderly couple. But the project is due Friday, and until today, I hadn't done a single thing.

It took me three months to work up the courage to call them. I couldn't even walk next door and ask for an interview. What on earth? Is this really me? You all know me- I'm hardly a timid person. It might have had something to do with having to ask about their age, and it might have had something to do with Henry getting mad at my mom for not helping shovel the snow that one time last fall, but things like that don't usually bug me. Certainly not enough for me to let it hold up my project for three months.

I just called, and Henry cheerfully informed me that he was born in 1928 and would be happy to help me however he could. It was incredibly easy, and my life would be a hell of a lot simpler this week had I done it when we first got the assignment on the first day of class.

The lesson: if the only risk is a snub, just do it. What's the point in letting nerves win out when the worst they can say is "no"?

This entry is going to be long. Really, really long. Ridiculously long. You have been warned.

( The trip to Boston )

( The Hunt )

( The people )

( The trip home )

( Wordplay II: This Time It's Numeric )

( My favorite quotes from the weekend )

( Photos (30 fairly large ones; careful, dialup users) )

I'm insanely excited for next year. Artistry came up with a puzzle idea that I really really want to do (I think Cramerica's going to do it with me) and I have a couple of other vague concepts I might try to write. Whatever happens, with this team behind it, it's gonna rock.

What I did this weekend:
-Made a new screen name: sorryihaveacat.
-Figured out how to do crossword puzzles online, and worked on several. I still have yet to actually finish one.
-Slept. A lot.
-Moped about the various relationships in my life that are not going well. A lot.
-Was emo. A lot.
-Watched some of "Jeeves and Wooster."
-Thought briefly about doing homework. Abandoned the idea very quickly.
-Ate very little.
-Wasted a lot of time on the computer.
-Emo-dumped on Kat for about two and a half hours in Westport. (Thanks, Kat.)
-Skipped church.
-Dyed my hair.
-Got LJ Talk.
-Made falafels and hummus.
-Located Little Mary for Megan.

( I also had a conversation that transcends the limits of geekiness. Warning: slightly irreverent. )

I got my rejection letter from Reed today.

Okay, let's review. Friend crap on Monday, political crap on Tuesday, relationship crap yesterday, academic crap today, and family crap all week.

I'm actually kind of curious, albeit morbidly so, as to what the universe is going to throw at me tomorrow. Maybe I'll slip and break my arm at Larry's funeral. That sounds like fun.

( THE best breakup, THE best mood, and THE best bus drivers ever. )

Now my legs hurt. But it was SO worth it.

EDIT: I forgot the stuff I got on the Plaza! I got three "I Am Loved" buttons and a pamphlet on taking care of amythests from Helzberg and two lollipops from Bank of America.

(Oh, and Ben? I didn't touch Becca's hair, but you might want to blend it a little- it looks kind of sharp at the edges.)