Crazy Future Cat Ladies

So, things have happened since Monday, though Monday feels like so long ago. I have taken my final exam, and am somewhat sure of a passing grade. I have finished revising one chapter and started on another. I have gone to the gym and gotten back on the treadmill. I have been to my first track meet and watched my old roommate pass her personal record on the triple jump. I have lost my student ID and gotten a replacement. I have watched much TV, eaten good food, and cross-stitched.

Yes, that's right- my one crafty (as in Hobby Lobby crafty, not foxy crafty) pastime is cross-stitching. I'm about a quarter of the way through this particular pattern at this point. I like cross-stitching. It keeps my hands busy whilst leaving room in my head for other things, like watching TV or mentally revising a chapter. It also makes me feel like a medieval lady in my idealized mental picture of that time- real chivalry, pretty dresses, fearsome dragons, and, in my world, internal plumbing and frequent bathing. I can imagine that I'm working on the Bayeux Tapestry, or some magical cloak that will shield me (or my most favored knight) from harm. Or something. Of course, I would prefer Excalibur to a needle, but swords aren't allowed in the on-campus apartments.

A big development in my college girl household is the arrival of an administration-placed roommate. Sadly and gladly, one of my dear friends is studying in Spain for this semester, leaving us one woman short of a Happy Meal. So we were given a fourth roommate, who showed up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon. So this semester will be an adventure.

A quick aside: still haven't heard back from my job interview. Considering that I have to decide my hours for my academic coaching/tutoring job soon, I'm unhappy about this. Cross your fingers and pray to baby Jesus, because I really want this job!

Turtle and Soup, but not Turtle Soup

I have a new favorite drink at the college coffee shop. It's called a Turtle, a hazelnut and caramel mocha. The flavor is stunning, yes, but the real fun? Asking for a "small Turtle." The small things make me smile. I bought one for myself today, having moved too slowly (or turtle-like...hee hee) this morning to make myself a cup of coffee in the comfort of my own kitchen. It was worth the few dollars. It was also Souper Monday for the English Department. I had my usual red pepper/tomato soup, and it was delicious. It was a nice morning/early afternoon, if I do say so myself.
But tomorrow, tomorrow the mini-era of Interim ends. I have the final exam tomorrow for my Grammar class, and then the brief Interim break begins. The break is the deep breath before the plunge, as Gandalf would say. I'm tired- for reasons not apparent to myself. I'm not ready for the return of 16 credits and work and homework and papers and tests and whatnot. No fun.
So this blog is going to be short today, because it's time for me to study a bit for Grammar, and maybe take a nap.

Onions Make Me Cry, and Other Incidental Truths

I'm baking again, going above and beyond my usual boredom baking- two loaves of bread! The first loaf, banana bread, has finally depleted the hoard of frozen bananas that has been hiding in the back corner of our freezer. They'd cleverly hidden themselves behind my housemate's stash of popsicles. The second is a first-time attempt at my mom's cheddar bread. The savory and the sweet, baking together with a deliciously discordant scent of onion and banana. Yum.

It's been a quiet Saturday- laundry, baking, watching brides pick out their wedding dresses on TV. I'm the only one in the apartment. It's kind of lonely, but it's also kind of pleasant. It's been an emotionally tempestuous week-- nothing new for me, but it's always nice to have a day or so to decompress. To hang out in my way oversized Go Navy T-shirt and Batman boxers and no makeup and to feel completely comfortable just being worn out and lazy...it's great. The Lord help anyone who knocks on my door today, because I am proudly unpresentable.

I had my job interview yesterday, and it went really, really well. They'll be sending me resumes to correct, and if I do well on those, I have the job! It's strange, thinking that if I do get the job, I'll be a full-time student with two jobs. Neither of them will be particularly high-paying, nor are they hours intensive, but the idea of multiple jobs is so strange to think about. I never thought I would be "that student." But I have to be. My parents have been wonderful, paying for my first two years of school, and my dad's GI benefits are paying for this year and part of the next. But what after that? There's still a semester of private school to pay for. There's my life afterwards- what am I going to do after I graduate? Teach? Grad school? Try to get published? I need to be prepared to put my nose to the grindstone, even if it means late nights and and reshuffling my priorities. And if I can't do it now, how can I expect to graduate with the confidence and knowledge that I can support myself?

I would love to marry a wealthy man or win a lot of money or publish a best-selling novel in the next year and a half. But I'm a pragmatist. I haven't ever had a boyfriend, I don't play the lottery, and I know how chancy my dream profession can be. It could be seen as cynicism, but I don't believe in the very fairy tales I love to create in my wildest daydreams. I know-- it's premature for a 20-year-old to resign herself to a life without romantic adventures (or, let's be honest, misadventures). Love makes me cry, and  so do onions. And I really, really want more of both in my life.

Midnight Cakes and the Unexpected

I've been called a hobbit more than once. It isn't just because I am short and... comfy in a land of tall, thin Dutch-descended students. Originally, it was an ambiguous nickname bestowed upon my honored personage by drunken strangers in York, England. Understandably, that bizarre occurrence left me almost as befuddled as my alcohol-soaked christeners. As they stumbled off to Spar, the nearest convenience store , I wrinkled my nose, thanked the good Lord in heaven that I survived this encounter, and then tried to decide whether or not I had just been insulted.

While I still haven't decided the answer, I have to admit that the moniker is accurate. Not only do I fit the physical description (including the slightly pointed ears, but not the hairy feet), but I also long for the expected. It's not that I'm unadventurous- I just like my adventures to go as they should, as they're planned. No lost luggage, or cancelled flights, or natural disasters-- and after having all of those three things happen to me within months, I've come to worry for the worst. The unexpected has come to bring the connotations of anxiety, of restless nights and a nauseous stomach.

But why? Frightening as the unknown can be, some of the most unexpected things are also the most meaningful. Just last night, just as I was dragging myself towards the general direction of bed (read: I was watching Inuyasha and writing my novel), my across-the-hall neighbors poked their heads in. Five minutes later, I was baking a cake with them, complete with homemade buttercream frosting I whipped up in the same amount of time it took them to figure out the cake mix. And even though I'm paying for my midnight baking, it was random, strange, and--the horror--fun! Today, my professor mentioned a proofreading job (on campus!). Tomorrow, I have a job interview. And even though I don't really need the calories from the cake, and I might not get the job, these unexpected occurrences showed me how God has been listening. I needed a pick-me-up-- and what's better than a big piece of cake? I've been worrying about getting a summer job-- how about the chance to get one in the spring instead? And if I'm being really honest and introspective, I am forced to realize that some of the best things that have ever happened to me have been unexpected- like my quick decision to study in York, my internship in Hikone, my parents' decision to move to Germany just as I left for college, my current job as a tutor and academic coach, my foray into high school theater...I could go on.

And if I continue the introspection, I am forced to realize that my bizarre wish to be static is never going to come true. Life is too dynamic, too beautiful in the insanity, and a part of me knows well enough to enjoy it, to bake a midnight cake instead of going to bed.

Going Nowhere Fast...ish

The thought expressed in the title crosses my mind from time to time, mostly when I'm on the treadmill. As I stare at the back of the head of the other poor soul running/walking/jogging in front of me, I am firmly, firmly aware of my lack of forward motion. While I hate to use song lyrics, the creation of other individuals, to describe my life, Relient K's "Forward Motion," is particularly apt in this situation. Look them up, if you are so inclined. But the gist of my point is that, at this moment in my life, I feel like I'm not moving forward. Like I'm slogging through muddy molasses whilst wearing full scuba gear.

Thankfully, I have a wonderfully optimistic friend, who has the gift of encouragement. When I still feel like  Violet Beauregarde post-gum chewing blueberriness after a long workout, she reminds me how well I'm doing. But I still feel discouraged more than I would like- in fact, today was a bad day. Despite my efforts and hopes, I still feel huge. And my shin has splinted into a dull ache that asks for rest, but I don't want to give myself a break. I sit in front of my novel and write a few sentences, but there's still so much more to say. Oh, and I really need a summer internship for this year- a summer I would love to spend traveling and writing if not for my desire for funds.

But it's okay. I iced my shin, and it feels ten times better after a mere 30 minutes. I watched what I ate- whilst still indulging in some dark chocolate M&M's. I ran nearly 2 miles today- defying my own expectations. And, best of all, I took a bath, giving my body the break it needs. And now I'm going to bed, so I can start tomorrow breaking myself down and building up the pieces into a slightly saner me.

And hopefully, maybe, I'll find a summer internship.

The Inanity and the Insanity: The First Post

I've been toying with the idea of a blog for a while now. After all, I am an amateur writer, and this is the age of internet. I am the queen of the inane observations that, finely blended together by a metaphorical food processor, creates the average blog. (My food processor can only be metaphorical, because I don't actually own one. The most high tech kitchen appliance I own is a cheap rice cooker. But hey, I dream big of food processors and Kitchen Aid mixers.) And I read blogs, mostly those written by my friends. It doesn't seem that complicated.
Which would be nice. Complications and complexities make life interesting, but sometimes interesting isn't always good. Which is where the inanity comes in. My life could use a little more inanity. I grew up on the move as a Navy brat, and my mind has followed suit, never settling down. It doesn't stop moving, even when I sleep- for instance, last night I had the strangest dream of escaping men in suits, which somehow involved sharks. And today in Grammar, I spent most of the time painstakingly constructing a single scene for my novel (of course, not the scene I really need to finish, but c'est la guerre).
So that's the inanity and the insanity- where I want to be, and who I am now. I know, it sounds crazy. Who wants to be inane? I don't, not completely. But I do want to be less insane. I want to finish my novel and get this particular story out of my head so I can start another. I want to finish my umpteen pages long reading list, or at least the book I'm in the middle of now. (Crime and Punishment, if you wanted to know.) I want to work out more and fit into a smaller pair of jeans sooner rather than later. I want to be less sarcastic, less judgmental, of others and yes, of myself. I want to be more optimistic, and definitely worry less. In short, I want to shave away the unnecessary insanity in my life so I can have a blast with the fun insanity that's left.
That's me, a person in progress, looking for a life balanced between the inanity and the insanity.