This morning, I woke up later than I had planned.
This happens often, mostly because my boundless optimism regarding my
abilities as a morning person has never quite matched up with the
realities of 6:30 in the morning.
Like many publishing companies, Baker has a summer schedule. So instead of the daily plod of the proverbial 9-5 (or 8-4:30 in this case), we work 7:30-5 four days a week, giving us the precious resource of half day Fridays. At least, that’s
the idea. But lately, (read: the last three months), the concept of a “normal” schedule has become rather laughable.
Previous posts have detailed one of the big “highs”
of the summer (my trip to Singapore), as well as the darkest “low” (the
loss of a friend and mentor), but those are just the extremes.
So what have I been up to?
1.
Moving:
Due to unforeseen circumstances, I found myself
packing up my room in a hurried rush, leaving my first postgrad house
almost a full month before I had planned. After playing several games of
adult Tetris in the trunk of my station wagon,
I got all of my belongings across town, where a gracious coworker had
offered up her spare bedroom.
Usually, my moves are quick and efficient. A
lifetime of training and a propensity for frequently donating
accumulated un-necessities has made transition a fairly simple task. I
need help carrying the heavy stuff (see posts regarding my
book collection for further reference), but I’m fairly well equipped to
handle the actual packing on my own.
This time, however, it was a mess. Caught in a time
crunch and wrought with the physical symptoms of anxiety (adrenaline
rushes, nausea, hyperventilation, and the inability to focus or sleep), I
was at the end of a very frayed rope. And
just as I recovered, rejuvenated by my vacation, it was time to do it
all over again.
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| One of my new roommates, Alice the Chinchilla |
And I was ashamed. Every so often, I would hang my
head behind my boxes as friends helped me move into my new, more
permanent residence. And as my things began to stack up in the basement,
a jumble of books and clothes and papers and whatnots,
so did my shame. How had I, the girl with more moves under her belt
than a backup dancer, messed this up? My car was basically a mobile
storage unit. I couldn’t find my migraine medication. I was stymied by
items that seemed to multiply while my back was turned.
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| I still tried to be a good plant mama. |
Even as my biceps trembled, my back ached, and my
calves bruised, I fought the battle against my perceived failure. My
rope began to slack. Slowly, carefully, I allowed myself to let it go.
My belongings, the physical representations of my
life, were quite literally coming apart at the seams. But despite that,
and even though I was sharing a room and the new neighborhood was filled
with strange sounds and the new-to-me-but-really-old
house creaked in unfamiliar ways, I slept well for the first time in
over a month.
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| Making myself at home |
My best friend moved this summer, foraging a new
path in Lafayette, Indiana (for science!). And since pictures can’t
alleviate how much I miss her face, I drove down to visit. The weather
was terrible, but we only let it dampen our hair,
not our spirits.
She introduced me to her new haunts. We bought
cupcakes and hummus at the farmer’s market and snuck donuts from a local
bakery into the movie theater. We wandered through the surprisingly
interesting (and free) zoo, and I forced her to
show me where she worked on Purdue’s campus.
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| My spirit animal, perhaps? |
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| My beautiful bestie |
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| A wallaby walk-through |
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And, in the midst of it all, we curled up on her
new couch and ate Chinese food and cupcakes in our pajamas while having a
movie marathon, and it was like we hadn’t ever been separated by new
jobs and new homes and way too many miles.
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| I love this girl! |
I was snooping through a list of West Michigan
events, idly trying to guess what concert a friend’s boyfriend had
bought surprise tickets for. I never figured it out, but I did discover
something far more interesting: Neil Gaiman was going
to be in Ann Arbor.
A year or two ago, I would never have gone alone.
I’ve been to Ann Arbor a handful of times, but always accompanied by
others. Driving to a mostly-unfamiliar town at night with no idea where
to park so I could sit by myself in an auditorium
full of strangers would have been terrifying then. It was still
slightly scary, but it was Neil Gaiman.
Let me repeat that: Neil F-ing Gaiman.
And it came with a free copy of his new book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane.
Sassy, adventurous me took hold. She paid for a
ticket even before advertising the awesome opportunity on Facebook. She
didn’t care that no one might want to come with.
Sassy, adventurous me was going to go see her favorite author, come hell or high water.
Sassy, adventurous me is a smart cookie. Because even as I left the theater at 1 AM,
with a two hour drive and a full work day ahead of me, I was incredibly
happy. I had seen Neil Gaiman. I had heard him, one of my idols, speak
about life
and writing and even cats. He was funny and smart. His new book was
just as mystifyingly cool as the ones I had read before. He had signed
my books (with a fountain pen, no less). I had not made a fool of myself
in front of him while he did so. And I did it.
I had indulged my passion and geekiness, logistics and all, on my own.
Due to our travels, family reunions are a rare
occurrence for me. We make sure to spend time with aunts, uncles,
cousins, and grandparents, but beyond that is a sea of faces I’ve never
met. So when my mom couldn’t attend my third cousin’s
wedding in Wisconsin (my grandmother has had previous success using
such distant relatives to engineer family togetherness), I was called in
as my dad’s wedding date.
By working 10-11 hour days Monday through Thursday,
I was able to take last Friday off and fly to Chicago (via Detroit),
where my dad would be waiting to drive us up to Elkhorn, Wisconsin.
Strangely enough, my flights were completely stress
free. No delays. No hurried treks across the terminal. I even got an
entire row to myself! Due to approximately 6 years of bad travel juju, I
was suspicious, but I accepted my blessed circumstances with wary
gratitude. My dad managed to find me in the maze
of O’Hare’s terminals, and we hopped into his Mini Cooper (a very
me-sized car), and darted up to Lake Geneva for a bit of sightseeing
before heading to our hotel.
Lake Geneva has all the requisite cafes, cute
stores, and posh houses of a holiday town. Because of the weather
(unseasonably chilly and rainy), we indulged only in the former two. I
was very excited to be spoiled by a new book:
The Cuckoo’s Calling, the murder mystery written by the now infamously pseudonymous Robert Galbraith.
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| It was a great read, by the way. |
Precious treasure in hand, we abandoned the rainy
town for the warm embraces of family.
As my head whirled with the names
of great aunts and uncles and second and third cousins, I heartily
enjoyed my first fish fry. The next day, after
returning to Lake Geneva to check out the posh vacation homes on the
lakeshore, my dad and I got ready and joined the caravan to the groom’s
family farm.
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| This isn't unreasonable for a birthday present, right? |
The wedding was very nice, but for me, the main
draw was spending time with my family. Even those I know and love very
well are often too far away to see on a regular basis. And seeing my dad
show off his dance moves reminds me just how
much I’m a product of my amazing, loving, and odd parents.
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| My adorable cousins, Jordan and Riley, attacking Uncle Brian while I laughed from the safety of the other side of the booth. |
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| Like father, like daughter. |
A friend and English department alum brought up the
idea of starting a book club with some people we studied in York with.
Finding that we all miss discussing literature with fellow book buffs
(but not the papers or essay exams), her idea
came to fruition. We meet in places with delicious food and beverages
close at hand and discuss the book of the month (or so). So far, we’ve
read
Silence, Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and The House of the Seven Gables
by Nathaniel Hawthorne. This month’s selection is Babbitt. Speaking of which, I should probably go find a copy…
Not only that, I’ve continued to work through my library. Even with the distractions of
Ocean at the End of the Lane and The Cuckoo’s Calling (both of which I highly recommend), I finally finished
From Home to Harry Potter (an academic-type book on mythology and fantasy and its relationship with Christianity), and I’m now 1/3 of the way through
Brothers Karamazov. I will finish it…I will. After reading Les Mis,
I stopped doubting my ability to finish dense books on my own. Of course, I’m also more careful about which ones I start.
So what’s next?
1.
Writing.
Due to the stress and accompanying exhaustion, most
of my writing has remained in my head. I have quite a few sketches of
new material to add further richness and detail to
Paladin, but I actually have to sit down and add it all in. I’ve just started to do that again, but it’s going to be a slow return.
2.
Belly dancing.
Yep. That’s right. You saw that. I found a Groupon
and, spurred by a longtime secret desire to learn, I started going to
classes near my house. And I love it so far. No matter how bad my day
has been, five minutes into class I have a huge
smile on my face. It’s already had such a distinct effect on my mental
and physical health, so I plan on continuing to take classes after my
Groupon expires.
3.
Going out (of town).
I’m quite excited to drive down to NC within the
next month. I haven’t spent a non-holiday centered weekend with my mom,
dad, AND brother in a long time. I miss them so much, and as my brother
transitions from postgrad life to pre-grad
school life, I really want to catch him when I can. I can’t wait to
give him a huge hug…and then irritate the crap out of him.
And, with a belated birthday celebration as a
partial excuse, my work bestie are going on a girl’s weekend to go shop
and see a Cirque show. I’ve always wanted to see a Cirque performance,
and shopping with her is always a blast, so to
say that I’m looking forward to it is an understatement.
So more highs await—and I’m sure more lows will
join them. But whatever happens, insane or inane, my life continues to
be an adventure.
So allons-y!
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