Today, I decided to take care of the stack of loan papers that arrived about a week ago. And I immediately thought, this is the stuff that blogs are made of, discussions of financial matters. Anywho, the point is, in the process of tackling this indescribably frustrating and boring task of figuring out what the eff all those papers said, I discovered two things. 1) I incrued well over $1000 interest on student loans this year (and by using skills gained in grad school, I have deduced that this will probably happen every year until I make a substantial dent in the debt), and 2) some agency in Vermont wants me to start making payments November 1st, which, as of a little over an hour ago, is tomorrow. Oops on the second one, damn the man on the first.
This is happy news on top of the fact that today I added $200 to my already sufficient credit card debt to purchase 8 months of hormonal contraceptives, and my dad recently started a pleasant conversation with "Let's take a look at how much money you owe me."
Apparently some people just ignore there student loan payments all together, but I'm just too afraid of getting in trouble for that kind of behavior. Lame, yes. But who knows, maybe some day I'll want to buy a stupid house or something. So if anyone has any ins on insider trading possibilities or get rich quick schemes, please let me know. I'm sure the solution to this problem lies in listening to 10 hours of Donald Trump on cassette tape. It has to be that simple.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Sicko
The most disgusting thing about riding my bike along the country roads near my house is not the splash in the face that accompanies the semi zooming past on oil soaked asphalt on a misty day. Nope. It's the constant encounters with road kill. Carcass after carcass just splattered in my path. An entire flippin deer that was luckily a few yards away in the ditch (though still close enough for his half open eyes to creep me the fuck out.) To many possums to count and worst of all, flies zooming around someone's kitty. Yick.
Every few days when I decide to escape the chaos of my unstructured life by scooting down the road on my rusted hand-me-down bike, I get to deal with death. I'm torn between mourning the animals' sad demises, and taking a Darwinist approach. Because seriously, if you can't figure out from all the dead bodies lying around that that unnatural line of black rock running through your back yard is a death trap, well, that's some shitty luck, but maybe your genes just aren't up to surviving the modern world.
The not icky part of my biking experience is that every time I huff up the hill that kicks my ass, it kicks my ass a little less. In fact, this last time, it increased my heart rate so little, I was inspired to take a (very short) run after my bike ride.
Every few days when I decide to escape the chaos of my unstructured life by scooting down the road on my rusted hand-me-down bike, I get to deal with death. I'm torn between mourning the animals' sad demises, and taking a Darwinist approach. Because seriously, if you can't figure out from all the dead bodies lying around that that unnatural line of black rock running through your back yard is a death trap, well, that's some shitty luck, but maybe your genes just aren't up to surviving the modern world.
The not icky part of my biking experience is that every time I huff up the hill that kicks my ass, it kicks my ass a little less. In fact, this last time, it increased my heart rate so little, I was inspired to take a (very short) run after my bike ride.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
My Odyssey Continues
For at least the past year and a half I’ve been in a rather constant sort of existential crisis. My closest friends are used to the non-stop whining, ranting and/or philosophizing that goes along with this, and put up with my nonsense, I’m guessing, mostly because, well, their lives are in an unending state of crisis too. For a short time I thought perhaps I was just associating with people who were slightly crazy. Who knows, maybe all the sane ones have their own set of friends and I gravitate toward the loonies because they're my people.
But fear not, fellow 20-somethings, that state of restless confusion and general lack of understanding about what path you’re supposed to be following is apparently just another phase that is part of the normal lifecycle of the modern human. Like adolescence. So keep your chin up. We’ve all just been waiting for another adolescence anyway, right?
My crises consist of questioning everything from career choices, to significance in life, to relationships of both the friend type and the more scandalous sort. And pretty much anything else you can think of, including methods for ending poverty (don't worry I've almost figured that one out.) This results in periodic indecisiveness or occasionally doing things I once would have never done, because really, people are all different and who am I to be all judgmental? The upside is, my compulsive actions induce incessant bouts of laughter from Kim. So at least I’m making someone happy.
The most salient aspect of instability in my life for the past several months is that I have yet to start the second phase of my Master’s degree, the part where I have to have a job or an internship. The reasons are various and we’ll just say involve personal and financial concerns and leave it at that. As I have complained in previous posts, I’ve been living at my parents’ house, trying to both save some money and rectify the practicum “situation”. Neither of these plans has succeeded 100%, as it’s not easy to find temp jobs or secure real jobs that take place on another continent. As the time I’ve been livin’ in the basement has grown, I’ve become more and more nervous about the direction my life is headed. And while worrying is always fun, it’s at its best when it induces insomnia.
There are two types of sleeplessness. One is when you kinda toss and turn and are restless and stuff, but it’s only unpleasant because you know you might be tired the next day. My recent bout of insomnia was not this fun kind. It was an inescapable anxiety-ridden hell. After several near sleeplessness nights, determined to conquer the beast, I decided to do yoga in my front yard before tucking myself in. Ah, peace. I am totally zenned out, sitting below the stars, with the wind blowing through the trees and the sound of water dribbling through my dad’s bird fountain. I am ok. I don’t even need a relaxation CD. I have found tranquility. I might even be a peaceful warrior. It will all work out as it always does. No prob, Bob.
But one short trip down the basement stairs changes everything. The second my head hits the pillow, a flood of anxiety washes over me and thoughts start bouncing around in my skull at a pace I can’t even keep up with. What will I teach oh that bill needs to be paid how will I ever survive a year on my own if don’t fall asleep now I’ll never accomplish anything I’ll still be in this basement in 5 years I have to email her that application is not finished. OH. MY. GOD. If I can’t sleep tonight I won’t be able to get up on time I’ll sleep in and it’ll be harder to fall asleep tomorrow this insomnia will go on and on and on and on the basement get me out of this fricken basement.
Fun, right? Luckily, I did eventually succeed at my dad’s “not trying to sleep” method which works pretty durn well if you can chill out enough to do it. Also lucky: it’s been several weeks since I was dealing with this baloney. I am only just now strong enough to talk about my pain, but I’m making progress. That’s a lie. I griped to anyone who would listen when it was happening.
Not long after, I realized that I’m not special and my stupid fears are not unique. I’ve decided the craziness of my life is a good thing and as long as I can keep laughing at myself, I will be happy. Sometimes I forget how to do this, but then Kimberly does it for me.
Next stop on my odyssey: Chile. Why? Because they speak Spanish there, summer begins around my November 3rd arrival, they have a crazy history of democratically elected socialists being killed by American supported military dictators, and it is the longest country in the world. I’ve decided to take a new approach to finding a practicum. I’m going to show up and offer to work for free. I have high hopes that someone will be down with exploiting my half-finished Master’s education. If not, everyone needs to speak English. And guess who’s an English teacher. So, hasta la bye-bye, I’m diving in head-first. Come see the spectacle for yourself.
But fear not, fellow 20-somethings, that state of restless confusion and general lack of understanding about what path you’re supposed to be following is apparently just another phase that is part of the normal lifecycle of the modern human. Like adolescence. So keep your chin up. We’ve all just been waiting for another adolescence anyway, right?
My crises consist of questioning everything from career choices, to significance in life, to relationships of both the friend type and the more scandalous sort. And pretty much anything else you can think of, including methods for ending poverty (don't worry I've almost figured that one out.) This results in periodic indecisiveness or occasionally doing things I once would have never done, because really, people are all different and who am I to be all judgmental? The upside is, my compulsive actions induce incessant bouts of laughter from Kim. So at least I’m making someone happy.
The most salient aspect of instability in my life for the past several months is that I have yet to start the second phase of my Master’s degree, the part where I have to have a job or an internship. The reasons are various and we’ll just say involve personal and financial concerns and leave it at that. As I have complained in previous posts, I’ve been living at my parents’ house, trying to both save some money and rectify the practicum “situation”. Neither of these plans has succeeded 100%, as it’s not easy to find temp jobs or secure real jobs that take place on another continent. As the time I’ve been livin’ in the basement has grown, I’ve become more and more nervous about the direction my life is headed. And while worrying is always fun, it’s at its best when it induces insomnia.
There are two types of sleeplessness. One is when you kinda toss and turn and are restless and stuff, but it’s only unpleasant because you know you might be tired the next day. My recent bout of insomnia was not this fun kind. It was an inescapable anxiety-ridden hell. After several near sleeplessness nights, determined to conquer the beast, I decided to do yoga in my front yard before tucking myself in. Ah, peace. I am totally zenned out, sitting below the stars, with the wind blowing through the trees and the sound of water dribbling through my dad’s bird fountain. I am ok. I don’t even need a relaxation CD. I have found tranquility. I might even be a peaceful warrior. It will all work out as it always does. No prob, Bob.
But one short trip down the basement stairs changes everything. The second my head hits the pillow, a flood of anxiety washes over me and thoughts start bouncing around in my skull at a pace I can’t even keep up with. What will I teach oh that bill needs to be paid how will I ever survive a year on my own if don’t fall asleep now I’ll never accomplish anything I’ll still be in this basement in 5 years I have to email her that application is not finished. OH. MY. GOD. If I can’t sleep tonight I won’t be able to get up on time I’ll sleep in and it’ll be harder to fall asleep tomorrow this insomnia will go on and on and on and on the basement get me out of this fricken basement.
Fun, right? Luckily, I did eventually succeed at my dad’s “not trying to sleep” method which works pretty durn well if you can chill out enough to do it. Also lucky: it’s been several weeks since I was dealing with this baloney. I am only just now strong enough to talk about my pain, but I’m making progress. That’s a lie. I griped to anyone who would listen when it was happening.
Not long after, I realized that I’m not special and my stupid fears are not unique. I’ve decided the craziness of my life is a good thing and as long as I can keep laughing at myself, I will be happy. Sometimes I forget how to do this, but then Kimberly does it for me.
Next stop on my odyssey: Chile. Why? Because they speak Spanish there, summer begins around my November 3rd arrival, they have a crazy history of democratically elected socialists being killed by American supported military dictators, and it is the longest country in the world. I’ve decided to take a new approach to finding a practicum. I’m going to show up and offer to work for free. I have high hopes that someone will be down with exploiting my half-finished Master’s education. If not, everyone needs to speak English. And guess who’s an English teacher. So, hasta la bye-bye, I’m diving in head-first. Come see the spectacle for yourself.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Pictures Are Better Than Words Anyway
A little bit of Missouri for you
Mi familia pretending they're cool
Copper's Farm Adventure Begins
The Pond
A Better View of Copper
Apparently Jefferson City is multicultural. We even have a festival.
West African Dancing
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)