So Internet is completely down at work, leaving me with NOTHING to do. I’m effectively so bored that time is standing still.

But it’s funny; I would do nearly anything to be able to stop time this summer; there have been so many right nows, todays, right this seconds. There has been quiet contentment and uproarious laughter, and it’s all so lovely, I want to hold on to it, and stand in the light as long as possible.

It’s like this: now is the most contented and comfortable in my own skin I think I’ve ever been.

I am not racked with anxiety. I am not crying spontaneously, or without reason. I am not struggling (Boo to thee who say you cannot do NYC on a budget.) I am not longing. I am not unhappy. You may say this is a lot of “nots” – what are you, anyway? — but I tell you this list of negatives is incredibly significant and positive, despite it defining me in negative space.

So I sit here, in this little den I’ve created of comfort and stability, and I look ahead. I see the weekend; an outing to Culture Club with the girls, going to Coney Island with Jill & Drew, another Sunday in Astoria. I see next week, another set of Astoria-centric outings.

I see the next month of cramming in last minutes and last moments. I see a list of plans and people to see. I see good-byes that I’m refusing to think about right now. I see a life that it full of…well, life.

And then, that’s it, I look ahead, and there is leaving this den. There is packing up my apartment. There is driving to Chicago. There is starting school. There is a life that is just plain different from the one I’m living right this second.

And while it is scary, I am not paralyzed. I’m excited about the new things life will bring in the next year, even if some of them will bring some pain, too.

At first I was scared stiff by the thought of my life changing rhythms. Did you know I burst into tears when I found out I got into U Chicago and insisted I didn’t want to go? I didn’t want to leave the cacoon of comfort New York was becoming. It was at the corner of one phrase and another, a final push to learn to let go.

Now I’m generally sunny with occaisonal bouts of doubt. Only occaisonal ones, that stay for a beat and then move on.

So, you see, I think I know how this works. Change is good. My mind knows this now. And I am not collapsing into fits of anxiety, and I am not succumbing to fear. I am embracing change and looking forward to it.

I just wish time would tick by a bit more slowly this summer, that’s all. I wish these long hot days of summer would become just a tiny bit slower. I wish it would all stop flying by so fast.

And so the internet goes back up, and there is distraction and things to procrastinate my assigned data entry again. But that hour ticked by, no joke. So maybe someone is making time go by a little slower for me. Maybe.

In a little while, I’m leaving for a Brazillian Barbeque Feast with the usual suspects. We are going to eat ridiculous amounts of food and then I’m going to go see a movie with a bunch of strangers. Tomorrow I am going to a lecture and then for coffee with Randroids.

And then on Monday I’m going to write my professors for yes, one more letter. I’ll put together an application by the end of the week; just as one more option.

I am going to see Billy Joel again and I will be bouncy and happy and fan-girly because it is Billy Joel! It is impossible to be sad when there is Billy Joel!

And I’m going to start looking at jobs and rents in DC, even though I am not qualified to do anything. Because I’m just looking. But Michael and I may as well start our presidential campaign early, and he’d make a great housemate.

As I told Lisa last night, as we referenced conversations now six years old ‘I will survive, and then it will be raining men, and then I will make a speech about how my coach, was like, totally influential on my life.”
“Like, totally! Because you have two jobs and do all sorts of volunteer work. And still play soccer!”
“Totally. And woman’s soccer is like, totally important. I am going to campaign to get us more fields!”

I’ve condensed my Honors Research paper to 25 pages, and although it’s a bit rushed, I feel it’s strong enough to submit to University of Chicago. I’m finished with my Columbia SOP, and nearly done with my University of Texas one. I’ve revised my list of schools I’m applying to, started some online applications, and today, the process seems manageable.

So I’m applying for graduate school, blah blah blah, extremely competitive, blah blah blah I’m never going to get into graduate school.

Anyway, I’ve always been fairly certain I will get into Rutgers. Rutgers has a very good political science program that has consistently improved in the past five years. As important, if I’m accepted I’ll be fully funded, be giving a housing stipend, and in addition, get paid to be a TA or research assistant after the first year. All of this is fantastic, but I’ve been caught up in stigma of “it’s Rutgers”

Yeah, it’s Rutgers, and it’s always been a good school, growing up in suburban New Jersey just makes you a snob.

And yeah, it’s Rutgers, and political theory faculty has a Tocqueville scholar. A Tocqueville scholar! I’ve been toying with the idea of reading modern political thought (Hobbes, Tocqueville, etc) through a feminist framework, and the ways in which modern political theory is applicable to contemporary ideas of sovereignty. Much of my goal regarding reading Tocqueville through a feminist framework is to find a theoretical grounding for my qualms with much contemporary feminist theory.

And there’s a Tocqueville scholar at Rutgers. So how can I not go?

But then there’s this, that I’ve never been out of the Northeast, and thus I’ve never really been out of my comfort zone, and Thomas West is at U-Dallas, and, and, and.

And I adore Tocqueville, and Jersey, and being near my family and surrogate family alike, and, and, and

And “que sera, sera”

I’m going to just be a real fun person to be around when acceptance and rejection letters role in mid-March through mid-April. That’s already my “that time of year!”

Second Chances

Things I Don’t Want to Do

-Go to my Tuesday/Thursday classes (4 more)

-Write my Tocqueville paper (I’m like, not sure, if like, I GRASP what like, Tocqueville’s argument about equality is, like, do you know what I mean, like?/ NO. I DON’T LIKE, KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN, LIKE!)

-Study for my Middle Eastern Politics final. Because I haven’t done any of the reading. All semester. Oh, it’s just like Comp Pol…

-Drink anymore “Silver Tequilla.” It gives me a headache

The Plan for Next “Semester”

-German classes, yay!

-TESOL certification

-40 hours @ cafe.

-Going stir crazy in Jersey, finding teaching job in Austria, Italy, or Germany.

So, at this time next year I’ll be in Europe.

Tis hard to be back in the frozen North Country (as 100.3, THE POINT calls it) after a long, enjoyable weekend in Jersey. The air pollution keeps in the warm air.

This weekend:

-Wrote an insane amount for NaNo, taking my book in a new direction. And now it has a title!
-Climbed into my freezing cold attic wearing high heeled boots while tipsy to retrieve my high school yearbook to look something up and win a bet
-my high school picture reminds me I used to be a blonde. Ug
-Watched “Love, Actually”
-cried at the “To Me, You Are Perfect” part
-and the part where Emma Thompson confronts her husband about cheating
-Was accused of being a sap for aforementioned crying
-Duh
-This is why I prefer to watch my girly movies (I Capture the Castle, Eternal Sunshine, assorted Mandy Moore movies, among others) alone. Because I like to maintain my image as tough as nails

-Recieved Newsweek with Bush’s face on it. My parent’s arrived home:
Me: Oh yeah, and we got Newsweek. It has Bush’s smug face on the cover
Dad: Put it in the recycling
Me: I already did.
-Advised Jon that he should totally give up computer engineering and become a male Asian model
-Was hit by Jon for suggestion
-Got amazing, high class brunch food
-Made appeals to the Divine
-Cooked an insane amount
-Chilled with the cats, with a drink and some Dostoyevsky.
-Read bunches of essays, found authors I want to emulate
-Researched grad school programs, envisaged myself 35 and already a completely insane history professor
-Drove through deserted suburban streets
-Diner dwelled
-Fought with pillows. And my fists!
-Slept with all the lights on
-Kicked
-Insulted people
-Was read to

I love my Jersey weekends.

“These artificial divisions of time turn into benchmarks, ways to measure your life, as you can’t help but turn back and think about what you were doing four years ago today, and what’s changed since then, and what you’ve done in the interim.”

Four years ago I was 17 years old, a senior in high school. My sociology professor shook her head and said “Tonight, we better be prayin’ to the goddess,” because just like this year, it was so close. I followed Brent to vote at Heights Elementary School, being annoying.

Four years ago I was with The Ex, who bought me a talking Eeyore doll (it’s a donkey! for Democrats! ((because back then, I still thought I was a Democrat))) for an election night gift. We sat on the floor of my bedroom and watched the results come in, until he had to be home, and it still wasn’t decided.

Four years ago I was just sending in my applications to college, my first choice being an wacky school called “Hampshire” which would become my home for 10 months.

Tonight, I’m 21, about to graduate from college, and embark on the “real world.” For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m not tied down to anything.

I also got involved in NaNoWriMo, which may be the best thing that’s happened to me in a LONG time, because it’s forcing me to write, and just have fun with writing. It’s going to be angsty! Dramatic! 

I just spent tonight sprinting on stream of consciousness writing, talking to fellow NaNo-ers, and ranting to Brent about how I couldn’t stop smiling.

Tomorrow is the election day, for better or worse, I just want it to be OVER. No one could have predicted the messy recount that was 2000, but the lawyers, media pundits, and election officials are already in place should this election be as close as polls are claiming.

And I, senior government major, writer of an honors reserrch paper, earner of departmental honors say “Who. Cares.” I am burned out on the politcal.

The ONLY thing that tips me over to Kerry is the fact that Renquist has cancer, and several other “liberal” Supreme court justices are getting old. On one hand, I don’t want my Supreme Court being appointed by a pro-life, anti-stem cell research, lets ban gay marriage with a constitutional amendment man. On the other, I am forced to have a degree of faith in the system; the same court that handed Bush the presidency also issued the most fervent checks upon the Patriot Act.

I have to remember, that no matter what happens, my life will go on as usual. Just as it did in 2000 when I got ridiculsouly outraged; my outrage was justified based on what was going on but it certainly didn’t change anything.

So, I’ll be sitting downstairs with my housmates, half an eye on the television as the results come in, half an eye on my computer, as the words of my new novel race across the page. NaNo has given me with an enthusiasm I haven’t felt in a long time.

What I’m writing isn’t good. Much of it is dialogue taken from conversations I had in real life; when I put them into my story, I wonder if the reader will think “does anyone really talk like that?” and then I think “Yes. We did,” It’s part stream of consciousness, part fictionalized situation, all mixed up with a healthy dose of angst. I’m having so much fun with it.

In real life, I spend so much time and energy trying not to be emotional. The biggest insult to me would be to call me a drama queen or to claim I’m over emotional and thus, self pitying. But I mean, I am kind of a drama queen. I’m perfectly aware of my flaws. I’ve just learned to live with them; it’s who I am. I’m a smart girl. I make the right decisions, 99% of the time. The emotions that occasionally mar the reason are what I’m writing about. I’m writing for the drama queen in me. The part of me that’s watched too many episodes of Dawson’s Creek too many times. That part of me that hasn’t escaped in four years.

I’m better off than I was 4 years ago. I’ve gained weight so I’d no longer fit into my gray Mudd pants, but I walk with the confidence that the 17 year old girl who skipped after Brent, holding a “Lefty” donkey beanie baby from McDonalds, ever possessed. Just like at 17, I am facing a future that is uncertain. This time, however, I don’t have anyone to answer to, except myself. There’s no one to blame, except myself.

Because I’m going to be ok. I’m going to graduate. I’m going to do what I have to do to feed myself. I’ll probably work at Barnes and Noble until August, and then go teach English in Europe for a year. I’ve been beating myself up that B&N isn’t good enough because I have a college degree, but that’s not based on my assessment; that’s based on society’s assessment, and me constantly comparing myself to other people (yes, I have been reading Rouseesua’s Second Discourse lately, why do you ask???).

But it oculd be a million times worse. And I actually kind of look forward to getting back to B&N, some café crfew will still be there, and many of the booksellers will. I hate most customers, but in a twisted way, I love my job. I work my ass off, my mangers love me, and I distract myself while I’m there. It’s decent pay, and it’s full benefits. There’s nothing wrong with doing that for six months; it’s only my irrational ego that has jugedd it as such. In September, I’m going to go to Italy or the Czech Republic or Russia, to teach English to brats; I won’t get paid more then enough to live on, but it’s the greatest opportunity I could ask for

Then I”ll come back. Go to grad school. Spend my life in the world of ideas.

It’s not what I would have predicted four years ago. 

I am left with extra time getting ready for work this afternoon, so I feel obligated to tell everyone that, looking at the books I have been reading lately, I have realized that my destiny is not, unfortunately, to become an insane empress who can peer owlishly at the Diet through a speech rolled up like a telescope.

I am going to be one of those insane old guys on the history channel, doing commentary on one of those documentaries. Except, you know, I’ll be a chick. I’ll be like the old women who are always on the Holocaust documentaries telling about their time in the concentration camp, except I’ll be slightly younger, hipper, and tattoo-less.

Yeah, that was tasteless.

First I need to get qualified for this job, because you can’t become an insane commentator on the history channel over night. I’ll probably have to go to grad school eventually and get my degree in some obscure historical specification. And then I will become a professor. But I’d be a cool professor, well, cool by my standards at least. I would find the one girl in every class who was just as loserly as I was at her age and bond with her, and if she was under 21, I would buy her alcohol, because that’s what a good professor does!

I would also marry someone who was really intellectual, but disagreed with me on stuff, like for example, someone who thought “appeasement was the right policy for Britain and France in 1939″ (it wasn’t, and i actually don’t think any intelligent person would really think this, but I’m just using it as an example). Anyway, that way we could get into petty fights about our disagreements, and if we had kids, we could put them in the middle of it. Like, my husband would take the kid out for ice cream and tell them all about how appeasement was the right policy, and then I’d get really mad and make him sleep on the couch and somehow make it to seem like that is what he wanted because it’s a form of appeasement.

I’m still working on the details.

Yeah, I’m Working On That

Long December
And there’s reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better
Than the last
-Counting Crows
(although I’m not sure if there is reason to believe, etc)

Normally, at the end of the year, I would write a long, reflective cliched entry in one of my Volumes. The Volumes seemed to have died though and I try to keep personal, journal-y stuff out of here as much as possible (although I often fail) Besides, its hard to say much, because the year has been so varied, and I don’t know how to even begin right now. I will simply revert to cliched language and quote Edith Wharton, that there are the years that ask questions, and years that answer them. This year has certainly been the former.

Top 3 Wishes for 2004
1) That by some miracle Bush will lose to ANY of the Democrats
2) That I will get the IHS fellowship I want
3) To find what I’m looking for

I believe in the kingdom come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well yes I’m still running
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

Should I…?

a) go to Washington this summer, take a class, have an internship, pay a lot for housing and then graduate skidmore a semester early
OR
b) go to Washington fall semester, graduate skidmore spring 05

I leave in less than 48 hours and I’m not even packed yet. Going back to school snuck up on me this year, I guess because I’m used to being stuck at home for a week with no one around, since everyone’s school seems to start earlier than mine. Yay for running transfer orientation or something.

I am milling around my room putting stuff in boxes, changing my mind about what box it goes in, and working on my Atlas Shrugged essay that should be done already.
When I get to Skidmore I have a million bureaucratic things to take care of — final plans for transfer orientation, filling out forms for my self-determined major, and finding out more about Washington Semester.
Washington Semester looks like it would be a great opportunity — classes in foreign policy that I can’t get at Skidmore, and have a good internship. Yet I’m still all unsure about going, because in some ways I feel like I just got to Skidmore, and just settled in. Educationally, and even career wise, going to Washington would be the best move. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to get the Self-Determined Major committee to approve it. Blah. I have gotten bad with decisions ever since my super bad decision to go the Hampshire

Oh well. I will figure it out, etc, etc, etc, etc. Right now I’m excited to get back to school see everyone, and feel as if I’m accomplishing something.