So, yesterday, Smoker Boy from Friday texted me with “What’s your schedule like? I would love to see you today.” I had ignored his text on Sunday, and knew that I couldn’t just ignore this one, because it would be immature, or whatever. It took much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth before I was able to dash off a two sentence email to him. I also immediately set up a filter in gmail so that his emails would skip my inbox and also be marked as read.

I am having coffee with a boy tomorrow, although not one of the two boys I actually REALLY wanted to have coffee with. Although, this guy is very polite, seems nice, and I can eve forgive his use of “lol.”

It’s already 2:30, and I spent most of the day working on ONE letter, because I am meticulous like that. Or slow. Anyway, that application has been submitted. 

Back to this boy I’m seeing tomorrow. I’ve spoken to him half a dozen times. Conversation is ok — we manage it. We haven’t really covered anything groundbreaking, just typical getting-to-know-you stuff. This whole internet dating thing is weird. I know, I’m the last person who should say that, given my brief, but busy phase as a message board floozy. 

I got distracted from writing this by a question about Carl Schmitt on Message Board of Note. So I got to talk about Carl Schmitt! Which is exciting, because I never get to talk about that, and I forget how much I love Carl Schmitt, and it almost makes me want to go back to grad school and get my PhD JUST so I can write a dissertation on Carl Schmitt and american foreign policy.

Work = busy. I have no time/brainpower to put together a coherent entry, so I thought I would copy/paste some bits and pieces of drafts I have started and not published over the past month. I cannot even guarentee complete sentences.

-Doing all this political minded readnig lately makes me want to re-read Allan Blooms The Closing of the American Mind. If you are in academia, or even just thinking of going into it, I cannot recommend it enough. A professor gave it to me right after I transferred to Skidmore, after hearing about my experience at Hampshire College.  It is definitely one of those books that made me question a lot of what I thought I believed or helped me clarify a lot of things for myself. The problem with re-reading anything is that I have about 1,001 books that I haven’t read, and should read.

I didn’t stop for coffee this morning and therefore did not realize that I did not have my wallet until I got to work. Grrr. Not only do I desperately need caffeine, but it’s also annoying to not have my wallet – I’m going to have to borrow a couple dollars for lunch, because I don’t have food here.

I think I am buying my car this weekend. I will be glad to get it over with. Initially, I wasn’t going to buy until early May, but my hand was sort of forced to do so early. I am okay with that now – I think I am okay money wise, even with needed a new laptop. I think, anyway. I am not very good at budgeting.

I talked to Sarah, a girl I went to grad school with, briefly yesterday afternoon. I was telling her about my essay and bashing our preceptor. She still works at UChicago, so she is literally right down the hall from him, which is weird. The year at UChicago still feels like a dream to me at times.

Anyway, this is yet another entry that I’m writing, where I really have nothing to say, but I hope that by forcing myself into regular blogging, the brilliance will come back to me. If I ever had it to begin with.

I logged into my UChicago webmail account today, because I got a warning email saying I lose it in December. I want to go through and forward anything I might want to save from there.

Scrolling through my in-box just made me cringe and brought back all the uncomfortable feelings of being in grad school. I can’t put words to them exactly, but it was not a pleasant feeling. I could only get through a couple pages on the inbox before I had to sign out.

The whole thing still feels like a dream. Not a nightmare exactly, not even a really bad dream, just a really, really weird dream, where you wake up, and you think you’re pretty glad that none of that is actually your reality, because it just doesn’t feel right.

A year ago,  it was my last weekend in the city before I left for grad school. Last summer, as I have stated before, I reveled in the romanticism of being an unhindered 20-something in the city. I was empowered. More than ever, I was breaking out of old habits. The term social butterfly was tailor made for me, last summer. I loved my life, and I spent the last weekend celebrating, and trying not to get too sad over the fact that once I left things would never be the same. The Astorians threw me a party the Friday before I left. Saturday night was a mish-mash of old friends, PLI-ers, misc. people and unexpected guest. Sunday was choice encounters with Jill-IAN, and then Astorians. It was a perfect weekend to cap off a perfect summer.

Of course, I’m also realistic enough to know that one of the reasons last summer was so amazing because I knew it was temporary. I wouldn’t have “lived my life like a dream” if it wasn’t. (I’m quoting the REM song “Leavng New York” song there, which I listened to 12 million times) I don’t expect to have a summer like that anytime soon, because the last comprable one was seven years prior.

So it’s not wonder that after that summer, I crashed when I got to Chicago, and felt like the rug had been pulled out from under my feet and panicked. If I stayed in New York, I never could have sustained such perfection and wonderfulness and etc, and I know that. But it still sucked to get to UChicago and not automatically be thrilled and happy and exhilirated with the opportunity to be studying with brilliant people. Things even went pretty well and I was being relatively social and stuff, but I just didn’t CARE about most of my classes.

I was a pretty big mess the first quarter. And I just didn’t care enough about school; that’s what made me start to realize a PhD was not for me. I knew on the surface level that it was pretty awesome that my thesis advisor was a famous expert on the subject, but really? It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t “take advantage of the opportunity.” I just did what I needed to do, and that was enough for me. The best thing I could do for myself was throw myself into my thesis and get the hell out of there. And it worked. I graduated in June like I wanted to. I have no regrets about how I handled the year. I am so grateful to be out of Chicago, because I felt like I was suffocating there.

Now, a year after I left, I have my Masters and I have a job (this time, one I actually want.) and I can’t wait to get back to Astoria. I was sitting on the N train, waiting to pull out of the Ditmars station and its just  beautiful. Hell Gate Bridge in the background, cars rushing down the Triborough in the foreground, and signs in four different languages and there is just no way this will ever not be an awe inspiring view to me. This may sell me out on ever being a “true New Yorker” (how deep do Jersey roots run?) but I may as well enjoy it, because every time I travel out to Astoria, I’m anxious to get there, and when i step out of the subway station, I feel home.

I was not panicked when I left New York a year ago, because I knew it was “the right thing to do.” To turn down a scholarship to an MA program at UChicago would have been “irrational.” I still don’t feel it was the wrong decision, because I don’t feel I’ve lost anything by going. And sure, I’m probably romanticizing how awesome its going to be to move back to Astoria and get back into my life there and in the city. But whatever it is, I’m happy its happening. I’m happy things have gone this way.

Hurray for the east coast. I have had delicious pizza and bagels and thus life is good.

In my last days in Chicago, I managed to have some fun. I had a drink at the Lounge in the John Hancock building. I jumped in Lake Michigan with all my clothes on. I met up with Adrienne for lunch. Adrienne is a high school acquintence of mine whom I’ve known via Onstage tech and decathlon. Adrienne is one of those people whom I’ve always wished I got to know better.

Final thoughts on MAPSS?

Well, it wasn’t the worst way to spend 9 months.

Scene: Chris, trying to convince me that my thesis is not a failure.
Me: Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll say it again ‘An MA in 9 months is way more productive than getting knocked up’
Chris: Yeah that only takes a day. Or like, 10 minutes!

Well, I did get a boyfriend this year, so at least I’ve accomplished something
-Sarah

I am not qualified for any job my MA could get me
-Eric

Who is this “Chad” person?
-someone’s thesis advisor

What’s wrong with the people in your program? They always look so depressed
-CIR person

I don’t know anyone who’s said ‘MAPSS was a great experience! I’m so glad I came!’
-the conclusion of last week’s conversation

Damnit, I should have done CIR!
-me

MAPSS lies
-the general consensus

I am so unnecessarily bitchy and angsty right now. I hate Chicago. I grew up in suburbia and spent a year in NYC, but I am annoyed by my comparatively “street smart” skills. I’ve always been told I look pissed off all the time; just my normal facial expression, and that that’s why I never get heckled. But I’m sick of living in a neighborhood where I can get mugged or assaulted by a 16 year old. If I’m paying this much rent, I don’t want this type of neighborhood.

I hate this apartment; it’s a rip-off, and its directly over the trashroom so by the time its pick-up day the smell permeates, and it faces a giant Soviet style apartment complex that is full of sketchy tenants who are loud at night.

I hate what Uchicago has done to me. 9 months ago I was happy. I wouldn’t qualify myself as unhappy right now, but I’m all angsty and unsure about the future and that nonsense, and its like WTF was the point of an MA program, when all its done is left me  behind my peer group in terms of job experience?

So after discussing the logistics of yet another move (blech) it’s official. I’ll be back in New York/Jersey at the end of June. No, I do not have a job or an apartment. However, last time I decided to move to New York I didn’t have either of those things, and it worked out pretty well. 

It’s a weight off my shoulders to know; that’s one less decision to make. It’s the obvious thing to do really — Chicago has never felt quite right.

Getting that rough draft in really confirmed it for me — I’m almost done with what I came here to do, and now I’m ready to go home. 
And as I learned in the final weeks of my final semester at Skidmore and as I saw again in my last few weeks in the city, a lot can happen in a short period of time, especially when you’re living towards an end. 

Now to catch up my IR reading, write one awesome final draft, and get my ass back for the Second-Great-Job-and-Apartment-Search. Actually, properly speaking its the second great job hunt and the third great apartment hunt. And while I’m sure I’ll be cranky in the process (ug, job hunting. In July.) its going to be worth it.

I wrote a long entry on all the things I missed about New York, specifically about this summer there yesterday, but then deleted it, because I was being unneccesarily maudlin. I realized that “this-time-of-year” is quickly approaching. I don’t know how I feel about that; I don’t see any ‘other shoes’ that are in danger of dropping, but one never knows.

I’m in the middle of writing final papers. I have a lot of words down on the page, but still need to do a lot of editing. In my Machiavelli paper, I think I quote Schmitt and Agamben almost as much as Machiavelli. My liberalism paper is kind of silly, but again, words are on the page, its just a matter of ordering them. I talk about sex a lot. And I’m meeting my goal of turning in 15-20 pages of my thesis next week, because I will graduate in June if it kills me.

As I very crudely put it “An MA in less than nine months, this is way more productive than getting knocked up.”

So I am waiting for my laundry to be done, which is my excuse for why I can write in Livejournal instead of reading Mill or writing about Machiavelli. Because I’ll just have to get up and retrieve my laundry eventually, which would interrupt what I’m doing, which would distract me ANYWAY, so there’s no reason to even try. Even though I really need to get started on my final papers. Ug, eighth week.

My eyes are burning because I used a ton of bleach in an attempt to clean my kitchen floor. This apartment is going to kill me. I bought a mini-humidifier but it is still 19,000 degrees in here, so I have to do a routine of open window/freeze/close window at least a few times a night. I am still dehydrated. I keep refilling my water bottle. I spent the morning taking lots of notes on Diderot; nothing like French liberalism first thing in the morning.

Today was kind of awesome because David Dyzenhaus was the lecture for political theory workshop. I know that means nothing to anyone else, but I just got his new book, and I’m totally using him in my thesis, and I got to ask him a relevant question. As I’ve mentioned, I had never heard of Carl Schmitt before I came to U Chicago; it was my precept who recommended the class to me. So I told him on Thursday night I was really glad he recommended it, because Concept of the Political was one of the most provocative things I’ve read, and because this is how I got my thesis topic, and because Schmitt basically goes into a lot of critiques of liberal democracy that I’d already had, but had never quite been able to articulate. And my precept was like “Oh great, I’ve turned Rachel into a Nazi.” Hee.

It occuried to me today that, given my LJ whore-dom, I should start a Schmittian blog and start posting pieces of my thesis. Not because anyone would read it, but because I can’t for the life of me get a paper written, but I sure can churn out blog. Maybe I should just get together with the Long Sunday people.

Okay. I’m going to go waste 20 minutes looking up articles on eReserve, get my laundry, and maybe, just maybe start my Machiavelli paper.

Life feels very, very, very good right now.

Last night was the MAPSS dinner. They sat us by precept group. I got to talk to my precepter a lot. Last quarter I was very anti-him, but I have, as I mentioned, done a total 180, and he is awesome, and I am so lucky to be in this group.

We made toasts. We bonded. We did a little bit of sharing TMI. (I told the “how I got into political theory because of a boy” story.)

Sarah, who is apparently right about everything, joined our table later on in the evening. She has predicted that I’m going to get a PhD, wind up in academia, etc based on the way I talk about things. (She also predicted the conclusions of this weekend. Cough) That would solve the problem about what the hell I’m going to do with my life, but we’ll see. No Plan. Did you know political theorists are being phased out? And only about 6% of jobs in political science go to theorists, and most of those are for nonsense like “Logic” and “Game Theory.”

We went to the pub afterwards and I had good-good conversations with people I hadn’t talked to much before. I talked to one girl about NYC and how we both want to move back there, etc. I talked to a girl in my building about how we stop working at 10 PM (we live in the stupid central time zone, shut up) to watch the Daily Show.

Life is bizarre and good, and awesome. I will still say in a heartbeat that I miss New York, and I miss Astoria, and I miss the life I had there. And I still want to be done with this program and have some certainty about what the hell I’m doing next year. But, since I’ve been told I need to learn how to live in the present and not worry so much about the future, I’m going to really try to just enjoy this, for this.

How the hell is it the end of 6th week? I’m actually somewhat ahead of the game, since I have my thesis proposal on file and paper topics figured out for final papers. Because I can’t get out of my Schmittian mindset, I’m writing about “the exception,” as used by Machiavelli. Because Machiavelli basically says, it doesn’t matter what the law says, so long as you have arms to back them up, and then the prince (the sovereign) doesn’t have to follow the laws anyway, so long as he maintains the regime. And I think I’m writing about the tensions between love and equality as seen in Voltaire’s Candide but that is up in the air.

And also, I’ve done all this talk lately about “Abandoning The Plan.” I’m probably not applying for PhD programs after this is over. It’s a struggle for me just to complete this program because I don’t care about it; my heart isn’t into it. In hindsight, I chalk it up to one more thing I thought I was “supposed” to do, and realize I was definitely on to something when I bawled and insisted I did not want to go when I found out I got in here.

Another stark reminder that I should listen to my instincts, at all times.

And after three days of thinking my thesis was headed towards hopelessness, something clicked. I changed one word in my hypothesis and the way I framed my whole paper and suddenly it all makes so much more sense. I still have to rewrite the proposal and meet with potential-faculty-advisor on Monday, but I feel good about it.

This weekend will be spent seeing Sebastian, who is visiting as a potential PhD student, cleaning my apartment, and writing the perfect paper proposal so I can go into my meeting on Monday and kick ass.

And my presentation in my Machiavelli class earned praise. Maybe I’m not so stupid after all.

Now I’m going to the Campus Pub with my precept group to toast to the fan club, among other things.

*(I changed my hypothesis from “…Carl Schmitt would be critical of the war on terror….” to “….Carl Schmitt would be critical of the STRATEGY of the war on terror…” That’s obviously an oversimplification, but that’s what my thesis is about in laymans terms. Yes, I want to kick my own ass for referencing the war on terror.)