Don’t they say that humans have 6-8 dreams a night, or something ridiculous? You just don’t remember 95% of them? I’m too lazy to look it up. Anyway, my second to last dream before waking (the last one was Little House on the Prairie related) was that I got the interview in DC. 

My dreams have been oracle like before, so I was thinking about that while I was getting ready.

And then I checked my email before my ride got here, and there was a “Rachel, come in for an interview” email. It had been sent at like 6:00 am, probably right around the time I was actually having the dream. How freaky is that?

I have an interview in DC in 2 weeks! And they are paying for my train fare and accomodations. And since I’ll be in DC anyway, I’m going to stay the weekend and hang out with Keithers.

So at least SOME of the shopping I’ve been doing lately has not been for naught. Now I have plenty of job-interview outfits to choose from! I am definitely straigtening my hair.  Obviously, I have my priorities in order.

Now, I’m very psyched about this, but I also need to reign in some of my excitement. This is still a LONG process. I will be interviewing with at least 6 different people at the foundation. Even if that goes really well, I will still have to interview at 4-5 of their partner organizations. And you know what? I could be FANTASTIC, and as a result of circumstances (bad economy being one of them) they may not have a placement for me at any of their partner organizations.

So I don’t want to pin all my hopes on this, even though they clearly already are.  To say nothing of all the obsessing that will go into the possibily-moving-to-DC aspect of this.

But I’m afraid that my hopes are already there.

I’m sitting in the Nashville airport, where my flight is delayed (as expected)

I had the absolute best time in Knoxville, and not because of anything we did, neccessarily, just because I had so much fun just hanging out with Ellie and David, watching House, talking about dorky things, and laughing over said dorky things. It’s so weird – logically, I never should have wound up on Grylliade, given that I was a sporadic, at best H&R poster. But I have made some of the best friends I could imagine making through Grylliade.

Ok, we are WAY TOO EXCITED about this. I already posted my “Election 08″ gift to Kevin, and wrote something reflective, and now I just can’t sit still. So, some randomosity: (I kept this draft all day. This is a collection of election day babblings.

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Hired.

And to think, I almost blew off going to the temp agency because I didn’t want to drive down the Parkway.

This job is the best, best thing to happen to me in a very long time.

I am in a good mood!

That is all.

There’s this Dar Williams song “Iowa” in which the chorus is “Iowa” all the syllables dragged out” and the way in which the syllables are emphasized means “Astoria” could easily be subsituted. Given that I spent most of my 8th grade year writing parodies/other versions of songs, I could probably come up with something for Astoria

So my new apartment may not be in the Ditmars area of Astoria (one of my favorite place in the world, possibly…) but it’s on a good block just off of 30th Avenue, where laundry is less than a block away and the supermarket it a 3 minute walk, and the apartment is amazing. Hello, BOOK ROOM. Although, not all my books will be there immediately. I have over 2000 books. Moving books is a pain. But I am so happy to be back in Astoria.

On Thursday, I went to the monthly Astorians gathering, and saw some old faces and also got introduced to a bunch of new people, since the Astorians board has exploded in popularity since I left. What was awesome was getting several “oh, you’re back from Chicago?!?. Welcome back!” It’s such a neighborhood here. I love that I have a community to come back to.

When I was looking for apartments the first time, I didn’t have a neighborhood in mind; I simply replied to every Craigslist ad in my price range. That was when I learned that finding an apartment through the room/share section meant going on “roommate interviews” which are way worse than job interviews. It was terrible. When I had to start doing it again this time, I wanted to shoot myself. When I was 22 I could sort of tolerate it, even though almost everyone was older than me, I was used to being around college students and their drama. At 24, having worked a year in NYC, and survived my year at Chicago, I could not do it. I could not suck up to people in hopes of finding a room.

So I posted this ad in the “Housing Wanted” section of Craigslist for a roommate to apartment hunt with, basically saying “I am sick of roommate interview drama. We’ll probably annoy each other sometimes, but lets just be civil adults and find a place.”

And so I met current-roommate, who instinct says I can live with. Seriously, we sat down together, hashed things out, and we’re cool on multiple things. We found an amazing apartment together. Seriously! The place is 10 million times better than my run down apartment on the other end of Astoria. I am going to miss living in the Ditmars area, but I think this neighborhood can feel like home too.

Tonight, I am once again at my parent’s house in Jersey, unearthing my possessions from storage, because I have found permanance. I’m going to be at this apartment for quite awhile. So I can finally pull my books out of my old bookcase, bring my photo albums from under my old bed, take my old nightstand, because it won’t be needed here. I like the fact that this place has long term potential.

So tomorrow! Driving out to Astoria with my dad, with bookcases, and buying him lunch. My dad is awesome and his attitude makes me be unstressed about moving, generally. Then 3 day week (again) due to Jew holidays at work. Then getting furniture delivered, and bringing the rest of the stuff to the apartment next Thursday/Friday.

When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.

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.

I had my last final yesterday afternoon. I am signed off to graduate. I am DONE with grad school. 

An MA, in 9 months, just days after my 24th birthday? Means I have the whole rest of my life to do things completely unrelated to my over-educated degree!

Number of (un)intentional all-nighters [rough draft included]: 5
Number of times I changed the title of the project:                  6 (see the final title above)
Number of times I considered the project a complete failure: probably about 5-6. I think I only cried over it once though.
Number of drafts I’ve saved because I’m neurotic/paranoid: 58

Being done with my thesis, by the deadline for June graduation, as I wanted to all along: Priceless.

It was worth all the anti-socialness. It was worth the intimidating of the brilliant advisor. It was worth skipping class for meeting with said advisor. It was worth the mess my apartment is, buried in journal articles and books and empty cans of seltzer & energy drink (I actually took a picture of my desk last night, to capture the outrageousness)

This has been an exhilirating process of 11th hour epiphanies. I started this project feeling pretty meh, just trying to find ANYTHING that could relate to Carl Schmitt, because it would make the whole “topic/advisor” thing infinitely easier. I initially wanted to kick my own ass for chosing to write on the war on terror. And then something clicked. And then something else clicked. And its turned into a really awesome project.

The thesis is in. And now I promise never to speak of Carl Schmitt again!

Edited to add: This didn’t hurt. Like if you’ve ever had braces; getting your braces tightened hurts way worse than a tattoo.

So Em, Kate, and I got tattoos yesterday. This is mine. It’s very me for several reasons. First the little symbol in the “s” symbol in the runic alphabet. In Germanic languages, it stands for strength, battle, and victory. It was briefly appropriated by the fascists which makes it all the more appropriate considering my thesis. The quote surrounding it is from one of my most favorite Dar Williams lyric. The full quote is “I build my peace through strength/That’s the best weapon you’ve got,” but that’s a bit long for a tattoo. This is probably one of the lamest tattoos ever, but I really love mine, and we had fun getting them together.