masochist, or just plain nuts?

I'm starting to look at doctoral programs. Clearly academic amnesia has set in. Plus... it's going to cost me. I'd rather work and attend school part time (we'll pretend it's an all consuming hobby), and because the two programs I'm interested happen to be at private schools, it's going to cost a lot. A lot- a lot. As in, I can either pursue a doctorate or buy a house before I'm 40. Definitely not both. Unless I meet a sugar daddy or something. But let's face facts, shall we? I'm not exactly the extremely hot and extremely manipulated type that sugar daddy types wold go for, so I have to plan for a solo adventure.

Which is kind of scary. I mean, I really want a place purely of my own. I'm tired of literally living on top of neighbors and I want a yard for gardening and frankly, I'd like to feel a little more like a grown up. At the same time? Being able to call myself doctor would be preeeeettty nifty-- on top of a complete anomaly for someone from my hometown (NO, not Pittsburgh, but the little Mon Valley burg from whence I really came). So. What do I want more? A mortgage or more student loan payments? A garage or a funky set of regalia?

New year, new post.

Oh Baltimore, you funny little big city. With your pissing contest over a three letter word and painting yourself purple and dead fish. Wait, dead fish? Yep. Dead fish. Ew. Well, I guess that's one to remind me of home.

Being sick and all, I've spent an inordinate amount of time on my couch the past few days. The closest books within reach of said couch are Mandarin language instruction books and depressing Russian books (random history and Solzhenitsyn-- One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and The Gulag Archipelago). (I've mentioned before that I met a guy once who actually claimed Solzhenitsyn was his favorite author. That still cracks me up. I mean, come on. Could you try to make it a little less obvious that you're a pretentious pompous ass overeager to be perceived as a politically aware intellectual?). Anyway, nothing light and non-challenging for my poor addled brain, so I watched far more television than I'm used to. Which? Really adds to the feeling of unreality brought on by high quality decongestants and a few days off from work. But now I'm back to work and still trying to shake this annoyingly persistent bug. Damn reality. And my poor cube neighbors that get to hear me hacking away.

Speaking of work, I had one of those days yesterday. It was a matryoshka doll of badness kind of day. That would be the opposite of the Mary Tyler Moore Moment day (which inspired the MTMM tag on this a-here blog)-- you know, the times you're just so freaking chipper that you want to throw your hat in the air while a disembodied voice from above intones that you're going to make it after all. Yesterday: not one of those days. Just one bad thing inside another, like evil nesting dolls. I actually originally coined the term to describe a situation at work where there were so many nuances and layers of wrongness that contributed to a bad situation, so I think I'm entitled to strain that metaphor to the breaking point. Thankfully, things are looking a little better. For the time being.

If only I could stop coughing. Consumptive authoresses/ heroines are so 19th century.

happy(ish) new year

My New Year's has gone so far awry it's not funny. I appear to have caught bronchitis from my brother, and, of course, after getting so stir crazy that I just had to get off my couch, the normally reasonably reliable Jeepers' check engine light came on. When most places are already closed for the holidays and it looks like I'll be waiting until Monday to have anyone look at it. Of course. But aside from my confinement and boredom, it's traditional at the end of the year to reflect on the year that was and try to pretend that we can exert control over the year that will be. Except, well, I don't want to jinx myself or set myself up for disappointment. No pretending I can control things that much-- man proposes and God disposes, and all that. So. Just reflection on the year that was.

I think it's safe to say that 2010 has brought quite a few changes. Finally got the damn masters degree after years of procrastination (long term relationships will do that). I also bought a car, got lucky enough to entertain multiple job offers, got a job at my preferred agency, and moved a few hundred miles away to a place where I hardly know anyone. I learned how to sail small craft & got my little red book certification. I now have done enough long-ish haul drives by myself to be frustrated by those who are clearly not regular interstate drivers. The brats are adjusting, and I'm, well, perhaps not used to but resigned to being a Steelers/ Pens fan in Ravens/ Caps territory. I still find the "hon" thing funny, though. They're so possessive 'round these parts of that little word that I don't have the heart to mention that it's pretty common back home.

Of course, while I've reaped the benefits of moving hundreds of miles away from most people I care about and who care about me... and the disadvantages. I still hardly know anyone here all that well (trying to work on that...), which has been made all the more clear by my current situation. But. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? I mean, I guess I could have found a job back home, but it would have been harder to find one at all and whatever I found would have been a compromise that would have taken me further away from the ultimate direction I want my career to take. Neither was an appealing choice, but I need to make up for lost time. So here we are.

tomorrow's just an excuse away

There's something vaguely ominous about this week being my last full week of 30. In seven days I am really, truly, irrevocably In My Thirties. While I'm hardly ashamed of my age-- no perma-29 for me, unlike my mother-- my response has been to be generally immature all week. Nothing major, just doing things like blasting Smashing Pumpkins while driving around aimlessly and eating breakfast for dinner.



(That really is a fantastic song)

I think part of the nagging unsettled feeling is the sadness that I'm officially closing out my apartment. My little piece of Pittsburgh will cease to be mine and become just another memory to gather dust and cobwebs. No going back now, no olly-olly-ox-in-free. No more studio that I mockingly called the penthouse and still imagine it waiting there (as it was months ago), waiting for me to come home (even as I sit on the same couch here in Baltimore). Now I don't even have a bed at my parents' (that now resides in my guest bedroom for when they visit). Believe you me, there's nothing that makes you feel more like you don't belong than having to sleep on a godforsakenly uncomfortable couch without even a pillow at "home."

But. Closing one chapter means truly starting the next. Now that I won't be driving to Pittsburgh practically every weekend (I swear, I know 70 & the PA turnpike as well as my route to work anymore), I can focus on developing a life in Baltimore.

If only I knew what to do with myself.

Oh, that's right. I have a blog.

I've made the drive between my parents' house in Pittsburgh and my apartment in Baltimore five times in the less than one month I've had NuJeep. That's 224 miles each way, according to Google Maps. That's over 1100 miles, for those of you counting at home. My, my, how the miles pile up. I've come to despise Frederick in that short amount of time, and to find Maryland drivers absolutely befuddling. Now, I know that Pennsylvania drivers are usually put down by Megalopolis drivers (Hm. I live in Megalopolis now. How odd.), but seriously? Maryland drivers are incredibly timid on highways. It should not take five miles of highway to pass a truck. But it does when a Marylander is driving. On the other hand, Baltimore drivers are a tad aggressive. If by "a tad" you mean "crazy enough to brush the jersey wall while passing another driver in a single lane off ramp because it was just soo critical to beat the other driver to the red light at the bottom of the exit." Which I've seen not once but twice on a single lane on ramp. In my two and half weeks here. Which is a little crazy.

I really shouldn't talk about work in any kind of specifics. It looks like it's going to be challenging, but I'm still in that n00b waiting and reading pattern. On the plus side, I might get to rewrite parts of the official website that are immediately relevant to my little area while I await more in-depth projects. On the minus side, it's probably going to involve writing by committee, which makes me want to cry. I know that my teeny care of readers would never guess (based on my blathering here) that I'm a fair writer. I say fair-- I've taken writing classes, but I'm not a Writer. But lord, I daresay I'm a little better than some of the people who have authored official documents. I mean, seriously. The PfH drove me to tears with a million critiques of my style. She would be driven to tears if she read some of the things I've read. Random capitalization of nouns. Poor phrasing. Redundancy. Semicolon abuse. Imprecise language. It goes on. My inner editor is thrilled to take a red pen to some of these nightmares. But let's see how much of a leash my inner author is given.

Otherwise... I'm putting the finishing touches on my place. I suppose it's time to start getting to know my new city.. though I've already had some misadventures. Scary misadventures. I'm a little nervous about just driving around now. It's also... well, it's a little hard to meet people when you tend toward the introverted, independent type and you're living in a city where you pretty much don't know anyone. We'll see how this goes, I guess.

settling in

I'm slowly adjusting. It's raining for the first time in just about two weeks (yes, I've only been here for one), I've rearranged my furniture daily, and it's mostly stupid odds and ends to arrange once I have the furniture arranged. I went from a tiny apartment to two bedrooms, an apartment in a small building on a main street to a complex, fighting for parking (er, and tickets) to abundant free parking, gas went down a dime a gallon on average, you name it. It's strange. I obviously can't speak too much about my agency or job or anything, but it's going. There were four work days this week, two and a half of which were orientation. I finally got my badge and parking pass, which means no more car searches or standing around the front door with other new employees waiting for someone to come get me. It's not unlike waiting for mom or dad to pick you up after school. The complex is huge, and even bigger if you get in after 7:30 and have to walk a fair piece-- and I mean just in the parking lot. The work I'll be doing has been characterized as protecting the public's money. The cats are coming around, though DamnCat is clearly still spooked. Poor baby. At least there are lots of windows to look out and down upon their new world. Birds and bugs and people passing by to monitor. Extra pettings and treats from the human probably help.

In Blahtimore

In Baltimore. County, that is. Still haven't been in the city, between being too busy moving/ unpacking/ prepping for My New Job (at which I've been orienteering this week). So far, so good... though I would like to have internet access at home. That's a sore point at the moment. And Les Chats are, shall we say, a little shell shocked. Pete's recovering, with minor fur-pulling. Zizi is taking a bit longer, but you've got to appreciate the fact that she's lived within a 20-odd foot radius for the vast majority of her 7 years. Poor baby.

Also, it is ungodly hot. Why did I, hater of heat and humidity, move to Baltimore? Oh right. Job. Anyway, at least the brats are blissfully unaware of 105 degree temps, as they're also experiencing central air for the first time in their lives.

Good bye.

So long & thanks for all the fish. Sore, tired, and Baltimore bound.

Panic time

Down to under 72 hours until moving day. There's so much to do in so little time, and everything I do eats up s o m u c h t i m e. Just dropping off NuJeep at the dealer for minor work (Jeepzilla has finally reached the end of its run with me-- at 215,510 miles and damn I wish I'd driven just two more miles before deciding to take NuJeep-- and there is NuJeep which is basically Jeepzilla but silvery grey, 5 years younger, and with 143,000 fewer miles. Oh, and with air conditioning) took two and a half hours out of my day. Printing & faxing papers took another hour plus. Hell, it took three and a half hours at the dealer's Saturday, another two hours to pick up la mère's gift from my brother, probably four or five hours shopping for car insurance (plus another hour and a half to actually buy it after comparing the coverage with les parents).

Of course I'm panicking. Because on top of that, every stupid little thing that can go wrong has. NuJeep's tachometer mysterious dropped to zero while on 76 in Ohio and again while trying to go through a green light. Instead of getting it back today, I'll probably get it back tomorrow (in the meantime, I have a convertible loaner-- on a rainy day, natch). I can't find anything-- and I mean anything in my apartment. And believe you me, there is little more difficult than trying to pack in a studio apartment of a certain size. Where do you put the boxes? Frankly, I just want to toss out so much stuff just to avoid having to deal with it. Clothes, plastic food containers, you name it. I've had the misfortune of discovering such a severe moth infestation that I had to toss most of my not inconsiderable fiber and yarn stash (basically, anything not cotton or synthetic-- and I hate synthetics and knitting with cotton). There was simply too much damage and not enough time or space to try to treat the problem. And yes, it is exquisitely heart-wrenching. I will never, ever accept an unprocessed fleece unless I have an outdoor chest freezer where I can debug it.

My poor cats have born the brunt of my flipping out. Dashing away while I pull my hair out, trying to find the brand new scotch brite pads I JUST SAW, then curling by my feet when I need to just stop for a moment-- I'm really lucky to have these monsters. I'm dreading how they will react to the move, but I hope that they appreciate how much space they're about to have.

I think I need to listen to some angry, energizing music.

stress-induced headache

Time is sweeping past so quickly. Less than two weeks to go until the big move and the new job.

My diploma arrived.



I had it sent to my parents' in case it didn't arrive before I moved, so le frère brought it with him to an event at the museum. One disappointment: it's tiny compared to CMU's ginormous diploma-envy-inspiring monster.

My avocado continues to develop.



In other news, general panic about finding a car, moving, etc abounds. Urk.

19 more sleeps in Pittsburgh

18 days until I'm gone for good, including moving day.

Panic time.

hot & humid weather makes me irritable

Why did we have to spring forward to August? Yuck.

The disembodied floating head of Andrew Carnegie for the Arts Festival is funny, but sort of cements the idea that you can be a right mean bastard with gallons of blood on your hands for your entire life, but the donation of a few million here and there will turn you into a kindly old uncle. I mean, the man had shared responsibility in the Johnstown Flood (over 2,200 killed and still one of the largest disasters in US history) and dumped the Homestead Strike in Frick's lap before hiding out in Scotland-- plus he played an active role in the subsequent subjugation of immigrants fresh off the boat. But it's all good. You can buy your way to a polished legacy and a teddy bear image with a few libraries and music halls (though no funds for their continuation) and such.

Speaking of libraries.... I tend to not want to do things that are overhyped. Like, I have no desire to watch Firefly/ Serenity, Avatar, Lost, or many of the things I quote-unquote should obsess over based on my demographic. I'll take a look at things in my own time, thank you very much. But with time to kill, I picked up The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen from the library (while picking up BPRD 1946). And... I'm done with Alan Moore. Watchmen was decent, but League magnified the sexism issues I had with Watchmen into artful misogyny and I can not tolerate that. The Hellboy universe is an Eden of feminism compared to everything I've read from Moore, and Hellboy is decidedly non-political or partisan (well, except for being anti-Nazi-- but who isn't?). A+ for conceit, F- for execution.

Speaking of execution, the problem with recently watching Death Race-- which is admittedly big and dumb and surprisingly entertaining, though not nearly as hilarious as its predecessor-- is that when I'm on the parkway and already feel like most of the other drivers are out to kill me, I really think it would be awesome to have a cow catcher and anti-tank missiles on jeepzilla. I think jeepzilla would like it, too.

DamnCat is still afraid that the new covered litter box is a carrier. She's FINALLY out for short stretches after hiding for about 35 hours. I managed to get her new collar-- with SKULLS!-- on her by touch when she was in the closet, but she's a little... edgy at present. Poor baby.

I am so going to miss Pittsburgh real estate prices. Assuming that my two years turn into permanent, houses in the area-- and we're talking moderate houses further out from the city core, where prices should be lower-- are still about 1.5-2.5x what you'd pay for comparable housing in the Pittsburgh area. Yikes.

Mole day (alternate; unobserved)

It's been exactly one month since graduation, and exactly one month until I take possession of my new place. Still feeling a bit unreal-- though that could be the drugs talking. My family shares a little too much sometimes. This time it's a narsty chest cold. There's little more irritating than a cold in the summer time, especially when you have pre-existing feelings of unreality exaggerated by decongestant.

I'm kind of over this sudden sprint into August weather. I despise the hot and humid, and it's been pretty much all hot, all humid all the time for the past month. On the plus side, we're starting to get majestic thunderstorms. Yay!

Speaking of happy, I've got a bloom.



And the dendrobium keiki continues to develop.



Did I mention that I got an avocado pit to sprout? I didn't have activated charcoal for an aquarium, so it's horticultural charcoal keeping the water a little fresher.




My shower window really is a happy place for the plants. I'm going to have a hard time replicating these conditions.

T-minus 30 days

Exactly one month left in Pittsburgh.

I am no longer homeless in Baltimore. I found a nice quiet place with two bedrooms, a large! balcony, a smaller but nice pool, and is cat-friendly. The residents I met have lived there for ages (literally over a decade). And if it turns out to be less nice than it seemed for the 90+ minutes we were there, it's just for a year. The area itself is, well, going to be an adjustment as a whole.

I'm alternating between excited and up for adventure, nervous enough to make myself sick, absolutely NOT wanting to pack and carry my stuff downstairs, and deeply saddened by knowing that I'm leaving definitely for two years, probably for good. There's that twinge of guilt when talking to some people who are genuinely sad to see me go, and that twinge of hurt at non-responses to my invitations to do something before I leave. It's a roller coaster of fun.

But onwards and upwards. Or further up and further in. Something. It's amazing to me how something as simple as a long shower can make you feel better. And it's amazing to me how my one horrifically damaged orchid clings to life, growing a keiki and three tiny new canes. My harlequin phal also has a keiki, plus one bud. My Den atroviolaceum is still in bloom-- two months and counting. I will no longer have a window in my bathroom in my new place-- my orchids are going to require some planning. I need a moderately large table top terrarium, but trying to find one that's tall enough to accommodate my Aliceara and does not come already filled with plants is tricky. Amazon, you have failed me.

Speaking of collections, I need to photograph my Fiesta collection as I pack it up. I do have a decent sized collection now, though I can't positively identify one bowl. I mean, I know it's Fiesta-- it came from the factory store-- but what it is...hmmm.

I wonder if my postcard collection is going to turn up?

Packing up the cats, too...

quick hits

• Watched Torchwood today while packing because BBC America had a mini-marathon. Excellent timing, and Captain Jack Hotness indeed.
• Academic amnesia: when you forget how miserable you were the last semester of school and find yourself idly perusing doctoral programs. Specifically doctoral programs in the city to which you are relocating. And wondering how your GRE scores would compare. I blame packing regalia.
• Carrying boxes of books down three stories and around a corner is no way to move. Unfortunately, the summer seems to have brought even MORE cars to my neighborhood despite the universities all being in summer session. A giant WTF to that.
• My apartment already looks less like my apartment, even with so little stuff out
• I was winnowing down apartments to actually examine this morning based on reviews and came across one review where a resident complained about crime and a recent homicide. That was a heaping helping of WTFery, but the complex's astroturfing just made it worse-- that the residents were whiny and TWO homicides in the past three years in that complex wasn't so bad because there's no place without crime. Yeah, strike that one off the list, and frankly I'm not so sure about the other one that's down the road.

moving cats

I have two cats, DamnCat and EmoCat (sometimes FatCat). DamnCat's been mine since she was a tiny bottle baby. She's demanding, selective with her affection, and somewhat agoraphobic. She did NOT take well to moving next door from my old apartment, and she does NOT like to travel in the slightest. She has enjoyed perfect health, so she hasn't actually left my apartment since moving. EmoCat despises traveling as well, probably because it reminds him of being left at the shelter as a bald, malnourished boy covered with flea allergy dermatitis. Both are going to have to go to a vet for a checkup, rabies booster, a certification of their health, and tranquilizers-- because they're going on a much longer trip in the near future. However, I only have one smallish carrier and I've been trying to find two larger ones to accommodate my M-to-L and XXL cats. Larger, nicer carriers to make the trip more tolerable without spending $150 (times two) on a Sleepypod (which I'm not sure would fit EmoCat anyway).. it's a little tough. So I'm left searching Amazon and Drs Fosters and Smith. Which is an eye-opening experience, to say the least. I can hear DamnCat sharpening her claws as I dare to even look at this. And please, please shoot me if I ever buy a stroller for my cats.

Ah yes, now I recall why I haven't moved for so long...

I hate moving with a passion. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I've got a ton of boxes thanks to friends and family stealing them away from workplaces, but I have a feeling that I'll still need more because stuff has a habit of multiplying, if you get my drift.

Ugh.

I literally own hundreds of books. It's lovely when they're all in their places on the shelves, but even though I tend toward buying softcovers (they're cheaper, smaller, and lighter) they're still the densest material on the face of the earth. Seriously. A box full of books versus a box full of lead or osmium? The books win.

Of course I've had this running through my head. And you, oh tiny cadre of readers, will now have it stuck in your head. It's the Official Song That Causes Uncontrollable Sobbing for the majority of my generation.



Sorry for the unfortunately large size. It's the smallest version available. But, of course, we can't have too much of a downer. So continuing the Muppet theme....a few of my absolute favorite bits from The Muppet Show:







(I actually have the Hallmark ornament from that sketch!)

And the last word...

The ice cream is really ice cream! Be is the finale of seem!

Perhaps one in a hundred or so will get the title of this post, but it's okay. Many thanks to H for reminding me that I once had so much fun with poetry.

It's weird when things actually work out. I'm not used to it. I'm used to bizarre!crazy!weird! things happening at bizarre!crazy!weird! times, used to disappointment and heartbreak, used to being just close enough but not quite there. So I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've accepted a job that's very well-placed, prestigious enough to impress the right people and impressive enough for a certain company president to make sure that I connect with their federal representation, pays decently well and has killer benefits.

So why am I nervous? Aside from the the whole I-have-one-month-to-relocate thing? Because nothing every works out smoothly. There's no such thing as a fairytale ending, no perfect triumph-over-adversity story, no truly happy endings. It's just the way the world works.

In the meantime, I'm saying goodbye to my city. Today was Clayton. Tomorrow, maybe the rest of the Frick (today was a free admission to Clayton day, so the Frick was packed). Thursday will be the Carnegie. I plan a whirlwind tour in the next four weeks: the zoo, the aviary, the history center, the Warhol (to see cousin Andy), the inclines, Westmoreland Museum of American Art, Fallingwater, the Nationality Rooms, Point State Park-- basically, visiting most of my favorite places between packing. Phipps, too, of course-- but I've been a member that drops by monthly (at least), so it's more of a personal thing. Early on a weekday morning, with the place virtually to myself... it's really rather lonely and lovely. Which is probably why I feel so comfortable there.

counting the days

I had a King family reading fest-- Under the Dome and Horns. Dome was not great, but far better than most of SK's recent stuff. Horns was even better than Heart Shaped Box. There are little bits in Dome where you can so tell that SK has had a corgi (one of the main characters has one). It's really funny, though you might have to have one to really appreciate it.

Bleh. I'm so bored, waiting around to hear whether anyone wants me to do anything for a month. I've put in with several temp agencies and volunteer inquiries to see if I can give these few weeks some shape. I'm not used to this.

I'm also kind of tired of feeling like those closest to me don't exactly respect my career choices. I consider myself fairly moderate (except when it comes to social issues), but that still puts me pretty far to the left of most of my family. Guess that's what happens when you actually listened when the nuns talked about the original dirty hippie. Anyway, I chose to study public health/ health policy and now I'm choosing to work for the feds in a pretty important, pretty big agency. Which is like, the antithesis of conservatism on the face of it. Public health is all about pragmatic liberalism. And wanting to work for the feds automatically makes me a pencil-pushing bureaucrat worthy of withering contempt. It kind of sucks when the congratulations are tempered with the suspicion that they think I'm an idiot.

Let's think about something happy now. Ducks?


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

It's funny because I did have ducky minions once. They were so excited by crackers that they followed me around and even allowed me to pet them.