Tag Archives: personal maturity crisis

It’s official.

This fall, I am going to begin an English doctoral program in an absolutely kick-ass department. I visited campus last week and can’t even begin to express how psyched I am to get to work with this group of professors and students. They’re brilliant and open-minded and passionate about what they study, and they seem genuinely excited about what I want to study, too.

The closest I’ve gotten to being able to describe how I feel about this is comparing it to winning a gold medal in figure skating, but with less flesh-toned lycra:

...but just as much sparkle!

On the down side of this hotness, this means that the T-Dogg and I will be leaving D.C. come late summertime. So for those of you in Mid-Atlantic-Land, please indulge our demands to steal as much time with you as we can these next few months, all whilst bracing yourselves for some sort of going-away brouhaha that will likely involve meat grilling and Italian lawn sports and a criminally dangerous alcohol-to-water-in-the-middle-of-August consumption ratio. And those of you up in the Northeast, get ready for the invasion.

Ed. Note: I shortened this cause I didn’t want the bit about the application process to come off as being all cranky pants in an otherwise happy pants post. If you’d like me to regale you with the horrors sometime, buy me a drink and watch me go.

Do I dare to eat a peach?

I’m 30 today, bitches. Yeehaw!

The shock, followed by the resignation.

The shock, followed by the resignation.

I guess I’m supposed to say how it seems like only yesterday that I was a bright-eyed college student with my whole world-oyster ahead of me, but that would be a goodly bit of bullshit. A lot has happened since then–good, bad, and in the middle–and sometimes I barely recognize 21-year-old me. Other times I wonder if 30-year-old me would even like 21-year-old me.

Then I wonder if 30-year-old-me and 21-year-old me would get in a cat fight, and, if so, who would win.

(I think 30-year-old me would kick some ass. I work out these days, you know.)

There goes my back-up plan.

“Cue the sound of thousands of blogger hearts breaking…”

the ol’ hitcheroo

So, for those of you who haven’t already heard the news on Ty’s blog, he joined the world of question-poppers in the wee-est of Halloween hours, dressed in his glow-in-the-dark skeleton gear and armed with a bag full of the tastiest chocolate candies in the world. (It being Halloween and all.)

I said yes.

Like, duh.

(Details to follow…!)

(Personal) Indecision 2008

Five short little years ago, I was able to make decisions. Wanna run a marathon? Sure! Wanna switch careers? Sure! Wanna take up a new hobby? Sure! Wanna move to a small dumb island, or a big dumb city? Sure! If I blindfoldedly threw a dart on a map, I probably would have packed my shit up and moved wherever it landed.

But these days, even the littler decisions are sorta wrought with implications, invented or otherwise. I can’t decide if I should run another marathon. I can’t decide if I should sign up for sewing classes, or learn a foreign language. And so I definitely can’t decide what I want to be when I grow up.

Never mind that, by anyone’s calculations except mine, I am grown up.

What the heck?

Holy Canole

Welcome to the world, Liam Patrick.

(…)

Am I a bad person if I don’t think incompetent people have a right to live?

Just wondering.

Did I just write that? How horrible of me. Let me make it up to you with a happy funshine bear!

cover letters

I’ve been writing a lot of them lately. It’s terribly tempting to insert testaments to skills inappropriate to legal workplaces, just to keep myself amused.

“By applying my experiences with editing, publishing, and researching, as well as my strong written and oral communication skills, I aim to continue helping individuals reach their full potential regardless of their economic and cultural backgrounds. I am also gregarious, compassionate, and a demon in the sack.”

Though, knowing me, I’d forget to edit them out.

Leaving madness no choice but to ensue.