Two Whole Days of Productivity and a Whole Lotta Love

Is it possible?  Did I just use two whole days' worth of time (more or less) wisely?

I think I did.  While I didn't make it to 9 am yoga, I did manage one running session at the gym.  I ran a ton of overdue errands.  After weeks of conflicting schedules, I made it out to grad night dinner, a weekly tradition in my (now former) graduate program.  Amazing.  I adore those people.  Everyone is kind, funny and smart and any time we gather, it's a night of loud talking, belly laughs and strange looks from other dining patrons.  (Fuck 'em!)

But getting shit done is in my nature.  It's not totally surprising.  What DID surprise me was presents.  Birthday presents from friends I rarely see, to be specific.  Since my birthday is over Thanksgiving weekend and less than a month before Christmas, I never expect presents from friends, ever.  Hell, it's a struggle to even give my parents a list.  (This might also be partially because they whine about the contents of my list.)  I just...I have lots of *things.* At the moment, I share a small house with three other people; the last thing I need is more *things* to take up our precious space.  Birthdays in my family are not really big gift-giving occasions.

People say I'm incredibly hard to buy for.  (Lies I say!  I have many interests, I just don't have space!)  So, imagine my shock when I gifts from friends, two of whom don't even live in the same state.  Even a stranger, a waiter at my fancy birthday dinner with the BF, put a candle in our dessert plate.  I realize that is part of his job, but it caught me off guard and seemed so sweet.  After years of not really celebrating my birthday (thanks grad school, I forgot how old I was turning this year), I had forgotten what a birthday could be.   I am so deeply touched and I feel incredibly loved and lucky to know such nice people.  It made my day.

(As an aside- the two out of state friends are both people I've met at metal fests/online.  I love how shocked my mom gets when I tell her things like "My metal friend from OK just sent me an incredibly thoughtful gift."  I think know she assumes all metal people are knuckle-dragging cretins, despite my achievements, despite my boyfriend's politeness, despite...rationality.  At the very least, she assumes we're all unmotivated, thoughtless people, ill-suited to be seen outside, let alone shopping for and mailing gifts.)

But it's not all about what I received.  I also took my thesis committee members gifts- fancy red wine and dark chocolate.  And of course, touching heartfelt notes.  That's just how I roll.  My advisers seemed genuinely happy to get gifts.  My chair even hugged me and offered my job advice.  Another adviser offered me some freelance copy-editing work- editing HIS work.  Awesome.  I love that The Committee liked their gifts.  I just wanted them to know that I appreciated their wisdom, their experience, their feedback and their patience, above all.  I know I made them proud, but that wouldn't have even been possible without their guidance.  Although my university might not be the most prestigious, my department has some of the most outstandingly brilliant faculty, and I feel I received a great education.  The least I can do is get them drunk.

Sometimes it is better to give things and to receive love.  This feeling, it's like being hugged by the whole world.

Rebirth on my 24th, Infinite Possibility

Infinite Possibilities.  Infinite. Possibilities.  I was in grad school, busting my buns on my thesis a mere few weeks ago.  I imagined the time post-thesis and pre-moving as a space for infinite possibility.  I wanted day trips to make a travel blog or a cool YouTube channel.  I had stockpiled XL shirts in hopes of turning them into cute fitted tops and household goods.  Craft ideas and books- oh god, the books- are coming out of my wazoo.  Sifting through my computer revealed tons of notes for short stories I planned to write, including a set of Revolutionary-themed erotic novels under a pen name I find hysterically perfect.  Not to mention, countless errands and daily life things that pile up when one is tied (crying) to a computer chair, writing frantically to meet deadlines.  I even signed up to volunteer at a no-kill animal shelter to snuggle some animals.  I went to the formal orientation, but I am ashamed to say I have yet to volunteer a single minute.

I pictured my body, toned by workouts and yoga I did religiously.  I envisioned YouTube dollars.  I saw a fledgling writing career.  My music blog (which is on Blogger under a similarly styled pen name...) would explode with new reviews and interviews.  I thought I would immediately sit down and finally teach myself bass. And Spanish.  I'd meditate often, cook healthier food and bike everywhere.  I'd launch a magazine designed to empower girls.  It would look like Seventeen but with the message of a mentoring program I dedicated four years of my life to.  (This idea is totally a go, I've been slowly working on the planning aspects with a friend and have generated a fair bit of interest in the local activist community.)

On one hand, the final draft of my thesis was only approved November 16th, 9 days ago.  Between my defense date, October 29th and the University's final deadline (November 9th, more or less), I did a fair amount of work including revisions, formatting corrections and fighting a copyright battle with a less-than-helpful editor who refused to return my phone calls.  Simultaneously, the whole time I wrote my thesis, I kept telling myself, "The minute you're finished, you're going to be able to do all those things you love!" And what have I done?

NOTHING.  Not literally nothing.  I've applied for more or less every available history-related, museum-related and adjuncting job I found listed online in both public and private sectors.  I'm waiting on phone calls.  I've gotten a few rejection e-mails (Damn Veteran's Preference!  I kid, I do.  It's still frustrating!).  I went to DC with my mom on a fact-finding mission.  I found a few facts; 1. DC proper is too damn busy and too damn crowded.  2. I really enjoyed my soon-to-be town. 3. Lots of great apartments!  I have options!  Mostly, I've been watching re-runs of Roseanne and America's Next Top Model. (I can hear you judging me, stop that.)

Most importantly, I started a volunteer project with a local museum.  This museum, recently acquired by my department, is being modernized and opened to the public.  Slowly. My job is to create audio tours for the public that can be downloaded via free wi-fi and smart phone/tablet/gadget/what have you.  I really love the museum space.  I adore the office coordinator (whose name, like all other details of my life, will remain private)- she is incredible, smart, patient and kind.  In general, being at the museum, finding a way to communicate the past to a broad public audience is great.  It's what I love to do and the main reason I studied public history.  Since I finished school, this is the only thing I have done successfully, and barely so.
Some of that is my fault, for just being useless.  Some of that is the holidays; the people who will approve my scripts is out of town or in meetings or writing final exams.

The long and short of this rant is that I have yet to live up to or complete anything.  Each day, I grow more anxious.  It's not that I'm in a rush, I'm here until Mid-March.  My name's on a lease and everything.  No apartment can even give me availability this far out.  It's just that...I know how fast time slips by, especially when one is being a loaf.  All days just blend into one, uneventful, unaccomplished...blob.

I don't like feeling like a blob.  I don't like not contributing to dialogues.  I miss reading and writing.  I've whined "switching between formal and casual writing is sooo harrrrrd" for weeks.  It is hard.  But, I also wrote this whole blog in a casual voice and I didn't have one aneurysm.  Nothing is strained.  Academic writing is a struggle too, but I completed a monster Master's thesis in what my adviser called record time (ahem).   Casual writing, to me, is about verbalizing things I feel emotions towards.  It's from the heart and soul, which I've poured out here in all it's glory and failure.

So, on my 24th birthday, as a gift to myself (besides the fab massage I received earlier), I am going to rededicate myself to the infinite possibilities of post-grad life.  Finishing a thesis is a little like post-postpartum depression, I imagine.  I don't have kids, so I don't want to make light, but I literally gave a year of my life to my thesis.  I rarely took a day off, working 6-8 hours or more per day.  Sometimes, I worked twelve hours straight, not stopping to even eat or shower.  A calendar year.  Babies really are made in less time.  And how does one beat depression?  I don't really have the answer to that, but I know keeping an active mind and body is a hell of a lot more healthy than watching TV re-runs.

I pledge to myself to write a lot more, on this blog.  About books, current events (maybe, if I disable comments), and history/museums/travel.  Why segregate my interests into separate blogs?  No need! This is 2012, I am a multi-faceted person and my interests can share a blog.  (Although my music blog will remain separate, as that's a whole other alias, if anyone is interested.)   I want to write once a week on each blog.  Or more.  I want to walk dogs, do yoga, read books, take photos, start a youtube channel, run more.  All the things I promised myself.  I'm not going to let a few weeks of postpartum laziness ruin my whole, sacred time off.  How many people have the opportunity to lounge for a few months between grad school and the REAL WORLD? Not many.

Starting today, I'm taking full advantage.  Happy birthday to me.