In all the individual prayer times in mass, once I was old enough to pay attention to what was going on, I only ever prayed for one thing.
"Please, God, help me to believe."
I would look at all these people around me, who obviously felt some sort of divine presence in their lives, people whose sincerity was obvious, people who knew there was some non-interacting but apparently caring and IMPORTANT consciousness floating around, and I couldn't feel it. I wondered and wondered, "what is wrong with me? I don't feel like that!"
I wish I'd had the vocabulary to express agnosticism and atheism as a tween. Knowing there are other people who can't convince themselves that a magical force that loves everyone but doesn't ever do anything but controls everything exists would have been very comforting.
I tried behaving as if I devoutly believed, to see if that would help me to. It didn't. I was afraid to act devout publicly, because I knew I was faking it. I didn't talk about my struggles with church and religion, because I just thought something was wrong with me. If all these other people are getting something valuable out of church, I should too.
In high school, I quit caring. I went through the motions of confirmation, because it was important to everyone around me, even though it was a massive waste of time. I didn't have any particular belief set then, I just pushed the issue away and focused on more important things. Like picking a college major, and a college, and figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. The only time I really thought about it was at an elementary school reunion, where one of the classmates who had always been nice to me told me he felt God had called him to service. "How does he know that? Why is he so sure? Why have I never made it to probably?"
In college, I had a lot of more-or-less devout friends, so I started attending church again. Maybe this time it would work, and I would feel...whatever it is. I really liked the church there. The priests were fun, good speakers, and talked more about reality than divinity. Lots of sermons on tolerance, being good people, doing good things. I enjoyed the message, the music, and the people.
I still prayed at every mass for faith, because I still couldn't convince myself that any of the god stuff made any sense at all. Again, people all around me had no trouble believing that an invisible being that never did anything anyone could sense and only left one very random mish-mash of books written by men to say anything about itself knew and guided everyone all the time. Lovely, intellegent, fabulous people. So I figured that if everyone else could see that this bizarre concept made sense, and that creating an entire philosophy out of a self-contradicting compliation of documents was not only reasonable, but the best way, that it must just be me. Obviously, there's something wrong with me.
That's not a comfortable feeling to have, but EVERYONE I knew identified as a Christian believer of some sort. There were variations, of course, between the non-introspective roommate who was a believer because that's what she'd been taught and she never really thought about it, who attended church during the major holidays and the Aeroboy who attended two services every Sunday and truly believed that doing anything fun at all would send you straight to Hell.
And then there was me, unwilling to admit I couldn't believe because that indicated there was something terribly wrong with me, but unable to read the Bible any differently than the fairy tales and Greek myths I loved as a kid. Except the Bible was usually more tedious, more violent, less coherent, and didn't include the names of the women.
I was scared of the word "atheist" because all the people I knew considered it derogatory, indicative of moral failing, or at best, misguided and pitiable. I defined myself as an apathetic agnostic for awhile, because saying "I don't know, but I don't really care" is safer than saying "I don't understand how all of you can make any sense out of this."
I talked about it with MM once, asking her how she could deal with the biblical discrepancies, the lack of response from the universe, the non-appearance of God. Her reply, "That's part of the mystery" is the best answer I've ever gotten, and it simply doesn't work for me. Accepting that there's no reason to believe and believing anyway is not something I'm capable of.
I find the notion of eternal life absolutely terrifying, and can't understand why it's considered a reward. I want more time than I'm likely to get, but I don't want forever. The concept of infinity really freaked me out as a kid.
I shall be grateful for the rest of my life to one of the Aeroboys, for telling me he's an atheist and giving me the resources to find others. Suddenly, there was nothing wrong with me. I can't believe because believing in something that can't be detected in any way at all because some people wrote some stuff down a couple thousand years ago doesn't make sense.
There is nothing intrinsically valuable about faith. In no other area is it considered a good thing to believe everything anyone says without question. Whole classes are taught on evaluating the validity of web resources. You're supposed to actively disbelieve the stranger who says he has candy in his van. Food processors have to prove their factories are clean and their products are safe. I'm feeling compelled to provide examples to back up my statements on a personal blog that nobody reads.
I am an atheist because I can't choose to believe in something that doesn't make any sense or provide any actual, measurable, proof of its existence, and I am okay with that. I am much more comfortable with a god-free world, and an ethical system based on empathy instead of a deeply sexist, xenophobic, and authoritarian ancient book. I wish it had taken less than 24 years to learn I wasn't profoundly broken.
16 March 2010
15 March 2010
Open House
The open house today went well. Most of the people in the age bracket appropriate for this size of house LOVED my paint colors, although several elderly neighbors were rather taken aback. I hope they were only shocked by the orange wall in the basement, because if my blue and gray living room was too much, that's kind of sad. The realtor really liked how we staged what little stuff we have, which was nice to hear after all our hard work! Another realtor who came to see the house thinks a house-hunting client of his would like ours, and love the neighborhood, so we'll hopefully be showing again later this week.
In the past week, not only have we cleaned the house twice, we've also painted the front door white, painted a small angle wall gray, scrubbed the baseboards the dogs get muddy, washed, folded, and put away a month's worth of laundry (since I don't have to wear job appropriate attire, laundry is usually motivated by R running out of socks, and he has a lot of them), moved all the packed stuff into the van, organized the storage room, put the storage room door back up, fixed the guest room door, planted butterfly garden seeds and mulched the flower beds, and changed the dining room light switch. We didn't manage to get the bedroom ceiling fan up, because R slept wrong and strained a neck/shoulder muscle. He couldn't lift his arms above his head, making wiring near the ceiling impossible.
We spent most of our exiled time at the bookstore, where I overheard a conversation between a couple of 15-ish year olds. The boy was sad because some girl wasn't calling him, and the girl was recommending not stalking the not-calling girl. I really wanted to tell him "she's just not that into you, quit trying" because the situation sounded like the not-calling girl just didn't know how to say no. I didn't, though, because that would be a tad creepy. I imagine he'll figure it out.
My lovely blue lace knitting project is moving right along. Now that I understand the pattern, it's pretty fast work. I imagine it'll get tedious before the end. I've finished 3.5 of 14 pattern repeats, so I still have a fair amount left to do. According to my spreadsheet, I'm 30.38% done. I'm very happy with the clear beads, and glad I went with them instead of blue ones.
In the past week, not only have we cleaned the house twice, we've also painted the front door white, painted a small angle wall gray, scrubbed the baseboards the dogs get muddy, washed, folded, and put away a month's worth of laundry (since I don't have to wear job appropriate attire, laundry is usually motivated by R running out of socks, and he has a lot of them), moved all the packed stuff into the van, organized the storage room, put the storage room door back up, fixed the guest room door, planted butterfly garden seeds and mulched the flower beds, and changed the dining room light switch. We didn't manage to get the bedroom ceiling fan up, because R slept wrong and strained a neck/shoulder muscle. He couldn't lift his arms above his head, making wiring near the ceiling impossible.
We spent most of our exiled time at the bookstore, where I overheard a conversation between a couple of 15-ish year olds. The boy was sad because some girl wasn't calling him, and the girl was recommending not stalking the not-calling girl. I really wanted to tell him "she's just not that into you, quit trying" because the situation sounded like the not-calling girl just didn't know how to say no. I didn't, though, because that would be a tad creepy. I imagine he'll figure it out.
My lovely blue lace knitting project is moving right along. Now that I understand the pattern, it's pretty fast work. I imagine it'll get tedious before the end. I've finished 3.5 of 14 pattern repeats, so I still have a fair amount left to do. According to my spreadsheet, I'm 30.38% done. I'm very happy with the clear beads, and glad I went with them instead of blue ones.
11 March 2010
A letter to the dogs
Dear Nova and Quasar,
You're adorable, you really really are. And lovey, and hilarious, and pretty much awesome. However. I just cleaned the house yesterday, and I have an open house on Sunday, so it would be really really really fantastic if you could quit trying to bring the ENTIRE backyard into the house with you. Muddy footprints on the floor may seem fun, but I have to mop, and it makes my back hurt. Bringing in mulch might seem like getting new toys, but it breaks apart, isn't picked up well by the vacuum, and will do a lot more good around the plants than as splinters in my feet. All those dead leaves you're bringing in are just making me vacuum more often, which means carrying the heavy thing up and down the stairs, which makes my back hurt. Really, you can let the leaves decompose outside. The soil needs some more organic matter anyway.
Please quit stepping on the tulips. They'll be pretty and happy if you give them a chance to grow. The same goes for the bluebells, once they start coming up.
I am allowed to eat without help. If I don't want all of my delicious cinnamon toast, I'll give you what's leftover, because I don't like throwing food away. Just because you can jump on the chaise, Nova, doesn't mean you always should. While I'm mentioning jumping up, if I have the beads out for my new knitting project, please don't step on them. They fall and roll and disappear, and I'm sure the vacuum won't like them.
Quasar, you can throw the soft toys all you want, but not the bones. They're hard and heavy and there's breakable stuff near the floor. Like R's string bass. And the fireplace doors. And my teevee.
Lastly, just because I walk past the puppy cabinet in the kitchen doesn't mean I'm there to get treats out. Sometimes I need to walk through the kitchen. Especially on laundry day. Nova, I know you're smart enough to figure this one out, so do that, and explain it to Quasar, would you?
Keep play fighting to your hearts' content though, because today's fight was hilarious. The cuddles, kisses, and fetch are good too.
Love,
Me
You're adorable, you really really are. And lovey, and hilarious, and pretty much awesome. However. I just cleaned the house yesterday, and I have an open house on Sunday, so it would be really really really fantastic if you could quit trying to bring the ENTIRE backyard into the house with you. Muddy footprints on the floor may seem fun, but I have to mop, and it makes my back hurt. Bringing in mulch might seem like getting new toys, but it breaks apart, isn't picked up well by the vacuum, and will do a lot more good around the plants than as splinters in my feet. All those dead leaves you're bringing in are just making me vacuum more often, which means carrying the heavy thing up and down the stairs, which makes my back hurt. Really, you can let the leaves decompose outside. The soil needs some more organic matter anyway.
Please quit stepping on the tulips. They'll be pretty and happy if you give them a chance to grow. The same goes for the bluebells, once they start coming up.
I am allowed to eat without help. If I don't want all of my delicious cinnamon toast, I'll give you what's leftover, because I don't like throwing food away. Just because you can jump on the chaise, Nova, doesn't mean you always should. While I'm mentioning jumping up, if I have the beads out for my new knitting project, please don't step on them. They fall and roll and disappear, and I'm sure the vacuum won't like them.
Quasar, you can throw the soft toys all you want, but not the bones. They're hard and heavy and there's breakable stuff near the floor. Like R's string bass. And the fireplace doors. And my teevee.
Lastly, just because I walk past the puppy cabinet in the kitchen doesn't mean I'm there to get treats out. Sometimes I need to walk through the kitchen. Especially on laundry day. Nova, I know you're smart enough to figure this one out, so do that, and explain it to Quasar, would you?
Keep play fighting to your hearts' content though, because today's fight was hilarious. The cuddles, kisses, and fetch are good too.
Love,
Me
09 March 2010
In which I trimph over a ball of yarn
I got new yarn yesterday, and the pretty blue laceweight for MM went onto needles, as soon as I found the size 6 circular. It was hiding. Casting on laceweight was interesting, since I've never worked with such tine, stretchy stitches before. The cast on I was supposed to use just resulted in knots, so I internetted to find something that would produce the same effect that would work for me. The border was super easy, even with learning how to add beads with the smallest crochet hook ever, but then I got to the lace. The first row took me 3 tries, because I had dropped a stitch in the previous row and kept not noticing. Luckily, this yarn sticks to itself pretty easily, so after all that time, I could still just put the stitch back on the needle. The second row I did 1.5 times, because I forgot the beads but noticed halfway through the row. The third row I got right to start with! I am making much progress, and I LOVE how the beads and the yarn look together. The timing was fantastic, as I can now work on this project and leave my two airplane projects for the long airplane ride. I didn't want the airplane projects to get too bulky, but I needed something to work on. Naturally, now that my new yarn is here, I have the perfect light for scrapbooking again. I'm pretty happy to have things to do that generate a sense of accomplishment though.
R finally has some options, and might be heading to California to earn better money, in a job in his field, while looking for something in The Netherlands. I'm not thrilled with the long distance idea, but adding to savings instead of subtracting from them until the house sells is a pretty big perk to the idea. And with the paperwork issues, he can't move until he gets a job anyway, so he might as well work somewhere that isn't happiness-destroying retail. When our house sells here, I might be buying our next one without his input (just like this one) but hopefully someday we can house-hunt together. I've found a darling house that's practically on campus and has a decent yard, and another farther away house that's rent-able IF there's some sort of transportation available. I don't think a 15 mile bike ride to and from work is reasonable. Especially since I haven't touched a bike in 8 or so years.
I decided it would be a good time to review my New Year's Resolutions. Thus far, I'm doing well at 1, haven't had the chance to work on 2 (I don't currently have a bike), am still Rosetta Stone-ing my way to 3, have done nothing at all for 4 (especially now that I'm carless during the day), can't work on 5 because I have no deadlines to meet, have rocked out 6, and am not doing so well at 7 because there's nothing in my house to photograph except the dogs. I will take some new yarn pictures later when the camera battery is charged.
R finally has some options, and might be heading to California to earn better money, in a job in his field, while looking for something in The Netherlands. I'm not thrilled with the long distance idea, but adding to savings instead of subtracting from them until the house sells is a pretty big perk to the idea. And with the paperwork issues, he can't move until he gets a job anyway, so he might as well work somewhere that isn't happiness-destroying retail. When our house sells here, I might be buying our next one without his input (just like this one) but hopefully someday we can house-hunt together. I've found a darling house that's practically on campus and has a decent yard, and another farther away house that's rent-able IF there's some sort of transportation available. I don't think a 15 mile bike ride to and from work is reasonable. Especially since I haven't touched a bike in 8 or so years.
I decided it would be a good time to review my New Year's Resolutions. Thus far, I'm doing well at 1, haven't had the chance to work on 2 (I don't currently have a bike), am still Rosetta Stone-ing my way to 3, have done nothing at all for 4 (especially now that I'm carless during the day), can't work on 5 because I have no deadlines to meet, have rocked out 6, and am not doing so well at 7 because there's nothing in my house to photograph except the dogs. I will take some new yarn pictures later when the camera battery is charged.
02 March 2010
Something good that happened
I realized that I forgot to post this on Friday. My car is sold! Everything is done, and having that money (plus eliminating that debt!) is pretty reassuring, and very very awesome. However, I miss my little car. It was a good car, with excellent gas milage and enough space for the dogs in the back. Not that Nova ever stayed in the back. I was sad to see it go, but the new owner is super excited about it, and I'm thrilled to be this much closer to a car-free lifestyle. Not that I have anything against cars themselves, as a concept. New technology means we can shift away from burning oil to run them, and exclusively human powered transportation is not practical in a lot of places. I do, however, hate driving in traffic, paying for insurance, trying to park, being a designated driver, and paying for a machine that needs a fair amount of maintenance and depreciates in value very quickly anyway. Attending a university with amazing bus service made me appreciate being a passenger. Given a choice, I much prefer being able to review notes, play games on my DS, read, talk on the phone, or otherwise productively spend my commute time instead of paying attention to the road. The great thing about having a car is the freedom of movement, being able to go places easily and quickly, and at university I had that (for the most part) with the buses. I also paid off my credit card, and am going to pay of R's as soon as we figure out a safe way to transfer money to that account. In another week, our only debt will be our fairly modest mortgage, and that's pretty awesome for a pair of 25 year olds!
It wouldn't be an adventure without obstacles
I sent an email today. R and I have decided to apply for just my visa at this point, because we can't figure out how to authenticate his birth certificate. The authentication office took 5 weeks to tell us they don't handle births abroad. Thank you, obviously understaffed and probably suffering from budget cuts authentication office. I don't like you. And while you did try to direct us to the right place, they seemed confused, and if they're the right place, we're looking at another 2 months of waiting. Once we figure out our end of the deal.
This is complicated. The Netherlands has salary requirements (at least for the skilled worker category I'm in) for immigration with dependents, which I find rather sensible. Because R hasn't found a job yet (although we've found a couple for him to apply to!) he counts as a dependent, and my salary isn't high enough for the first year to meet the requirement for him to get a visa too. However, there's a loophole for students, if we apply for both at the same time.
So, by applying for only my visa, we are depending on R finding a job so he can join me before I get a raise. Which would happen at the earliest at the 1 year mark.
I'll admit, this is scary. Really really scary. I don't like long distance, and thought we were done with that when we got married. Our original plan was that he would move when he got a job or the house sold, so realistically this doesn't change the reality that much. But it feels like it does.
However, I know we can do long distance, since we managed for 3.5 years before. And I don't know that I can do another 3 months of unemployment.
Besides, if everything went smoothly and easily, it wouldn't be an adventure. It wouldn't even be reality. So I'm not happy about our new plan, but I'm not unhappy either. R can get a job, and things will be fine. The house is still our bigger issue, because until it sells we can't afford a dog-friendly living space. And R has to be working. If the house sells, he could come visit for 3 months at a time without a visa, and that would be workable.
Explaining everything to myself was very helpful today. I think that this wouldn't have seemed so drastic if I weren't coming down with a cold.
How did I get a cold, anyway?
This is complicated. The Netherlands has salary requirements (at least for the skilled worker category I'm in) for immigration with dependents, which I find rather sensible. Because R hasn't found a job yet (although we've found a couple for him to apply to!) he counts as a dependent, and my salary isn't high enough for the first year to meet the requirement for him to get a visa too. However, there's a loophole for students, if we apply for both at the same time.
So, by applying for only my visa, we are depending on R finding a job so he can join me before I get a raise. Which would happen at the earliest at the 1 year mark.
I'll admit, this is scary. Really really scary. I don't like long distance, and thought we were done with that when we got married. Our original plan was that he would move when he got a job or the house sold, so realistically this doesn't change the reality that much. But it feels like it does.
However, I know we can do long distance, since we managed for 3.5 years before. And I don't know that I can do another 3 months of unemployment.
Besides, if everything went smoothly and easily, it wouldn't be an adventure. It wouldn't even be reality. So I'm not happy about our new plan, but I'm not unhappy either. R can get a job, and things will be fine. The house is still our bigger issue, because until it sells we can't afford a dog-friendly living space. And R has to be working. If the house sells, he could come visit for 3 months at a time without a visa, and that would be workable.
Explaining everything to myself was very helpful today. I think that this wouldn't have seemed so drastic if I weren't coming down with a cold.
How did I get a cold, anyway?
23 February 2010
Undecided
My left hand is cramping. I've knit about 6 inches of tank top today. Why my left hand, which is pretty stationary, and attached to my good shoulder via my good arm is the problem, I'm not sure. I'm pretty happy with my progress though, and hope a quick typing break might solve the problem. If not, I have a dishwasher to empty and a box for K to put together. The teevee cart needs dusting too, and the kitchen table needs to be cleared off. I really need to convince R to throw stuff away. He seems to have an inability to put trash in the trash. It's bizarre.
I'm behind on my photo posting. This is probably because I'm living a very boring, isolated life right now, and I'm having a hard time finding things worth photographing. I'm not even cooking fancy food these days, because fancy ingredients cost, and until the house sells, we're going with cheap and simple. Soup, although delicious, is not exactly exciting to look at.
To supplement my knitting, I've been doing a lot of reading. Since most of my books are now with Parents 1.0, I've turned to the glorious world of blogs, with feminism and fat acceptance being my preferred subjects. I've found a couple knitting blogs I enjoy, and several food blogs where I like to look at the photos, but for the most part, my hobbies aren't that interesting to read about. I've been suffering a lack of people to talk about these particular topics to, mostly because I'm very isolated right now, but also because R isn't terribly interested in them. I find this frustrating. R finds it frustrating that I don't care about the trailers for games that aren't coming out for another two years, so we have a "Really, I don't care, and I'm not going to pay attention" agreement. Which was fine when I actually saw people and got to talk to them during the day, but isn't working so well for me now. When R gets home from work, he mostly wants to relax, and for him, that means reading manga, or playing games, or basically spending some time by himself. Whereas I have spent the day trying to keep my mind busy around the house, which is not terribly stimulating now that my garden's asleep, and I want nothing more than to socialize. Having the introvert go to work while the extrovert stays home is absolutely maddening. Most of my friends here are still employed, and the few who aren't are taking classes or have kids. Phone and internet conversations help, but they're simply not the same. I have never been this isolated. I need people time, but I also need to not spend money. Really, I need the paperwork to be done so I can move and start work again. When I had a job, R and I made dinner together, and ate together, and then spent the evening amusing ourselves individually. Sometimes we'd play multiplayer games, but for the most part, we did our own thing. My computer was in the teddy bear bedroom, and his was in the (unfinished) basement. Now, both laptops are in the living room, and I can usually only manage an hour of him being in the basement before I ask him to come back upstairs so I'm not alone. It's ridiculous and clingy and frustrating, and I'm getting really tired of it. I'm sure R is too.
So anyway, I'm debating whether to talk about the stuff I read here, or not. I have a lot to say, but I don't know that I want it all on the internet, forever.
It seems I've spent too long typing, and now my right hand hurts. So I'll think about it some more, I guess.
I'm behind on my photo posting. This is probably because I'm living a very boring, isolated life right now, and I'm having a hard time finding things worth photographing. I'm not even cooking fancy food these days, because fancy ingredients cost, and until the house sells, we're going with cheap and simple. Soup, although delicious, is not exactly exciting to look at.
To supplement my knitting, I've been doing a lot of reading. Since most of my books are now with Parents 1.0, I've turned to the glorious world of blogs, with feminism and fat acceptance being my preferred subjects. I've found a couple knitting blogs I enjoy, and several food blogs where I like to look at the photos, but for the most part, my hobbies aren't that interesting to read about. I've been suffering a lack of people to talk about these particular topics to, mostly because I'm very isolated right now, but also because R isn't terribly interested in them. I find this frustrating. R finds it frustrating that I don't care about the trailers for games that aren't coming out for another two years, so we have a "Really, I don't care, and I'm not going to pay attention" agreement. Which was fine when I actually saw people and got to talk to them during the day, but isn't working so well for me now. When R gets home from work, he mostly wants to relax, and for him, that means reading manga, or playing games, or basically spending some time by himself. Whereas I have spent the day trying to keep my mind busy around the house, which is not terribly stimulating now that my garden's asleep, and I want nothing more than to socialize. Having the introvert go to work while the extrovert stays home is absolutely maddening. Most of my friends here are still employed, and the few who aren't are taking classes or have kids. Phone and internet conversations help, but they're simply not the same. I have never been this isolated. I need people time, but I also need to not spend money. Really, I need the paperwork to be done so I can move and start work again. When I had a job, R and I made dinner together, and ate together, and then spent the evening amusing ourselves individually. Sometimes we'd play multiplayer games, but for the most part, we did our own thing. My computer was in the teddy bear bedroom, and his was in the (unfinished) basement. Now, both laptops are in the living room, and I can usually only manage an hour of him being in the basement before I ask him to come back upstairs so I'm not alone. It's ridiculous and clingy and frustrating, and I'm getting really tired of it. I'm sure R is too.
So anyway, I'm debating whether to talk about the stuff I read here, or not. I have a lot to say, but I don't know that I want it all on the internet, forever.
It seems I've spent too long typing, and now my right hand hurts. So I'll think about it some more, I guess.
15 February 2010
Megan
Today should have been Megan's 26th birthday. Since 5th grade, Valentine's Day has meant a fun, crazy, Megan-style birthday party. Instead today I watched MST3k movies, because RENT would have been too hard.
Megan was one of the most alive people I've ever known. Things as simple as baking cookies or colouring hair became adventures when she got involved. And afterward she would make an epic story out of the simple-activity-turned-afternoon-long-fun. She was funny and vibrant and dynamic, and I'm grateful for her friendship. Even if we hadn't seen each other in a year, our relationship picked up as if we'd hung out the week before. I cannot go anywhere in my hometown without thinking about her, because we spent so much time doing so many things together.
Snapshot memories, as I thought of them
Megan and I met in 5th grade, when she switched elementary schools for a year. On the first day of school, she punched Karl, who was very popular, for some reason, and I was happy that there was someone else who didn't like him.
We learned pig latin in elementary school and drove other kids CRAZY with it. When they started to pick it up, we changed up the rules. And by we, I mean Megan.
Megan convinced me to play flute in 5th grade band. Otherwise, I probably would have ended up as a clarinet player, since I (even now) can't make a sound on a brass instrument.
Which leads me to marching band. Megan wrote an L and an R on her shoes, so she'd remember which foot to start with. Senior year, Megan and I managed to be next to each other, and it was great to have someone to mock the sophomores with. We tried to convince the Medds to let us do a kickline at one point. They totally didn't go for it. Also, robot poses! "I am a broken robot."
Stuart Davis concerts.
It was during marching band that I heard about the first WTC plane crash on 9-11, from Megan. She heard it on the radio on her way to school.
One of the most fun games we invented in elementary school was alien scientists. We wandered the playground, pretending we were aliens come to observe this weird species who called themselves "humans." We took notes and drew conclusions from our observations and everything! The force of Megan's personality made our geekiness cool, somehow, in the eyes of our classmates. We ended up with quite a few people playing alien scientists with us before it got too cold to write outside.
I am the Walrus. As loud as we could sing. To a record, because that song had yet to be released to CD.
One of the few summers I spent at home during my college years, Megan and I had been hanging out at her apartment when she developed a pressing need to bake cookies. Only her oven was unreliable...on a good day. Sometimes it caught on fire. So we introduced her chihuahua, Leela, to my parent's dog, which was an adventure in and of itself, and baked cookies. It was one of the more relaxing afternoons I've ever had, since cookie baking with friends is a huge nostalgia thing for me.
We took our siblings and some other kids trick or treating, and had oodles of fun by running around in the dark and jumping out at the kids we were kinda-sorta watching.
On the first band trip, Megan was in her vegetarian phase, and spent the entire 2 day bus trip eating french fries. At one fast food place, there was no ketchup. We were all shocked and appalled.
We drove MM back to the airport after she came to visit one summer, and ended up having a lot of extra time once we got there. Only Megan could have made the tiny tiny airport store so entertaining. Not to mention convincing MM, B, and myself to don corn hats. The lady who took the picture for us couldn't stop laughing.
Megan needed to dye her hair for something, and called to see if I wanted to help. This was probably the summer after high school. We went to Wal-Mart, bought hair dye, and went to work. However. Megan's hair was so thick, that we didn't have nearly enough dye, even with two boxes. So we colored part of her hair (after all, we figured that out in the middle of the process) and then went back to the store for more dye.
They didn't have any more in that color, and we needed at least two boxes.We found one box at Walgreens, but had to go all the way to Target to find another box. It was absurd. We applied our new two boxes of dye, only to realize that the color wasn't really strong enough for whatever it was Megan was doing...something about a role in an indie film, I think. So we went back to Wal-Mart for a darker color, and picked it based on the fact that they had enough boxes. Then we colored her hair again, and were finally successful, so we spent the evening eating leftovers and watching Friends DVDs.
We once played dress-up while babysitting her sister and all sang terrible early 90's music while playing air-guitar.
In junior high, maybe elementary school? we started a stuffed animal hospital with B and I think MM. Not only did we repair whatever ripped stuffed animals we could find, we added things to them to simulate organs, and performed surgery on them. Our most successful surgery was adding a noise-making tube to Abby's giant clown, so that it made creepy noises whenever she moved it.
Megan introduced me to the awesomeness that is Mystery Science Theater 3000. We rented that movie every weekend for an entire summer, until Dad bought a copy for me. We
watched it all. the. time.
We made up stories about the people ice skating at the mall while waiting for a movie.
We played in the band together at the mall's grand opening, thus keeping ourselves entertained for the several hours that we were playing boring pep band music, staring full into the sun.
Someone left some large empty cardboard boxes in the hall at school one day, and rather than ignoring them, Megan started a hallway-wide potato-sack race using the boxes after school.
In high school I went rushing with Megan when RENT came to Hancher. I don't know what to say about it other than it was so much fun, really cold, and made for lots of great stories and quotes later on. Everyone thought my pink fuzzy blanket would make an awesome pair of pants. The trashcan is probably still tapdancing.
Megan, I miss you. You left us all much too soon. Thank you for the fun times, the spectacular memories, the friendship, and the ability to consider mundane activities epic adventures. Your passion and sense of humor inspire me still. Happy Birthday.
Megan was one of the most alive people I've ever known. Things as simple as baking cookies or colouring hair became adventures when she got involved. And afterward she would make an epic story out of the simple-activity-turned-afternoon-long-fun. She was funny and vibrant and dynamic, and I'm grateful for her friendship. Even if we hadn't seen each other in a year, our relationship picked up as if we'd hung out the week before. I cannot go anywhere in my hometown without thinking about her, because we spent so much time doing so many things together.Snapshot memories, as I thought of them
Megan and I met in 5th grade, when she switched elementary schools for a year. On the first day of school, she punched Karl, who was very popular, for some reason, and I was happy that there was someone else who didn't like him.
We learned pig latin in elementary school and drove other kids CRAZY with it. When they started to pick it up, we changed up the rules. And by we, I mean Megan.
Megan convinced me to play flute in 5th grade band. Otherwise, I probably would have ended up as a clarinet player, since I (even now) can't make a sound on a brass instrument.
Which leads me to marching band. Megan wrote an L and an R on her shoes, so she'd remember which foot to start with. Senior year, Megan and I managed to be next to each other, and it was great to have someone to mock the sophomores with. We tried to convince the Medds to let us do a kickline at one point. They totally didn't go for it. Also, robot poses! "I am a broken robot."
Stuart Davis concerts.
It was during marching band that I heard about the first WTC plane crash on 9-11, from Megan. She heard it on the radio on her way to school.
One of the most fun games we invented in elementary school was alien scientists. We wandered the playground, pretending we were aliens come to observe this weird species who called themselves "humans." We took notes and drew conclusions from our observations and everything! The force of Megan's personality made our geekiness cool, somehow, in the eyes of our classmates. We ended up with quite a few people playing alien scientists with us before it got too cold to write outside.
I am the Walrus. As loud as we could sing. To a record, because that song had yet to be released to CD.
One of the few summers I spent at home during my college years, Megan and I had been hanging out at her apartment when she developed a pressing need to bake cookies. Only her oven was unreliable...on a good day. Sometimes it caught on fire. So we introduced her chihuahua, Leela, to my parent's dog, which was an adventure in and of itself, and baked cookies. It was one of the more relaxing afternoons I've ever had, since cookie baking with friends is a huge nostalgia thing for me.
We took our siblings and some other kids trick or treating, and had oodles of fun by running around in the dark and jumping out at the kids we were kinda-sorta watching.
On the first band trip, Megan was in her vegetarian phase, and spent the entire 2 day bus trip eating french fries. At one fast food place, there was no ketchup. We were all shocked and appalled.
We drove MM back to the airport after she came to visit one summer, and ended up having a lot of extra time once we got there. Only Megan could have made the tiny tiny airport store so entertaining. Not to mention convincing MM, B, and myself to don corn hats. The lady who took the picture for us couldn't stop laughing.Megan needed to dye her hair for something, and called to see if I wanted to help. This was probably the summer after high school. We went to Wal-Mart, bought hair dye, and went to work. However. Megan's hair was so thick, that we didn't have nearly enough dye, even with two boxes. So we colored part of her hair (after all, we figured that out in the middle of the process) and then went back to the store for more dye.
They didn't have any more in that color, and we needed at least two boxes.We found one box at Walgreens, but had to go all the way to Target to find another box. It was absurd. We applied our new two boxes of dye, only to realize that the color wasn't really strong enough for whatever it was Megan was doing...something about a role in an indie film, I think. So we went back to Wal-Mart for a darker color, and picked it based on the fact that they had enough boxes. Then we colored her hair again, and were finally successful, so we spent the evening eating leftovers and watching Friends DVDs.
We once played dress-up while babysitting her sister and all sang terrible early 90's music while playing air-guitar.
In junior high, maybe elementary school? we started a stuffed animal hospital with B and I think MM. Not only did we repair whatever ripped stuffed animals we could find, we added things to them to simulate organs, and performed surgery on them. Our most successful surgery was adding a noise-making tube to Abby's giant clown, so that it made creepy noises whenever she moved it.
Megan introduced me to the awesomeness that is Mystery Science Theater 3000. We rented that movie every weekend for an entire summer, until Dad bought a copy for me. We
watched it all. the. time.We made up stories about the people ice skating at the mall while waiting for a movie.
We played in the band together at the mall's grand opening, thus keeping ourselves entertained for the several hours that we were playing boring pep band music, staring full into the sun.
Someone left some large empty cardboard boxes in the hall at school one day, and rather than ignoring them, Megan started a hallway-wide potato-sack race using the boxes after school.
In high school I went rushing with Megan when RENT came to Hancher. I don't know what to say about it other than it was so much fun, really cold, and made for lots of great stories and quotes later on. Everyone thought my pink fuzzy blanket would make an awesome pair of pants. The trashcan is probably still tapdancing.
Megan, I miss you. You left us all much too soon. Thank you for the fun times, the spectacular memories, the friendship, and the ability to consider mundane activities epic adventures. Your passion and sense of humor inspire me still. Happy Birthday.
07 February 2010
Apostille, Again
I now posses a marriage certificate and a birth certificate with apostille stamps. Which aren't really stamps so much as separate fancy pieces of paper, if you were wondering. This was a long horrible process, since the person I called to find out how to apply for apostille stamps left out a couple key details. Like, who to address the things to and all the info they needed. So my documents have traveled from state to state a couple times now, but we have them. I'm still waiting on R's birth certificate, which is complicated, because Parents 2.0 weren't living in the US when he was born. His stuff had to go to the federal Sec. of State's office, which obviously has a slower turnaround than my not-so-large home state.
So hopefully by the end of February I'll be in my new country!
Also, I think I've fixed the slide show.
So hopefully by the end of February I'll be in my new country!
Also, I think I've fixed the slide show.
21 January 2010
Photo Project
Because my camera takes ginourmous photos, and shrinking them down to blogger size is tedious, my photo project is now up at Picasa. I added a link to it in the sidebar, as well as a slide show made of that album. I think this is going to work out much better, because I won't have to fuss with the image sizes.
Living Space
Making some progress on paperwork, finally. Thanks in huge part to my future roommate, E, who took care of figuring out exactly what was needed and filled out the forms so all I had to do was sign them! Also thanks to R, who did all the printing/scanning because my computer's acting up and it's really really cold in the basement. I now have somewhere to live, just as soon as I can move! It's a three bedroom apartment, which I'll be sharing with two roommates. E is currently there, and another woman who will be moving out in March, so we'll be roommate hunting once I get there (or, if my departure is delayed, possibly sooner) to keep the rent nice and low.
When people say the Dutch tend towards bureaucracy, they aren't kidding. There were two forms to fill out/sign, which E took care of. Typically, proof of ending a previous lease is needed, but since I own my house, I had to send my mortgage info and a letter explaining I was in the process of selling. They also needed a passport scan and proof of employment. But it's all done and dealt with, so that's pretty awesome.
It's going to be weird adjusting to having so much less space. R and I could probably go an entire weekend without seeing each other and without leaving our house, if we tried. I'm actually kind of excited about it, because our house here seems so empty without furniture, and we simply hadn't filled it up yet because life got expensive. My car was totaled, we had wedding expenses, then the whole roof mess, then layoffs. And since I don't buy stuff I don't love, just to have it, and there's no IKEA (or similar cheap modern furniture) nearby, we just didn't have stuff. Which was fine, because just the two of us certainly don't need a ton of stuff. In fact, I'm finding that I prefer owning less, and doing more, if that makes sense. Why buy a dining room set for $1000 when I have a kitchen table already? I could instead use that money to take a weekend trip with R, or shop at the farmer's market and get delicious local produce instead of shopping at a chain store with flavourless tomatoes, or get season tickets at a theatre, or pay for half a cruise vacation. Or even put it towards R's master's degree (if he ever decides what degree to go back for) or to keep in savings as a comforting slush fund, just in case. I get so much more out of anything except the dining room table, and I'm grateful I bought this much-too-large house because otherwise I wouldn't have learned that. Looking at Dutch real estate, initially I was all panicky. How will I ever live in such a small space? Then I did some math, and really, R and I only actually use about 800 sq ft of space. We use either the living room or the basement, but certainly not the whole basement room, which is ginormous, the kitchen (but only the cooking side, not really the breakfast nook) and the master suite. Really, our bedroom could be 20 sq ft smaller and we wouldn't even notice. I've also found that while I thought for sure I'd need "my own space, to be alone" that that isn't the case at all. Even if we're doing totally separate things and not talking, I prefer that R and I are in the same room. This was true even when I was working, and not spending all day hanging out by myself. I married him because I enjoy his company, after all! So now I'm looking forward to having less space and less stuff. I'm also looking forward to the challenge of making a small space work in terms of furnishing and decor, although that won't be until we can find a house-ish living space.
Much as I love my little car, I am thrilled to be shifting to a car-free lifestyle. Which will only be possible because the new town is totally walkable and bikable. And while we may buy a car once R has a job there, the prevalence of public transport combined with high gas prices makes me think that's unlikely.
Even the dogs don't use the whole backyard, and would be perfectly fine with much less space. Especially since I'm moving somewhere that will be much more fun for walks. The path behind my house is lovely, but it gets boring to go in the same loop all the time. My new neighborhood/city will be much more walkable.
I will admit, however, that I will absolutely miss my glorious backyard, my trees, and the massive potential for oodles of flowers and vegetables. My apartment does have a patio, so I might try some small-space container gardening this summer.
When people say the Dutch tend towards bureaucracy, they aren't kidding. There were two forms to fill out/sign, which E took care of. Typically, proof of ending a previous lease is needed, but since I own my house, I had to send my mortgage info and a letter explaining I was in the process of selling. They also needed a passport scan and proof of employment. But it's all done and dealt with, so that's pretty awesome.
It's going to be weird adjusting to having so much less space. R and I could probably go an entire weekend without seeing each other and without leaving our house, if we tried. I'm actually kind of excited about it, because our house here seems so empty without furniture, and we simply hadn't filled it up yet because life got expensive. My car was totaled, we had wedding expenses, then the whole roof mess, then layoffs. And since I don't buy stuff I don't love, just to have it, and there's no IKEA (or similar cheap modern furniture) nearby, we just didn't have stuff. Which was fine, because just the two of us certainly don't need a ton of stuff. In fact, I'm finding that I prefer owning less, and doing more, if that makes sense. Why buy a dining room set for $1000 when I have a kitchen table already? I could instead use that money to take a weekend trip with R, or shop at the farmer's market and get delicious local produce instead of shopping at a chain store with flavourless tomatoes, or get season tickets at a theatre, or pay for half a cruise vacation. Or even put it towards R's master's degree (if he ever decides what degree to go back for) or to keep in savings as a comforting slush fund, just in case. I get so much more out of anything except the dining room table, and I'm grateful I bought this much-too-large house because otherwise I wouldn't have learned that. Looking at Dutch real estate, initially I was all panicky. How will I ever live in such a small space? Then I did some math, and really, R and I only actually use about 800 sq ft of space. We use either the living room or the basement, but certainly not the whole basement room, which is ginormous, the kitchen (but only the cooking side, not really the breakfast nook) and the master suite. Really, our bedroom could be 20 sq ft smaller and we wouldn't even notice. I've also found that while I thought for sure I'd need "my own space, to be alone" that that isn't the case at all. Even if we're doing totally separate things and not talking, I prefer that R and I are in the same room. This was true even when I was working, and not spending all day hanging out by myself. I married him because I enjoy his company, after all! So now I'm looking forward to having less space and less stuff. I'm also looking forward to the challenge of making a small space work in terms of furnishing and decor, although that won't be until we can find a house-ish living space.
Much as I love my little car, I am thrilled to be shifting to a car-free lifestyle. Which will only be possible because the new town is totally walkable and bikable. And while we may buy a car once R has a job there, the prevalence of public transport combined with high gas prices makes me think that's unlikely.
Even the dogs don't use the whole backyard, and would be perfectly fine with much less space. Especially since I'm moving somewhere that will be much more fun for walks. The path behind my house is lovely, but it gets boring to go in the same loop all the time. My new neighborhood/city will be much more walkable.
I will admit, however, that I will absolutely miss my glorious backyard, my trees, and the massive potential for oodles of flowers and vegetables. My apartment does have a patio, so I might try some small-space container gardening this summer.
15 January 2010
Crisis Averted
Apparently, the water just wanted to be difficult, and turned itself back on the next day.
Now I have a new problem. My marriage certificate came back to me today, because apparently the address wasn't specific enough for the office it needs to go to. You know, the address that I copied directly from the Iowa Secretary of State's website. So there's an entire week wasted, since I now need to re-address, re-send, and then wait for it to get back. However, they are willing to change the date on my contract to whenever I get there, since we don't have a lot of control of the paperwork pace. But now that I have somewhere to live, and the holidays are over, and my initial unemployment filing is almost up, I just want to get there and get started on the new job. I hate waiting for this sort of thing. The move will be stressful, the time change will be hell, and leaving the dogs (R too, of course, but I have plenty of practice at that) is going to suck. I want to get all that over with, and just get going! I'm like that with good-byes too. Whenever R or I dropped the other off at an airport, it was very "Okay, have a good flight, love you, hugs, bye" and that was it. Dragging it out just makes me feel worse. Once there's a plan, even if it won't be pleasant, I want to get it going. This even happens in smaller things, like cleaning the house. If we've decided to clean, I want to get it started and blast through it. R much prefers easing into the idea, then cleaning a room, taking a break, cleaning another room, taking a break again, and it took some getting used to. I hate dragging out boring, tedious, or otherwise unpleasant things. Being unemployed, for example.
Now that I think about it, this is probably why the weeks before I got my layoff notice were so so so stressful. I was pretty sure I was getting laid off, everybody else's optimism to the contrary, and rather than dreading it, I really wanted to get it over with. My last few weeks at work were actually a lot more pleasant, because I knew they were the end, I wasn't stressed about deadlines (what are they going to do if I don't meet them?) and I was much more able to focus on what I was doing.
Now I have a new problem. My marriage certificate came back to me today, because apparently the address wasn't specific enough for the office it needs to go to. You know, the address that I copied directly from the Iowa Secretary of State's website. So there's an entire week wasted, since I now need to re-address, re-send, and then wait for it to get back. However, they are willing to change the date on my contract to whenever I get there, since we don't have a lot of control of the paperwork pace. But now that I have somewhere to live, and the holidays are over, and my initial unemployment filing is almost up, I just want to get there and get started on the new job. I hate waiting for this sort of thing. The move will be stressful, the time change will be hell, and leaving the dogs (R too, of course, but I have plenty of practice at that) is going to suck. I want to get all that over with, and just get going! I'm like that with good-byes too. Whenever R or I dropped the other off at an airport, it was very "Okay, have a good flight, love you, hugs, bye" and that was it. Dragging it out just makes me feel worse. Once there's a plan, even if it won't be pleasant, I want to get it going. This even happens in smaller things, like cleaning the house. If we've decided to clean, I want to get it started and blast through it. R much prefers easing into the idea, then cleaning a room, taking a break, cleaning another room, taking a break again, and it took some getting used to. I hate dragging out boring, tedious, or otherwise unpleasant things. Being unemployed, for example.
Now that I think about it, this is probably why the weeks before I got my layoff notice were so so so stressful. I was pretty sure I was getting laid off, everybody else's optimism to the contrary, and rather than dreading it, I really wanted to get it over with. My last few weeks at work were actually a lot more pleasant, because I knew they were the end, I wasn't stressed about deadlines (what are they going to do if I don't meet them?) and I was much more able to focus on what I was doing.
10 January 2010
Who needs savings anyway?
Just because the visa paperwork chaos, trying to sell the house/car/furniture, and broken laptop power source weren't quite enough, we have no water to the house. There's no water coming in anywhere, at least, so there won't be another horrible sheetrock experience, but still. We waited all day (why yes, we were planning on doing dishes and laundry today) for the city water guy, who showed up at 9:18 PM. Twelve hours after we called, but who's counting? And it is Saturday. He took the meter apart, fussed around, threw fire in the ground, and determined that the city's end was working fine. Water is getting to the pipe that goes to our house, but not to our house. So hopefully tomorrow (Sunday! so probably not) but more likely Monday, we'll be summoning a plumber to figure out what's wrong, which will hopefully be cheap and fast to fix. Awesome.
Until the car sells, we don't really have a slush fund to cover major home repairs. And the car was supposed to be my moving slush fund, so that when I get to the Netherlands I can, for example, buy a bed. Not to mention that the plane tickets are going to be rather pricey, since I still don't have a visa and have 3 weeks until my theoretical work start date.
I might be a little frustrated.
Also, I feel really gross, and want to take a shower.
Until the car sells, we don't really have a slush fund to cover major home repairs. And the car was supposed to be my moving slush fund, so that when I get to the Netherlands I can, for example, buy a bed. Not to mention that the plane tickets are going to be rather pricey, since I still don't have a visa and have 3 weeks until my theoretical work start date.
I might be a little frustrated.
Also, I feel really gross, and want to take a shower.
04 January 2010
Apostille
This process is going to be interesting. I need an apostille stamp on my birth certificate and marriage certificate (which is pretty easy and straightforward) and a stamp on R's birth certificate, which I predict will be problematic. These stamps are issued by the state that issued the document, so I have to have a parental unit mail my birth certificate, and I have to mail my marriage certificate, to IA secretary of state's office. R, however, was born on a military base in Europe, so I'm not sure at all where his apostille stamp is supposed to come from. Also, I need this done super fast, because it'll apparently take about 3 weeks from when the Netherlands gets the documents until I get my visa, and I need to move there in 4. Awesome.
I can't imagine how people dealt with this before the internet, since I had no idea what an apostille was when I was told I needed it. 10 minutes with google, and I knew what it was, why it was important, and how to get it. Other than actually picking up my visa (this is going to be expensive, since I don't live near anywhere I can pick it up) this will be my last task stateside. There's a bunch of stuff I'll have to do when I get there, but I have a list for that already.
I can't imagine how people dealt with this before the internet, since I had no idea what an apostille was when I was told I needed it. 10 minutes with google, and I knew what it was, why it was important, and how to get it. Other than actually picking up my visa (this is going to be expensive, since I don't live near anywhere I can pick it up) this will be my last task stateside. There's a bunch of stuff I'll have to do when I get there, but I have a list for that already.
01 January 2010
2010
I like making lists. A lot. So I usually make a New Year's Resolutions list, and in the past, it's been mostly about self-dislike, and unhealthy. Things like "Lose 20 lbs" when I have no medical indications that my weight is inappropriate for my body. Or things like "Keep my living space clean enough for a spontaneous photo shoot" which mostly makes me feel guilty and miserable, and encourages me to define my self-worth on stupid external parameters, like what people think of my house, rather than what I think of my house, or better yet, what I accomplish in areas important to me. Not to mention that keeping the house that clean is time-consuming, tedious, frustrating, and boring. (Why yes, my house is on the market, how could you tell?) This year I'm going to try something a little different, by creating goals that reflect who I actually am, and what I actually care about, and not random societal holdovers from the imaginary 1950's.
1. Refuse to respond to my reflection or image with "I need to lose weight" or "why can't I be as slender as {insert whoever here}." There's a fair amount of evidence that a weight range is DNA determined, and you need to put in a ton of work to shift past those boundaries. I am only overweight based on an arbitrary BMI scale that fails to take into account pretty much anything, since it's meant for use over large populations, not individuals. As long as my body performs the tasks I need it to, I'm fine. I am going to pause every time my mind says "lose weight" and replace it with "I'm awesome."
2. Relearn bike riding (or, fietsen). This is more a necessity thing than a resolution, though, since bikes are a primary form of transportation in the Netherlands.
3. Have an entire conversation in Dutch. I realize that pretty much everyone in the Netherlands speaks English, but I think it's important to learn the language of the country one is living in. At least enough that I could chat about the weather. This is going to be tough, because my brain keeps trying to put Dutch in the same space as all the German I know, and I get mixed up. Learning a third language should be a very interesting challenge for me, and help strengthen my mind.
4. Avoid complacency. Now that I'm leaving, I'm shocked by how little I explored this city, and how few friends I made. Delightful as simply hanging out with R and the dogs is, I think I need more variety to keep myself entertained. I am going to seek out and embrace new experiences, because I only get one life and I don't want to waste it. Megan's tragic death this past summer really brought this one into focus for me. She only got 25 years, but I think she really made the most of them. Only with Megan could taking a friend to an airport or dyeing hair be epic adventures, and I think that's a lot of why everyone was so shocked when she was gone. In fact, thinking about Megan and trying to describe her (she was just so alive! how do you explain her to someone?) is what gave me the courage to apply for jobs all over the world, and to take this one even with an interview set up with a company that would have been a much safer, easier, and familiar pick. I realize that avoiding complacency will often lead to feeling awkward or uncomfortable, but it was worth it as a college freshman to combat shyness, and it will be worth it again to combat falling into a mold instead of making my own.
5. Procrastinate less. I don't like the procrastination-anxiety-exhaustion cycle, and I'm going to strive to break out of it more often.
6. Knit for 10 minutes every day. This is simply to ensure that I spend 10 minutes a day doing something exclusively for myself. Knitting is my creative outlet (at least, the only one I'm taking with me initially, because it takes up the least amount of space!) as well as soothing work, and creating something beautiful and useful out of yarn is very satisfying. In addition, I'm going to keep the cast-on projects down to 5 or fewer.
7. Take one picture every day. I'm still deciding if facebook or this blog will be a better way to keep me honest on that one. Maybe both. I didn't buy an awesome camera for nothing! I have practically no photos of the past two years, except for my wedding. Like this morning, I realized we took zero pictures at our party last night, even thought it's the best New Year's Eve party I've ever participated in, and my brand new camera was sitt
ing right there!
Here's today's picture. I can't believe Quasar both held still and looked at the camera. Even his tail is in focus!
1. Refuse to respond to my reflection or image with "I need to lose weight" or "why can't I be as slender as {insert whoever here}." There's a fair amount of evidence that a weight range is DNA determined, and you need to put in a ton of work to shift past those boundaries. I am only overweight based on an arbitrary BMI scale that fails to take into account pretty much anything, since it's meant for use over large populations, not individuals. As long as my body performs the tasks I need it to, I'm fine. I am going to pause every time my mind says "lose weight" and replace it with "I'm awesome."
2. Relearn bike riding (or, fietsen). This is more a necessity thing than a resolution, though, since bikes are a primary form of transportation in the Netherlands.
3. Have an entire conversation in Dutch. I realize that pretty much everyone in the Netherlands speaks English, but I think it's important to learn the language of the country one is living in. At least enough that I could chat about the weather. This is going to be tough, because my brain keeps trying to put Dutch in the same space as all the German I know, and I get mixed up. Learning a third language should be a very interesting challenge for me, and help strengthen my mind.
4. Avoid complacency. Now that I'm leaving, I'm shocked by how little I explored this city, and how few friends I made. Delightful as simply hanging out with R and the dogs is, I think I need more variety to keep myself entertained. I am going to seek out and embrace new experiences, because I only get one life and I don't want to waste it. Megan's tragic death this past summer really brought this one into focus for me. She only got 25 years, but I think she really made the most of them. Only with Megan could taking a friend to an airport or dyeing hair be epic adventures, and I think that's a lot of why everyone was so shocked when she was gone. In fact, thinking about Megan and trying to describe her (she was just so alive! how do you explain her to someone?) is what gave me the courage to apply for jobs all over the world, and to take this one even with an interview set up with a company that would have been a much safer, easier, and familiar pick. I realize that avoiding complacency will often lead to feeling awkward or uncomfortable, but it was worth it as a college freshman to combat shyness, and it will be worth it again to combat falling into a mold instead of making my own.
5. Procrastinate less. I don't like the procrastination-anxiety-exhaustion cycle, and I'm going to strive to break out of it more often.
6. Knit for 10 minutes every day. This is simply to ensure that I spend 10 minutes a day doing something exclusively for myself. Knitting is my creative outlet (at least, the only one I'm taking with me initially, because it takes up the least amount of space!) as well as soothing work, and creating something beautiful and useful out of yarn is very satisfying. In addition, I'm going to keep the cast-on projects down to 5 or fewer.
7. Take one picture every day. I'm still deciding if facebook or this blog will be a better way to keep me honest on that one. Maybe both. I didn't buy an awesome camera for nothing! I have practically no photos of the past two years, except for my wedding. Like this morning, I realized we took zero pictures at our party last night, even thought it's the best New Year's Eve party I've ever participated in, and my brand new camera was sitt
ing right there!Here's today's picture. I can't believe Quasar both held still and looked at the camera. Even his tail is in focus!
15 December 2009
In which apathy turns to motivation, somehow
Now that the house is (mostly) clean, and all the stuff is (mostly) sorted, and after the chaotic two weeks that resulted in this state; I cannot get motivated. Part of it is uncertainty; there are a lot of details regarding this move that can't be dealt with until all my immigration paperwork is done. I have no power or responsibility in the paperwork, as the university is taking care of it. This means that I have no deadlines, and no idea what stage it's at or how much longer it's likely to take. I tentatively have somewhere to live when I move, assuming I can move in January. Added to that is the uncertainty that we can't know when the house is going to sell. Hopefully very very soon, but it's the wrong time of year, and the economy isn't helping. We should have put it on the market as soon as I got laid off, I guess, but selling in the summer would have had it's own large list of problems.
Selling the car is my current anxiety. We need to be rid of it, as soon after the holidays as possible, so that we don't have to keep paying insurance on it. I'm barely driving it anywhere these days, and insuring a car that's just sitting in the garage seems pretty absurd. I have gotten response on the car, though, and the craigslist ad has only been up for a day, so that's looking a little more promising.
Mostly I think I'm exhausted. This past year and a half hasn't been what it was supposed to be at all. Buying a house shouldn't involve 6 months of potential lawsuits because the seller is a jerk. Starting a career shouldn't involve nonstop worrying about layoffs. My old car shouldn't have been totaled, and the first year of marriage shouldn't be this unhappy. Luckily, R and I deal well with adversity, so all this insanity hasn't damaged our relationship. I do feel cheated, though, of the "honeymoon" phase most of my recently married friends seemed to enjoy. We didn't get any time to simply enjoy being us, because within a month of R moving here, the car was totaled and we were dealing with the $6k debt left to us by the seller, and by the time all that was taken care of, my company was up to layoff round number 4, and I was feeling constantly doomed. I planned 4 separate honeymoons, and we didn't get to take any of them, because bad stuff kept happening.
At the same time, it feel ridiculous to complain, because my bad stuff is so middle-class American. I haven't ever worried about putting food on the table, or having to drop my dogs at a shelter, or wondering if I can run the heat today. I don't have to worry about local violence, or running out of water, or whether the people I care about will survive the winter. I'm moving across the ocean for an amazing opportunity (and also health care! and public transportation! and no more expectation of putting in unpaid overtime!) to further my education, broaden my career opportunities, experience living in a different culture from my own, and to travel. A lot of travel. I totally wouldn't have this opportunity if I hadn't been laid off, so I hope it's worth all the stress.
It was also nice to be able to sit down and think about where I really want my life to go. Without this past year, I don't think I'd be so sure that going back to school is absolutely what I want to do. It took several months of applying to all sorts of jobs and schools before I figured it out, and my experience as an industry engineer was certainly very helpful in that. I liked industry, but I love studenthood. I realize I can't be a student forever, since I'm not the child of multi-millionaires, but I do appreciate that at least for the next 4 years, I can be a student again.
Assuming I can get everything ready in time. I think I'll go vacuum the car.
Selling the car is my current anxiety. We need to be rid of it, as soon after the holidays as possible, so that we don't have to keep paying insurance on it. I'm barely driving it anywhere these days, and insuring a car that's just sitting in the garage seems pretty absurd. I have gotten response on the car, though, and the craigslist ad has only been up for a day, so that's looking a little more promising.
Mostly I think I'm exhausted. This past year and a half hasn't been what it was supposed to be at all. Buying a house shouldn't involve 6 months of potential lawsuits because the seller is a jerk. Starting a career shouldn't involve nonstop worrying about layoffs. My old car shouldn't have been totaled, and the first year of marriage shouldn't be this unhappy. Luckily, R and I deal well with adversity, so all this insanity hasn't damaged our relationship. I do feel cheated, though, of the "honeymoon" phase most of my recently married friends seemed to enjoy. We didn't get any time to simply enjoy being us, because within a month of R moving here, the car was totaled and we were dealing with the $6k debt left to us by the seller, and by the time all that was taken care of, my company was up to layoff round number 4, and I was feeling constantly doomed. I planned 4 separate honeymoons, and we didn't get to take any of them, because bad stuff kept happening.
At the same time, it feel ridiculous to complain, because my bad stuff is so middle-class American. I haven't ever worried about putting food on the table, or having to drop my dogs at a shelter, or wondering if I can run the heat today. I don't have to worry about local violence, or running out of water, or whether the people I care about will survive the winter. I'm moving across the ocean for an amazing opportunity (and also health care! and public transportation! and no more expectation of putting in unpaid overtime!) to further my education, broaden my career opportunities, experience living in a different culture from my own, and to travel. A lot of travel. I totally wouldn't have this opportunity if I hadn't been laid off, so I hope it's worth all the stress.
It was also nice to be able to sit down and think about where I really want my life to go. Without this past year, I don't think I'd be so sure that going back to school is absolutely what I want to do. It took several months of applying to all sorts of jobs and schools before I figured it out, and my experience as an industry engineer was certainly very helpful in that. I liked industry, but I love studenthood. I realize I can't be a student forever, since I'm not the child of multi-millionaires, but I do appreciate that at least for the next 4 years, I can be a student again.
Assuming I can get everything ready in time. I think I'll go vacuum the car.
04 December 2009
Selling the House
I hate moving. Passionately. I don't usually waste a lot of energy on anger and hatred, for a couple reasons. I really don't like feeling angry. It's exhausting, it's uncomfortable, and I just don't like it. Some people get a (competitive? energizing? useful?) boost from anger, but I just get worn out. I can feel my brain working differently when I'm angry*. I grew up in a very non-angry household. There were no parent-teenager screaming matches. If my parents have ever had a fight beyond mild disagreement I certainly don't know about it. I am curious as to whether this is genetically influenced. On top of that, I'm highly trained in a field where anger doesn't really make sense. How do you get angry at a mass of air moving how it moves, even if that movement is different from your prediction? The laws of physics are consistent, and I think that's what makes anger so alien to my work. If you spend your day dealing with people, or animals, or plants, or electronics, you will get frustrated by inconsistency more than anything else, I think. Why did the client have to change what they wanted right before the deadline, why are the plants over here fine but those ones dead, and why does this application run on every computer except mine? I don't have that problem. Gravity's always there, and so is friction. Momentum is conserved, as long as the system is closed. Etc.
But anyway. I do hate moving. A lot. I really like the process of going through everything and getting rid of stuff, which I associate with moving, but which most people call "organizing the closet" or perhaps "spring cleaning." I haven't lived in once place for long enough recently for either of those activities. But the actual packing is horrible. Getting the entire house showable is worse. Housekeeping is not one of my strengths, because it is boring, repetitive, boring, never-ending, boring, not rewarding, and did I mention boring enough yet? I can happily cut lovely large pieces of fabric into little pieces and sew them back together, or loop yarn around itself for hours. These processes can be tedious, and repetitive, and even boring. Sometimes they are spectacularly frustrating. There are three big differences between quilting (or knitting, or sewing, or even gardening) and cleaning for me. The first is that I can multitask better. I can't watch tv while cleaning the first or second floors of my house, I can't listen to music while vaccuuming because I barely tolerate the vaccum's noise level, and I certainly can't enjoy lovely weather while cleaning. The second is the materials. I get a great deal of sensory happiness out of pretty fabric, soft yarn, and good soil. I do not get this out of cleaning chemicals or rubber gloves. Cleansers aren't pretty, they aren't soft, or crumbly, or fun, and they don't smell good. My third reason is the reward. If I'm quilting or sewing or knitting, I get to watch a project grow from bits of fabric or a ball of yarn into something tangible. I end up with a quilt, or a purse, or a scarf. And then the project is over, and I feel like I've accomplished something. If I'm gardening, I watch seeds, dirt, and water turn into food. I can see a bed of flowers turn into a butterfly haven, or eat tomatoes straight off the vine. I don't know that this falls into accomplishment, exactly, but it's immensely satisfying. And looking at all my lovely canned tomatoes makes me pretty happy. You don't get rewarded like this when cleaning. By the time the kitchen is sparkling (as sparkling as those hideous old countertops can get, that is) it's time to make another meal. Quasar can shed new hair onto the clean floor when I'm still vacuuming that room. The puppy toys and video game controllers stay in their bins for almost enough time to vacuum the basement. Papers get filed just in time for the mail to arrive with new bills, and you can't ever get rid of all the dust. My ugly entrance tile is just as ugly clean as it is dirty, and the bathroom countertops look dirty even when they're clean. I never get the relaxing feeling of amazing, spotless, and perfect surroundings. All the cleaning is like my own personal heck (not as bad as a hell, certainly, but not neutral either) and I get to hang out in it while trying to pack.
Packing is pretty interesting. See, I can't get an apartment until my work visa paperwork is done. I've found a temporary roommate situation that looks good, and is inexpensive, and would let me get to know a couple people while looking around the city for a more permanent abode. The things I'll have to take if I'm moving into a third bedroom of an inhabited apartment are different from what I'll need if living by myself. Then there's figuring out what R needs here before he moves, and what to do if we need the same stuff. Plus the issue of suitcase space and weight. What will fit? How do I tell without packing it all? Is it worth it to pack my clothes now to figure it out? What will I want sent to me first? Does it all fit in one box? Why do we have so many books, and how can I think of leaving them behind?!?!?!? How can I leave my scrapbooks, but how can I take them? This kind of moving is very complicated, and trying to pack everything up or get rid of it while cleaning the entire house is horrible. We spent hours tonight that should have resulted in a clean second floor doing laundry, putting new sheets on the bed, moving boxes from upstairs to downstairs, vacuuming the ceiling (it made a very visible difference, and we aren't crazy, I promise) and sorting through jewelry to get it off the counter. One shouldn't leave one's jewelry out when strangers are walking through the house.
I feel like we're getting nowhere fast, but we keep doing things that have to be done in order to have the house walk-through ready. It's tedious, boring, frustrating, and I hate it.
*Remember, my career path is very thinking-intensive. When explaining my former job to the non-technologically-inclined, I summarized with "I'm paid to think." I'm very sensitive to (perceived) changes in how my brain is working. I once gave up caffeine, got over the physical addiciton, and realized that I don't like how my thinking feels without it. My brain works better when caffeinated, unless it is also very very very sleep-deprived. If no caffeine is walking though ankle-deep mud, then caffeine is like walking over pavement. Everything is sharper, quicker, and easier. Exhaustion is more like trudging through dense fog, and anger is like trying to decide which way to go. I don't like it when my brain works awkwardly. This, combined with my very high natural alcohol tolerance, is why I've never been beyond slightly buzzed. It is probably also why I have zero desire to ever try out other consciousness changing substances.
But anyway. I do hate moving. A lot. I really like the process of going through everything and getting rid of stuff, which I associate with moving, but which most people call "organizing the closet" or perhaps "spring cleaning." I haven't lived in once place for long enough recently for either of those activities. But the actual packing is horrible. Getting the entire house showable is worse. Housekeeping is not one of my strengths, because it is boring, repetitive, boring, never-ending, boring, not rewarding, and did I mention boring enough yet? I can happily cut lovely large pieces of fabric into little pieces and sew them back together, or loop yarn around itself for hours. These processes can be tedious, and repetitive, and even boring. Sometimes they are spectacularly frustrating. There are three big differences between quilting (or knitting, or sewing, or even gardening) and cleaning for me. The first is that I can multitask better. I can't watch tv while cleaning the first or second floors of my house, I can't listen to music while vaccuuming because I barely tolerate the vaccum's noise level, and I certainly can't enjoy lovely weather while cleaning. The second is the materials. I get a great deal of sensory happiness out of pretty fabric, soft yarn, and good soil. I do not get this out of cleaning chemicals or rubber gloves. Cleansers aren't pretty, they aren't soft, or crumbly, or fun, and they don't smell good. My third reason is the reward. If I'm quilting or sewing or knitting, I get to watch a project grow from bits of fabric or a ball of yarn into something tangible. I end up with a quilt, or a purse, or a scarf. And then the project is over, and I feel like I've accomplished something. If I'm gardening, I watch seeds, dirt, and water turn into food. I can see a bed of flowers turn into a butterfly haven, or eat tomatoes straight off the vine. I don't know that this falls into accomplishment, exactly, but it's immensely satisfying. And looking at all my lovely canned tomatoes makes me pretty happy. You don't get rewarded like this when cleaning. By the time the kitchen is sparkling (as sparkling as those hideous old countertops can get, that is) it's time to make another meal. Quasar can shed new hair onto the clean floor when I'm still vacuuming that room. The puppy toys and video game controllers stay in their bins for almost enough time to vacuum the basement. Papers get filed just in time for the mail to arrive with new bills, and you can't ever get rid of all the dust. My ugly entrance tile is just as ugly clean as it is dirty, and the bathroom countertops look dirty even when they're clean. I never get the relaxing feeling of amazing, spotless, and perfect surroundings. All the cleaning is like my own personal heck (not as bad as a hell, certainly, but not neutral either) and I get to hang out in it while trying to pack.
Packing is pretty interesting. See, I can't get an apartment until my work visa paperwork is done. I've found a temporary roommate situation that looks good, and is inexpensive, and would let me get to know a couple people while looking around the city for a more permanent abode. The things I'll have to take if I'm moving into a third bedroom of an inhabited apartment are different from what I'll need if living by myself. Then there's figuring out what R needs here before he moves, and what to do if we need the same stuff. Plus the issue of suitcase space and weight. What will fit? How do I tell without packing it all? Is it worth it to pack my clothes now to figure it out? What will I want sent to me first? Does it all fit in one box? Why do we have so many books, and how can I think of leaving them behind?!?!?!? How can I leave my scrapbooks, but how can I take them? This kind of moving is very complicated, and trying to pack everything up or get rid of it while cleaning the entire house is horrible. We spent hours tonight that should have resulted in a clean second floor doing laundry, putting new sheets on the bed, moving boxes from upstairs to downstairs, vacuuming the ceiling (it made a very visible difference, and we aren't crazy, I promise) and sorting through jewelry to get it off the counter. One shouldn't leave one's jewelry out when strangers are walking through the house.
I feel like we're getting nowhere fast, but we keep doing things that have to be done in order to have the house walk-through ready. It's tedious, boring, frustrating, and I hate it.
*Remember, my career path is very thinking-intensive. When explaining my former job to the non-technologically-inclined, I summarized with "I'm paid to think." I'm very sensitive to (perceived) changes in how my brain is working. I once gave up caffeine, got over the physical addiciton, and realized that I don't like how my thinking feels without it. My brain works better when caffeinated, unless it is also very very very sleep-deprived. If no caffeine is walking though ankle-deep mud, then caffeine is like walking over pavement. Everything is sharper, quicker, and easier. Exhaustion is more like trudging through dense fog, and anger is like trying to decide which way to go. I don't like it when my brain works awkwardly. This, combined with my very high natural alcohol tolerance, is why I've never been beyond slightly buzzed. It is probably also why I have zero desire to ever try out other consciousness changing substances.
22 November 2009
Defying Gravity
I've been sorting through a lot of stuff that I've moved from one place to another without really thinking about it. All kinds of things, like high school newspapers, terrible film-camera photos that don't actually capture anything (tons of these from jr high dances, since we were all camera-shy back then) and just a lot of paper. Random notes I didn't think I should part with. Random ugly knickknacks that induce memories, but the same memories as other things like photos. Just a lot of stuff about my past. All of it from high school or earlier, because in college, I had a digital camera and a scanner. Also, I moved every 8 months and that's the best way I know of to become an anti-pack-rat.
I've had a great time looking through everything, trying to figure out when/who/where, and smiling at the awkwardness of the photos, and giggling hysterically at some of the notes written and the problems faced. "OMG I like these two boys, and everyone says I should date X, but I think Y likes me better and this is the biggest problem ever faced in my 13 years of life what do I do?" Only we didn't use OMG in junior high. I've even cried over notes and photos of classmates whoe've died. I created a small pile of the photos of recognizable people, the photos that aren't too fuzzy, too dark, too "we're all hiding behind our hands because we're so HIDEOUS" to add to my scrapbooks. I've kept two notes to give back to the writer if I can find her this xmas, because I know she'll laugh at them as much as I did. I kept a couple newspaper mentions of myself and close friends.
And then I threw out everything else.
It felt amazing, like letting go of a whole persona that didn't fit me any more. I feel like I've removed unneeded baggage, stuff that no longer matters to who I am, and just let it go. I've kept things that relate to people who matter now, and events that mattered then, and the rest of it is gone. I feel lighter now, and more ready to take on the crazy path ahead, both because I've reviewed the path behind, and I've rejected the dead ends. They were there, I learned from them, but I don't need to keep revisiting them, to make sure they're still dead ends. I'm terrible at letting go, but I'm trying to do it more, because you can only drag so much around with you.
That feeling of letting go of the familiar, but unsatisfactory, paths and embracing uncertainty on a promising (but unknown) road is why I'm still thrilled about moving. It's also the feeling that motivated me to start this blog. It's definitely what made my final title choice. I played with all sorts of ideas, from nerdy to nonsensical. I picked the defying gravity theme for a couple reasons.
1. Singing the song "Defying Gravity" from Wicked has been immensely helpful in picking myself back up after getting laid off. Even though I knew the layoff was nothing personal, and based on economic crisis beyond my control, and it's pretty amazing I stayed as long as I did considering how recently I entered the job market, it's still pretty disheartening to be told in your first year of real-world work that you're done, thanks, buh-bye. "Defying Gravity" is upbeat, and all about pushing boundaries and striving and that even though you could fail, if you don't try you won't know if you could do it, which is pretty much the best antidote to a layoff ever. It reminded me that even if I only got to work in KS for a year, I proved to myself that I could handle it. That's pretty awesome.
2. Aerodynamics became a major field of study in part because people wanted to fly. Without aerodynamics, there cannot be airplanes. Creating something that can GLIDE without knowing what you're doing is easy, but sustained flight is something completely different.
3. I can't believe I'm doing this. In high school, I was the shyest of the shy. In college I reinvented myself somewhat, increasing my confidence and learning to love social events and meeting people. Now I'm moving to a new country, that I've never seen, to work with people I've never met. I've talked on the phone to the profs who will be my bosses, but I haven't even emailed the post-doc or the other PhD student. And since R will be staying in KS until our home sells, I'm moving there by myself. If you had said to high school me "So in a few years you should apply to and accept a PhD position in the Netherlands" she would have been too nervous to say anything, but would have thought something like "sure, when pigs fly." I think high school me would have found defying gravity easier than moving so far. Current me is ecstatic, and thinks that meeting a bunch of new people, learning a new language, and living in a new country is crazy awesome. But I'm still a little surprised I was gutsy enough to even try for it.
I have learned to love adventure, to enjoy pushing out past my comfort zone, and to try new things without fearing failure. I still try to avoid failure, because it's never fun, but I'm working very hard at not fearing it.
I used to resent certain people for doing what I wanted to do, and acting how I saw myself inside but was afraid to be outside. Now I'm becoming who I've always felt like, but been afraid of. And that makes me feel so much lighter.
I've had a great time looking through everything, trying to figure out when/who/where, and smiling at the awkwardness of the photos, and giggling hysterically at some of the notes written and the problems faced. "OMG I like these two boys, and everyone says I should date X, but I think Y likes me better and this is the biggest problem ever faced in my 13 years of life what do I do?" Only we didn't use OMG in junior high. I've even cried over notes and photos of classmates whoe've died. I created a small pile of the photos of recognizable people, the photos that aren't too fuzzy, too dark, too "we're all hiding behind our hands because we're so HIDEOUS" to add to my scrapbooks. I've kept two notes to give back to the writer if I can find her this xmas, because I know she'll laugh at them as much as I did. I kept a couple newspaper mentions of myself and close friends.
And then I threw out everything else.
It felt amazing, like letting go of a whole persona that didn't fit me any more. I feel like I've removed unneeded baggage, stuff that no longer matters to who I am, and just let it go. I've kept things that relate to people who matter now, and events that mattered then, and the rest of it is gone. I feel lighter now, and more ready to take on the crazy path ahead, both because I've reviewed the path behind, and I've rejected the dead ends. They were there, I learned from them, but I don't need to keep revisiting them, to make sure they're still dead ends. I'm terrible at letting go, but I'm trying to do it more, because you can only drag so much around with you.
That feeling of letting go of the familiar, but unsatisfactory, paths and embracing uncertainty on a promising (but unknown) road is why I'm still thrilled about moving. It's also the feeling that motivated me to start this blog. It's definitely what made my final title choice. I played with all sorts of ideas, from nerdy to nonsensical. I picked the defying gravity theme for a couple reasons.
1. Singing the song "Defying Gravity" from Wicked has been immensely helpful in picking myself back up after getting laid off. Even though I knew the layoff was nothing personal, and based on economic crisis beyond my control, and it's pretty amazing I stayed as long as I did considering how recently I entered the job market, it's still pretty disheartening to be told in your first year of real-world work that you're done, thanks, buh-bye. "Defying Gravity" is upbeat, and all about pushing boundaries and striving and that even though you could fail, if you don't try you won't know if you could do it, which is pretty much the best antidote to a layoff ever. It reminded me that even if I only got to work in KS for a year, I proved to myself that I could handle it. That's pretty awesome.
2. Aerodynamics became a major field of study in part because people wanted to fly. Without aerodynamics, there cannot be airplanes. Creating something that can GLIDE without knowing what you're doing is easy, but sustained flight is something completely different.
3. I can't believe I'm doing this. In high school, I was the shyest of the shy. In college I reinvented myself somewhat, increasing my confidence and learning to love social events and meeting people. Now I'm moving to a new country, that I've never seen, to work with people I've never met. I've talked on the phone to the profs who will be my bosses, but I haven't even emailed the post-doc or the other PhD student. And since R will be staying in KS until our home sells, I'm moving there by myself. If you had said to high school me "So in a few years you should apply to and accept a PhD position in the Netherlands" she would have been too nervous to say anything, but would have thought something like "sure, when pigs fly." I think high school me would have found defying gravity easier than moving so far. Current me is ecstatic, and thinks that meeting a bunch of new people, learning a new language, and living in a new country is crazy awesome. But I'm still a little surprised I was gutsy enough to even try for it.
I have learned to love adventure, to enjoy pushing out past my comfort zone, and to try new things without fearing failure. I still try to avoid failure, because it's never fun, but I'm working very hard at not fearing it.
I used to resent certain people for doing what I wanted to do, and acting how I saw myself inside but was afraid to be outside. Now I'm becoming who I've always felt like, but been afraid of. And that makes me feel so much lighter.
16 November 2009
Sleep
So I've been tending to sleep really oddly lately. I attribute this to three things; stress, lack of effort, and lack of reason to get up in the morning.
I think the stress of being jobless and my natural inability to sleep if I'm not *really* tired started the problem, and it was compounded by being able to sleep in as long as I needed to. I've had intermittant trouble falling asleep since forever, I think. According to the internet, that's Initial Stage Insomnia and it can be brought about by a bunch of different things, including stress and anxiety. I do know that if I'm worried about something, ESPECIALLY if it's something I have no control over, I will think and think and think about it when I should be sleeping. This is frustrating when facing layoffs, say, or when jobless and looking at a broken economy and a very broken industry. I'm pretty sure almost everyone has occasional nights like that though, so I think was makes my problem insomnia is the second reason.
I seem to have a set amount of effort I need to use up between sleep cycles. This effort can be mental (intellectual might be a better word) or physical, but not emotional. In fact, the more exhausting my emotional state, the more likely I am to stay awake worrying at it. It's sort of like a piston doing work, actually. Given a certain amount of fuel (previous night's sleep) in the combustion chamber, the piston MUST move a certain distance, producing work, where the factors are the weight of the piston and the pressure of whatever's on the other side of it. It's like the mental effort is the work and physical effort is the outside pressure. So a lot of physical exertion will lower the amount of mental work I have to do, but can never totally substitute for it. I guess that makes emotional work equivalent to increasing the efficiency of the fuel burn, making the piston do more work. Unfortunately for me, job hunting requires little physical effort, and the intellectual effort of finding things is canceled out by the emotional work of believing you will find something. Housework requires minimal physical effort, but no mental exertion whatsoever. I think this lack of mental effort explains my current preference of nonfiction for light reading. Or creating elaborate spreadsheets. Or doing math for no reason other than entertaining myself. So I haven't been using up my sleep-fuel at my normal rate, leading to staying awake for longer periods of time between sleeping.
An obvious way to eneable myself to sleep would be to limit the amount of sleep I get, only partially fueling my engine. That's where the last issue comes to play. If I don't have anything to get up for, except to feel tired all day so I can fall asleep at a "reasonable" hour, I'm not going to. So I get totally refueled, only later in the day, so I fall asleep even later, and the cycle gets absurd pretty darn quickly. Eventually I hit an all-nighter, which lets me fall asleep at a normal hour, and I reset the weird sleep patterns. At this point, I'm wondering if just sleeping intuitively and ignoring what the clock says might be the best way to go. After all, there's nothing intrinsically better about being awake during the day and asleep at night. It made more sense pre-electricity, sure, but at this point, I'm not convinced it really matters.
If I'm really lucky, I'll be on Delft time when I fly over there, and then the effort of dealing with a new place, new people, and a new language plus moving and starting my new job should let me reset to a normal sleep schedule, with less jet lag than I'd otherwise experience. That would be kind of awesome, actually.
If physical effort were enough, I would have crashed at 8PM last night. R and I have moved the elliptical, two couches, and a queen sized mattress. We've also cleaned the kitchen, master bedroom, guest bedroom, and basement, and have made significant progress on packing up the office. And here it is, 6AM, and my eyes are a little dry but my mind is still bouncing around. I envy R so much right now. He decides it's time for bed, his head hits the pillow, and he's asleep. I have never experienced that. I can fall asleep immediately if I'm exhausted, or sick, but that's it. I can't just say "it's midnight, and to maintain a schedule similar to most people here I need to sleep now" and then fall asleep. I have to say "it's midnight, and today I learned how to program in BASIC, so I could write an app to analyze data, which I analyzed, and then I came home and did stuff and now I'm tired" before I can fall asleep.
I think the stress of being jobless and my natural inability to sleep if I'm not *really* tired started the problem, and it was compounded by being able to sleep in as long as I needed to. I've had intermittant trouble falling asleep since forever, I think. According to the internet, that's Initial Stage Insomnia and it can be brought about by a bunch of different things, including stress and anxiety. I do know that if I'm worried about something, ESPECIALLY if it's something I have no control over, I will think and think and think about it when I should be sleeping. This is frustrating when facing layoffs, say, or when jobless and looking at a broken economy and a very broken industry. I'm pretty sure almost everyone has occasional nights like that though, so I think was makes my problem insomnia is the second reason.
I seem to have a set amount of effort I need to use up between sleep cycles. This effort can be mental (intellectual might be a better word) or physical, but not emotional. In fact, the more exhausting my emotional state, the more likely I am to stay awake worrying at it. It's sort of like a piston doing work, actually. Given a certain amount of fuel (previous night's sleep) in the combustion chamber, the piston MUST move a certain distance, producing work, where the factors are the weight of the piston and the pressure of whatever's on the other side of it. It's like the mental effort is the work and physical effort is the outside pressure. So a lot of physical exertion will lower the amount of mental work I have to do, but can never totally substitute for it. I guess that makes emotional work equivalent to increasing the efficiency of the fuel burn, making the piston do more work. Unfortunately for me, job hunting requires little physical effort, and the intellectual effort of finding things is canceled out by the emotional work of believing you will find something. Housework requires minimal physical effort, but no mental exertion whatsoever. I think this lack of mental effort explains my current preference of nonfiction for light reading. Or creating elaborate spreadsheets. Or doing math for no reason other than entertaining myself. So I haven't been using up my sleep-fuel at my normal rate, leading to staying awake for longer periods of time between sleeping.
An obvious way to eneable myself to sleep would be to limit the amount of sleep I get, only partially fueling my engine. That's where the last issue comes to play. If I don't have anything to get up for, except to feel tired all day so I can fall asleep at a "reasonable" hour, I'm not going to. So I get totally refueled, only later in the day, so I fall asleep even later, and the cycle gets absurd pretty darn quickly. Eventually I hit an all-nighter, which lets me fall asleep at a normal hour, and I reset the weird sleep patterns. At this point, I'm wondering if just sleeping intuitively and ignoring what the clock says might be the best way to go. After all, there's nothing intrinsically better about being awake during the day and asleep at night. It made more sense pre-electricity, sure, but at this point, I'm not convinced it really matters.
If I'm really lucky, I'll be on Delft time when I fly over there, and then the effort of dealing with a new place, new people, and a new language plus moving and starting my new job should let me reset to a normal sleep schedule, with less jet lag than I'd otherwise experience. That would be kind of awesome, actually.
If physical effort were enough, I would have crashed at 8PM last night. R and I have moved the elliptical, two couches, and a queen sized mattress. We've also cleaned the kitchen, master bedroom, guest bedroom, and basement, and have made significant progress on packing up the office. And here it is, 6AM, and my eyes are a little dry but my mind is still bouncing around. I envy R so much right now. He decides it's time for bed, his head hits the pillow, and he's asleep. I have never experienced that. I can fall asleep immediately if I'm exhausted, or sick, but that's it. I can't just say "it's midnight, and to maintain a schedule similar to most people here I need to sleep now" and then fall asleep. I have to say "it's midnight, and today I learned how to program in BASIC, so I could write an app to analyze data, which I analyzed, and then I came home and did stuff and now I'm tired" before I can fall asleep.
12 November 2009
Immigration; Part 1
Scan passport and email image to immigration coordinator.
This was a pretty easy step. There was some trouble with remembering to use the scanner software, but I got it figured out. Why are there "scan" buttons on scanners that don't work unless the computer has the software open, and the user chooses to scan via the software? All the "scan" button does is send an error message to the little scanner screen. You don't even use it to photocopy; for that there's a separate "copy" button. Redundancy is only worthwhile if both methods perform the task. The "scan" button is pretend redundancy.
I hope nobody's confused when they see my high school passport photo. My hair was about 30 inches longer and my glasses were way less awesome. It's amazing how haircut and glasses can totally change a person's face. My hair was a different color (possibly the natural one?) too, but since the passport has translucent blue over the whole photo, I expect that's insignificant.
This was a pretty easy step. There was some trouble with remembering to use the scanner software, but I got it figured out. Why are there "scan" buttons on scanners that don't work unless the computer has the software open, and the user chooses to scan via the software? All the "scan" button does is send an error message to the little scanner screen. You don't even use it to photocopy; for that there's a separate "copy" button. Redundancy is only worthwhile if both methods perform the task. The "scan" button is pretend redundancy.
I hope nobody's confused when they see my high school passport photo. My hair was about 30 inches longer and my glasses were way less awesome. It's amazing how haircut and glasses can totally change a person's face. My hair was a different color (possibly the natural one?) too, but since the passport has translucent blue over the whole photo, I expect that's insignificant.
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