I don't know how I often manage to not do something and then thoroughly regret it the next morning. Case in point, I went to a Red Sox game last night and we got through one out before the rain picked up and the tarp went on the field. My aunt informed me that they commonly wait for an hour or two before calling the game so that they can make a fortune at the concessions. We waited through a dry spell and then another system moved in. By 9pm it was time to give up and head out. Now, at this point I had the option of going down to Jamaica Plain to see a cousin of mine sing at a show starting at 10pm. There was also some sort of party held by someone in my department back in Somerville. My intentions were fixed on going to the show until one moment of doubt when I realized I didn't know what T stop to go to and I started to wonder how late I could stay out and catch the T back. Thus I made a hasty decision to head home and go to the party instead. Moments after making this decision and heading home, my iPhone revealed to me that the show was very easy to get to, whereas the location of the party was nowhere to be found in my email. I ended up at home with some ice cream and a book, the evening wasted. And I say wasted because I fell asleep in 10 minutes, not to say a book or ice cream are wasteful.
This morning as I eat bad pancakes in my messy house, I am filled with regret for not doing the obvious, easy socializing that I should have done by going to the show. Now I face a very rainy day, which is awesome to me, with nothing worth thinking about other than half a room to paint, a bathroom to clean, untolds reems of paper to read through for homework, and the unavoidable feeling that I'm falling into the same traps I always do.
Missing socializing opportunities is a big deal to me. I spent my life up until my early twenties being shy and uncourious about people and things with which I was unfamiliar. When I was 23 I made a resolve to do never skip a socializing opportunity, and at 25 I learned to value the richness of available experiences and the effort required to realize them. 7 short years later I am still sensitive of my past apathy, and I dread the lapses that occasionally occur.
Being around 50 to 100 new people in grad school has taught me some good tricks about getting to know people. Number one is to hang around after every lecture to see if other lingerers form circles of chatter. I used to always leave school and class as fast as possible for no particular reason. Number two is push your way into circles of people at events and make introductions as needed. There's nothing worse than standing outside a circle and pretending to participate in the conversation. Number three: I'll tell you as soon I learn it.
I don't lack self-confidence as much as I lack perspective and peace of mind. Right now I'm hopped up on coffee and I haven't exercised in a week. Of course I'm going to be restless. I should go take a nice walk in the rain, and I will do a charity bike ride tomorrow. But then there's all that reading and painting. What is a single, 32-year-old grad student to do?
___________________ space for older version of myself to insert answer, or "don't worry".
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
In the beginning
I've lapsed on my blogging lately just when I moved to Somerville to start grad school. I should have all kinds of things to write about, but at the moment everything is so natal that it's hard to analyze any of it. I can say that there are very nice people in my program and the professors are cordial and casual. My roommates are more than I could ever ask for on the social scale. They've had three barbecues in three weeks. I'm fantasizing about all the great road trips I have to take; I've already gone to New York for a day. And my calendar is packed with class, homework, and social outings. Nothing is wrong except that I can't get my student Id because the university's computers say I'm an employee and not a graduate student (I work for a professor in my department.) The weather has been wonderful and now fall is sweeping in.
My tasks are all related to momentum--keeping up with the work, the socializing, and the exploring. I have to ignore my shortcomings and demons for now and assume that my better qualities are those that are on display. I have big challenges ahead, like completing my first writing assignment and inviting new friends on outings and to parties at our house. I also have to finish painting my room from blue to lemoncello, which takes about four coats of paint.
I don't have much of anyone for comfort right now except for three sweet but skittish cats. I'm looking forward to having some close friends sometime soon. It's sort of nice that I've spent so much time alone in my past because I'm perfectly comfortable with it here, and it pushes me to socialize at every opportunity, which I had hoped would happen.
I don't know if these two years are a destination or an intermediate step to something yet more foreign to come. If I didn't feel the pressure of the clock it wouldn't matter. I guess it can't matter in any case unless I decide that I'm in charge of my future. My aunt once told me that if I don't make decisions in my life that someone else would make them for me. I think I'm taking the reigns now, but I'm timid about steering.
So as to not end in metaphor, I will say that I recommend big changes to everyone whenever they have the chance. I guess it's one of the debatable benefits of being solitaire, or free of a self-run business or what have you. I've also thought a lot about this idea of saving up to go to school every ten years. It's too bad more people don't do that; I can't imagine mingling with 20-somehtings when I'm forty. I may have to do that linguistics masters in the privacy of my fire-lit den.
So long from east coast daylight time. The blue is going away, the kitties are not.
My tasks are all related to momentum--keeping up with the work, the socializing, and the exploring. I have to ignore my shortcomings and demons for now and assume that my better qualities are those that are on display. I have big challenges ahead, like completing my first writing assignment and inviting new friends on outings and to parties at our house. I also have to finish painting my room from blue to lemoncello, which takes about four coats of paint.
I don't have much of anyone for comfort right now except for three sweet but skittish cats. I'm looking forward to having some close friends sometime soon. It's sort of nice that I've spent so much time alone in my past because I'm perfectly comfortable with it here, and it pushes me to socialize at every opportunity, which I had hoped would happen.
I don't know if these two years are a destination or an intermediate step to something yet more foreign to come. If I didn't feel the pressure of the clock it wouldn't matter. I guess it can't matter in any case unless I decide that I'm in charge of my future. My aunt once told me that if I don't make decisions in my life that someone else would make them for me. I think I'm taking the reigns now, but I'm timid about steering.
So as to not end in metaphor, I will say that I recommend big changes to everyone whenever they have the chance. I guess it's one of the debatable benefits of being solitaire, or free of a self-run business or what have you. I've also thought a lot about this idea of saving up to go to school every ten years. It's too bad more people don't do that; I can't imagine mingling with 20-somehtings when I'm forty. I may have to do that linguistics masters in the privacy of my fire-lit den.
So long from east coast daylight time. The blue is going away, the kitties are not.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Red eyes and bad scones
For some reason "cafes with good pastry" isn't something that's easily queryable. My first pastry treat in Somerville tasted like a wet bisquick concoction. Maybe the bagels are better. No matter, I've thus far arrived in Boston at 5:10AM and made it to my new home for a non-sleeping nap. Red-eye flights seem to always arrive early, giving you more opportunity to be awake at a time when no human should. I recently discovered that the nearest ATM that I can use without a fee is in Hartford, Connecticut (hint to Wells Fargo online ATM locator, that's not nearby.)
My next task is to find a grocery store that is similar to Whole Foods but in walking distance. I don't have any university activities today so I'm not sure what I'll do other than work on a laptop like I did everyday at home back in my old life. Tomorrow there's a general grad school orientation and Thursday is the climactic urban planning orientation when we meet our advisors, each other, and decide on a few classes to take.
I already have visions of running off somewhere for the upcoming three day weekend. Doing that alone would be in bad form, so I'm hoping to make some close friends before the weekend. If that doesn't work out I can stay home and play with the cats, two of three seem friendly. Or I might invest my efforts in new activity groups via Meetup.com. Worst case I'll stand in Davis Square and get confused by the converging six roads and angry drivers. I'm a little cranky; I haven't slept
in a day or so.
I was very well-comed to my new home by a dressed bed and a good book.
My next task is to find a grocery store that is similar to Whole Foods but in walking distance. I don't have any university activities today so I'm not sure what I'll do other than work on a laptop like I did everyday at home back in my old life. Tomorrow there's a general grad school orientation and Thursday is the climactic urban planning orientation when we meet our advisors, each other, and decide on a few classes to take.
I already have visions of running off somewhere for the upcoming three day weekend. Doing that alone would be in bad form, so I'm hoping to make some close friends before the weekend. If that doesn't work out I can stay home and play with the cats, two of three seem friendly. Or I might invest my efforts in new activity groups via Meetup.com. Worst case I'll stand in Davis Square and get confused by the converging six roads and angry drivers. I'm a little cranky; I haven't slept
in a day or so.
I was very well-comed to my new home by a dressed bed and a good book.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Better humors
Today has been nice. Monday has a weird way of disappearing Sunday melancholy, which, according to the dictionary, is another word for the humor black bile, which aptly describes my state of mind yesterday. Tonight I find myself sitting in a writing group called "Shut Up and Write" with a couple friends and strangers. It begs that I write while in fairly good spirits, a useful pursuit that I tend to neglect. I was thinking yesterday as I spewed bile how unfortanate it would be for new readers to come across my blog with me at my worst.
Today is Monday. Next week at this time I'll be crawling into a linened air mattress in my new home, new city, and new state. It's not as dramatic as it sounds. I was born to wander the world and repositioning my home base seems minor. The schooling is more significant.
I don't want any of my friends who read this to think that I leave blithely. It's more that I leave because the next step of my life cannot be here. I want things to go well for me wherever I am, so I don't consider leaving a success. Idealy I would leave with someone; I know I have lots to gain from learning to establish myself in a foreign place, but I would have been happy to forfeit that.
I think someday I will come back to live in a better Bay Area, maybe one where I have the power to make change. Or it may be that love or strife brings me back here; both already have. But I'd better not come back the guy I am now. I'll take the happy side, but the vanity. Insecurity, and imaturity won't fly back.
Today is Monday. Next week at this time I'll be crawling into a linened air mattress in my new home, new city, and new state. It's not as dramatic as it sounds. I was born to wander the world and repositioning my home base seems minor. The schooling is more significant.
I don't want any of my friends who read this to think that I leave blithely. It's more that I leave because the next step of my life cannot be here. I want things to go well for me wherever I am, so I don't consider leaving a success. Idealy I would leave with someone; I know I have lots to gain from learning to establish myself in a foreign place, but I would have been happy to forfeit that.
I think someday I will come back to live in a better Bay Area, maybe one where I have the power to make change. Or it may be that love or strife brings me back here; both already have. But I'd better not come back the guy I am now. I'll take the happy side, but the vanity. Insecurity, and imaturity won't fly back.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Social Safety Net
On occasions such as today, when I feel all alone in the world, it would be nice to be able to rely on some kind of social safety net. I think for men it's particularly hard to seek out one's friends for this kind of buffer. I know I feel a lot of guilt and embarrassment when I have to admit that I need company. I want my friends to think of me as strong and independent so that I don't become a burden to them. Interestingly, I do like to play the self pity card a little, since most of my friends are happily paired off, but I have to do it humorously. I know there's nothing that they can do to straighten out my social life other than offer a temporary respite. It's especially difficult because I am about to desert everyone here and they have to be thinking about replacing me with someone else for company.
When I move to Boston I may be able to get a little security from my graduate school. If there are enough people whose company I enjoy then I may be a bit better off than I am here, where I've learned to rely on a handful of people who are in much better social situations than me, namely through marriage or personality attributes.
I'm mainly writing today to play the self-pity card with myself, or you the reader if you exist. There are these Sundays when no more books can be read, no more walks taken, and all I can do is wait for sunset and throw on a Netflix movie. My life shouldn't have to be this way, but my past catches up with me now and again. It's funny how aging really does panic me. There's a ceiling approaching that is forty years old. It's eight years away but I dread the thought of reaching that point and still living in the rooms of houses with other single souls, or worse having resigned to live in a little apartment by myself. For women the forty-year-old mark can be a biological point of defeat, but I think it must affect some men like me similarly, who see it as the deadline for having the type of life we think we are supposed to have. Of course it's easier if you aren't interested in children, but for me it's the loss of the opportunity for young love that is so precious between a couple. There's plenty of time to be old together; I don't want to start old with someone. So wish me eight years of good luck, or a better outlook on life.
When I move to Boston I may be able to get a little security from my graduate school. If there are enough people whose company I enjoy then I may be a bit better off than I am here, where I've learned to rely on a handful of people who are in much better social situations than me, namely through marriage or personality attributes.
I'm mainly writing today to play the self-pity card with myself, or you the reader if you exist. There are these Sundays when no more books can be read, no more walks taken, and all I can do is wait for sunset and throw on a Netflix movie. My life shouldn't have to be this way, but my past catches up with me now and again. It's funny how aging really does panic me. There's a ceiling approaching that is forty years old. It's eight years away but I dread the thought of reaching that point and still living in the rooms of houses with other single souls, or worse having resigned to live in a little apartment by myself. For women the forty-year-old mark can be a biological point of defeat, but I think it must affect some men like me similarly, who see it as the deadline for having the type of life we think we are supposed to have. Of course it's easier if you aren't interested in children, but for me it's the loss of the opportunity for young love that is so precious between a couple. There's plenty of time to be old together; I don't want to start old with someone. So wish me eight years of good luck, or a better outlook on life.
Proposed Changes
In moving to Boston and graduate school I have hoped for certain changes in the way that life feels. On a superficial level, I'm looking forward to seasons and a place where the wilds of nature are always encroaching on civilization, whether it be storms or greenery. Inwardly, I yearn to pull off an end to lonliness or at least find myself so stimulated by the culture that any isolation feels part of a process. Here in California my lonliness is stagnant. No one of any significance has penetrated my life here for nearly two years. In fact my one-week tour in the Alps was more socially lubricating than anything I have felt here. I long for a day when I feel acompanied at the start and ends of my days--when physical contact can be reciprocal.
I trust that Boston will provide me many good distractions and reward me a few lifetime friendships. I think months of studying urban planning will refresh my conscience, which has soured from useless endeavors and continual periods of hope and defeat.
Music evades me right now. Dance is not existant. Romance is imaginary. Food and sleep are my only nurishments, except when I chance to travel or converse in foreign tongues. I'm betting on being rescued by academia and one of thirteen original colonies.
I trust that Boston will provide me many good distractions and reward me a few lifetime friendships. I think months of studying urban planning will refresh my conscience, which has soured from useless endeavors and continual periods of hope and defeat.
Music evades me right now. Dance is not existant. Romance is imaginary. Food and sleep are my only nurishments, except when I chance to travel or converse in foreign tongues. I'm betting on being rescued by academia and one of thirteen original colonies.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Blogin' the interpersonal
I usually keep to me versus me when I discuss the mayhem going about in my head. Lately I've had enough interpersonal agitation that I want to try to hit that pressure valve and hiss away a little compressed air.
I have never thought of myself as good at debating, conflict resolution, or negotiating. I don't have much experience at it, and I consider myself more of a hot-head then a thoughtful interlocutor when I occasionally jump in the ring. I've had a few widely differing frustrations with people lately, but in each case it has to do with their habits or actions that vex me beyond endurance (as Aunt Alice used to say of Uncle Matt :) Interestingly, in each case it has nothing to do with me, I'm not being abused in any way other than suffering the guilt of inaction. What is my obligation to that person and myself? I've always admired those that come out and say what they need to say, but only if they pick the right battles. I know I have to find a way to defend what I believe is right and find the best ways to purvey my opinions. Hell, I'm going into urban planning, it's professionally as vital as personally.
My history with confrontation is the belief that I should stay quiet in the name of tolerance, or out of the fear that I might be wrong, or that morality is simply too subjective to lay claim to any part of it. As I get older and watch my complaisance bite me in the ass one too many times, I realize that I have to confront, debate, and negotiate. Loving people means they pain you, and I'm learning to mull over problems without them neither ulcerating my stomach nor slipping to the back burner. I want to say what I need to say to help my friends or at least to assuage my conscience. I never want to belittle anyone and let my hot-head taint my arguments. It seems that emotions walk a fine line and they have to be heeled.
Contrarily, I get pretty hot-headed when someone confronts me. I'm defensive, denying, and ungracious. Nobody does it very often, but then again I don't have too many close friends, and I don't put out the welcome mat. I always wonder how much my close friends mull me over. As my blog attests, I'm full of uncertainty and missteps. Why don't they confront me more often? Does everyone think I'm sure-footed and trudging up to my neck in goodness? Or do I surround myself with people so similar to me that my faults are too close to theirs to recognize. I mean, seriously, I've sat in front of computer full-time making stupid programs for dot-com companies for ten years. That feels morally wrong on so many levels that it seems unforgivable. I've wasted time, talent, and my twenties. I think I've had one friend who really challenged me to change that. What else? I do nothing in my free time for anyone other than myself and the people I love. Criticize me! I speak cynically, I complain, I show no interest in half the people I meet. I'm a prick! Why doesn't anyone call me on it? I...need to discover meditation, soon.
I have never thought of myself as good at debating, conflict resolution, or negotiating. I don't have much experience at it, and I consider myself more of a hot-head then a thoughtful interlocutor when I occasionally jump in the ring. I've had a few widely differing frustrations with people lately, but in each case it has to do with their habits or actions that vex me beyond endurance (as Aunt Alice used to say of Uncle Matt :) Interestingly, in each case it has nothing to do with me, I'm not being abused in any way other than suffering the guilt of inaction. What is my obligation to that person and myself? I've always admired those that come out and say what they need to say, but only if they pick the right battles. I know I have to find a way to defend what I believe is right and find the best ways to purvey my opinions. Hell, I'm going into urban planning, it's professionally as vital as personally.
My history with confrontation is the belief that I should stay quiet in the name of tolerance, or out of the fear that I might be wrong, or that morality is simply too subjective to lay claim to any part of it. As I get older and watch my complaisance bite me in the ass one too many times, I realize that I have to confront, debate, and negotiate. Loving people means they pain you, and I'm learning to mull over problems without them neither ulcerating my stomach nor slipping to the back burner. I want to say what I need to say to help my friends or at least to assuage my conscience. I never want to belittle anyone and let my hot-head taint my arguments. It seems that emotions walk a fine line and they have to be heeled.
Contrarily, I get pretty hot-headed when someone confronts me. I'm defensive, denying, and ungracious. Nobody does it very often, but then again I don't have too many close friends, and I don't put out the welcome mat. I always wonder how much my close friends mull me over. As my blog attests, I'm full of uncertainty and missteps. Why don't they confront me more often? Does everyone think I'm sure-footed and trudging up to my neck in goodness? Or do I surround myself with people so similar to me that my faults are too close to theirs to recognize. I mean, seriously, I've sat in front of computer full-time making stupid programs for dot-com companies for ten years. That feels morally wrong on so many levels that it seems unforgivable. I've wasted time, talent, and my twenties. I think I've had one friend who really challenged me to change that. What else? I do nothing in my free time for anyone other than myself and the people I love. Criticize me! I speak cynically, I complain, I show no interest in half the people I meet. I'm a prick! Why doesn't anyone call me on it? I...need to discover meditation, soon.
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