"Man, I was thinking about unrequited love. I figure it's best to just walk that shit off. Find someone else to be excited about. It's like if you love ice cream but your ice cream man friend won't give you any. Maybe he's got a good reason. It cuts into profits. Who knows? But he likes you as a friend and wants to hang out anyway. It just drives you crazy to hang out with that dude, even if he's being reasonable from his point of view. So don't hang out with him. What, you ONLY like ice cream? It's ice cream or nothing? Don't be an asshole. Learn to love donuts." --Joey Comeau (a softer world)
I love this. Apropos of nothing, at least right now, but I have certainly experienced my fair share of unrequited love drama.
In other news, my Write Around Portland Prompt workshop starts tonight. I'm very excited about having the opportunity to write in a group every week and maybe start to give myself permission to sit down and tell my stories instead of worrying about what everyone will think. Also, you never know who you're going to meet and how they might affect the flow of your life.
I miss school.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Evolution
Personal change happens so slowly, in such tiny increments that we don't even notice it until time moves on and we can see our former selves from a distance. The other day I was looking through my flickr photostream at the self-portraits I took as part of the 365 project right after T and I broke up. The person I was then and the person I am now are so incredibly different. Last week I found a document on my computer containing a few sketches I wrote almost two years ago when I was so lonely I felt like my heart was breaking every day. It was amazing to read them, to remember how that felt and to realize that I don't really feel that way anymore. Post-breakup was an incredibly rocky and painful time that lasted way longer than I expected it to, but I finally feel like I am emerging from the other side, ready to experience whatever comes next.
:)
:)
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Back to School
You know what's not cheap? College tuition, especially private liberal arts college. I found out recently that my student loans will not cover a decent-sized chunk of my tuition at Marylhurst. I will admit, I allowed myself to freak out about this for a few moments. I even considered chucking the whole plan and going back to PSU or maybe finding an entirely new school to finish my degree. Then last week I met with my academic advisor, one of the heads of the English department, and I knew beyond any doubt that I was finally in the right place.
I arrived a little early for my appointment, having come straight from work and experienced lighter traffic than usual. I waited out the extra time in my car, chatting with William on the phone and watching a man in a blue t-shirt and cutoffs kick around a soccer ball with his young son. This was only my second visit to the Marylhurst campus and I was relieved to find that it still inspired the same excitement and feeling of belonging as the first time. Four o'clock approached and I gathered my paperwork and strode into the lobby of Marian Hall, the home of my advisor's office. There were two other people waiting there, an older gentleman on the phone in the far corner and a man about my age who had clearly made himself at home. He had removed his suit coat and draped it over one of the available chairs. His briefcase was open on one end of the adjoining sofa and he was sprawled in such a way across the remainder of space that the only place left to sit was the final chair, which was awkwardly close to him. I sat, invading his personal bubble as he invaded mine. He didn't look up. He was reading something on his iPad that greatly amused him.
I found myself silently praying to the academic gods that this man not be my advisor, waiting for me in the lobby as he had mentioned in his email. Please let my advisor be someone who isn't so oblivious to the people around him, who wouldn't just sit there engrossed in something else when I'm sitting right in front of him. Let my advisor be someone who doesn't own an iPad (I don't know why...it's just a thing).
Moments later my prayers were answered when my advisor entered the lobby slightly sweaty, out of breath, and with a mop-headed child in tow. I immediately recognized the blue t-shirt and cutoffs. He flashed a delighted grin as he introduced himself and shook my hand, then we headed upstairs. Jay had an easy manner and a sweet confidence that I imagined made him a favorite among the Marylhurst coeds. He was already becoming a favorite of mine.
When we rounded the corner into his office, I was again surprised. Instead of the stuffy leather and dark wood I expected from my years at Wesleyan, Jay's office was an explosion of color. Almost every inch of every surface was covered with child art in some stage of completion. Scattered across the floor were markers, stacks of construction paper, glue and glitter. I picked my way to the office's only chair as Jay's son collapsed in a heap in the corner and resumed work on his latest masterpiece.
Jay and I talked for a bit about my transfer credits and which courses I should take in my first quarter. Since I've already taken almost all of my core classes it sounds like I'm going to be working mainly in my major. This could be a plus, that I won't be distracted by other subjects, but it also means a lot of fairly intense writing classes back to back. If Jay is correct about how easy it is for students to get the classes they want - which is a nice change from PCC where you have to be online immediately after registration opens to get into some of the more popular and required offerings - then I should be able to structure my schedule so I'm not hating life come September.
I left Jay's office with a list of classes that might work, some other new student information, and a business card with his cell number written on it. As I emerged from Marian Hall, content from the meeting and excited about my upcoming classes, one thought played repeatedly in my head: "Hey, it's only money."
note: I did end up deciding to take this semester off for financial reasons. I can't wait until I can finally start my classes at Marylhurst. Hopefully in the winter...
I arrived a little early for my appointment, having come straight from work and experienced lighter traffic than usual. I waited out the extra time in my car, chatting with William on the phone and watching a man in a blue t-shirt and cutoffs kick around a soccer ball with his young son. This was only my second visit to the Marylhurst campus and I was relieved to find that it still inspired the same excitement and feeling of belonging as the first time. Four o'clock approached and I gathered my paperwork and strode into the lobby of Marian Hall, the home of my advisor's office. There were two other people waiting there, an older gentleman on the phone in the far corner and a man about my age who had clearly made himself at home. He had removed his suit coat and draped it over one of the available chairs. His briefcase was open on one end of the adjoining sofa and he was sprawled in such a way across the remainder of space that the only place left to sit was the final chair, which was awkwardly close to him. I sat, invading his personal bubble as he invaded mine. He didn't look up. He was reading something on his iPad that greatly amused him.
I found myself silently praying to the academic gods that this man not be my advisor, waiting for me in the lobby as he had mentioned in his email. Please let my advisor be someone who isn't so oblivious to the people around him, who wouldn't just sit there engrossed in something else when I'm sitting right in front of him. Let my advisor be someone who doesn't own an iPad (I don't know why...it's just a thing).
Moments later my prayers were answered when my advisor entered the lobby slightly sweaty, out of breath, and with a mop-headed child in tow. I immediately recognized the blue t-shirt and cutoffs. He flashed a delighted grin as he introduced himself and shook my hand, then we headed upstairs. Jay had an easy manner and a sweet confidence that I imagined made him a favorite among the Marylhurst coeds. He was already becoming a favorite of mine.
When we rounded the corner into his office, I was again surprised. Instead of the stuffy leather and dark wood I expected from my years at Wesleyan, Jay's office was an explosion of color. Almost every inch of every surface was covered with child art in some stage of completion. Scattered across the floor were markers, stacks of construction paper, glue and glitter. I picked my way to the office's only chair as Jay's son collapsed in a heap in the corner and resumed work on his latest masterpiece.
Jay and I talked for a bit about my transfer credits and which courses I should take in my first quarter. Since I've already taken almost all of my core classes it sounds like I'm going to be working mainly in my major. This could be a plus, that I won't be distracted by other subjects, but it also means a lot of fairly intense writing classes back to back. If Jay is correct about how easy it is for students to get the classes they want - which is a nice change from PCC where you have to be online immediately after registration opens to get into some of the more popular and required offerings - then I should be able to structure my schedule so I'm not hating life come September.
I left Jay's office with a list of classes that might work, some other new student information, and a business card with his cell number written on it. As I emerged from Marian Hall, content from the meeting and excited about my upcoming classes, one thought played repeatedly in my head: "Hey, it's only money."
note: I did end up deciding to take this semester off for financial reasons. I can't wait until I can finally start my classes at Marylhurst. Hopefully in the winter...
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