I. Weekend Life
A. Labor Day Weekend. It was unexpectedly good. On Saturday, Mom and I went to Mamaw's to visit with some Perry relatives who were in town, some of whom I hadn't seen in a long while. It was much better than my other recent interactions with visiting family members who seemed not to know what to say to me. My aunt Helen and I had a pretty long discussion about academia, her Ph.D. program, the grad school application process, etc. It was refreshing to be addressed as an intelligent, competent, ambitious individual. I also had a great deal of fun playing with my cousin Kibbey's two daughters, Emma and Cecilia as well as my other cousin Angela's daughter, Kate. We all colored, played with Play-Doh, and the like. It was really great. I don't get to spend time with kids very much, and I think my soul needed it. I was especially pleased that Emma (who is 8) greatly enjoyed the Mad Libs we brought along--and she was very well-versed in the parts of speech, so we bonded over our love of language. :) Kindred spirits we are. It is just occurring to me that that's something I really haven't written much about in here, strangely enough. So I'll do it now. :) I'm a bit obsessed with grammar (and punctuation and spelling) and delight in taking photos of errors. If my grammar love can be regarded as an obsession, this photo-taking is the corresponding compulsion, designed to reduce the anxiety that errors cause me. (How's that for being a grammar nerd and a psychology nerd all in the same sentence?! ;)) Here are a few of my favorites:
My brother also came home for the weekend, and it was good to have him around as always. And he gave me my second stick-shift driving lesson, which was enjoyable. He's a good (and patient) teacher, so perhaps in the near future I'll be able to drive the Z3 we got this summer... I mean somewhere other than in a parking lot. ;)
B. Last Weekend. Also good. I went to Blacksburg for the concert for Virginia Tech with Alex (not my brother... my friend's brother-in-law, actually). It was really fun. Both John Mayer and Dave Matthews were utterly fantastic, and the evening was a blast. On my drive there, I listened to all four John Mayer cds in chronological order, and it was much like re-living the last 6 years of my life. "No Such Thing" came out my senior year of high school, when I did, in fact, desperately want to "run through the halls of my high school" and "scream at the top of my lungs." And now, having been through what I've been through in the last year and a half or so, I'm somewhere between a big screwed-up mess and a totally healthy and content person: "It’s taken so long / I could be wrong / I could be ready / Oh, but if I take my heart’s advice / I should assume it’s still unsteady / I am in repair." And in between, so much love, loss, faith, doubt, confusion, hope, fear, adventure. And all along, John Mayer was the soundtrack. I love music.
On my way from Blacksburg/Radford to Emory, I stopped for some quality Dallas time, which always makes my heart happy. I'm so proud of him on so many levels.
Then to Emory, my very favorite place in all the world. I was half-dreading this visit though, knowing it was going to be bittersweet, being my first Emory visit since Katie and Jenny (and some other people, obviously) graduated. It's very strange being so far removed from what's going on there, and that really didn't happen until this year. Last year, my best friends were still there, I was there a lot, I had an automatic place to stay where I could randomly show up (and did once, accidentally). I still felt very much a part of the community. But now I'm really gone. Saturday afternoon, I was sitting on the front porch of the house where I was staying, and I saw an unfamiliar person walking down the street. This struck me as odd, as if there was no possible way that there could be an Emory student I don't recognize. Then it occurred to me that half the students are people I don't know, who don't know me. This is obvious and natural, I realize, but it was a striking realization. And that probably makes me sound like a loser who really needs to move on with her life, but I really don't care. So much of my heart resides among those hills. So regardless of the weirdness (some expected, some not), it was good to be in that place. I got to see lots of beautiful Emory faces. So many people made me feel so welcome. And loved. I am so blessed.
II. Week Life. Not as good. I still haven't started my job, which is frustrating. I keep calling and leaving various sorts of messages, and my cousin/future boss hasn't called me back. It's strange, because she acted as if she actually needed me to work, even though she is also doing this as a favor to me, I guess. I hope I'll hear something this week. I don't know of anywhere else I could get a job that would be at all relevant.
In terms of my health, my energy level is a bit better, I think, but otherwise, things are the same. I'm feeling fine. I very rarely get muscle cramps, and when I do, they go away really quickly. I'm not gaining weight anymore, but I'm not losing it, either. I'm still working out, but I'm getting bored with my ballet workout, so I think I need to find something else to do. My Granny keeps telling me I should start doing Weight Watchers. I'm not excited about that, but I probably should give it a shot. I really do need/want to lose 20 pounds.
I'm still playing the piano some every day, and enjoying it a lot. I've increased my repertoire quite a bit and am slightly less pathetic.
I think I've decided that I'm not going back to Radford. (I already said that once, I realize.) I think that if I went back, every assignment (in the classes I had last semester) would have to be a reminder of how sick/miserable I was last time I tried to do it. And couldn't. And how I made myself sicker/more miserable in the process. And while I know that now, I can do it, I don't want to have to be faced with such specific, tangible reminders of my past failures. I don't think I deserve that. One person in particular is trying with much (adorable) persistence to convince me to go back, and I really appreciate the sentiment and effort, but my mind is made up. I think. So I'm resuming my doctoral program search and preparing for the application process. I'm feeling a huge amount of overwhelmed dread, but with just the slightest twinge of hopeful excitement.
I've been uncharacteristically fickle lately--my feelings (yes, about one thing in particular) wavering, unsteady. I'm trying not to overanalyze, which, as you might imagine, is quite difficult for me. I need to stop thinking so much, chill out, take it one day at a time. Or maybe ten minutes at a time:
Will you share your life with me
For the next ten minutes?
For the next ten minutes
We can handle that
We could watch the waves
We could watch the sky
Or just sit and wait
As the time ticks by
And if we make it till then
Can I ask you again
For another ten?
-The Last Five Years
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