So, let's try to pack three years into one post. Continuing the themes of years past, this is about school and love.
School:
I'm still in school, but the end is finally in sight. When I went through my transcripts and academic planners over the summer to see what I needed to take, I realized that I was one class away from meeting graduation requirements for the math degree, and one away from the philosophy degree. I wasn't really prepared for this bit of news, honestly. A little bit of giddiness and excitement of course, but a bit of trepidation as well. What is next? What am I supposed to do?
I've been in school since fall of 2002... it's been a long-lasting part of my life, and in some way contributed a bit of stability to my life (along with lots of stress). Now, it ends this December. Is grad school coming up? Do I try to get a job in a math or logic field? I have no clue.
Anyway. Still 4.0, with 140 credit hours under my belt. All of the classes in my major fields have been done for a while, I finished my independent research project last semester. I won "top senior" awards for both the math and philosophy programs last semester, too.
The IU review board decided to disallow one of my fulfilled requirements for the philosophy degree, and I had to scramble quickly to find one more class that would fit my rather packed schedule; I finally finished enrolling in classes just this weekend, and school starts this afternoon. All are random classes meant to mop up those annoying non-major requirements; an intro to astronomy class, a class on classical mythology, and a discussion class on medical ethics.
Love:
When I posted last, I was still licking my wounds over the end of things with Heather. This time, I'm still licking my wounds over the end of things with Sarah.
Sarah was one of the first students technically under my tutelage; she was one of Dr. Rogers' logic students during my first semester of mentoring for the class. She and I sat next to each other then, and I thought she was flirting with me at the time, and even caused a little bit of a problem between me and Heather when she invited me to a party.
Four years later, she showed up at one of my mentoring sessions for a different class, sent me a note through Facebook a week or so later, and then we spent a few months talking. I was wary of dating her, but she was insistent. I thought she was highly attractive, mind you, but she was only 23, things were screwy with her ex-boyfriend, etc. I finally caved in, we went on a date, and the relationship pretty much exploded. We went from 0 to 60 in the span of two dates, broached the subject of love within the first couple of weeks, and we began spending all of our time together.
Problems, though. She was-- is-- significantly mentally ill. A beautiful girl with a beautiful mind that just happens to go haywire. It didn't help that she had just spent seven years in an abusive relationship, groomed by her ex to become non-self-reliant. She comes from money, and had a massive trust fund. From what I saw of her finances, he drained her of a few million over the relationship, and up to the end was using her money to pursue other women. So, her self-esteem and her ability to be in a healthy relationship were severely lacking, and her issues with men in general and partners in particular were numerous.
Oh, and the money thing-- she still had a lot-- allowed her to follow her whims, no matter how impractical or harmful, and she didn't have to work, so she was idle, bored, and rich.
Connecting those dots. We loved each other; she loved me fiercely, and I tried to keep things stable and sober for her. Her brain would make her dangerous when I wasn't around, and with school and work, I couldn't be around much. Multiple suicide attempts, stints in mental hospitals. Her last suicide attempt was a massive attempt, and she suffered brain damage. She damaged the portion of her brain usually thought to be responsible for impulse control.
She managed to spend several hundred thousand dollars during a three month stay in a rehab clinic, then came home and went on a four-month long manic binge. She bought me expensive stuff at random. I'd look at a watch in a store, and she showed up at the house with three watches. $6000 watches. She'd come over with a box, turning out to have bought me dozens of suits. She bought the house next door to hers so that I would have someplace to put my arcade games, after I suggested that I could store my junk in her garage. She bought over 200 DVDs in one shopping trip at a Barnes & Noble, spent $5000 on a home theater because she thought my TV was too old. She got worried after one argument, showed up at my job in full flapper gear, and proposed to me over the intercom. She then went out and bought a $10,000 engagement ring from Tiffany for me to give to her, bought the matching wedding band, and bought my wedding band.
Her house ended up looking like a hoarder's home. The home theater set up was delivered and dumped in the living room, and never opened. She would buy entire racks of dresses, take them home, and dump them on the boxes piling up. She began living at my place, and began trashing it as well. She'd wake up, get bored waiting for me to finish my studying, hop on her iPhone, and then triumphantly tell me she had just bought a wrought-iron spiral staircase for her single story house, and a massive jewel-inlaid door from a Turkish vendor, and that she was going to have her basement tiled with the hand-painted Italian tiles that she found for $10 a tile.
Still, I loved her. I became her caretaker as well as her lover. Cleaned her house, kept her on her medication. All on top of the two jobs and school thing. This meant I was never home, never around, unless I was there in some sort of guardianship role. Then she became resentful of the time I did have to spend away... and in the span of a week, the mania reached its logical conclusion, and on the last day of my semester-- the first day of a months-long break from school where I was going to get to be with her daily and try to get her back on track mentally-- she exploded, went on a week-long drug and alcohol bender, slept with a few of her friends, and broke things off by text message.
I gave it all back. I gave her back everything. I don't know what she would do with a bunch of suits tailored for a skinny guy, but she got them back. She got the watches, she got the DVDs, she got everything back. She had to hire a van to move it all out of my place. I'd never asked for any of it. I'd never wanted her to buy me anything-- in fact, I begged her to not buy me things-- and I wanted her to know that I hadn't used her. I was with her for her, not for her money.
We still talk. She immediately got back on her medication and stuff after we broke up, and she's gotten a lot more stable. She's also started to work successfully on a lot of the issues that she had before getting with me, issues that she had sworn during our relationship weren't problems. She's getting healthy, but we can't really try to fix things and get back together. Too much damage done.
She told me that the wedding dress was delivered the other day. Yay.
School:
I'm still in school, but the end is finally in sight. When I went through my transcripts and academic planners over the summer to see what I needed to take, I realized that I was one class away from meeting graduation requirements for the math degree, and one away from the philosophy degree. I wasn't really prepared for this bit of news, honestly. A little bit of giddiness and excitement of course, but a bit of trepidation as well. What is next? What am I supposed to do?
I've been in school since fall of 2002... it's been a long-lasting part of my life, and in some way contributed a bit of stability to my life (along with lots of stress). Now, it ends this December. Is grad school coming up? Do I try to get a job in a math or logic field? I have no clue.
Anyway. Still 4.0, with 140 credit hours under my belt. All of the classes in my major fields have been done for a while, I finished my independent research project last semester. I won "top senior" awards for both the math and philosophy programs last semester, too.
The IU review board decided to disallow one of my fulfilled requirements for the philosophy degree, and I had to scramble quickly to find one more class that would fit my rather packed schedule; I finally finished enrolling in classes just this weekend, and school starts this afternoon. All are random classes meant to mop up those annoying non-major requirements; an intro to astronomy class, a class on classical mythology, and a discussion class on medical ethics.
Love:
When I posted last, I was still licking my wounds over the end of things with Heather. This time, I'm still licking my wounds over the end of things with Sarah.
Sarah was one of the first students technically under my tutelage; she was one of Dr. Rogers' logic students during my first semester of mentoring for the class. She and I sat next to each other then, and I thought she was flirting with me at the time, and even caused a little bit of a problem between me and Heather when she invited me to a party.
Four years later, she showed up at one of my mentoring sessions for a different class, sent me a note through Facebook a week or so later, and then we spent a few months talking. I was wary of dating her, but she was insistent. I thought she was highly attractive, mind you, but she was only 23, things were screwy with her ex-boyfriend, etc. I finally caved in, we went on a date, and the relationship pretty much exploded. We went from 0 to 60 in the span of two dates, broached the subject of love within the first couple of weeks, and we began spending all of our time together.
Problems, though. She was-- is-- significantly mentally ill. A beautiful girl with a beautiful mind that just happens to go haywire. It didn't help that she had just spent seven years in an abusive relationship, groomed by her ex to become non-self-reliant. She comes from money, and had a massive trust fund. From what I saw of her finances, he drained her of a few million over the relationship, and up to the end was using her money to pursue other women. So, her self-esteem and her ability to be in a healthy relationship were severely lacking, and her issues with men in general and partners in particular were numerous.
Oh, and the money thing-- she still had a lot-- allowed her to follow her whims, no matter how impractical or harmful, and she didn't have to work, so she was idle, bored, and rich.
Connecting those dots. We loved each other; she loved me fiercely, and I tried to keep things stable and sober for her. Her brain would make her dangerous when I wasn't around, and with school and work, I couldn't be around much. Multiple suicide attempts, stints in mental hospitals. Her last suicide attempt was a massive attempt, and she suffered brain damage. She damaged the portion of her brain usually thought to be responsible for impulse control.
She managed to spend several hundred thousand dollars during a three month stay in a rehab clinic, then came home and went on a four-month long manic binge. She bought me expensive stuff at random. I'd look at a watch in a store, and she showed up at the house with three watches. $6000 watches. She'd come over with a box, turning out to have bought me dozens of suits. She bought the house next door to hers so that I would have someplace to put my arcade games, after I suggested that I could store my junk in her garage. She bought over 200 DVDs in one shopping trip at a Barnes & Noble, spent $5000 on a home theater because she thought my TV was too old. She got worried after one argument, showed up at my job in full flapper gear, and proposed to me over the intercom. She then went out and bought a $10,000 engagement ring from Tiffany for me to give to her, bought the matching wedding band, and bought my wedding band.
Her house ended up looking like a hoarder's home. The home theater set up was delivered and dumped in the living room, and never opened. She would buy entire racks of dresses, take them home, and dump them on the boxes piling up. She began living at my place, and began trashing it as well. She'd wake up, get bored waiting for me to finish my studying, hop on her iPhone, and then triumphantly tell me she had just bought a wrought-iron spiral staircase for her single story house, and a massive jewel-inlaid door from a Turkish vendor, and that she was going to have her basement tiled with the hand-painted Italian tiles that she found for $10 a tile.
Still, I loved her. I became her caretaker as well as her lover. Cleaned her house, kept her on her medication. All on top of the two jobs and school thing. This meant I was never home, never around, unless I was there in some sort of guardianship role. Then she became resentful of the time I did have to spend away... and in the span of a week, the mania reached its logical conclusion, and on the last day of my semester-- the first day of a months-long break from school where I was going to get to be with her daily and try to get her back on track mentally-- she exploded, went on a week-long drug and alcohol bender, slept with a few of her friends, and broke things off by text message.
I gave it all back. I gave her back everything. I don't know what she would do with a bunch of suits tailored for a skinny guy, but she got them back. She got the watches, she got the DVDs, she got everything back. She had to hire a van to move it all out of my place. I'd never asked for any of it. I'd never wanted her to buy me anything-- in fact, I begged her to not buy me things-- and I wanted her to know that I hadn't used her. I was with her for her, not for her money.
We still talk. She immediately got back on her medication and stuff after we broke up, and she's gotten a lot more stable. She's also started to work successfully on a lot of the issues that she had before getting with me, issues that she had sworn during our relationship weren't problems. She's getting healthy, but we can't really try to fix things and get back together. Too much damage done.
She told me that the wedding dress was delivered the other day. Yay.
Nearly three years since my last entry. Holy crap.
Anyway. I just got back from the Chicago Comicon, which is indirectly why I'm back on here. I finally let my SG membership lapse a few months ago, since I'd turned to Facebook for most of my online socializing (such as it is), and because the combination of my working and academic life had knocked my free time down considerably. I was on the fence about renewing, since I hadn't even been on to look at new sets for a few months, but I hit the SG booth at the Con realized that I did miss coming here, and renewed that evening. I just spent a few minutes editing my profile to be a bit more timely than the three-year-old one which was still up, and now I'm on here. Hopefully I'll stay more active this time 'round.
Anyway. I just got back from the Chicago Comicon, which is indirectly why I'm back on here. I finally let my SG membership lapse a few months ago, since I'd turned to Facebook for most of my online socializing (such as it is), and because the combination of my working and academic life had knocked my free time down considerably. I was on the fence about renewing, since I hadn't even been on to look at new sets for a few months, but I hit the SG booth at the Con realized that I did miss coming here, and renewed that evening. I just spent a few minutes editing my profile to be a bit more timely than the three-year-old one which was still up, and now I'm on here. Hopefully I'll stay more active this time 'round.
Interesting, interesting. (Well, to me, anyway. Boring to anyone else, so sorry for the long post.)
Oh, yeah, well I suppose it's been a while since my last post, so the usual updates: so far, I'm doing well in all of my classes, though it's still up in the air which way I'll go in philosophy. While my other classes (math 453, soc. 100, etc.) have had exams, midterms, multiple quizzes thus far, so I know how I'm doing, phil. 418 has had just one quiz. Its midterm is on Monday, so I'll have a better idea of how I'm doing after that.
...so on to the more interesting stuff.
A month ago, the math department sent out a flyer regarding a NASA internship for science undergrads. I've decided I'm going to try to get in on the program, and have begun reaching out to former math professors to get letters of recommendation. It's doubtful I'll get in, but it's worth trying. As the usual line goes, the worst they can say is "no." (As for my pessimism, it's warranted primarily because of my part-time student status. I'm not being down on myself for being not good enough or anything. The application asks that the student be full-time for the requested semester(s). Thing is, it's an on-site internship with a stipend, for which I'd be able to afford a leave of absence from work. I can be a full-time student for that semester if I get in... so... yeah.)
Gearing up for the internship application has begun to open a few doors, lift a few blinds, remove a few blinders. At this late date in my student "career," I'm still quite ignorant about how academic stuff works. I go to school, take classes, do extra stuff like mentoring when the opportunities are offered, but I have never had a clue about how to actively seek things out. Contacting professors has begun to reveal other programs, other internships... so if NASA says no, there are other things to go for that I'd have never known about. NSA, Department of Defense. (Yeah, lots of government stuff, and if anyone quotes a line from Good Will Hunting, I'll scream.) Talking to students about my plans illuminates the little unknown processes behind the school walls. How to, say, actually apply for things. How to ask prior professors for advice. Actual uses for a math degree when I graduate.
That last one was interesting. A fellow math major (who has been a peer in multiple classes, though last week was the first time we did more than just say "hi") mentioned that she was being heavily recruited by multiple companies, and she's not even graduated. I expressed (happy) surprise at such a situation, and the others in class looked at me like I had three eyes. "Do you know how in demand we are right now?" "No..." "Companies are impressed with just a bachelor's if it's in math... haven't you applied anywhere yet?" "No, I've a while to go before I graduate." "No, no, that doesn't matter, they're taking us right now..." blah blah blah. I guess companies are so desperate for math-literate folks that they're actively recruiting undergrads. They're paying for post-grad studies, they're paying for undergrad studies. And they're throwing a lot of money into the drive.
What it was was the first realization that what I'm doing has some application. I still have so much of this head-in-the-clouds attitude that plagued me in elementary school, where I get so focused on learning that it never dawns on me that there's an end somewhere...
(I remember some project we had in sixth grade, 1986 or so, where we had to make posters to decorate the walls above our desks. I did something dorky, probably, involving computers or something. I believe I drew Snoopy on it as well. At the end of the day, I noticed a lot of the other students had "class of '92" themes on their posters. "What's that mean?" *blank look* "No, really, what does this 'class of 92' slogan mean?" *blank look* Finally, someone explained that 1992 was the projected year in which we'd graduate from high school.
School ended? I'd been in school for most of my life, so the idea that it came to an end just had never occurred to me. I was never aware that there were 12 grades. I guess I knew it ended eventually-- all these adults seemed to not go to school-- but it was an abstract concept regarding the future that I never thought of applying to myself. Even after learning there was this concrete future date, it didn't seem real... one of the reasons I dropped out after junior high, honestly. It felt like I'd be there forever if I didn't find a way to escape. Too, I thought it was a bit of hubris on the part of the other students to assume six years in advance that they'd be capable of making it.)
So, yeah. Same thing here. I've been slogging through classes for 5 years now, racking up credits, strategically pursuing a degree... but I never felt like I was getting anywhere. I'm 100 credit hours into the math degree (three more math classes and some mopping up in other requirements, and I'm done), but my brain had yet to switch into "what's next?" mode. That finally began on Thursday. It was like a caffeine high, a buzzing in my brain, to realize that I'm actually going to make it. I can do something with what I'm learning, and I won't be a Wal-Mart employee all my life. (Well, unless Wal-Mart corporate recruits me for my math skills...)
Process begun. Looking for internships, meeting with an advisor to begin switching into career mode. A bit of ear-scritching when faculty hedge their promises ("well, you might be able to intern next year somewhere") until they load up my transcripts... and then simply say "Jesus Christ, I don't think you're going to have a problem getting somewhere good." Scritch scritch.
...
So, I went dancing at Ike and Jonesey's last night, first time in a month or so. It was a little awkward, as I&J had been the subject of bemused discussion in my sociology class just that morning. During a discussion of an article on collegiate rape culture, I mentioned that the "high risk/low risk" fraternities sounded a lot like some dance clubs... I was thinking Broad Ripple, but my teacher chuckled and said "Oh, I could write a book on Ike & Jonesey's. Just sitting there and watching the people in that place is fascinating. I've never seen such a blatant 'hook-up' place in my life!" (And hook-up in this context doesn't mean "meet a nice person of the appropriate gender for conversation and a date..."). Other students began groaning/chuckling/chiming in on their experiences with the place. I was a little surprised... I guess like my single-mindedness with school (what? it ends?), I'm really dense with dance clubs. It's a dance club, so the reason to go is to dance, right?
Guess not. I understand a little now why Heather always seemed a little put off that I kept wanting to go dancing, and would go without her. I really just like dancing, and appreciate the music at I&J moreso than, oh, anywhere else... but if it has such notoriety, I guess it's easy to be suspicious.
So, with that in mind, Tony and I went. I kept wondering if I was going to run into fellow students, or even my professor. The floor was somewhat empty upon arrival, so we got out and danced for a bit. Eventually, a couple of women worked their way over, and things were awkward until I was introduced to one of their husbands. Oh! They're there to dance, too! So, in the corner of a "hook up" place, six of us enjoyed hopping around like Charlie Brown and friends.
Near the end of the night, I caught the eye of a cute woman who'd caught my eye earlier. We danced-- close, which is always an oddity for me-- and she took off to go do something. "I'm going to come back and look for you!" Right. I went to get a Coke, figured that was it, headed back to the dance floor, and... well, surprise, she was out there looking for me. She happily took my hand and danced with me again... aww. I was a bit shaky by that point, nervous and stammering as the night came to a close, so I'm sure I sounded like a moron as I asked if I'd get to see her again. She said yes. She gave me a business card, told me to contact her... so as I type this, there's another window open where I'm hemming and hawing, editing and reediting a short e-mail in an effort to (re)impress her. Neat. Scary, but neat. Her business card reveals she's a professional, educated... she works for the IN House of Representatives; hopefully we're on the same wavelength politically. (Not sure this bleeding-heart could date a conservative. I still shiver when I recall my cousin trying to set me up with her friend who had a framed photo of Reagan up on her living room wall...)
<time lapse> okay... just sent it off. Wish me luck, anyone reading this.
Oh, yeah, well I suppose it's been a while since my last post, so the usual updates: so far, I'm doing well in all of my classes, though it's still up in the air which way I'll go in philosophy. While my other classes (math 453, soc. 100, etc.) have had exams, midterms, multiple quizzes thus far, so I know how I'm doing, phil. 418 has had just one quiz. Its midterm is on Monday, so I'll have a better idea of how I'm doing after that.
...so on to the more interesting stuff.
A month ago, the math department sent out a flyer regarding a NASA internship for science undergrads. I've decided I'm going to try to get in on the program, and have begun reaching out to former math professors to get letters of recommendation. It's doubtful I'll get in, but it's worth trying. As the usual line goes, the worst they can say is "no." (As for my pessimism, it's warranted primarily because of my part-time student status. I'm not being down on myself for being not good enough or anything. The application asks that the student be full-time for the requested semester(s). Thing is, it's an on-site internship with a stipend, for which I'd be able to afford a leave of absence from work. I can be a full-time student for that semester if I get in... so... yeah.)
Gearing up for the internship application has begun to open a few doors, lift a few blinds, remove a few blinders. At this late date in my student "career," I'm still quite ignorant about how academic stuff works. I go to school, take classes, do extra stuff like mentoring when the opportunities are offered, but I have never had a clue about how to actively seek things out. Contacting professors has begun to reveal other programs, other internships... so if NASA says no, there are other things to go for that I'd have never known about. NSA, Department of Defense. (Yeah, lots of government stuff, and if anyone quotes a line from Good Will Hunting, I'll scream.) Talking to students about my plans illuminates the little unknown processes behind the school walls. How to, say, actually apply for things. How to ask prior professors for advice. Actual uses for a math degree when I graduate.
That last one was interesting. A fellow math major (who has been a peer in multiple classes, though last week was the first time we did more than just say "hi") mentioned that she was being heavily recruited by multiple companies, and she's not even graduated. I expressed (happy) surprise at such a situation, and the others in class looked at me like I had three eyes. "Do you know how in demand we are right now?" "No..." "Companies are impressed with just a bachelor's if it's in math... haven't you applied anywhere yet?" "No, I've a while to go before I graduate." "No, no, that doesn't matter, they're taking us right now..." blah blah blah. I guess companies are so desperate for math-literate folks that they're actively recruiting undergrads. They're paying for post-grad studies, they're paying for undergrad studies. And they're throwing a lot of money into the drive.
What it was was the first realization that what I'm doing has some application. I still have so much of this head-in-the-clouds attitude that plagued me in elementary school, where I get so focused on learning that it never dawns on me that there's an end somewhere...
(I remember some project we had in sixth grade, 1986 or so, where we had to make posters to decorate the walls above our desks. I did something dorky, probably, involving computers or something. I believe I drew Snoopy on it as well. At the end of the day, I noticed a lot of the other students had "class of '92" themes on their posters. "What's that mean?" *blank look* "No, really, what does this 'class of 92' slogan mean?" *blank look* Finally, someone explained that 1992 was the projected year in which we'd graduate from high school.
School ended? I'd been in school for most of my life, so the idea that it came to an end just had never occurred to me. I was never aware that there were 12 grades. I guess I knew it ended eventually-- all these adults seemed to not go to school-- but it was an abstract concept regarding the future that I never thought of applying to myself. Even after learning there was this concrete future date, it didn't seem real... one of the reasons I dropped out after junior high, honestly. It felt like I'd be there forever if I didn't find a way to escape. Too, I thought it was a bit of hubris on the part of the other students to assume six years in advance that they'd be capable of making it.)
So, yeah. Same thing here. I've been slogging through classes for 5 years now, racking up credits, strategically pursuing a degree... but I never felt like I was getting anywhere. I'm 100 credit hours into the math degree (three more math classes and some mopping up in other requirements, and I'm done), but my brain had yet to switch into "what's next?" mode. That finally began on Thursday. It was like a caffeine high, a buzzing in my brain, to realize that I'm actually going to make it. I can do something with what I'm learning, and I won't be a Wal-Mart employee all my life. (Well, unless Wal-Mart corporate recruits me for my math skills...)
Process begun. Looking for internships, meeting with an advisor to begin switching into career mode. A bit of ear-scritching when faculty hedge their promises ("well, you might be able to intern next year somewhere") until they load up my transcripts... and then simply say "Jesus Christ, I don't think you're going to have a problem getting somewhere good." Scritch scritch.
...
So, I went dancing at Ike and Jonesey's last night, first time in a month or so. It was a little awkward, as I&J had been the subject of bemused discussion in my sociology class just that morning. During a discussion of an article on collegiate rape culture, I mentioned that the "high risk/low risk" fraternities sounded a lot like some dance clubs... I was thinking Broad Ripple, but my teacher chuckled and said "Oh, I could write a book on Ike & Jonesey's. Just sitting there and watching the people in that place is fascinating. I've never seen such a blatant 'hook-up' place in my life!" (And hook-up in this context doesn't mean "meet a nice person of the appropriate gender for conversation and a date..."). Other students began groaning/chuckling/chiming in on their experiences with the place. I was a little surprised... I guess like my single-mindedness with school (what? it ends?), I'm really dense with dance clubs. It's a dance club, so the reason to go is to dance, right?
Guess not. I understand a little now why Heather always seemed a little put off that I kept wanting to go dancing, and would go without her. I really just like dancing, and appreciate the music at I&J moreso than, oh, anywhere else... but if it has such notoriety, I guess it's easy to be suspicious.
So, with that in mind, Tony and I went. I kept wondering if I was going to run into fellow students, or even my professor. The floor was somewhat empty upon arrival, so we got out and danced for a bit. Eventually, a couple of women worked their way over, and things were awkward until I was introduced to one of their husbands. Oh! They're there to dance, too! So, in the corner of a "hook up" place, six of us enjoyed hopping around like Charlie Brown and friends.
Near the end of the night, I caught the eye of a cute woman who'd caught my eye earlier. We danced-- close, which is always an oddity for me-- and she took off to go do something. "I'm going to come back and look for you!" Right. I went to get a Coke, figured that was it, headed back to the dance floor, and... well, surprise, she was out there looking for me. She happily took my hand and danced with me again... aww. I was a bit shaky by that point, nervous and stammering as the night came to a close, so I'm sure I sounded like a moron as I asked if I'd get to see her again. She said yes. She gave me a business card, told me to contact her... so as I type this, there's another window open where I'm hemming and hawing, editing and reediting a short e-mail in an effort to (re)impress her. Neat. Scary, but neat. Her business card reveals she's a professional, educated... she works for the IN House of Representatives; hopefully we're on the same wavelength politically. (Not sure this bleeding-heart could date a conservative. I still shiver when I recall my cousin trying to set me up with her friend who had a framed photo of Reagan up on her living room wall...)
<time lapse> okay... just sent it off. Wish me luck, anyone reading this.
As usual, a while since my last post. Anyway.
Not much is going on, really... exhausted with work and school. Taking four courses this semester-- Philosophy 418 (Hume's Skepticism), Math 463 (Abstract Algebra), Sociology 100 (Intro), UCOL 204 (Mentoring: Independent Research). 10 credit hours in all, a little much on top of working and doing the supplemental instruction for logic, but I'm surviving thus far, and getting As.
Phil 418 is my first introduction to non-logic philosophy, and I'm still wondering what I'm doing jumping head-first into 400-level stuff. i'm a bit lost in class, though I find the lectures and discussions a bit fascinating. I've tried to talk about this fascination with others outside of class, people like Tony or whomever. They don't get it; partly because my explanations are woefully inadequate, and partly because I find more and more that most people just don't care to spend their time thinking about intangible things. Can't blame 'em.
...
So, around May I made one last attempt to get ahold of Heather, to no avail... so mentally I finally gave in to what was apparent over a year ago; she's gone. I think one of the reasons I refused to own up to this was that ireally dislike the fear, trepidation, and stupid games involved with being back at square one, trying to flirt, but not overtly, being afraid to ask if someone's single, etc.
Anyway. A couple of fascination objects have been around the past few weeks; one's far too young, one's more my age. Once again, there's that dichotomy between the cute preppy business girl and the cute punk-rock girl. Yay. Of course, I'm too chicken to do more than lightly flirt and talk with them... I've tried this new way of thinking, the "be more open to the possibility they're flirting back" thing, and it sure feels like they're reciprocating, but alas. I'm stuck in idle.
The punk one finally opened up today about how stressful her life's been, etc. She just dropped out of college, is having family problems, etc. :/ Of course, I got into "aww, let me protect you!" mode, a dangerous place to be. I should know from experience that it's that thinking that has made me so easy to use in the past... so I kept quiet. Then again, I still regret missing out on someone from my past who triggered that protectiveness...
I started probing around while talking to the cute preppy one (she's in my math class, and has made it a point to sit next to me, scooting her desk against mine each time), but haven't been able to get a hint of a boyfriend or a social life. You'd think it'd be easy to do the "hey, let's get together to study for the exam!" line, but it doesn't come out of my mouth that way.
Ah well. Back in the market, and feeling just like I did at 18.
Not much is going on, really... exhausted with work and school. Taking four courses this semester-- Philosophy 418 (Hume's Skepticism), Math 463 (Abstract Algebra), Sociology 100 (Intro), UCOL 204 (Mentoring: Independent Research). 10 credit hours in all, a little much on top of working and doing the supplemental instruction for logic, but I'm surviving thus far, and getting As.
Phil 418 is my first introduction to non-logic philosophy, and I'm still wondering what I'm doing jumping head-first into 400-level stuff. i'm a bit lost in class, though I find the lectures and discussions a bit fascinating. I've tried to talk about this fascination with others outside of class, people like Tony or whomever. They don't get it; partly because my explanations are woefully inadequate, and partly because I find more and more that most people just don't care to spend their time thinking about intangible things. Can't blame 'em.
...
So, around May I made one last attempt to get ahold of Heather, to no avail... so mentally I finally gave in to what was apparent over a year ago; she's gone. I think one of the reasons I refused to own up to this was that ireally dislike the fear, trepidation, and stupid games involved with being back at square one, trying to flirt, but not overtly, being afraid to ask if someone's single, etc.
Anyway. A couple of fascination objects have been around the past few weeks; one's far too young, one's more my age. Once again, there's that dichotomy between the cute preppy business girl and the cute punk-rock girl. Yay. Of course, I'm too chicken to do more than lightly flirt and talk with them... I've tried this new way of thinking, the "be more open to the possibility they're flirting back" thing, and it sure feels like they're reciprocating, but alas. I'm stuck in idle.
The punk one finally opened up today about how stressful her life's been, etc. She just dropped out of college, is having family problems, etc. :/ Of course, I got into "aww, let me protect you!" mode, a dangerous place to be. I should know from experience that it's that thinking that has made me so easy to use in the past... so I kept quiet. Then again, I still regret missing out on someone from my past who triggered that protectiveness...
I started probing around while talking to the cute preppy one (she's in my math class, and has made it a point to sit next to me, scooting her desk against mine each time), but haven't been able to get a hint of a boyfriend or a social life. You'd think it'd be easy to do the "hey, let's get together to study for the exam!" line, but it doesn't come out of my mouth that way.
Ah well. Back in the market, and feeling just like I did at 18.
Okay, I suppose sometime I have to write about it. This'll be fucking long.
So, a few weeks ago, a Monday morning, I rented a car and drove. And drove. And drove.
I got a decent car-- a 2007 Corolla. Its CD player sucked, though, unable to play MP3s, so I made a stop in a small town just before Ohio to pick up some "real" CDs. Finally got the latest by NIN, and a double-CD "greatest hits" Prince collection. A weird pairing, I guess, and it got a stifled laugh out of the haughty checkout girl at some small-town Best Buy. Right-o, Ms. Hip, Prince not cool enough for you? Have fun ringing up sales all day while I continue having a fun road trip.
I planned to cross the upper north end of Ohio, a state road most of the way, avoiding big cities (and traffic). Right as I got out of sight of civilization and in sight of dilapidated, abandoned barns, my check engine light came on. Crap. Finally found a pay phone and called my company (which is local only). "Oh, it's probably just due for an oil change" "No, the car has 500 miles on it. And there's a separate 'scheduled maintenance' light on the dash that would light up for that." "Well... do you feel okay driving it?" "I guess, as long as I won't get sued if the engine blows up." "Oh, no, you're fine. Drive on!"
That damned check-engine light was erratic the rest of the trip; off for a day, then on for 5 minutes, then off for another day...
My first day, I made it out of Indiana, across Ohio into Pennsylvania, around Lake Erie (where I picked up naught but Canadian radio stations-- tantalizingly close to Toronto. I could get to Toronto in 6 hours. I'm applying for a passport). Into New York. Drove through my first Indian Reservation (Seneca Nation). A sad sight: right inside the western border of the Seneca Nation was a big sign. "Seneca! We're Not Just Bingo Anymore!," advertising a casino.
Saw my first mountains. Probably nothing to most people, but I finally began to understand why visitors to Indiana would say "Jesus, this place is so flat." I've been to Iowa and Nebraska, so to me, Indiana's got nice hills compared to... well... Iowa and Nebraska. But this... wow. Green mountains modestly called "hills." At points, you could turn 360 degrees and not be able to see a horizon. Feel the cruise control begin to crank as my ears clogged-- climbing a mountainside. Watched storms approaching from the west actually get snagged on a mountaintop.
Around 6 pm, I decided to get off the road-- my original idea was to drive on and on, napping in rest stops, but my body wasn't too thrilled with that concept. I stopped in Olean, NY, found a Wal-Mart at which I replaced my bag o' personal supplies which I'd left behind, and checked into a little motel, where I discovered the embarrassment people in NY feel when they're not from NYC.
"What brings you to Olean?" "Heading to New Hampshire, just taking a break..." "Oh, where did you drive from?" "Indianapolis." "I hope you're not disappointed, this is a small town, the sidewalks roll up at night." "Oh, I know, I'm just here to nap really." "People are always surprised that New York is mostly small-town, quiet..." "No, I know it is, don't worry." "Really, we're kind of a fun place, we're no New York City though, so I hope you're not let down..."
The next day, I sailed across New York into Vermont. Only 50 miles across at its southern end, so I originally guessed I'd get across into New Hampshire around noon... shame I didn't count on topography.
Okay. I get it now, Indiana is flat. So is Illinois, so is Missouri, so is pretty much any place I've ever driven. Where I'm from, when you want to build a road, you just start at point A, build towards point B, then you're done. Our roads are pretty much grid patterns-- we have roads that go north/south, east/west. You can choose any interstate going one direction, go for a few hundred miles, and get off and feel confident that you've just gone in one direction.
Vermont. "Green Mountains." They've got mountains. It's not easy to build roads over/through mountains, so you just kinda follow the routes nature gives you. In Vermont, this means that the few interstates run vaguely N/S, and state roads that claim to get you E/W actually curly-cue around like Charlie Chaplin on rollerskates. I used to think it was weird that in the Panama Canal, the sun would rise in the Pacific and sink in the Atlantic, but now I think it's interesting that when you're on a road in Vermont that claims to be going "E," you can be blinded by the sun going down *in front of you*.
A few things about Vermont:
So, a few weeks ago, a Monday morning, I rented a car and drove. And drove. And drove.
I got a decent car-- a 2007 Corolla. Its CD player sucked, though, unable to play MP3s, so I made a stop in a small town just before Ohio to pick up some "real" CDs. Finally got the latest by NIN, and a double-CD "greatest hits" Prince collection. A weird pairing, I guess, and it got a stifled laugh out of the haughty checkout girl at some small-town Best Buy. Right-o, Ms. Hip, Prince not cool enough for you? Have fun ringing up sales all day while I continue having a fun road trip.
I planned to cross the upper north end of Ohio, a state road most of the way, avoiding big cities (and traffic). Right as I got out of sight of civilization and in sight of dilapidated, abandoned barns, my check engine light came on. Crap. Finally found a pay phone and called my company (which is local only). "Oh, it's probably just due for an oil change" "No, the car has 500 miles on it. And there's a separate 'scheduled maintenance' light on the dash that would light up for that." "Well... do you feel okay driving it?" "I guess, as long as I won't get sued if the engine blows up." "Oh, no, you're fine. Drive on!"
That damned check-engine light was erratic the rest of the trip; off for a day, then on for 5 minutes, then off for another day...
My first day, I made it out of Indiana, across Ohio into Pennsylvania, around Lake Erie (where I picked up naught but Canadian radio stations-- tantalizingly close to Toronto. I could get to Toronto in 6 hours. I'm applying for a passport). Into New York. Drove through my first Indian Reservation (Seneca Nation). A sad sight: right inside the western border of the Seneca Nation was a big sign. "Seneca! We're Not Just Bingo Anymore!," advertising a casino.
Saw my first mountains. Probably nothing to most people, but I finally began to understand why visitors to Indiana would say "Jesus, this place is so flat." I've been to Iowa and Nebraska, so to me, Indiana's got nice hills compared to... well... Iowa and Nebraska. But this... wow. Green mountains modestly called "hills." At points, you could turn 360 degrees and not be able to see a horizon. Feel the cruise control begin to crank as my ears clogged-- climbing a mountainside. Watched storms approaching from the west actually get snagged on a mountaintop.
Around 6 pm, I decided to get off the road-- my original idea was to drive on and on, napping in rest stops, but my body wasn't too thrilled with that concept. I stopped in Olean, NY, found a Wal-Mart at which I replaced my bag o' personal supplies which I'd left behind, and checked into a little motel, where I discovered the embarrassment people in NY feel when they're not from NYC.
"What brings you to Olean?" "Heading to New Hampshire, just taking a break..." "Oh, where did you drive from?" "Indianapolis." "I hope you're not disappointed, this is a small town, the sidewalks roll up at night." "Oh, I know, I'm just here to nap really." "People are always surprised that New York is mostly small-town, quiet..." "No, I know it is, don't worry." "Really, we're kind of a fun place, we're no New York City though, so I hope you're not let down..."
The next day, I sailed across New York into Vermont. Only 50 miles across at its southern end, so I originally guessed I'd get across into New Hampshire around noon... shame I didn't count on topography.
Okay. I get it now, Indiana is flat. So is Illinois, so is Missouri, so is pretty much any place I've ever driven. Where I'm from, when you want to build a road, you just start at point A, build towards point B, then you're done. Our roads are pretty much grid patterns-- we have roads that go north/south, east/west. You can choose any interstate going one direction, go for a few hundred miles, and get off and feel confident that you've just gone in one direction.
Vermont. "Green Mountains." They've got mountains. It's not easy to build roads over/through mountains, so you just kinda follow the routes nature gives you. In Vermont, this means that the few interstates run vaguely N/S, and state roads that claim to get you E/W actually curly-cue around like Charlie Chaplin on rollerskates. I used to think it was weird that in the Panama Canal, the sun would rise in the Pacific and sink in the Atlantic, but now I think it's interesting that when you're on a road in Vermont that claims to be going "E," you can be blinded by the sun going down *in front of you*.
A few things about Vermont:
- My North American road atlas has a neat feature. They list the population of each state/estado/province/territory/whatever. Vermont has half of the population of just metro Indianapolis. ~600,000. There are no big towns.
- The stereotype is right: every place advertises cheese and/or maple syrup.
- The primary industry besides selling tree blood and moldy milk does appear to be running beds & breakfasts.
- Little hand-painted "Wi-Fi here" signs are out front of every place that has ever hosted a traveler. I still shake my head sometimes at how deeply computers have entrenched in society, especially when people treated me as a weird-o for espousing it in the 70s and 80s.
- Vermonters drive like maniacs. Legally. Wet, barely-two-lane roads, serpentine and banked like race tracks, moose-crossing, snowmobile-crossing signs everywhere... "runaway truck" lanes to catch semis that were out of control, blind curves, fog, etc... and 60 mph limits. Roads that anywhere else would be 25 mph, no-passing roads lined with "my relative died here" memorial crosses... highway speeds. I pissed off a good 20% of the population on my drive through.
- If you remember the fad of getting giant concrete geese for one's porch, dressing it in bonnets and vests for seasonal looks... the latest fad I saw in VT and NH: giant concrete bulls or pigs or something. Large, tubular things at any rate. Set out by the side of the road. With their bodies painted with scenes... hunks of cheese and a red barn, Dutch windmills. Weird. They seem to be advertisements of some sort, but... yeah, I didn't really get it.
So it took 6 hours to wend my way around the tortuous roads of both Vermont and New Hampshire. Spent an expensive night in Concord, New Hampshire (damn me for wanting to go to NH when they're the first presidential primary state... but the hotel was amazingly lush), found Moxie for sale (Moxie! I finally tried Moxie! It's like... a less sweet cola with a dash of quinine), drove up to Weirs Beach the next day... Funspot. The world's largest classic arcade... plus a normal arcade and other such "family fun" stuff.
Walked into Funspot. My first sight: a Computer Space machine in a locked room. I peered in-- Computer Space, Dragon's Lair, Space Ace, Astron Belt... locked up. AAAUGH! Found my way to the classic arcade portion. Old black and white machines, a Pong Doubles, old electromechanical gun and bat machines, pinball machines, vector games... I had a grin on my face for hours. Popped $10 into a token machine, got a cup of tokens, and began playing. Introduced myself to a guy who was refunding jammed tokens to a couple. He turned out to be the nephew of the owner, his (deceased) dad was a cofounder of the place... he showed me around, gave me a close-up look at those locked-away machines I saw at the start, introduced myself to his uncle and others at the place. Asked me to find him and hang out when I came back the next day, gave me a $20 gift card, then opened a machine and dumped a bucket of tokens out for me. Holy crap!
Eventually, I made my break to find a place to stay. I found a crappy Bates-Motel-like place... the door to my room had a massive fissure through which I could watch the passing traffic, the air conditioner was dangling precariously out of my back window, next to the back door that was held on with a hook. My TV (with cable!) sat on a chair, my shower was a jerry-rigged plastic cubicle lashed into the corner of the bathroom with thin copper tubing, my bed was clothed with threadbare flannel... I dropped my glasses on the floor, and when I lifted the bedclothes to retrieve them, a pile of hastily-swept dirt greeted me. A nest of spiders had a giant home built in the corner next to my pillows. It was great! (No, seriously. I love the hovels as much as the luxe palaces.)
Hit Funspot again that night. I discovered that, on some games, my skills aren't what they were. (Time Pilot especially... that was depressing.) On others, however, I've massively improved. Pretty much rolled Elevator Action, could hold my own at Red Baron, discovered the joys of Timber, actually gave up my game of Chiller because I was doing so well that I couldn't lose. The guy's uncle gave me another bucket of tokens that night. The $20 card got me a free dinner of pizza. A lot of pretty single mothers hanging out, watching their kids play, watching me. They smiled, asked if I was having fun while they rolled their eyes in the direction of their kids... I went outside to a patio umbrella to eat pizza and drink Moxie in the rain. One mom- she looked younger than me- followed me outside, shooed away a child who followed... she made small talk about the noise of the games, blah blah blah, and asked me "which was mine." "Oh, I've no kids, I'm here for myself!" as I triumphantly hoisted my bucket o' tokens. Yeah, not my finest move.
Came back the next day, played some games. Went to the pizza parlor to use more of my gift card, smiled at some harried moms... the owner and nephew saw me and treated me like a VIP (which caused the pizza parlor staff to panic-- i must be someone important!); ended up being interviewed by the nephew and uncle, photographed by someone who worked for the local paper. They opened up the coin box of a nearby machine and dumped the tokens into my still-full bucket as children went goggle-eyed at my magic, and their moms recalculated their opinions of the nerdy-but-cute-single-guy-eating-pizza...
Decided I needed to begin heading back; I wanted to get to Indy and finish off my online class before the weekend rolled over. Boosted by caffeine, I was prepared to drive straight through, and I left mid-afternoon. I was in Vermont again, winding around their insane fucking roads, when harsh storms hit... zero visibility from rain, with fog... I had to get off the road. Stopped first at a Holiday Inn Express in Springfield VT. Too expensive, but I ended up getting into an amazingly deep and personal conversation with the girl at the counter... she did all she could to get me to stay ("...we're having the Simpsons Movie premiere! I have tickets! I'll take you! I know fun places we could go! I could show you around!"), learned her plans to go back to school, where she was from, how long she'd been in VT. A western girl stuck in a small town in a small state, around no one she knew and an urge to travel. I honestly think that if I'd said "hey, hop in the car with me, let's go on an adventure!" that she'd have done just that. If I hadn't had a class and a life to resume so soon... I would have. But... I couldn't get caught up, so I took off again. Stopped at this beautiful little b&b, slogged through the rain to my room, watched TV (saw a local documentary on making those painted bull/pig/whatever things, as someone painted their concrete animal with the constellations of the Northern and Southern Hemispheres, one hemisphere per side.). Dozed off, woke up to birds and sunshine... opened my curtains...
...I was on top of a mountain. Holy crap. A deep green valley swept down from my view, little pocket mirror lakes and toy barns off in the distance. The first time in ages I've just been knocked flat by an unexpected gorgeous view. I'm not a nature guy, but... this was just awe-inspiring.
Indy continued to call, though, and I drove on. Slept for a few hours in an Ohio rest stop, 10 pm to 2 am. A really good sleep. Popped the front seats backwards, opened the rear seats to the trunk, tilting everything together to form a cozy tunnel that blocked streetlights and any peering eyes...
Got back home around 4 am Saturday morning. The cat was alive (Tony had been feeding her) but pissed. A short nap caught me up, I finished up my schoolwork for the semester on Sunday, and was back in gear for work and mundane life. Woo-hoo.
God, that was fun. I was afraid when I was planning all of this that I might be chasing a chimera, some barely remembered idea of "life" as I used to live it as a teenager, when I was younger, more stupid, before I was married, before I had responsibility, that the experience would ring hollow and make me realize how much I'd changed.
Instead, I realized how much I missed doing this kind of thing. Heading home was hard. I kept that "returning home" melancholy away by thinking of what could be next. Where could I go next? I was kicking myself a bit-- I could have taken two weeks off, I was mere miles away from Maine, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. Now that I know the distances and times, I could go quicker, more intelligently. I could get to Maine without all ther stops, or I could go an equal distance in the other direction, hit the Dakotas.
I could get my passport and go to Canada. Quicker than NH!
Don't know when I'm doing it or what I'm doing, but I'm doing something again. I'm not going to wait 10 years to go out again.
I also reaffirmed my "road trip alone" tendencies. Tony was kind of let down that he couldn't have gone-- even his mom asked why he hadn't gone-- and he didn't really get why I said I couldn't have done that trip with someone else. I liked the silence (or the me-silence... Prince and/or Trent Reznor and/or NPR was on much of the time... y'know, Concord NH residents don't care for Prince screaming "work it!") Anyway. I can't really curl up at a rest stop for a nap with someone else along...
I thought a bit about Heather and such as well... a little sad as I went through PA, wondering what it'd have been like on the road with her. Making a turn toward the Pittsburg area. That would have been more... fulfilling... than going to New England with Tony, really. I think she'd have at least been amused by my shock/awe/delight at the changing terrain and such. I hate missing her, or missing the person I think she was.
I don't think I could have jammed to Prince had she been along, though.
Infuriating roads aside... I was really taken with the VT/NH area. I "got" a bit of that "I must be here" feeling Heather had for the beaches in North Carolina, I think. If I get my way later in life, if I can finish this school thing and do work which is really rewarding... I think I want to go back on a more longterm basis. Summer home, that kind of thing.
Happy summer, and thanks for reading this far.
I went to Louisville on Friday evening. Had fun dancing, but drank too much, and it took more than a day to recover. I gotta quit doing this.
Anyway. I also had a lot of caffeine on Friday, and finally resolved on the drive back to Indianapolis that I'd "go." I'd go to New Hampshire instead of hemming and hawing about it. Dropped Tony off, hopped upstairs, tossed some stuff in a bag, and hit the car. 4 AM, and I was just gonna go. Hit Wal-Mart to pick up a road atlas, hit I-65 North...
...looked at the odometer and realized my car was a few hundred miles away from an oil change. And I still have to keep my warranty up. So. Square concerns knocked me out of my teenage-like euphoria. Turned back around right before I got on I-69 to hit the first big northern leg of the journey. Ended up driving back home through parts of town I'd never been in as the sun rose, odd industrial areas with creepy natural gas reservoir tanks looming over everything. I came down off my caffeine buzz and had the weirdest sensation of being in a completely different city... I recognized the road names, but I'd be damned if I could recognize anything. I followed the street signs and ignored my instincts, though, and got home right around 6 am. Took my phone off the hook and went to sleep for a good 20 hours. Well, I tossed and turned, at any rate. Got up and remembered I'd left my crap in my car. In the heat of day. Ran downstairs and... yep... I had a bag o' melted deodorant.
Anyway. Wasted Saturday. Didn't do anything at all. I spent today piecing together a slightly more sane plan to get to New Hampshire, though I'm daunted by my inability to find a rental car. My usual place is closed Sundays, everyplace else that's open expects me to go up to Indianapolis International Airport (whatever happened to places that pick you up?). I called Budget-- had my discount code at the ready-- made plans to get a car at 11 am today a block from my house. Rockin. "I've never heard that code, do you have an Avis discount code?" An Avis number? I have one, but I called Budget from the phone book and, well, you're owned by the same company, so I guess that's okay... oh, your computer shows no vehicles whatsoever in stock at your Greenwood location anyway? What, am I gonna drive by there and see an empty lot?
I hoped to set out today. Looks like, however, I'll stay home today and hit the road early tomorrow. My usual car rental company will come through tomorrow morning-- they always have reserve cars, though I pray I don't get stuck with the godawful PT Cruiser I got last time.
I'm still "woo-hoo" about the prospect of going tomorrow. I'll spend a couple of days on the road, hitting little gas stations for obscure regional drinks and candies, sleeping at rest stops, spend a couple of days in New Hampshire or wherever, then do it all again in reverse.
My first real road trip since I was 20. It's been too long since I've done something like this. Who knows if I'll actually make it to New Hampshire, though? The destination isn't as important as the trip, really, so if I decide to go hit Gettysburgh PA or something... then... great. It's gonna be really weird heading east; I've never experienced much in the way of terrain change-- I was impressed by hills the last time I drove through Wisconsin-- so hitting (or even seeing) moderately-sized mountains should be interesting.
Hey, maybe I should drive into the Appalachian Mountains instead? Visit my roots, all that jazz. Tony's got his Sicilian ancestors, Heather had her east coast early settlers... I've got my inbred hillbillies.
Anyway. I also had a lot of caffeine on Friday, and finally resolved on the drive back to Indianapolis that I'd "go." I'd go to New Hampshire instead of hemming and hawing about it. Dropped Tony off, hopped upstairs, tossed some stuff in a bag, and hit the car. 4 AM, and I was just gonna go. Hit Wal-Mart to pick up a road atlas, hit I-65 North...
...looked at the odometer and realized my car was a few hundred miles away from an oil change. And I still have to keep my warranty up. So. Square concerns knocked me out of my teenage-like euphoria. Turned back around right before I got on I-69 to hit the first big northern leg of the journey. Ended up driving back home through parts of town I'd never been in as the sun rose, odd industrial areas with creepy natural gas reservoir tanks looming over everything. I came down off my caffeine buzz and had the weirdest sensation of being in a completely different city... I recognized the road names, but I'd be damned if I could recognize anything. I followed the street signs and ignored my instincts, though, and got home right around 6 am. Took my phone off the hook and went to sleep for a good 20 hours. Well, I tossed and turned, at any rate. Got up and remembered I'd left my crap in my car. In the heat of day. Ran downstairs and... yep... I had a bag o' melted deodorant.
Anyway. Wasted Saturday. Didn't do anything at all. I spent today piecing together a slightly more sane plan to get to New Hampshire, though I'm daunted by my inability to find a rental car. My usual place is closed Sundays, everyplace else that's open expects me to go up to Indianapolis International Airport (whatever happened to places that pick you up?). I called Budget-- had my discount code at the ready-- made plans to get a car at 11 am today a block from my house. Rockin. "I've never heard that code, do you have an Avis discount code?" An Avis number? I have one, but I called Budget from the phone book and, well, you're owned by the same company, so I guess that's okay... oh, your computer shows no vehicles whatsoever in stock at your Greenwood location anyway? What, am I gonna drive by there and see an empty lot?
I hoped to set out today. Looks like, however, I'll stay home today and hit the road early tomorrow. My usual car rental company will come through tomorrow morning-- they always have reserve cars, though I pray I don't get stuck with the godawful PT Cruiser I got last time.
I'm still "woo-hoo" about the prospect of going tomorrow. I'll spend a couple of days on the road, hitting little gas stations for obscure regional drinks and candies, sleeping at rest stops, spend a couple of days in New Hampshire or wherever, then do it all again in reverse.
My first real road trip since I was 20. It's been too long since I've done something like this. Who knows if I'll actually make it to New Hampshire, though? The destination isn't as important as the trip, really, so if I decide to go hit Gettysburgh PA or something... then... great. It's gonna be really weird heading east; I've never experienced much in the way of terrain change-- I was impressed by hills the last time I drove through Wisconsin-- so hitting (or even seeing) moderately-sized mountains should be interesting.
Hey, maybe I should drive into the Appalachian Mountains instead? Visit my roots, all that jazz. Tony's got his Sicilian ancestors, Heather had her east coast early settlers... I've got my inbred hillbillies.
The usual long thing here.
Well, I got my retroactive pay increase. The lump sum was on the low end of estimates... after taxes, a few thousand on top of my wages. Not bad at all-- I'm still a little stunned. (What do I buy? What do I buy?) The forthgoing pay increase is pretty nice too, though it looks like I got bumped up to a new tax bracket; the percentage of income being taken out is higher, so I'm still not netting $1000 a check. Close, though.
Really really good pay for an unskilled labor job when you think about it, especially in an area where the cost of living is still relatively low.
Tony was showing me something on his check, and I was kind of shocked by how little he's making. I didn't see his hourly rate, but I'm getting $300 more per paycheck than he is, and he's raising a son. (Then again, he gets a pretty hefty EIC each year and his "situation" gets him a few thousand in federal student grants each year, so I suppose it evens out.)
Anyway, getting that money puts me a step closer to taking that vacation to New Hampshire. I also got management to finally approve my days off, so that's done. The last piece of the puzzle is figuring out what to do with my cat; unlike Molly, Quinne's not the kind of cat who can be given a casserole dish of food and bucket of water and be left alone. I'm not keen on giving my key to anyone to have them check in on her, either. Dilemma.
So. I'm feeling a bit more "up" than in my last posting. I get tired of moping and being whiny-- if something's wrong, I need to take a look at what's going on, what I've power to change, and do something. (Hard for me to do when I'm truly depressed, but that's not been the case for a few years.) Instead of being introspective and beating myself up about what I find... be introspective and work with myself on what I find. So, I've been doing that. Trying to fight back against the increasing introversion and just plain fear I've had of late in dealing with people. Trying to learn to be in social, public situations.
Yeah, I'm trying to "get back out there" and meet someone. Whee. So I've been dancing a lot lately.
One of the interesting things in the last week as I gave myself counsel was that I ran across a thread on a group here, where women were bitching about being ignored when they tried to flirt at clubs. Something like "hey, guys, when I come up and say something like 'I like your shirt,' I'm flirting with you and the ball's in your court. Don't just say 'Thanks'!" Hmm. Something I've never felt comfortable with is assuming someone's flirting with me. But... the thread kept going. And going. More and more people poured in-- guys protesting they're not daft, women piling on about "like your shoes" or "you dance well" being their opening lines, that they've worked hard to screw up their courage to talk to men and they're being shot down and...
..."you dance well" is an opening line? I started counting back. I dance. A lot. I get "you dance well." A lot. And I've always just said "Thanks!" because... I thought that's what they meant. (And, granted, many probably do just mean that. But...) A couple clubs tried to hire me as a house dancer a while back, so I just take "you dance well" along those lines.
So after I showed Tony my check last week, I brought up the thread. Didn't mention the dancing thing, just the general idea of what the girls were saying. "Hah, just think if all those girls who say I'm a good dancer were flirting..."
"What if they were, Tony?"
"I... oh shit..."
"Counting back? How many have told you that over the years? How many said it last weekend?"
"Oh my God."
So... yeah, dancing last night was an interesting experience. Tony's the more personable one at the start; he'll dance with partners, he talks to people. Even though I'm in the middle of the dance floor, I'm too shy to make small talk and too clumsy to dance with a partner... but at least now I'm not just saying "thanks" and spinning away.
Well, I got my retroactive pay increase. The lump sum was on the low end of estimates... after taxes, a few thousand on top of my wages. Not bad at all-- I'm still a little stunned. (What do I buy? What do I buy?) The forthgoing pay increase is pretty nice too, though it looks like I got bumped up to a new tax bracket; the percentage of income being taken out is higher, so I'm still not netting $1000 a check. Close, though.
Really really good pay for an unskilled labor job when you think about it, especially in an area where the cost of living is still relatively low.
Tony was showing me something on his check, and I was kind of shocked by how little he's making. I didn't see his hourly rate, but I'm getting $300 more per paycheck than he is, and he's raising a son. (Then again, he gets a pretty hefty EIC each year and his "situation" gets him a few thousand in federal student grants each year, so I suppose it evens out.)
Anyway, getting that money puts me a step closer to taking that vacation to New Hampshire. I also got management to finally approve my days off, so that's done. The last piece of the puzzle is figuring out what to do with my cat; unlike Molly, Quinne's not the kind of cat who can be given a casserole dish of food and bucket of water and be left alone. I'm not keen on giving my key to anyone to have them check in on her, either. Dilemma.
So. I'm feeling a bit more "up" than in my last posting. I get tired of moping and being whiny-- if something's wrong, I need to take a look at what's going on, what I've power to change, and do something. (Hard for me to do when I'm truly depressed, but that's not been the case for a few years.) Instead of being introspective and beating myself up about what I find... be introspective and work with myself on what I find. So, I've been doing that. Trying to fight back against the increasing introversion and just plain fear I've had of late in dealing with people. Trying to learn to be in social, public situations.
Yeah, I'm trying to "get back out there" and meet someone. Whee. So I've been dancing a lot lately.
One of the interesting things in the last week as I gave myself counsel was that I ran across a thread on a group here, where women were bitching about being ignored when they tried to flirt at clubs. Something like "hey, guys, when I come up and say something like 'I like your shirt,' I'm flirting with you and the ball's in your court. Don't just say 'Thanks'!" Hmm. Something I've never felt comfortable with is assuming someone's flirting with me. But... the thread kept going. And going. More and more people poured in-- guys protesting they're not daft, women piling on about "like your shoes" or "you dance well" being their opening lines, that they've worked hard to screw up their courage to talk to men and they're being shot down and...
..."you dance well" is an opening line? I started counting back. I dance. A lot. I get "you dance well." A lot. And I've always just said "Thanks!" because... I thought that's what they meant. (And, granted, many probably do just mean that. But...) A couple clubs tried to hire me as a house dancer a while back, so I just take "you dance well" along those lines.
So after I showed Tony my check last week, I brought up the thread. Didn't mention the dancing thing, just the general idea of what the girls were saying. "Hah, just think if all those girls who say I'm a good dancer were flirting..."
"What if they were, Tony?"
"I... oh shit..."
"Counting back? How many have told you that over the years? How many said it last weekend?"
"Oh my God."
So... yeah, dancing last night was an interesting experience. Tony's the more personable one at the start; he'll dance with partners, he talks to people. Even though I'm in the middle of the dance floor, I'm too shy to make small talk and too clumsy to dance with a partner... but at least now I'm not just saying "thanks" and spinning away.
One of the more dangerous things that I can have in this world is free time, which is something I've had in abundance for the last month or so. No school, just work, and all the time I need to ruminate on life.
I won't bitch across multiple long paragraphs in this post-- it's the same melancholy crap as usual, and I really sound like a scratched emo record when I start in on it. But... yeah. I could definitely use some reason to exist right about now, 'cause everything just seems devoid of meaning.
...
I had bill collectors call yesterday, again looking for Lindsey. I have to wonder how many creditors she's shafting/shafted; this is the second group of collectors to contact me in the last few months in their efforts to find her. The first group even included a repo man, looking to retrieve her car.
I'm torn on how I should feel; half of me chuckles at her misfortune, half of me feels horrible for her. But... at least her financial troubles aren't on my shoulders; I've said before that, if I were with her, I would never have gone to school, and this is precisely why. The financial windfalls that have paid for school would have been spent, instead, on paying off her never-ending debts.
I won't bitch across multiple long paragraphs in this post-- it's the same melancholy crap as usual, and I really sound like a scratched emo record when I start in on it. But... yeah. I could definitely use some reason to exist right about now, 'cause everything just seems devoid of meaning.
...
I had bill collectors call yesterday, again looking for Lindsey. I have to wonder how many creditors she's shafting/shafted; this is the second group of collectors to contact me in the last few months in their efforts to find her. The first group even included a repo man, looking to retrieve her car.
I'm torn on how I should feel; half of me chuckles at her misfortune, half of me feels horrible for her. But... at least her financial troubles aren't on my shoulders; I've said before that, if I were with her, I would never have gone to school, and this is precisely why. The financial windfalls that have paid for school would have been spent, instead, on paying off her never-ending debts.
So, at work, there has been a bit of a power struggle over the last couple of months regarding my payroll. It's somewhat arcane stuff (the following will be kinda confusing and meaningless unless you work for WM-- sorry, but I figure I'll write it out so that I can look back on this years from now and remember); I work for division 10, the division 10 district manager got the division 1 manager to agree to take on my payroll (as a sop for div 1 not having provided the pharmacy a div 1 cashier, as was required by the company, to ease pressure on us with the massive traffic we get with the $4 prescription program), switching my job codes from 10 to 1, while I'd continue working for 10. Problems: this was done without the knowledge of my own management chain, this opens up the possibility of div 1 managers "taking" me without any recourse for myself or div 10, this screws up the chain of command on which I've always relied to get job evaluations, schedule vacations, etc., the job code change alters my access to electronic resources, which will cause problems involving HIPAA compliance (or lack thereof)...
My division 10 boss, Diane, has been off for the last few weeks, recuperating from surgery. Last Friday, div 1 night manager Trina tells me "Hey, Katsuo (div 1 comanager) is coming in this morning to get with you about this job code thing..." I blanched. Without Diane there, I didn't have an advocate; we've been postponing the job code switch because of all of the unanswered questions and concerns we have, blah blah. 7 AM hit, Katsuo was stuck in the back firing someone, so I clocked out and hit the doors, hoping to wait for Diane's return the following Monday.
Monday, Diane's taking longer to recover than expected, so doesn't come in. Word through the grapevine was that Katsuo and Trina were pissed after they found I'd left that past Friday. So, I bit the bullet and waited for Katsuo that morning. We went to the back, and I tried to stall for more time ("yeah, we're concerned about vacation requests and such..."). Turned out that they weren't ready yet to do the job code switch, either, but had something else to tell me. Oh, goody...
Home office noticed (while researching this job code debacle) that I had never been traited for the 3rd-shift pay differentials. I remember when the differentials had been put in place years ago, $1 more an hour for 3rd-shifters in div 1, and I'd just sucked it up as a cost I had to pay in order to maintain my cushy div 10 position. Well, turns out I was supposed to have that differential. I got that differential. Retroactively.
I got a dollar-an-hour raise effective immediately. Nice. They also estimated that I'm due somewhere between $3000-6000, possibly even more, depending on how far back these differentials went. I don't recall, Katsuo thinks it was 3 years, but IIRC, it could stretch back 5 or 6 years. High end could go $12000.
Not sure when that check will be cut, how much it'll be, etc... but. Yeah. A nice windfall. I may take my first vacation, then, in nearly a decade. (Where? Possibly Weir Beach, New Hampshire. Swimming? Good. Old time beach-front entertainment resort? Good. World's largest classic arcade and museum? Heaven.) All with enough left over to get a laptop for school and have enough to cover the scholarship I'll miss out on in Spring...
After walking out of that little meeting in a daze and relating the tale, Tony said that I should go to church on Sunday. Which I doubt I'll do, but... it is kinda interesting how every year or two (especially at times that my finances are in question), a windfall of some sort occurs. The jury duty pay, the scholarships that kicked in right as my tax write-offs expired, the science scholarship that kicked in right as medical and vet bills killed the last of my savings, now this.
I fly without a net, yet something bounces me safely back up every time I start to fall...
My division 10 boss, Diane, has been off for the last few weeks, recuperating from surgery. Last Friday, div 1 night manager Trina tells me "Hey, Katsuo (div 1 comanager) is coming in this morning to get with you about this job code thing..." I blanched. Without Diane there, I didn't have an advocate; we've been postponing the job code switch because of all of the unanswered questions and concerns we have, blah blah. 7 AM hit, Katsuo was stuck in the back firing someone, so I clocked out and hit the doors, hoping to wait for Diane's return the following Monday.
Monday, Diane's taking longer to recover than expected, so doesn't come in. Word through the grapevine was that Katsuo and Trina were pissed after they found I'd left that past Friday. So, I bit the bullet and waited for Katsuo that morning. We went to the back, and I tried to stall for more time ("yeah, we're concerned about vacation requests and such..."). Turned out that they weren't ready yet to do the job code switch, either, but had something else to tell me. Oh, goody...
Home office noticed (while researching this job code debacle) that I had never been traited for the 3rd-shift pay differentials. I remember when the differentials had been put in place years ago, $1 more an hour for 3rd-shifters in div 1, and I'd just sucked it up as a cost I had to pay in order to maintain my cushy div 10 position. Well, turns out I was supposed to have that differential. I got that differential. Retroactively.
I got a dollar-an-hour raise effective immediately. Nice. They also estimated that I'm due somewhere between $3000-6000, possibly even more, depending on how far back these differentials went. I don't recall, Katsuo thinks it was 3 years, but IIRC, it could stretch back 5 or 6 years. High end could go $12000.
Not sure when that check will be cut, how much it'll be, etc... but. Yeah. A nice windfall. I may take my first vacation, then, in nearly a decade. (Where? Possibly Weir Beach, New Hampshire. Swimming? Good. Old time beach-front entertainment resort? Good. World's largest classic arcade and museum? Heaven.) All with enough left over to get a laptop for school and have enough to cover the scholarship I'll miss out on in Spring...
After walking out of that little meeting in a daze and relating the tale, Tony said that I should go to church on Sunday. Which I doubt I'll do, but... it is kinda interesting how every year or two (especially at times that my finances are in question), a windfall of some sort occurs. The jury duty pay, the scholarships that kicked in right as my tax write-offs expired, the science scholarship that kicked in right as medical and vet bills killed the last of my savings, now this.
I fly without a net, yet something bounces me safely back up every time I start to fall...
I haven't been doing a good job at keeping up with posting on here. Sorry for the one or two of you who actually have occasion to read this thing, then.
Anyway. The Spring 07 semester ended fairly well-- 4.0s all around; I expected that grade in chaos and the last of the mentoring classes, but I was really surprised to pull it off in analysis II. As I told someone at the time, I got through analysis through a combination of mercy and serendipity; my professor decided to drop the test everyone bombed, and (in doing personal research) I happened upon a single example of a concept from the class that happened to be reflected in the final exam. Like, the exact question on the exam was one I'd happened to read the solution to the night before. Pure luck.
So, I'm still at a 4.0 overall, with 90 credit hours done. Whoo-hoo. I owe 12 more credit hours to the math part of things, then it's just a matter of mopping up; speech, another composition class, a couple of other science courses, my "secondary concentration."
I have a while longer to go, however, to finish everything, since I officially declared a "double degree," with the goal now of picking up a degree in philosophy as well as in mathematics. The difference between the "secondary concentration" in philosophy I'd planned on doing and a full philosophy major turned out to be 6 hours... two classes. I figured I'd go ahead and get the full deal. I'm not sure what the distinction a "double degree" has from "double major," but everyone from the liberal arts areas took pains to correct me in my terminology. "Double degree." Yippee. I guess it's to keep things straight in the school's paperwork, since now I'm majoring in something from IU as well as from Purdue.
What's strange is that I have no idea what I'm in for. I've taken no philosophy classes beyond the one logic class. I looked at the philosophy classes on offer, and I'm like "uh..." (Which, frankly, has been my reaction whenever I've tried to read any of the existentialists...) Everyone's patted my back, told me I can do this, so I've tossed my hat into the ring. The philosophy advisor with whom I met was all cheers and smiles, praising my ability to do this, and she was pushing me to begin 400-level stuff this fall... which is flattering and f'ing terrifying. Nice that people who barely know me sense some ability to reason and/or write position papers, but... shouldn't I prove my abilities before they're praised?
So, what's up beyond school? Not much. After a week or three of sleeping in, allowing my sanity to rebuild after this semester, I've managed to go out dancing a couple of times, see a single movie in a theater (Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times), and... yeah, that's it. No real social interaction. Oh, wait, I went to a picnic thing held by the philosophy club... so that's kinda school related. (And, as an aside, I think on a personality level, I'll have more in common with these folks than my fellow math students... I was able to do a little small-talk with a couple of them, which was nice and uncommon, and a good three-quarters of them were vegetarian. Nice!)
Tried a couple more times to get hold of Heather, to no success. I think I've truly been dumped, but I don't have closure, and... yeah. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do about that. I still don't feel comfortable looking around, occasional random flirtations aside. Bleah.
Yay. I'll be 33 this summer... another year older, another year too old to really be out looking for someone...
Anyway. The Spring 07 semester ended fairly well-- 4.0s all around; I expected that grade in chaos and the last of the mentoring classes, but I was really surprised to pull it off in analysis II. As I told someone at the time, I got through analysis through a combination of mercy and serendipity; my professor decided to drop the test everyone bombed, and (in doing personal research) I happened upon a single example of a concept from the class that happened to be reflected in the final exam. Like, the exact question on the exam was one I'd happened to read the solution to the night before. Pure luck.
So, I'm still at a 4.0 overall, with 90 credit hours done. Whoo-hoo. I owe 12 more credit hours to the math part of things, then it's just a matter of mopping up; speech, another composition class, a couple of other science courses, my "secondary concentration."
I have a while longer to go, however, to finish everything, since I officially declared a "double degree," with the goal now of picking up a degree in philosophy as well as in mathematics. The difference between the "secondary concentration" in philosophy I'd planned on doing and a full philosophy major turned out to be 6 hours... two classes. I figured I'd go ahead and get the full deal. I'm not sure what the distinction a "double degree" has from "double major," but everyone from the liberal arts areas took pains to correct me in my terminology. "Double degree." Yippee. I guess it's to keep things straight in the school's paperwork, since now I'm majoring in something from IU as well as from Purdue.
What's strange is that I have no idea what I'm in for. I've taken no philosophy classes beyond the one logic class. I looked at the philosophy classes on offer, and I'm like "uh..." (Which, frankly, has been my reaction whenever I've tried to read any of the existentialists...) Everyone's patted my back, told me I can do this, so I've tossed my hat into the ring. The philosophy advisor with whom I met was all cheers and smiles, praising my ability to do this, and she was pushing me to begin 400-level stuff this fall... which is flattering and f'ing terrifying. Nice that people who barely know me sense some ability to reason and/or write position papers, but... shouldn't I prove my abilities before they're praised?
So, what's up beyond school? Not much. After a week or three of sleeping in, allowing my sanity to rebuild after this semester, I've managed to go out dancing a couple of times, see a single movie in a theater (Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times), and... yeah, that's it. No real social interaction. Oh, wait, I went to a picnic thing held by the philosophy club... so that's kinda school related. (And, as an aside, I think on a personality level, I'll have more in common with these folks than my fellow math students... I was able to do a little small-talk with a couple of them, which was nice and uncommon, and a good three-quarters of them were vegetarian. Nice!)
Tried a couple more times to get hold of Heather, to no success. I think I've truly been dumped, but I don't have closure, and... yeah. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do about that. I still don't feel comfortable looking around, occasional random flirtations aside. Bleah.
Yay. I'll be 33 this summer... another year older, another year too old to really be out looking for someone...
