Lucky number (2)7

Don’t act like you weren’t expecting this. You know how I love me a list.

If the 26 list had several items requiring attitude adjustment (letting go of grudges, judging less), 27 is a little more concrete.

So, as I march into my late-20s, I want to:

1) Get married!

2) Go to Phillies spring training in Clearwater.

3) Learn to drive stick. My younger cousin tried to teach me once. It wasn’t pretty. I don’t think I’ll be able to convince him to give me another shot.

4) Make my own creme brulee. (I already own the blowtorch!)

5) Run Boston (which will also mean fundraising, because try as I might, I’m not qualifying).

6) Stop talking about doing more yoga and actually DO more yoga. Let’s aim for once a week.

7) Read more. Last year I set the bar at 10 books, and finished 18. So let’s go for 30 this year. With my new Kindle Fire I’m unstoppable!

8 ) Try a new recipe every other week.

9) Travel somewhere new, even if it’s a neighborhood in DC I’ve never been to before. Though I would like to branch out a little more than that.

10) Create a bucket list. I’m honestly not sure why I haven’t done that yet.

11) Learn to fear the ocean less.

12) Eat dimsum. It just sounds fun.

13) Get involved with the youth program at church. For all the work I do with camp, you’d think I could do a little more locally.

14) Visit the Statue of Liberty. I was sick the day of the middle school class trip and I’ve never made up for it. Maybe we could even throw Ellis Island on there for good measure!

15) Replace my computer. My trusty MacBook is 5 1/2 years old and the hard drive has crashed twice. It’s time.

16) Host a seder.

17) Learn to make challah from scratch. (Do you notice the trend of food goals?)

18) Visit at least one new state.

19) Finish all the “thank you” notes within 2 months of the wedding.

20) Set a new half marathon PR.

21) Take a bike ride out to Mount Vernon.

22) See all the Oscar nominations for Best Picture (before the Oscars).

23) Get involved in international volunteer work.

24) Volunteer at a race.

25) Explore my career options. (Yes, this is intentionally vague.)

26) Give blood. (Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you have to wait a year after getting a tattoo, so I should be eligible in May 2013.)

27) Set a new 10k PR.

I suppose this list could be summed up in three words: food, running, travel.

And I see nothing wrong with that.

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The difference a year makes

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Every so often I’ll use this little blog to look back and see where I was a year ago. And I pray to God that I’ve made at least some progress since then. It’s often hit or miss. But this time, looking back, it was obvious.

One year ago today, I was taking the GRE. I was stuck in a room with about 10 other people, at any given time, slowly plodding away at questions that were going to decide where (or, whether or not) I went to grad school. I’d been studying for the previous four months; I was nervous as hell; I, of course, had a bit of a head cold and wasn’t allowed to bring my own tissues in (what was I going to do, write the answers on them?); and I was still thrown off by the fact that at one point during my studying I’d forgotten how many degrees were in a triangle.

Now, as of this July 1st (and, speaking of, how is it July already?) not only have I gotten into the program I’d been dreaming about, but I’ll be starting this fall. I’ve already signed up for my classes, and been in touch with one of my future professors. And I’m excited.

I realize, of course, that this makes me sound like a huge dork. And that, perhaps, I won’t be quite as excited when I’m working on a paper all weekend while my friends are out having fun, or when the boyfriend has to come visit me in the library, because that’s the only time we’ll see each other that week. (I’ve already apologized to him in advance for this.)

But it is still exciting to be taking that next step. And to see something I’ve worked so hard for come to fruition.

And that’s enough to make my soon-to-be lack of a social life almost completely worth it.

Wait, what?

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Good news!

So, I know I’ve been slacking a bit recently on the, I guess, more substantive posts around here, but I’ve got some big BIG news. And I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it.

Remember waaaaaaaaay back in the day (i.e. 2009) when I took the GRE? And later, when I confessed that I didn’t have a backup plan if I didn’t get into grad school? And then, in January, I turned in my applications and have been waiting with bated breath ever since. Everyone told me that after a while I’d forget that I was waiting, that March would be here before I knew it.

Well, they were half right. March got here SUPER quick, but I never for a second forgot what I was waiting for. And as February crept slowly by, I got antsier and antsier. And one day, I saw this headline, that made my heart nearly stop:

GWU Erroneously Congratulates Rejected Applicants

Oh.My.God. Talk about my worst fears. Nevermind that it was for undergrad applications. If it can happen once, it can happen again. And if it can happen at GW, what’s to stop it from happening at Georgetown or American? So, from that point on, I was terrified of receiving emails from any of the three schools I applied to.

I suppose that’s why I couldn’t believe what I was reading, when I saw:

On behalf of the Graduate Political Science Association, congratulations on your admission to Georgetown!

No, really, I couldn’t believe it. I must have sent it to about 5 different people, asking them to clarify some of the other language in the email, wondering if the school had made a mistake. But once I got the all-clear, well, I’ve been bouncing in my chair for the past few days.

I’m not making any decisions yet; I’m still waiting to hear from the other two. But my god it feels good to know that I’m definitely going somewhere.

Watch out, world. Here I come!

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Hurry up and wait

Late Friday afternoon I breathed a huge sigh of relief, as I completed something that I’ve been talking about for months.

I finally finished all of my grad school applications.

I’d had the recommendations turned in; the transcripts had been sent; resumes had been uploaded. The very last thing to send in was my personal statement.

I wrote it and I tweaked it. Then I tweaked it some more. And then some more. I had at least five different people look at it to give me feedback, and then I changed it again. Then, with lots of help, I cut out nearly 200 words – which I didn’t even think would be possible.

And so, on Friday, a week before the deadline, and with my hands shaking, I hit “submit.”

It’s scary to think that this is out of my hands now – that I’ve done everything I can do, and now I have to wait three months to see if any of the schools want me. That might as well be an eternity.

So please, keep your fingers crossed for me and my sanity.

Patience has never been my strength.

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Next time I’ll plan a couple escape routes

I think the best word to describe yesterday’s grad school fair is overwhelming.

I don’t particularly love cramped quarters with large crowds (high maintenance, I know). Nor am I a fan of the “Chatty Cathy” (for gender’s sake, we’ll call him Chatty Charlie) or the “We’re Better Than You, And We Know It” guy.

Let me ‘splain.

I had expected the crowds. Fine. And I suppose the tight space was inevitable once you factor in the representation from over 20 schools. But then there was Chatty Charlie.

I was waiting patiently in line to talk about a program, when he turned around and, out of nowhere, proceeded to pepper me with questions.

“Did you already take your GREs?” “How did you do?” “When can I take them?” “Do you think it’s too late?” “Do I need to take a class?” “Are they hard?“

And then, even when he started talking about his own plans (“I think I might wait a couple years; I only just graduated.“), he turned the conversation back on me.

“When did you graduate?” “Where did you go to school?” “What have you been doing? No, like where?” “How long did it take you to find a job?” “It’s really competitive here!“

Yes, it’s competitive. All the GRE information is on the ETS website. And I wouldn’t normally mind answering your questions, but why don’t you ask some of the student representatives who are here? They clearly have a better idea of what works than I do – considering they’re already enrolled.

I managed to shake him briefly, but he tried to catch my eye at every subsequent table. And he finally caught up with me at the last one, where I met “We’re Better Than You, And We Know It” guy.

Now, I’m just looking for part-time programs right now, so I didn’t want to waste a representative’s time, or mine, discussing non-possibilities. So I asked WBTYAWKI right off the bat if part-time was offered. When he said no, I thanked him, and started to move on.

“But,” he said, “I have a friend who started the program and he was offered a job this past January. He took it, and still manages to take classes.” I hesitated. “Then, of course, there’s another friend of mine who did the program, worked 30 hours a week, and she had kids at home, so you know it’s definitely possible.“

Thanks. Way to make me feel like an underachiever.

Could I go that route (minus the kids)? Sure! Why not? I didn’t need my sanity anyway. In fact, sometimes I feel like it’s already on its way out the door.

But before I could really contemplate the whole “having no life” thing, CC came up to the table, and I took that as my cue to leave.

My sanity’s already on its way out. Another question-fest might just do me in.

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Impromptu post-election musings

I didn’t intend to post on the election. I don’t know that I can add much to what’s already been said and felt – the pride, the (happy) tears, the elation. On a personal level, this is only the second presidential election I’ve been able to vote in and I was overwhelmed by the intensity and energy that existed in this campaign, right up until the very end (and even still, as people revel in their win). And even though I know that my vote was one of many, and that in the grand scheme of things it may not have made much of a difference, I still feel like it counted. Like Diddy said, “I felt like my vote was the vote that put him into office. It was down to one vote, and that was going to be my vote. And that may not be true, but that’s how much power it felt like I had.”*

But, to be honest, this morning, after the initial, oh-my-god-history-was-made-last-night feeling, I started thinking, Okay, what’s next? What now? And it’s not that I need instant gratification – I don’t. I can be patient (most of the time), and I’m curious to see how Obama follows through on his promises in the long run. But this election has been so long coming that it’s like finishing a marathon, being on a runner’s high, and wondering when you’ll race again.

So I’ve decided to think of these next two months as training. Obama is gearing up for his own personal ultra-marathon – a four year stint (at least) in the White House, with the entire world looking at him to, ultimately, play Mr. Fix-it. No pressure.

And we’re in training, too. We, who helped him get elected, will continue to play a role in this change we’re so eagerly anticipating. That’s what’s next. That’s what’s now. This January 20^th will be the sixth Inauguration Day in my lifetime, the third that I’ll actually be paying attention to, and the only one, thus far, that makes me so proud to have voted – and so excited to see what happens next.

*I know, I know – don’t judge me for quoting Diddy.

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When I grow up…

I mentioned in my first post that when I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. And that’s true. It just might not be the whole truth. Obviously, as a child you go through numerous ideas of what you want to be. I distinctly remember phases of wanting to be a singer, the aforementioned writer, a teacher, a mommy, a detective, Catwoman, etc. And looking back on my childhood, it’s pretty obvious where all of these dreams came from. (I had awesome Catwoman pajamas.) There’s one, however, that I just can’t pinpoint. I don’t remember exactly how old I was (too young to know what I was saying), or where the idea came from, but I vividly remember sitting in the backseat of my best friend’s minivan and piping in as her parents asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up: “I want to be a stripper!”

Um, what? Where the hell did that come from? Don’t blame my parents – there was no inappropriate television at our house. And I’m fairly confident I can’t blame my best friend’s parents – they were even more straight edge than my own. So where on earth did I get that idea? To be honest, I’m still not sure. I just remember the stunned silence in the car as I realized that I’d said something wrong. And then we never spoke of it again.

Just to set the record straight: I no longer want to be a stripper. Shocking, I know. But what do I want to be? The same friend who convinced me to start writing again asked me that question a few weeks ago. At first I thought he was just being facetious (considering he added “when you grow up” to the question). But, surprisingly enough, he was serious: “No really, what do you want to do next?” (“Next” being whatever it is I undertake after the generic, D.C. position of “research assistant” I currently hold.) You know what? Aside from grad school plans, I have no idea.

Looking back to my previous dreams, I’m pretty sure Catwoman and detective are out (although, I’ll keep them in mind for future Halloween costumes). A singer, not so much, either – I was fearless as a child, but stage fright’s a bitch now. I could still be a teacher or a writer, and maybe one day even a mom. But for the foreseeable future, it’s all up in the air.

(Although, hey, if money gets tight during grad school, there’s always that original dream: what’s the best place for amateur strippers in D.C.?)

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