Almost New Year's

Has it really only been a year? 365 days ago, I remember feeling so sad over Sean's departure from Fairfield, and all crazy-conflicted over what exactly my feelings were towards him. Could everything else that has happened since then really have happened? Relativity always seems to be in effect in relationships, so that small durations of time are expanded (see my upcoming four-month stint in Florence) while longer durations are compressed, with the result that, as it so often does, it alternately feels like forever and yesterday that Sean and I started dating. Strangely, this doesn't seem to apply to friends, really. I never get the feeling that it was "only yesterday" that Sara and I became friends, or when Carla and I got to know each other. I guess once you're close friends with someone, it just feels like they've always been there for you.

Last night was, although brief, one of those magical evenings that leave me convinced that someday, when we're all divorced or widowed or otherwise unentangled, the four of us are going to be the next generation of Golden Girls. Now, I'd probably wind up being Dorothy because she's the most sarcastic one; Heather would be Blanche, for obvious reasons; Sara would have to be Rose because I just can't see Rae being Rose, plus she's the perfect size to be Sofia. I'm not sure if we'd live in Florida, though Heather would undoubtedly love the fanny-pack-adorned crowds and have fun mullet-hunting. Maybe a nice brownstone outside of the city? Or maybe, if we all make boatloads of money, we can buy that castle house in West Hartford, and have our suites and our maids with our common areas in the turret rooms. Oh, dreams..... It'll probably never happen--I mean, god willing, our spouses will not all die on us or divorce us--but it's comforting, somehow, to think of us older and grayer but still together.

Since this will be my last post before the New Year, I suppose I should think of some sort of resolution, but of course I never really make resolutions and keep them, not impossible ones like "do not fight when jen", anyway. This is my resolution: to never lose the people who matter the most to me, no matter what kind of distance or differences of lifestyle separate us. That would be the greatest blessing I think I could ever give myself.

Winter

The semester's over, and here I am back in Windsor until the 29th of January. While it was an utter relief to leave that pigsty that Carla and I were forced to call home, it was still bittersweet to be leaving Fairfield and Sean behind. Alas. I'm back at Stubhub, and I'll be working 40 hour weeks again until I leave at the end of January. I was gratified to see how excited everyone one was to have me back, surprised at how easily I slipped into the old routine, and dismayed by how incredibly stressful the last two days have been. It's the week before Christmas and it seemed that every caller had made it his or her personal mission to be as rude as possible to me. It's not my fault that you didn't realize that tickets you just bought for a game in May won't arrive in time for Christmas, nor is it my fault that Fedex lost the gift for your husband/daughter/mother. The real kicker was the possibly retarded man with a severe speech impediment who was yelling at me for "not treating him like a human being" and, later, "not treating him like a VIP" because I informed him that he could not post tickets for a game that happens in two days. Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men...right.

The good thing about so much work is that it will keep me occupied after the 10th, by which time Rae will have gone back to school and Sara and Heather will have already left to go abroad. After the 16th, the Fairfield kids go back to school. It's a depressing thought that I'll be alone with no one to hang out with after work, but then I suppose it's lucky that work leaves me so exhausted that I barely feel like hanging out. Tonight Sara and I were supposed to kibbutz over our Italy plans, make lists and our maps, but I was just too wiped to drive anywhere. My plans for the evening include taking apart my mom's latest crazy purchase, the Wovel---a gigantic shovel mounted on a wheel, which I was bribed into assembling last night--so she can take it back to the store, and watching SVU. Fascinating, I know.

I realized in moving out just how much CRAP I have. Where did I get all this stuff? Why do I keep it? I have no idea. I looked around my room last night and saw cat ears, a sword, not one but two crowns, a wand, a cone, a starfish, more stuffed animals than I know what to do with...and yet I can barely bring myself to part with any of it. Well, the stuffed animals will shortly be pared down. People need to stop giving me stuffed animals, I need to stop winning stuffed animals, because they serve no purpose, barely even a decorative function. Some, of course, are special--Racoony, Mr T the Tiger, Mr Bojangles, etc. But the raccoon I won myself at the Shad Derby? Nah. He may have sat on my desk all summer at Stubhub, but I think his time for donation has come.

Symphony Adventures

This was, in a way, my birthday weekend, since the symphony tickets were my present from Sean. It was a wonderful night, with a charming dinner at yet another Italian restaurant where I attempted to decode the lengthy list of ingredients to determine which dishes I might actually like (apparently I'm not big on "fancy" cuisine"), and the pleasure of being all dressed up for the symphony itself. It was performed in Woolsey Hall, which is part of Yale's campus, and which is just stunning inside. The music was excellent, though it began with kind of boring Salieri music, then slightly less boring Mozart, but finished strongly with Beethoven, albeit his lesser-acclaimed Fourth Symphony. Sean and I agreed that we dislike that teasing thing that classical music does--doing all this crazy leadup as if to a huge finale but than dancing away to these little delicate little melodies, and then doing it over and over again, before finally getting to the thunderous conclusion. It's like foreplay--it's good, but too much is just really really frustrating.

Last night was just one of those amazing nights when we lay awake in bed in the dark just talking for hours, about anything and everything, and feeling so incredibly close and loved that it was just the absolute best feeling I've ever had. Waking up this morning was, as expectedly, slightly less grand, since I am infamous for my not-morning-person-ness. Sean was disturbed by my fiendish aversion to the sunlight--ie, insisting on hiding under the covers even though the shades were closed. He also decided I'm inhuman in that I always sniff unfamiliar food before I'll try it, and if it doesn't smell right to me, I won't. He says this is catlike and weird, but I think it's a perfectly decent way to determine which foods I will like and which I will hate. Even if I do taste the foods that smell weird--like many, many instances of my mom's kitchen creations--I never like them. My nose does not fail me!

Today was a busy day--we helped Linda a little bit with the basement work, picking up the carpets and getting a bookcase. Sean and I built it together, which was much easier than I anticipated, and it's so pretty! All dark wood. We got all his books into it, and cleaned his room and partially Hubbard's porch, which made her so happy. Poor Linda, she works full time, is working on this basement thing, and has to deal with Hubbard's comments and her sister's demands--she really needs a break. I felt so bad for her. I need to come up with some sort of good gift for her, since I already have Hub's--who apparently mentioned to Sean something about a sweater for me, eek.

I never stop wondering at what I've done to be so incredibly blessed.

Self-Aggrandizing Recollections

Well, despite the cold it's been an interesting few days, and I feel like recording recent events. Last night was english major career night, which itself was not too interesting; however, after I asked Dr. O'Driscoll, my weirdo world lit professor who I was quite certain did not like me, if I could go, she said "well, you're going to grad school of course, right?". I replied in some combination of er, um, not really, too expensive, to which she then responded by telling me I need to go into a phD program which will pay all my expenses. Again I hedged a bit because, after all, how many jobs are out there for English professors? This is the part where Sally looked me with this strange eagle-eye stare of which only she is capable and said, in her equally odd french-english-irish accent "i only tell this to one or two students per year. think about it." and then proceeded to continue staring at me as I backed away. It was the strangest thing, almost like being caught in the gaze of a hynoptic snake, except I guess you really have to see Sally in action in order to appreciate this comparison. Anyway, not that she suddenly won me over to English grad school, but it was nice to hear, especially from a professor who I felt was stubbornly refusing to love me in the way all professors must *grins*

Speaking of, I had a chat with my Philosophy professor, Dr. Brill, the other day--she's so nice, and quite the excellent dresser as well (Sara, I feel like you would totally appreciate the way she dresses, she even has a similar figure) and anyway, Dr. Regan had apparently talked to her about how he had me in Comedy and now she has me in Tragedy, and he told her I was interested in a Fulbright, so she offered to be my second advisor in the process after Jesus, which was really nice of her. Incidentally, she went to Frieburg or however you spell that, the same place TJ's going, and she really loved it.

Dr. Bridgford, meanwhile, who is such a constant source of praise for her students (Kay and I had a long chat today about how much of a picker-upper just talking to Dr. Bridgford for like five minutes can be, she makes you so certain that you'll be a complete success in life) told me on Monday that she and Jesus were at some dinner together last week and that they were apparently excited to discover that they both have me in class--and even better, he told her that he looks forward to reading my papers because they're so well-written. Manna from the heavens--and it sucks so badly that I'll probably never have a class with him again, unless he offers Arts of Spain.

Finally, this morning's meeting with Dr. Sapp offered one really amazing and, unlike the above, practical piece of good news, related to the Greenwood Press internship I want for fall. I told him how Katy, the know-it-all, gave me such a horrible impression of the job, how she said she'd tried to quite, etc etc, but that Bridgford said it was a great experience. Dr. Sapp just looks at me and says "Er...is she a friend of yours?". No she is not, so my mind was immediately saying "Go on....". Apparently, they've had a terrible experience this semester, but not with the internship--with HER. muahahaha. He said to ignore her completely and that they have no intention of placing her anywhere next semester. I know I shouldn't feel malicious glee about this but I kind of do. So he said I can apply while I'm in Florence, interview when I come back, and if I get the job I won't go in there acting like I am the be-all-and-end-all of publishing knowledge, because that's apparently what put her on Sapp's shit list. More than any malice, though, I'm just legitmately excited about the opportunity, and so glad that it's not some crappy coffee internship. I really need to find out if I like publishing, so I can start deciding what the hell I'm going to do with the rest of my life.

As I said to Sean last night, there are just so many options that I really just don't know what to do. M.F.A and M.L.A.s might be nice, but those programs usually don't pay for you. Publishing might require me to be in the city. Art history, I don't know if I have the requisite passion, at least not a specialized passion. Creative writing--now there, I feel like I can be much more passionate about the field, and it does interest me, but would I really go get a phD in that, and would I have a job afterward? Kay told me that I'm way too practical about this and that she doesn't factor in the job market in her plans...but I'd really like to have a job, you know. Then there's the Fulbright issue: number one, am I going to do a proposal (if so, on WHAT) and b, should I bother doing it if I decide not to go to grad school? I mean, if I'm headed into the workforce anyway, a Fulbright will be a year when I have no job and I'll have to start from scratch when I get back. It's just so much to think about. I get anxious just thinking about the future. I told Sean how jealous I am of his clear path, his determination. I have determination too, but I lack a particular place to apply it at the moment.

Bah. I have to study for Mullan's crazy test. Brr.

Snow

As so often happens, I have failed to regularly update here. Lately, Sean and I have read through a lot of the older entries, especially ones from freshman year, which were plentiful, excitable, and sometimes even nonsensical. Despite inward groans about how ridiculous I often sound, it's so valuable a thing to have, simply because I can really see how far I've come. It's of special value to me as well since I don't have the greatest memory for events, even if there are a few (fusco, dirk, tommy) that I would greatly prefer to forget.

I hope I have a chance to update my journal from Italy, I really do. Even though I'll probably be keeping a print journal for one of the few times in my life--the others being my first Europe trip, and then the Southwest trip--just so I can really record my reactions to things as I see them. I found my mom's journals from her trips to Europe once; her handwriting wasn't as good then, so maybe I still have a shot at such perfection? lol.

So, as my time winds down here, I've started to really feel what it's going to be like, being separated from Sean for four months. This does not please me. Especially after, while reading the orientation manual, I found out that since the mail service is unreliable, letters can reach the US anywhere from 3 weeks to 6 freakin' months! Now yes, you may all chant "email!" but honestly, can an email ever compare to getting those crazy envelopes with the red and blue border and an international stamp? No way.

Everything will turn out as it should, I know that. Work will get done, tests will get done, the time will pass. Apparently some of my housemates were wondering over dinner if I had plans to dump Sean before I go abroad, and my mind could not even wrap itself around the magnitude of the stupidity that I would require to be able to do such a thing. Please. Almost one year later, I can say without a doubt that it's been the best year of my life.