2004-03-14 - 11:46 p.m.
Back to life
I hate everyone. Is this normal?
Nah, it’s not that bad. I only hate some people. I hate the people who think they’re always smarter than I am. I hate the people who never allow me to be right, even when I am. I hate the people who treat me like I don’t matter simply because I can’t go somewhere or do something or whatever. And then there are the people who think that getting outraged on my behalf helps. Newsflash—it don’t.
So. That’s the end of that.
I returned last night from my Romp Around the Midwest. How do I describe it? Austin was warm and AWESOME—I really like the city—but the visit to campus was just… meh. I met with the graduate advisor, and she was OK. I met with some current students, and they were great, and I was sad to leave town. I wasn’t sad to leave the crappy-ass Ramada, but whatever.
Iowa City was… interesting. Cold. I made an impression of Iowa about 30 minutes after the plane landed—the state of Iowa is flat and full of white people. They’re nice white people, but they’re all white people. I have never seen a place with so little diversity. The campus is cool, though. I was introduced to just about everybody, and I had an amazing time. I was even taken out to lunch (before which I ran into someone from HIGH SCHOOL—small world) and dinner, and I was escorted around the mall by a current PhD student. A guy. A cute guy, but a) I wasn’t really into him, and b) I heard rumors that he’s a little ho-ish. But if I’d wanted to hit that? I could have. Also, there was the added bonus of the four-poster canopy bed in the dinky Best Western. Gotta love that.
Then I went to Chicago. Ah, Chicago. I met Mom at our funky little boutique hotel (WITH FREE WIRELESS!!!!!!!!), and we went shopping, then we had (FREE!) wine in the lobby. I got my tarot cards read. Went for yummy, fantastic sushi with an old family friend. Then, the next day, we went to a spa, where my lovely mother treated me to a massage, a facial, a pedicure and a manicure. I enjoyed it all. Well, most of it—the pedicure kind of hurt because I wrecked my feet in Austin. But still! Pampering! Then more shopping, and fantabulous, fantastic dinner at a famous restaurant. Very nice. Then, more shopping the next day. Mom bought me two bags, one blue and one black. She drives me nuts sometimes, but we did have a good time together. And I got noticed by many, many good-looking men.
I love Chicago. I love the vibe and the shopping and the perfectly-sized buildings that don’t overwhelm the street. I love the river running through the city. I love the food. I love how people are actually nice to you. It’s my kind of place. Except for the wind, but whatever.
Then I had to come back to Syracuse. Bah. I got to the airport early, as usual, then the flight was delayed. But I sat in the waiting area and talked to a cool girl about my age and a woman and her daughter, who were REALLY cool. Then the flight was delayed some more. But the time passed quickly. Then we got on the plane, then we were told that the WRONG BAGS had been loaded on our plane, then they took the right bags to the wrong plane, then…. AAARRRGGGHHH! But. I sat next to a very nice ophthalmic surgeon named John (married with two kids, thank you very much) and we talked for the whole fight, and we even got into (gasp!) religion and politics, and it was a very pleasant flight. I got back here and conked out.
But that wasn’t the end of it. Syracuse rejected me for the PhD. It’s fine, because I was DEAD SET against staying here—visiting cooler cities seems to have solidified that for me—but still. Bah. Fuck ‘em. And I’m also going through a bit of Zoloft withdrawal (my prescription ran out, no more refills, and I wanted to quit anyway), but I’ll be OK.
But the odd thing is, and I’ve been thinking about this a lot, I’m not even sure I want a PhD anymore. That’s scary. Two months ago, I wanted nothing more. But now? After visiting two programs, it’s finally sunk in that this is a HUGE commitment, and one that will not promise happiness or money or even a social life. I loved the city of Austin, thought the program sounded OK. I loved the program at Iowa, thought the city was more of nothing. Would I rather spend four years in an OK program (for me, anyway) in a great city, or would I rather spend four years in a great program in a nothing city? Or would I rather take my MA and run and get a fancy-schmancy industry job that will let me live comfortably and buy cute knockoff handbags?
So, there’s the current conundrum. The guy who read my tarot cards said I was in for a very successful and prominent year, both work-wise and love-wise. He said it all looked unusually promising. And I know I shouldn’t place so much trust in a tarot reading, but it made me think about things. And then I realized that fate is fate, and I will make some kind of decision, but I will get there eventually, wherever “there” is. I only hope that I have some certainty soon, so I can make those decisions as soon as possible.
