T-plus 368 days and counting
I've been meaning to write the Reflections on One Year Out entry since the 18th, when it was the anniversary of graduation. I always wrote a debriefing at the ends of school years, just to mark the pace a bit. In a few years it will stop being so clean-cut, though I guess there will always be anniversaries -- one year working at a job, one year living in an apartment, one year since something catastrophic/wonderful/memorable happened. Time marking gets less arbitrary as life goes on.
My brother came over for a quick dinner the other night (the boys work a few blocks from my apartment, and it's really wonderful). We talked about the First Year Out, and I told him it really didn't seem that long. He said he felt the opposite, that it seems as if I've been a Real Person for years. He wanted to know how the big FYO turned out for me. After all, we have it smashed into our heads that it's something to be dreaded, a complete sink-or-swim crapshoot...that usually ends in crap.
The only answer I had was that I think I may be the happiest now that I've ever been in my life. It's not euphoria, true, but who can handle that level of active happiness without becoming exhausted? This is a more passive happiness. It just happens, and I've learned to accept it without too much fighting. Doug said that he read in a New Yorker article that one way to measure happiness is the number of voluntary activities a person can undertake. He followed that with "I can't believe I'm becoming the kind of person that says 'I read in a New Yorker article...'"
I must say, as far as I can tell, that seems to be a pretty accurate rubric. I have my 9-5, and that is my only involuntary activity. This isn't to say that I didn't very much enjoy college and academic life, but there's something to be said for being able to attain the level of spontaneity and variety of regular activities that having a class and work schedule plus homework and independent study prevented. I can go to yoga on Mondays with musetoself (except on days when I get late projects handed to me, and that's okay). I can play ball in the park with buddies from high school on sunny days. I can go jogging along the Hudson with Vani, stopping at each rosebush and not realizing how far we've gone till we hit the 140s. I can tend to my garden and spaz dance in my living room without problem sets hanging over my head. I can play music and cook food and sing with friends, and there's never something I should be doing instead that devalues these simple, yet incredibly gratifying, things.
After pondering this for a bit, I came up with a list. I'll call it "Smart moves for a smooth FYO":
1) Live on campus for the summer after graduation, if possible. The familiar surroundings help ease the transition, plus you'll quite probably never have free housing ever again. Even though I rather hated my internship and spent too much time with a guy who ended up being kind of a lame-o douchebag, the buffer of that summer lessened the feeling of having a bandaid ripped off. There was cushion between nearly everyone leaving and having to leave myself (plus most of my close friends were in the same building, and it was beautiful). I almost wish I had that again this summer.
2) Don't be upset when opportunities fall through; they may be the proverbial blessings in disguise. I had two job offers that were yoinked from under me. One was at NASA, a web fellow position for which I'd made it into the top two candidates out of 200 applicants. Then they changed the position criteria suddenly and the other guy was more qualified. At AJWS I was all but offered the position after being asked to change around my summer work schedule to accomodate an earlier start date, then *that* was yoinked away. A month later I got an e-mail from Rebecca that sent me on an interview at WWN, and the rest is history. If NASA and AJWS hadn't devastatingly fallen out, I wouldn't have been available to take the Dream Job.
3) Find a good neighborhood to live in. Preferably one with a good grocery store. That's the only thing I miss right now, though Fairway's only a busride away. Having a front stoop and a 9th Avenue has brightened my life more than I can say.
4) Find a good boss, if you can. Even if your work is mundane, having a good boss is key. I thank my lucky stars every day.
5) Go outside. The adage is old, but holds true. Fresh air can only do you good. Unless you have fatal allergies (which I don't. Don't hate me.) There's less time to sit around missing college if you're outside in the living, breathing world.
6) Make new friends, but keep the old. On my birthday, when a group of us were sitting in Central Park playing bluegrass and fielding requests from toddlers, I had a strangely familiar feeling that I used to get all the time sophomore year. It's a feeling that things will eventually end, that college would be over and all these new feelings and new friends would be scattered across the Earth, and nothing would ever be the same. Yet here I was, with the same Bronnie and Sarah that I had in college, with something wonderful that I really didn't have in college -- Vani. I ended up being able to keep pieces of certain things the same, but if it hadn't been for the big change of graduation, I may never have found one of the most important people in my life. Change often has a way of evening out good and bad, so long as you'll let it.
So that's my sage advice. Take it or leave it, pick and choose, pilfer and pillage.
There's happiness here. Part of it is having the people here, and part of it is the city, moreso than I realized until yesterday. I had a long talk with Lizardbreath, BC '05er and dear friend who went to GW for grad school. Though I talked community strength with her, it wasn't until I woke up later from a nap, inexplicably grumpy at nothing in particular, that I realized how important a role the city itself plays in maintaining this happy life. I could grumble all I want about the dating wasteland or how high my last credit card bill was, but once I step outside on a random Sunday and find such wonders as:
1) The BEST street fair I have EVER seen -- Hells Kitchen wins, hands down, for variety of vendors and entertainment (live brass bands, ethnic dancers, etc).
2) The 48th Street Clinton Community Garden in full bloom
3) The pier west of my neighborhood, with that same riverside running trail ready to be traveled next time my sneakers go on (and perhaps some rollerblades)
and 4) a serendipitous, unobstructed view of the Empire State Building found between 12th and 11th Avenue, glimmering in all its monolithic glory in the early sunset.
The city, for its powers of emotional uplifting, sheerly by existence, cannot be undervalued-- five years after I first stepped foot outside the gates of Barnard it still finds ways to keep me on my toes and discovering new things. How can a person not be happy with that kind of love?
(It's a rhetorical question. Only answer if you're feeling snarky, or just really, really wanna.)
My brother came over for a quick dinner the other night (the boys work a few blocks from my apartment, and it's really wonderful). We talked about the First Year Out, and I told him it really didn't seem that long. He said he felt the opposite, that it seems as if I've been a Real Person for years. He wanted to know how the big FYO turned out for me. After all, we have it smashed into our heads that it's something to be dreaded, a complete sink-or-swim crapshoot...that usually ends in crap.
The only answer I had was that I think I may be the happiest now that I've ever been in my life. It's not euphoria, true, but who can handle that level of active happiness without becoming exhausted? This is a more passive happiness. It just happens, and I've learned to accept it without too much fighting. Doug said that he read in a New Yorker article that one way to measure happiness is the number of voluntary activities a person can undertake. He followed that with "I can't believe I'm becoming the kind of person that says 'I read in a New Yorker article...'"
I must say, as far as I can tell, that seems to be a pretty accurate rubric. I have my 9-5, and that is my only involuntary activity. This isn't to say that I didn't very much enjoy college and academic life, but there's something to be said for being able to attain the level of spontaneity and variety of regular activities that having a class and work schedule plus homework and independent study prevented. I can go to yoga on Mondays with musetoself (except on days when I get late projects handed to me, and that's okay). I can play ball in the park with buddies from high school on sunny days. I can go jogging along the Hudson with Vani, stopping at each rosebush and not realizing how far we've gone till we hit the 140s. I can tend to my garden and spaz dance in my living room without problem sets hanging over my head. I can play music and cook food and sing with friends, and there's never something I should be doing instead that devalues these simple, yet incredibly gratifying, things.
After pondering this for a bit, I came up with a list. I'll call it "Smart moves for a smooth FYO":
1) Live on campus for the summer after graduation, if possible. The familiar surroundings help ease the transition, plus you'll quite probably never have free housing ever again. Even though I rather hated my internship and spent too much time with a guy who ended up being kind of a lame-o douchebag, the buffer of that summer lessened the feeling of having a bandaid ripped off. There was cushion between nearly everyone leaving and having to leave myself (plus most of my close friends were in the same building, and it was beautiful). I almost wish I had that again this summer.
2) Don't be upset when opportunities fall through; they may be the proverbial blessings in disguise. I had two job offers that were yoinked from under me. One was at NASA, a web fellow position for which I'd made it into the top two candidates out of 200 applicants. Then they changed the position criteria suddenly and the other guy was more qualified. At AJWS I was all but offered the position after being asked to change around my summer work schedule to accomodate an earlier start date, then *that* was yoinked away. A month later I got an e-mail from Rebecca that sent me on an interview at WWN, and the rest is history. If NASA and AJWS hadn't devastatingly fallen out, I wouldn't have been available to take the Dream Job.
3) Find a good neighborhood to live in. Preferably one with a good grocery store. That's the only thing I miss right now, though Fairway's only a busride away. Having a front stoop and a 9th Avenue has brightened my life more than I can say.
4) Find a good boss, if you can. Even if your work is mundane, having a good boss is key. I thank my lucky stars every day.
5) Go outside. The adage is old, but holds true. Fresh air can only do you good. Unless you have fatal allergies (which I don't. Don't hate me.) There's less time to sit around missing college if you're outside in the living, breathing world.
6) Make new friends, but keep the old. On my birthday, when a group of us were sitting in Central Park playing bluegrass and fielding requests from toddlers, I had a strangely familiar feeling that I used to get all the time sophomore year. It's a feeling that things will eventually end, that college would be over and all these new feelings and new friends would be scattered across the Earth, and nothing would ever be the same. Yet here I was, with the same Bronnie and Sarah that I had in college, with something wonderful that I really didn't have in college -- Vani. I ended up being able to keep pieces of certain things the same, but if it hadn't been for the big change of graduation, I may never have found one of the most important people in my life. Change often has a way of evening out good and bad, so long as you'll let it.
So that's my sage advice. Take it or leave it, pick and choose, pilfer and pillage.
There's happiness here. Part of it is having the people here, and part of it is the city, moreso than I realized until yesterday. I had a long talk with Lizardbreath, BC '05er and dear friend who went to GW for grad school. Though I talked community strength with her, it wasn't until I woke up later from a nap, inexplicably grumpy at nothing in particular, that I realized how important a role the city itself plays in maintaining this happy life. I could grumble all I want about the dating wasteland or how high my last credit card bill was, but once I step outside on a random Sunday and find such wonders as:
1) The BEST street fair I have EVER seen -- Hells Kitchen wins, hands down, for variety of vendors and entertainment (live brass bands, ethnic dancers, etc).
2) The 48th Street Clinton Community Garden in full bloom
3) The pier west of my neighborhood, with that same riverside running trail ready to be traveled next time my sneakers go on (and perhaps some rollerblades)
and 4) a serendipitous, unobstructed view of the Empire State Building found between 12th and 11th Avenue, glimmering in all its monolithic glory in the early sunset.
The city, for its powers of emotional uplifting, sheerly by existence, cannot be undervalued-- five years after I first stepped foot outside the gates of Barnard it still finds ways to keep me on my toes and discovering new things. How can a person not be happy with that kind of love?
(It's a rhetorical question. Only answer if you're feeling snarky, or just really, really wanna.)