Remember me?
I've been meaning to update for awhile. That happens, right? I've also been meaning to write in my actual journal, attempt some sketches again, update the trail journal (dear Andy is still plugging away), but there's a block. At any rate, I thought I'd give a bullet point sort of update, one that will hopefully provide an adequate shove of encouragement for me to produce a real entry.
I do still want to teach, but I'm back to the decision that graduate school is the right step for me, right now.
I was mistaken for a hippie from Berkeley at a Barnes and Noble at home, based on my appearance and purchases. (A guide for first year high school teachers, a travelogue by a worldwide female nomad, a book on motorcycles and why they're awesome, and a Belle and Sebastian album.)
I'm currently reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and my goodness. It's only now, nearly 300 pages in, that the philosophical musings have started tiring my brain. The story is wonderful.
I'm updating from Andy's high school bedroom in New London, OH. Tomorrow (Aug 25) early morning his mother and I will drive the 10 hours to pick him up at a trailhead in Vermont. We'll be staying with him for a week in a beautiful cabin (hiking during the days), both to rejuvinate his spirits and fill our own Andy-needs. At least, some of them.
Home is, while comfortable, beginning to feel a bit stifling. I'm in the guest room downstairs, which is a trade off of more privacy for less belongingness. The city has become too crowded, the air too still, and I only can tolerate driving when all the windows are down.
Things are looking promising regarding a part time job offer as a research assistant in a behavioral neuroscience lab up in Seattle. The professor is interested, and most importantly, I'm interested.
It's late, tomorrow will be a long day, and there's a waterbed awaiting me. Goodnight.
I do still want to teach, but I'm back to the decision that graduate school is the right step for me, right now.
I was mistaken for a hippie from Berkeley at a Barnes and Noble at home, based on my appearance and purchases. (A guide for first year high school teachers, a travelogue by a worldwide female nomad, a book on motorcycles and why they're awesome, and a Belle and Sebastian album.)
I'm currently reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and my goodness. It's only now, nearly 300 pages in, that the philosophical musings have started tiring my brain. The story is wonderful.
I'm updating from Andy's high school bedroom in New London, OH. Tomorrow (Aug 25) early morning his mother and I will drive the 10 hours to pick him up at a trailhead in Vermont. We'll be staying with him for a week in a beautiful cabin (hiking during the days), both to rejuvinate his spirits and fill our own Andy-needs. At least, some of them.
Home is, while comfortable, beginning to feel a bit stifling. I'm in the guest room downstairs, which is a trade off of more privacy for less belongingness. The city has become too crowded, the air too still, and I only can tolerate driving when all the windows are down.
Things are looking promising regarding a part time job offer as a research assistant in a behavioral neuroscience lab up in Seattle. The professor is interested, and most importantly, I'm interested.
It's late, tomorrow will be a long day, and there's a waterbed awaiting me. Goodnight.