Walking in my sleep
I've now been in Boulder for a week, and am beginning to feel like I'm settling in. Unfortunately, moving in had a few complications---the fellow moving out of my apartment was sick last week, which delayed his packing, and my current flatmate had previously booked travel home to New York for this week. So while I've made good headway on setting up my room (read: working out how to cram furniture into a small space while keeping it livable/usable), I've been reluctant to make many changes to the common areas without his input.
But still, I like my place. My apartment is midway between campus and downtown, in an interesting neighborhood of bungalows, postwar apartment buildings, and new apartment buildings trying to look like bungalows. The place is a bit small, and 1970s architecture has a lot to answer for, but I have a nice shaded balcony, and a rooftop patio overlooking a creek. (Well, really a canal, but it's swift-flowing, lined with beautiful trees, and sounds like the real thing.)
I've slowly begun to explore Boulder, which is alternately awesome, endearing, and eyeroll-worthy. The mountains (which I see every day as I walk in to campus) are amazing, and there are all sorts of neat little nooks and crannies to be found. The system of bike paths and parks and actually gives the sense that somebody gave a crap and thought things through, for once. On the other hand, the uniquely Boulder blend of hippie and yuppie is just a little over the top sometimes. I wonder how things will be once the undergrads get here.
In other news, I think I've found my favorite store ever. McGuckin's Hardware, a Boulder institution, is vast and sprawling, and carries just about everything. Seriously: garden tools, lumber, hiking guidebooks, pet supplies, Carhartts, swamp coolers, sewing notions, and fountain pen ink. If they sold food, I think some customers would never leave.
But the happiest development comes on the funding front. I knew when I came to Boulder that I'd been wait-listed (thank the economy for large incoming grad classes and diminished budgets) but my advisor had assured me that in his experience most students who needed funding ended up finding something. During the summer, though, I didn't hear anything, and began to put together contingency plans. I'd saved up a bunch of money from my census work, and was prepared to (unenthusiastically) pay and borrow my way through my first semester. I put in applications for instructor positions at the local community college, though my follow-up calls told me they'd filled all their vacancies. I'd even looked at working for Kaplan or Princeton Review, or cashiering part-time at REI, if only for health benefits. But nothing had developed by the time I moved.
Cue my surprise, then, when I got a call Tuesday morning from the community college. Apparently a teaching position had opened up in Fort Collins, an hour's drive away, and my CV had been passed around. Despite reservations about the commute (especially since it looked like I'd be taking a M-W-F class), I agreed to an interview, which sounded like it would mostly be a formality. I dashed off an email to my advisor, letting him know about the good news. But that afternoon, when I read his reply, it turned out that he had still better news---somehow, departmental machinations had produced a TAship for me. When I talked to the department secretary (wanting to get the ink dry on my contract as soon as possible), I was told that "you don't want to know how this came about." I probably don't---I'm happy and grateful, and I'll leave it at that.
In the past couple of days, I've been busy unpacking the dozen-plus boxes of books that have spent the past two years in basements (first my parents' in Utah, more recently my uncle's in the Denver suburbs). I'd forgotten half of what I had in those boxes, and now it feels like a good chunk of my life has a chance to decompress and breathe after being choked off and hidden away. Musing on books is easily a post all its own, but I'll just say that whoever said that you're not truly moved into a place until the books are unpacked is very, very right.
(Unfortunately, now that I've loaded up my bookshelves, I realize that they're not quite aligned with the walls. I'll have to unload them in the morning, set them up properly, and put the books back. Oh well---it will give me a chance to properly order the books, rather than following the whims of size and convenience I followed while boxing them up two years ago....)
But still, I like my place. My apartment is midway between campus and downtown, in an interesting neighborhood of bungalows, postwar apartment buildings, and new apartment buildings trying to look like bungalows. The place is a bit small, and 1970s architecture has a lot to answer for, but I have a nice shaded balcony, and a rooftop patio overlooking a creek. (Well, really a canal, but it's swift-flowing, lined with beautiful trees, and sounds like the real thing.)
I've slowly begun to explore Boulder, which is alternately awesome, endearing, and eyeroll-worthy. The mountains (which I see every day as I walk in to campus) are amazing, and there are all sorts of neat little nooks and crannies to be found. The system of bike paths and parks and actually gives the sense that somebody gave a crap and thought things through, for once. On the other hand, the uniquely Boulder blend of hippie and yuppie is just a little over the top sometimes. I wonder how things will be once the undergrads get here.
In other news, I think I've found my favorite store ever. McGuckin's Hardware, a Boulder institution, is vast and sprawling, and carries just about everything. Seriously: garden tools, lumber, hiking guidebooks, pet supplies, Carhartts, swamp coolers, sewing notions, and fountain pen ink. If they sold food, I think some customers would never leave.
But the happiest development comes on the funding front. I knew when I came to Boulder that I'd been wait-listed (thank the economy for large incoming grad classes and diminished budgets) but my advisor had assured me that in his experience most students who needed funding ended up finding something. During the summer, though, I didn't hear anything, and began to put together contingency plans. I'd saved up a bunch of money from my census work, and was prepared to (unenthusiastically) pay and borrow my way through my first semester. I put in applications for instructor positions at the local community college, though my follow-up calls told me they'd filled all their vacancies. I'd even looked at working for Kaplan or Princeton Review, or cashiering part-time at REI, if only for health benefits. But nothing had developed by the time I moved.
Cue my surprise, then, when I got a call Tuesday morning from the community college. Apparently a teaching position had opened up in Fort Collins, an hour's drive away, and my CV had been passed around. Despite reservations about the commute (especially since it looked like I'd be taking a M-W-F class), I agreed to an interview, which sounded like it would mostly be a formality. I dashed off an email to my advisor, letting him know about the good news. But that afternoon, when I read his reply, it turned out that he had still better news---somehow, departmental machinations had produced a TAship for me. When I talked to the department secretary (wanting to get the ink dry on my contract as soon as possible), I was told that "you don't want to know how this came about." I probably don't---I'm happy and grateful, and I'll leave it at that.
In the past couple of days, I've been busy unpacking the dozen-plus boxes of books that have spent the past two years in basements (first my parents' in Utah, more recently my uncle's in the Denver suburbs). I'd forgotten half of what I had in those boxes, and now it feels like a good chunk of my life has a chance to decompress and breathe after being choked off and hidden away. Musing on books is easily a post all its own, but I'll just say that whoever said that you're not truly moved into a place until the books are unpacked is very, very right.
(Unfortunately, now that I've loaded up my bookshelves, I realize that they're not quite aligned with the walls. I'll have to unload them in the morning, set them up properly, and put the books back. Oh well---it will give me a chance to properly order the books, rather than following the whims of size and convenience I followed while boxing them up two years ago....)