I've decided I like Boston better than New York. But New York is okay. Maybe I just like Boston more because I was visiting lots of friends and having fun and in New York I actually have to figure out how to live and work and study.
There are a lot of alarming stories going around about the economy and people in their twenties, which are making me definitely want to stay in school and maybe work a bit harder at it. I guess time's up for wondering what to do with my life; it's time to do something. Americans in general are taking longer than they used to to grow up. But you can't just find a great job easily these days; you have to be competitive. And I want that dog and fireplace and baby someday, and I want money for dogfood and firewood and swingsets, so I'm going to try getting a degree that will possibly land me a decent job. The good thing about jobs as professors is that if you get tenure, you've got a decent salary and amazing job security. The bad thing is, tenure-track positions are difficult to get and so is tenure.
I wasn't really ever considering dropping out, anyway; I've just realized how little choice I really have. Anyway I'll probably enjoy it more if I work harder at it. And I didn't choose all the best classes this semester, but I will for next semester.
Midterms are over, thank goodness! Except for French, which does not at all worry me. I haven't got my grades back from the midterms so I'm still anxious about that but at least I can move on to think about other things.
Inspired by H and her pretty apartment, I am looking into making small upgrades on the cuteness of mine. We got a new couch, and although it is smaller and less comfy that the old one, I think it's much cuter, and there's no need for a slipcover that must be constantly re-adjusted, and anyway I think a smaller couch fits my small living room better. They always say it's important to have your furniture be to scale. I've found some pretty red vases to go in the living room, and I'm going to add some picture frames that match the ones I have and put pictures of my family and Sam's from the wedding in them, and Sam doesn't necessarily know this, but we're definitely getting a nice-looking chair to go with the couch, and I've found that cinnamon sticks make a great natural potpourri.
Poor Sam. Yesterday before our date night I dragged him through Bed, Bath and Beyond, Gracious Home and Pottery Barn. We're headed to Ikea next weekend, even though it's all the way down in Brooklyn. I've actually never been to Brooklyn before. I've been to Queens, but only accidentally when I took a subway train in the wrong direction.
We had Sunday brunch today, which seems like a very New York thing to do. I've definitely perfected my french toast recipe, and we've decided to make it a Christmas morning tradition. We booked our tickets to go back to Texas for Christmas. To save money, we're flying on Christmas afternoon and flying back New Year's Day.
I'm always looking for recipes of the cheap/healthy/quick/tasty persuasion, so if you have any that meet any of these qualifications, please share. I especially like things I can prepare ahead of time and cook at the last minute, so that I can cook ahead on weekends.
Why do weekends end so quickly? I'm not ready for another week, and I'm especially not ready to start thinking about term papers.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Another Tuesday has finally ended
Tuesdays have been my least favorite day for a while now. Yesterday was one of those Tuesdays where nothing I tried to do seemed to work out. And the buses and subways were particularly irrational. I tried a different route for my Tuesday commute after hearing about a crime comitted at one of my subway stops at the exact time that I'm usually there (only it was a Sunday, not a Tuesday). So I ended up on a bus, which I had been on before, and it should've stopped right outside the gate of the campus, but it didn't - it kept going. That is the worst feeling in the world, to be on a crowded bus that has just passed your stop. Fortunately it stopped probably less that 1/4 mile away, so it wasn't a big deal. And then I called Sam to have him meet me at the subway stop that the bus took me to so that we could right home together and I wouldn't have to wait at the stop alone, but he had to wait 1/2 for the subway to get there and I did have to wait alone, although I wouldn't have had to if I hadn't called him, because the train got there right when I did.
You just can't beat this city. You just have to accept it. Which I can usually do, except after such a long day as yesterday was. Suddenly I've got a lot of work to do for my assistantship. In addition to cataloging books and helping another professor with lots of different projects, I'm going to be holding review sessions once a week for a beginning Latin class and office hours for a Greek class. Two weeks from today I have my first midterm, and two weeks from tomorrow I have a midterm and a presentation in the same class.
So it's not really getting cold in New York, but the other day the apartment apparently decided it was cold enough for the heater to turn on. Our heat is included in our rent so we don't really pay for it (at least not separately) and we also don't, apparently, control it. There are two strange-looking contraptions, one in the living room and one in the bedroom, which, come to find out, are called radiators. I maybe knew this a long time ago before I moved to Texas, where turning on the heater really just means turning off the air conditioner.
Anyway, these heaters naturally deemed it appropriate for themselves to turn on one late night when Sam was gone and I was tired from class. They did so with very strange noises coming from the bedroom, and I, ever-paranoid about burlaries even when they are physically impossible, went to see what was happening there. There were strange hissing noises coming from the white thing in the corner that sounded rather sinister. My first thought was, "oh my gosh, it's a gas leak, and I'm going to die." I've heard about gas leaks and I've seen the people in movies who turn on their gas stoves to commite suicide, and then think better of it. (I don't usually watch movies in which people think of suicide without thinking better of it). Then I thought, "no, don't be ridiculous, it's just noisy because this is the first time it's come on this winter." So I went back to the living room.
Usually at night I get unreasonably hyper after feeling sleepy all day, but that night I felt ridiculously drowsy. This worried me, because I was pretty sure drowsiness was one of the symptoms of dying from inhaling gas. So I thought, "maybe I should call my parents." But I didn't want to sound silly so I put off calling them until it occured to me, that if I were to die, it might look like a suicide, unless I called someone.
They said it was fine but I opened a window for ventilation, just in case.
You just can't beat this city. You just have to accept it. Which I can usually do, except after such a long day as yesterday was. Suddenly I've got a lot of work to do for my assistantship. In addition to cataloging books and helping another professor with lots of different projects, I'm going to be holding review sessions once a week for a beginning Latin class and office hours for a Greek class. Two weeks from today I have my first midterm, and two weeks from tomorrow I have a midterm and a presentation in the same class.
So it's not really getting cold in New York, but the other day the apartment apparently decided it was cold enough for the heater to turn on. Our heat is included in our rent so we don't really pay for it (at least not separately) and we also don't, apparently, control it. There are two strange-looking contraptions, one in the living room and one in the bedroom, which, come to find out, are called radiators. I maybe knew this a long time ago before I moved to Texas, where turning on the heater really just means turning off the air conditioner.
Anyway, these heaters naturally deemed it appropriate for themselves to turn on one late night when Sam was gone and I was tired from class. They did so with very strange noises coming from the bedroom, and I, ever-paranoid about burlaries even when they are physically impossible, went to see what was happening there. There were strange hissing noises coming from the white thing in the corner that sounded rather sinister. My first thought was, "oh my gosh, it's a gas leak, and I'm going to die." I've heard about gas leaks and I've seen the people in movies who turn on their gas stoves to commite suicide, and then think better of it. (I don't usually watch movies in which people think of suicide without thinking better of it). Then I thought, "no, don't be ridiculous, it's just noisy because this is the first time it's come on this winter." So I went back to the living room.
Usually at night I get unreasonably hyper after feeling sleepy all day, but that night I felt ridiculously drowsy. This worried me, because I was pretty sure drowsiness was one of the symptoms of dying from inhaling gas. So I thought, "maybe I should call my parents." But I didn't want to sound silly so I put off calling them until it occured to me, that if I were to die, it might look like a suicide, unless I called someone.
They said it was fine but I opened a window for ventilation, just in case.
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