Saturday, March 31, 2012

Random Observations About Chicago

-Chicago is so...clean. There isn't trash all over the streets. The water of Lake Michigan is actually blue. It doesn't smell like rotten eggs. They have carpeting on the subways.

-You can tell that Chicago is a midwestern city by the way people act like decent human beings. People say "please" and "thank you" and "excuse me." They smile and hold doors for you and apologize for bumping into your bag. When Adam and I were waiting for our table at Frontera on Thursday night, every single group that came in asked us if we had made our reservation first before going up to the counter themselves. It was...insane.

-In terms of the student population at the Div School, I am officially OLD. Even though they have no undergrads, I was still easily one of the oldest students at the Admitted Students' Day events. When I told people I was married, they often made an involuntary noise of horror, rather like one would make if another person told them they had a fatal disease. Only one other person there had anything close to a spouse, and that person wasn't even married yet-- she was engaged. Clearly most people were coming straight out of undergrad. I heard tell of a couple other second-career students in my year, but they're all MDivs, apparently. So I guess most normal grown-up people don't wake up one day and think, "Hrm, I think I'll quit my job and engage in the academic study of religion for two years with no real professional purpose in mind other than the eventual pursuit of a PhD and a lifetime of shabby, soul-sucking academia."

-I am now a huge fan of Potbelly sandwiches. Also: $2.90 milkshakes. YES.

-I very much enjoy the fact that the U of C is 2/3 graduate students. It's nice because although I feel old at the Div School, I don't feel like I'm swimming in a sea of 17-year-olds. When I went back to visit Vassar this fall I felt like all those people walking around were so very much younger than I was, but I blend right in at U of C.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

One more month left at my job...

...and this week was only a two-day workweek! I have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday off so Adam and I can visit Chicago and check out Admitted Students' Day. It's kind of going to be like a mini-vacation, since we'll get to stay at a hotel and go out to eat and all that fun stuff, too.

And then next week is only four days of work, since I'm taking Good Friday off. Sometimes there are definite perks to being the only Christian in the office.

And then I have three weeks left.

And then I'm done!

Monday, March 26, 2012

"LOL! Men!"

There are few things I hate more than a "LOL! Men!" statement.

If you have female friends with boorish, rude, inconsiderate, lazy husbands, and if those friends ever discuss those husbands on Facebook, Twitter, or The Nest.com message boards, then you'll likely know what I'm talking about; a "LOL! Men!" statement involves a woman "venting" about the nasty, cruel, childish behavior of her husband/fiancé/boyfriend, and then trying to act flippant about it with the cloying, disingenuous claim that ALL men are assholes, not just this one.

Examples:

My husband refuses to help me with the household chores, despite the fact that we both work. He says that since he makes more money, the cleaning and cooking are entirely my 'job'. No matter how much I beg and plead, he ignores me. Gah! So typical. Men are so stubborn. :) :) :)

My boyfriend is never affectionate towards me, yet he always wants to have sex, and if I don't want to, he gets mad. LOL! Men and their sex drives, amirite, ladies?

I asked my husband to watch the boys last night so I could go out to a movie with my friends, and he refused. He said he didn't have time to 'babysit' and that I was a bad mother for wanting some 'me' time. I wish men weren't so selfish!


No, my friend, "men" are not lazy/stupid/self-centered/clueless/helpless/boring/talentless. Your man is.

Good men exist. I married one. Heck, I even dated a few before I married this one. They're not a myth, I promise you. They're not the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. They're everywhere, all over, and all you have to do to have one yourself is to NOT DATE OR MARRY AN ASSWIPE.

I don't think people get how insulting this sort of talk can be to those men who are not horrible people. Really, I don't really see what having a penis has to do with being a bad person. There are, quite literally, billions of men on the planet-- you don't think all of them are creeps, do you?

My husband is kind. He's thoughtful. He's intelligent. He's not shallow, sexist, a bully, or a coward. He's a brave, strong, capable, grown-ass person who knows how to treat other human beings with respect-- especially those human beings with whom he is in love (which, y'know, is hopefully just me). It's not that hard, gals. Really.

If your man is a jerk, it's not because he's a man. It's because he's a jerk.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Things I Absolutely Love:

Jesus.
Cadbury Creme Eggs.
Vacation days.
The right side of the couch.
Even numbers.
Goldfish crackers.
Sugar.
Snow.
Blankets.
Wicked children.
Getting mail.
Free food.
Finding a quarter on the sidewalk.
Manhattan at 7 a.m. on a Saturday.
Berry picking.
Old books.
Bell MT.
Mountains.
People who love my name.
People who say "please" and "thank you."
Humor.
Becoming friends with difficult people.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Expiration Dates

As I mentioned in my Facebook status today, I just noticed that the half-and-half in our work fridge expires on April 30th. I won't be here when that happens, since my last day is the 27th.

My expiration date is coming sooner than that of a dairy product.

I have mixed feelings about this revelation-- which is WEIRD, really. After all, I just spent the better part of three years griping about being a secretary and longing to get back into school. And now, when everything is supposedly about to go my way, when I'm finally getting to work towards the life I want, when all my effort has apparently paid off in exactly the way I've longed for...I am, I must confess, a little scared.

Someone once accused me of only being happy when I'm unhappy, of only being able to thrive on stress and misery and being completely incapable of dealing with good luck/success/positive outcomes, but I don't think that's true. I'm thrilled that, for lack of a less tired cliché, my dreams are finally coming true. But I also think I just hate and resist change--possibly to an wider extent than most people, and most definitely to a wider extent than all the other hyper-liberals I know--and even when I know it's positive and moving me in a wonderful direction, I tend to resist that change, because, well, sometimes change is uncomfortable.

I mean, as much as I'm sick of New York, I'm also deeply grateful for having lived here. As much as the seminary is driving me up the WALL right now, it's given me (and Adam, I must admit) some unforgettable and irreplaceable experiences. As much as our apartment is tiny and cramped and a fourth-floor walk-up (oh, my poor back! it hurts!), it's also cute and cozy and has a fireplace, and dang-gammit, we actually finally got it all painted and arranged and made it the way we wanted it! NYC finally became "home," and soon it won't be. Now I'll have to remake "home" all over again.

And as much as this job was sometimes frustrating and humiliating and boring, it was also an incredible stroke of luck. To find a job within a WEEK of moving to a completely new city and state, and to have that job be a permanent position with a salary that kept us well-fed and sheltered and alive, AND with opportunities for advancement (as much as I didn't want/resisted said advancement, when it came), is nothing short of a miracle to me, especially as I had little-to-no experience and as it was in the middle of the recession when I got the offer. And to have that job be so relaxed and flexible about stuff has been even more astonishing. Few bosses would have enthusiastically written a letter of recommendation for an employee so that she could leave the company. Few bosses would give that employee paid time off to interview at schools, and then more paid time off to take her husband to visit said schools. Few bosses would react to the news that their assistant is leaving by squealing and giving them a hug and telling them how happy they are.

In some ways, I feel guilty. I should have appreciated this place more. I will probably never again have such an easy job. I will probably never again have employers who have to beg me to take a promotion. I will probably never again have the opportunity to sit down with my boss and talk about my future BEYOND the organization, about who I am outside of my work. I will probably never again have it so good.

I'm excited for the upcoming challenges. I'm excited for the new beginning. But maybe I'm a little bit nervous, too.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Things I Really Really Dislike:

Comic sans.
The Anglican Covenant.
Idiots.
Wedge heels.
Skinny jeans in pastel colors.
Fake tans.
Duckface.
People who preface blatantly offensive comments/opinions with "no offense, but..." and then act surprised when people are, in fact, offended.
The texture of bananas.
The flavour of cucumbers.
People who list "proficient in Microsoft Office" as a skill on their resumes.
Every single thing that Stephenie Meyer has ever written, said, or thought.
Hot weather.
Moist air.
People who insist that the language of Rite 1 is somehow superior because it's esoteric.
Doggerel.
Weak coffee.
Homophobia.
Racism.
Sexism.
Group projects.
People who don't like Shakespeare and seem fairly proud of it.
People who pretend that they enjoyed Moby Dick.
People who don't think Moby Dick is a hilarious book title.
People who hand me poems and ask me to "explain what it means."
Phone calls.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Adventures in Domesticity

So as most people know, I am the anti-domestic.

I'm infamously horrible at all activities that are supposed to fall within the "natural" domain of wives, including (but not limited to): dusting, washing, rinsing, vacuuming, picking up, putting away, cooking, baking, ironing, sewing, knitting, embroidering (WTF is that, even?), mopping, sweeping, cooking (I know I said it already but it really warrants a second mention), entertaining, soothing babies, organizing, decorating, scrubbing, and tidying. Oh, did I mention I'm also really bad at cooking?

I'm not sure if I'm bad at these things because I hate them, or if I hate them because I'm bad at them. But I suspect the answer to that would make very little difference in the outcome; no matter which way you slice it, I hate vacuuming and ALSO can't ever seem to figure out how to work the damn vacuum without blowing chunks of dust all over everything.

Luckily, I happened to marry a man who is very good at domestic pursuits, and who really wanted to be a full-time student for three years. Perfect! So, ever since our marriage began in 2008, I always go to work and do the breadwinner thing, and Adam produces fabulous creations out of The Art of French Cooking (no joke, his boeuf bourguignon is a thing of beauty) and matches up freshly laundered socks in between his Latin translations and preaching workshops.

I had it made. And then I screwed it up by going back to school.

Starting this summer/fall, I will be the full-time student, and Adam will (hopefully) be the full-time breadwinner. This means that I am going to have to take on quite a bit more housework. EW.

I'm not even sure how to go about this. I mean, at a certain point, no amount of practice is going to help. On a basic, molecular level, I just suck at this crap. You can give a penguin flying lessons for as long as you want, but that penguin just isn't gonna fly. It's not made to fly. God made that penguin to be an earthbound penguin, and it's great at lots of other things--it's great at eating fish and waddling around and having its mating habits narrated by Morgan Freeman. But it's not gonna fly.

So I've made myself a series of notes on cleaning, gleaned from watching my husband labor while I lazed about on my chaise lounge and ate bonbons:

Vacuuming
-Plug in vacuum first. V. important.
-Press "on" switch. Vacuum will make horrible noises like demon hellspawn springing out of the stomach of a goat to wreak vengeance upon the world. Do not shriek "OMG OMG OMG TURN IT OFF," as this will not stop noises, and will merely result in Husband rolling eyes at you.
-Move vacuum around room. Avoid small wires. Also: cats.
-To turn off vacuum, press "off" switch. This will only work 45% of the time. The other 65% of the time, the vacuum will continue to vacuum, heedless of your button-pressing, and will in fact start sucking up the frayed edge of your pantleg. If "off" switch does not work, scream frantically for Husband. If Husband merely laughs, drag self (with vacuum now attached) across the room and unplug vacuum.

Cooking
-Choose recipe from online blog that claims to be "healthy, delicious, and easy!"
-Boil water.
-Turn on oven.
-Realize that you don't have any flour. Turn off appliances and run to store.
-Come back. Mix everything in bowl.
-Realize that you don't have any potatoes. Turn off appliances and run to store.
-Come back. Heat oil.
-Realize that you don't have any cayenne pepper. Turn off appliances and run to store.
-Realize at store that you don't even know what cayenne pepper is. It that, like, a vegetable or something? Call Husband to ask.
-Pay five million dollars for cayenne pepper. (NOTE: Same ingredient would cost $1.87 in hometown.)
-Come back. Pour mixture into hot oil.
-NOTE: DO NOT TRY TO WATCH RERUNS OF BIG BANG THEORY WHILE MIXTURE COOKS. This results in fire.
-Rip smoke alarm off wall and stuff under pillows on bed to muffle horrid noise. Curse Husband for being so good at keeping the batteries fresh in that damn thing.
-Scrape off burnt mess into trash can.
-Make salad. Serve with hardboiled eggs that Husband made two days ago. Present to Husband as "light, healthy dinner."

Laundry
-Separate clothes into "lights" (i.e., everything that is not black) and "darks" (i.e., everything that is black).
-Drag massive hamper into basement.
-Throw clothes into washer. Pour in some detergent. There's some sort of line of the cap but that totally can't be right.
-Go back upstairs. Set alarm for thirty minutes.
-Take a two-hour nap. Wake up. Go for a run. Take a shower. Watch TV. Have dinner with Husband. Dessert. Snuggle time. Bed.
-Wake up the next morning.
-Remember laundry in machine. Kick door so hard that you hurt your foot, like really hurt it, like maybe it's broken. This way, Husband will finish the rest of the process for you.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Chicago Bound

It may be a little premature to say this now (even on a blog that pretty much no one knows about/reads), since I haven't officially accepted the offer yet, but...it looks like we're moving to Chicago in a few months' time. I got 50% funding at the University of Chicago Divinity School, which isn't bad for a Masters, so that's where we'll probably be. We have to be out of GTS by June 1st (that's when our lease is up, anyways), so we'll probably spend the summer in Ohio with our parents (and maybe some time in Florida with my grandma, if we can manage it) and then head to Hyde Park right before the semester begins.

Of course, we'll be in Chicago ASAP if Adam gets a job before the fall, but considering our usual financial luck, I'm not holding my breath on that one.

Adam is acting pretty excited about the whole thing, though I can't really tell if that's all a facade or not. I know he has good friends in Chicago and he feels good about the job prospects there; we almost moved to Evanston right after we got married, and were only prevented from doing so by the closing of Seabury, which necessitated our move to General and NYC. So maybe he really is excited.

I hate to put all this pressure on him about finding a job and whatnot, but...I don't really see any way around it. I know that kind of OMG I NEED A JOB stress sucks (trust me, I just went through it when we moved here in 2009), but thems the breaks when your partner is starting school and you're the main breadwinner. I'm planning to work part-time, of course, but Adam's job is the one that will--hopefully--provide health insurance and rent, so we sort of need that. And of course, the diocese is NOT HELPING by delaying his ordination, since that means he won't be eligible for some of the better post-seminary jobs, but whatever. I learned long ago that my past assumptions about the church and its attitude towards my family were, and shall continue to be, incorrect.

I just want all of this to work out. Please God, let it all work out, even if it happens differently than we'd always planned.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

What you missed last time on Philosophy's Life...

What's going on, via haiku:

Graduated from
Vassar. Typical English
major. Married to

an Episcopal
seminarian. Working
in an office till

I can go back to
school. Short, smart, pretentious, kind,
loudmouthed, lazy. Done.