I'm actually planning my future

I was starting to get worried about the direction my life will head in if I enter a doctoral program in naturopathic medicine next year. Well, first off, I'll be way in debt. But second and more important, I won't be able to have a baby for the next eight years or so, if I want to establish my career after graduating. Francisco said, "So what?" You'll be 35. That's how old Kris is NOW. It's not the end of the world.

He's right, it's not. Also, I think I was substituting having a baby for having other engaging interests. Let's face it, I haven't extensively pursued any interests since graduating FIVE YEARS AGO. This is a major turning point for me, and I'm pretty excited about the idea. Debt schmedt, right? The more I read about Naturopathic physicians, the more I realize it's what I've been looking for all this time. I wish I knew who that guy at Leila's was who suggested it.

The really weird thing about all this is I'm really excited about things being difficult. I've missed hard work a lot. I wasn't ready for it before, but I am now. Comparing this round of school research with the last round as a high school student, it's almost laughable how much more I want things now. I was afraid to ask people questions back then, and made a lot of decisions blindly. Now I want to talk to everyone. I sent an email to someone through the MIT career advice alumni network, and Dad is going to connect me with his acupunturist, who he thinks is a really intelligent guy.

I don't think this career path dovetails from my former aspirations to live a little off the grid someday, either. Someone with my training would be really useful in an intentional community. Plus, if I work hard for a decade maybe I'll actually have enough fundage to make it a reality.

I'm not sure how savings will ever figure into all of this, assuming it'll take a decade to pay off those massive loans. Maybe it's for the best that I can't have children. If enough of my friends and relatives have kids, I could be that awesome aunty. Maybe that's enough. Or maybe I'll adopt a kid when I'm in my forties. There are a lot of options. That is what it means to be white, educated, and American: Options. I am grateful for the choices I get to make. Just last week it seemed like a curse. If I were hungry and dirt poor, I wouldn't have to think about all this stuff. I could kick myself now for thinking that way.

Things are really really great. I had a nice lunch and afternoon chat with my Nanna and Pop-pop yesterday. They have interesting things to say when I pay attention. I'm sorry to hear Nanna is having troublesome health issues, but at least her mind is still sharp. It's comforting to see that all 4 of my grandparents have managed to maintain clarity of mind, outside of minor memory troubles. I am likely to have diabetes, high blood pressure, or breast cancer, but not Alzheimers.

In a tizzy

I've been researching naturopathic programs this morning. Things are looking good. I suppose I should be looking at actual jobs too. You know, like, for money. It's hard to focus this passionate energy in that direction. What's the mental equivalent of a parabolic mirror?

Anyhoo, I've been doing that excited talking to myself thing, pacing around Mom's apartment selling myself to the air. The air is ready to hire me, that's for sure. If only I was so composed and persuasive in front of other people. Maybe I need to sign up for a fake interview service. I'm sure that kind of thing exists, right? Pretty much any job I can dream up exists. There are a lot of people in this world of micro-specialists.

I'm still not bored, can you believe it? Apparently I have a lot to think about, because these days at Mom's are whizzing by. I went to the mall one day, but other than that I've just been exercising, reading, and chillin with the cat. Mom's writer friend Howard brought his wife's bike over yesterday. Maybe I'll ride to Middle Island today. There's a pond there we used to ride to in high school. Bikes are a feature in many of my best childhood memories, and I plan to make them a permanent feature in my future. When I first lived in San Francisco I feared the hills and traffic, but now I'm fitter and think it will be just fine. Ever since beginning this gym era, my legs have been in excellent condition. Seriously, they're my best feature below the neck. They are some damn fine gams.

It's all gone fish-shaped

Well, here I am, on Long Island. Nothing much has changed, other than that drugstores have gotten bigger.

Actually, I had a really nice Mother's Day yesterday with Mom and Grandma. Grandma ain't built like she used to be, so Mom and I planted some annual flowers for her outside her condo, while she supervised and fed us chicken and cake. I had a HI-larious moment while we were preparing lunch, regarding the green beans. Mom was like, "You think they're done yet?" And Grandma said, "Well I like them soft so I don't think so." That got me nervous so I got up and tasted one and said, "Yup, it's done." (It was already overdone and moving away from green territory). She ended up having me remove half the beans from the water, so that she could boil her portion to death for another 15 minutes. She likes her beans drinkable. When I was a teenager I never would've dared to challenge the authorities on cooking time, but I know better now. Isn't it amazing the vast generational disagreements over cooking? My own mother used to cook stuff to death too, until Audrey, and later George, came into her life and convinced her minimal cooking doesn't mean minimal taste. And now people in MY generation are starting to get into the raw food thing.

Today is Monday, so Mom's at work and I.....am going through boxes of stuff in the children's bedroom (What else to call that room?). I cannot believe the mountains of crap the 3 of us have stored in there. None of us live near home, so we scatter bits of our past behind us every time we move. Zoe at least is only graduating college this year, so it's acceptable for her to have some belongings in there, but Kate and I should really take our last bits out of there, because right now it's all just wasting away. Since I'm moving into a new place and own nothing but a bed and camping gear at this point, some of this stuff is gold to me right now. I'm fuckin rich! I just found a $300 cream suit of mine I used maybe twice and then forgot about. Still fits, yay to staying the same size!

I have very strong reactions to many of these objects, like they've transcended functionality and mean something completely different. Like, for example I just found this hair clip currently being used as a bookmark in some child fantasy book and I took it out and stared at it, thinking, "I KNOW this." Reminiscing is so bizarre. It made me wonder about people who've been living in the same places for decades, with piles of crap in an unchanging hug around them. What do these people see when they look at these chotchkes? Is it a candle/decorative plate/ornamental lamp, is it invisible, is it pure home? Does it even matter whether you find it attractive or unattractive after a certain point? I guess this could be related to the feeling you have when you see yourself, a close longtime friend, or a family member. The person is generally no longer labeled attractive or unattractive, they're just familiar. Maybe that's why it's unsettling for some people when a close person loses a lot of weight. It takes a long time to identify them as a thin person.

I guess this could also be related to the fact that most strangers who see me and my sisters together think we all look exactly alike, whereas our nuclear family has an almost impossible time seeing it. Isn't it strange how different everything looks, not only amongst different people but even by yourself at different points during your lifetime?

Status summary update: It's cold and rainy, the cat is harassing me, I am listening to Plaid, I am not yet bored, there is NY pizza, veggies, and beer in the fridge. Today is a good day.

SF arrival

Here I am. The big earthquake didn't hit while I was gone, so I guess I'll be around for it, saving babies and cats from fires, eating canned tuna, or dying. I can't wait until I'm settled, saving money, and acquiring bedroom furniture. It's tough to be in limbo. I'm in NY for a long time (5 weeks). I dream that it will be productive, that I will narrow my focus onto one manageable career, renew my confidence, get along with my mom, and be patient. Who knows, I might end up sleeping a lot. I'd like to do some yoga, some exploring, some strawberry picking, have some NYC mystery. If I aim high, maybe I'll hit the backboard.

San Francisco is weird. I don't mean Burningman weird. That's normal. I showed up the weekend of the How Weird street festival, and that was fine. There was scary sausages, psy trance, pretty costumes, and good friends. But the INTENSITY of everyone is freaking me out. People are working hard, partying hard, looking for more, talking about big plans and projects. People are HUNGRY here. I keep catching myself feeling bad for them because they don't seem to be able to stop searching. At the same time I'm dazzled by them and feel small and inadequate. New Zealand! I haven't lost it. I'll hold on to my inner kiwi for as long as my life depends on it. I am permanently changed. You will not get to me this time! Stay back! I'm in my garden, learning about herbs and cucumbers.

Phew, safe again. I had a fight with Francisco about money and travel today. He seemed alarmed by my anger and refusal of his plans, but I explained my money issues and hope he eventually understands. We maybe don't understand each other as well as I had hoped. We'll see what happens. I love him and am giving this a strong shot, but being together a solid week with maybe 2 hour breaks every now and then is probably not the best way to start things. Actually, it's amazing we're not tearing each other's heads off. Anyone else would be dead in the gutter by now.

I'm gonna go down to the basement we're staying in at Missy's house (Thanks Missy!) and read book 2 of the graphic novel series, The Preacher. Francisco bought all 9 volumes during his travels, bought me a kawaii bag in Japan, and filled the bag with the comics so that I could read them too. Hey, he's not so bad.