Puttin' on the Ritz

My, my! So much has happened since the last time I sat down to “blog”. I’ve relocated my meager belongings to a new house in Wallingford, survived yet another July 26th (with assistance of a fabulous friend, photo-hunt and copious amounts of libations), breezed through two of perhaps the more unsavory areas in the Northeast (why, Long Island and New Jersey, of course) on a 72-hour trip for a dear friend’s wedding, and Wyclef Jean announced that he plans to run for president of Haiti. Yes, yes, I know, I can hardly keep up myself.

Now a solid two months into UW’s summer quarters (due to said mangled scheduling system, the “summer” out here starts mid-way through June, and runs through the end of September) I believe it’s now acceptable for me to begin freaking out at the prospect of embarking upon my second and final year of graduate school. Yup, halfway through, time to consult the blueprints and see what I have planned for the future… Oh, right. Nothing.

In an ideal world, I would wrap up my degree early, somehow stumble upon a pot of gold (fair enough, I’ll allow one leprechaun joke) and then spend 2 months couch surfing across Europe in the humble abodes of my darling siblings, all three of which will be smattered about there next spring for various reasons: One will be working in Budapest for the second and final year. Another is starting a one-year graduate program at the University of London. And finally the last - still an undergraduate – is heading to Germany to drink (I mean, “study abroad”) for a semester. Oh, those kids, always off adventuring somewhere exotic and unexpected, if not in Europe than biking from Georgia to California, trailblazing through the White Mountains, building a stone staircase in the Northwest Territory, or docking boats at the Sound Beach marina (oh, wait… I kid Ker, I kid).

However, in what I can only imagine might be reality, I will likely procrastinate on important paperwork, take a full year to get said degree (heaping on more loans, to boot), and find myself this same time next summer broke, unemployed and comparably undecided about my future. While I don't fancy myself a delusional optimist, I’m certainly not tragically negative either. I am simply trying to be reserved (cautious, guarded, protective, what have you) with my expectations, a credo I seem to have adopted and applied to all facets of my life, professional, academic or relationship based.

Anyway, after considerable pondering (on the elliptical, riding the 48 bus, answering phone calls at work, sipping an iced Americano at Zoka and chatting with a similarly “optimistically reserved” friend) today begins my very serious quest to figure out what it is I really, really want and then start mapping my new plans on how to get there.

P.S. Much to the chagrin of one of my friends, I could not get this song out of my head all weekend at the wedding. A catchy remake of a classic tune, though I highly doubt this Taco fellow could be any more of a creeper.

Taco, Putting on the Ritz

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG3PnQ3tgzY