An addendum to the "life lessons" list...

After reading my most recent post, I received an onslaught of forwards from my twin who, coincidentally, saves pretty much every email that’s ever been sent to her (technological hoarding, really). These were selected from the collection she amassed while I was slaving away at one of my very first jobs after graduating from undergrad. I think she intends them to be a reminder of how much has changed (and really, thank god) over the past 6 years.

Sent by me to my sisters during my tenure and copied/pasted word for word, these emails really sum it up. Basically, I was an utterly angry, sarcastic, smart-ass. Luckily, with the clarity afforded by retrospect, I can say with confidence that I am no longer said individual. (Alright, well, I’m certainly not as angry.) I find them amusing, and oddly inspiring during this transition, yet again, from school to work.

Email 1: September.

There's another party today. There's a party at least once a week. Between holidays, retirements, and birthdays, it's a f*cking fun-fest over here. We're wishing farewell to Charlotte, from accounting, who got a new job, and who, I must say, I don't even know. The only time I ever see her is in passing in and out of the bathroom, when she flashes me a tight-lipped smile. Not even a hello. Yet, I'm going to be forced to attend this freaking luncheon. 12:30. Be there or be square. I am exceedingly tired of the awkwardness that results from such contrived comradery and {former job} enthusiasm. It's annoying. I'm not friends with these people. Why do I have to go and have a slice of the Entenmann's crumb cake and a finger sandwich with egg salad? I'm at least 10 years younger (if not 15) than the overwhelming majority of individuals here. I am very not interested in joining said events. If I didn't find it hysterical (and sort of sad) watching all these individuals try to amiably interact (and my own social awkwardness in all of this), I am not quite sure what I would do. Thank god for the sense of humor. Suck it, {former boss}. Welp. What are you two up to?

Email me if you have time. (I certainly do. I am wasting the organizations money on myself and the 8 hours a day I spend sitting at a computer, begging my friends and family to email me back).

Yours with excessive boredom and unenthusiasm,

(I'm truly becoming a shadow of my former self)

-{me}

Email 2: December.

Dear God. There is a freaking office party at LEAST once a week, and now with the whole holiday season thing, I'll be lucky to escape with at least one pair of pants that still fit. I must say, this morning started off ROUGH. I’m lacking in the well rested category; not the best way to start off the day. However, it seems that SOMEONE (this is an implication referring to God, somewhat in jest, and somewhat in preparation for Saturday night’s annual visit to our lovely congregation) is looking out for me, because when I got into my office, I found a huge spread on the (well, my?) conference table, all decked out in red and green napkins, bows, tablecloths, with warm fresh blueberry and cinammon scones, dannishes, croissants, strawberries, melon, pineapple, bagels, muffins, hot apple cider, coffee, tea.... It really is lovely. And it smells fantastic. And it's all of 2 and a half feet from my desk (which may not actually be a good thing. All I have to do is spin my chair around and I'm confronted with caloric bliss). Apparently it's a gift from catering, to our office. I think I might indulge in a second scone (though I know it's a deathwish... but it's like putting a beer in the hand of an alcoholic. What do you expect?) Sigh.

If you two are bored later in the day please drive over here and rescue me for an hour. If not, I guess I'll see someone at 4:30, 4:45 for a pick-up (don't get here much later, otherwise the traffic will be horrendous). And please, don't send {name}.

That is all.

Thanks, and ta-ta.

-{me}

Winning (at life).

So, here’s the thing about being unemployed. You’re… Unemployed. Yeah, yeah, you have a ton of free time, the city (in this case, Seattle) is your oyster, blah, blah, all of that jazz. Yes, you’re free! Recently freed from the burden of schoolwork, you have ample time to carouse with friends; you catch a Mariners game, you’re (repeatedly) out till three in the morning, you go on long runs every morning and you finally find a few hours to remind yourself of your love of art. But… Wait… Four days have passed in the blink of an eye. With nothing to structure your days, there’s nothing to get you out of bed before 10:00am, there’s no money coming in and thus, all of your supposedly “disposable” income is simply, literally, buying your time and rapidly running out. Oh, happy graduation!!

And now, for lessons recently learned outside of the classroom:

-The Angels beat the Mariners on Monday.

-The Mountain Goats are fantastic live, reaffirmed by last night’s show.

-Yay, Bruins!

-Despite its enchanting name, a night at Golden Gardens will leave your feet charcoal black for weeks.

- Skype is the best thing since sliced bread. London is consistently eight hours ahead of Seattle; I’ve heard from the future. There’s nothing to report.

-IHOP tastes best at 3:30am (and after a couple cocktails).

-I either need to move to Capitol Hill or find a permanent sleepover spot (the futon at 2111 E. John St. is, however, quite lovely).

-Mid-day six-mile runs around Greenlake are equal parts running and dodging hoards of moms with strollers and black labs.

-Logo features the gay male equivalent of the Real Housewives of New York and it’s addictive.

-Body paint and biking is acceptable only one day out of the year, and that day is this Saturday. See you there.

As it turns out, and this isn’t terribly shocking, I love school. I love the completely internalized and self-inflicted stress. I love theory and critical analysis and deep discussions; I’m all about intellectual exhaustion. PhD in the future? Eh, mayhaps, I don’t know, it’s not out of the question. But, it’s not even been a week since strolling across stage at graduation. Beginning next week - after Saturday’s cathartic and colorful bike ride - I will start sifting through my existence here in Seattle and try to sort it (you know, all that “future” business) out.