Grad school: I'm dumber than I thought

Halfway in my first semester of graduate school, I affirm the truth: I am as lazy as a sloth and as dumb as a brick.

Let me first start by saying I don’t usually complain about work. Sure, to my loved ones, I whine occasionally, not because I hate things, but because I enjoy having them tell me they love me anyway.

But graduate school has taken the daylight out of me. Never in my life have I felt so incompetent. I’ve become so much of a nerd that now I talk about classes on my blog. Yikes! How exciting! I mean, who does that?

Perhaps since my day-to-day life now revolves around the classrooms, my office, and my apartment, there is little to distract me from the pile of unfinished work that relies solely on the knowledge I long ago had forgotten.

I was oblivious enough to spend a third of my paycheck on Sephora before realizing I will be spending 90% of my waking hours facing a computer screen and textbooks. Such ideal candidates to look fabulous for, right?

      --> Bottom line: Think twice about graduate school. Just because you rocked in undergrad means nothing here. Nothing.

…

There was a time when I was creating so many memories in so little time, hastily, hungrily, zealously, with a burning flame inside my heart. I wanted to make every second count. Now, gone are the extraordinary life stories of New Yorkers, infused in emotions that made my soul swell, ebullient with all I was learning.

In this small Midwestern town, it’s simple to the point of confusion: I don’t know what to think and how to feel most of the time except for a mild dash of nothingness. No adrenalin rush. Inside me is a starved songbird longing to hear and feel people.

Having said that, consciously or not, I’ve been adjusting. I sometimes find time to do everything to remind me that maybe, just maybe I’m not a dumb ass. I pick up meditation. I read. I learn to love not with what I have, but with who I am.

…

Some things in this universe are too beautiful to pass up: the eternal blue sky, the first reddening leaves of fall, the first bite of cheesecake I haven’t savored in a while, my lovely friends who are never too busy to hear me whine, Juliette.

And me. 

Moved. I know nothing and no one.

First week in Akron

It’s been way too long since I last posted – moving and farewell parties got in the way. This is possibly the shabbiest piece I’ve written. Rather than a thoughtful blog post, this is a scribble of my first feelings and impressions upon moving from New York City to Akron, Ohio.

Things I miss about New York:

Food: or precisely, SEAFOOD. Juicy, sexy salmon overflowing in supermarkets. Sushi joints all too close and convenient whether it’s eat-in, take-out, or delivery. Oysters lying on ice invitingly, seducing my taste bud. Lobsters curling their red-hot bodies as if to summon me inside Chelsea market. Fatty, creamy bagels for $1.25 for breakfast. Korean pancakes at 2AM. Trader Joe’s. Organic stuff. Farmers market. The “TACOS” truck by my old place. All the ethnic restaurants that make me browse endlessly through Yelp, pondering: “Should I have Indian, Egyptian, Italian, or Cuban for tonight?”

Convenience: everything was a subway ride away and was available 24 hours. Here I’d have to bug someone with a car if I need something

Shopping, shopping, shopping baby

The noises, the city lights, the breathtaking beauty

The overwhelming amount of things to do that too often results in the inability to attend so many events

The nights of me walking and taking the subway alone, “laughing in the face of danger.” The nightlife unmatched by any other in the world. Now I sit in my room every night, writing stuff like this.

My ex-roomie and her dog, Pie

Art. Music. Comedy shows. Broadway plays. Free performances in the park. Live bands in Lower East Side bars. Street performers. the fact that I could go see any concert I could afford (except for a couple of times where tickets sold out in 10 seconds and the website crashed, which I still resent).

People speaking a hundred languages I don’t understand

Spicy food that makes me weep in my eyes, my nose, my tongue, my throat, and my stomach

Compliments (harassment? Self-claimed feminists nowadays make it so confusing) from random strangers

People who work 3 jobs. People who work 14-16 hours a day. People with the work ethic and ambitions I had never seen before living there. People I admire and use as role models.

The list goes on….

**

Things I like about my new place:

Clean air

vs New York: The subway smell; the smell of trashcans, of smokers, of drunken folks doing the disgusting stuff on the sidewalk. C’mon, the entire city smells like piss!

A spacious bedroom, furnished at little to no cost (again, thanks to my amazing new roommate). A comfy mattress. No more squeezing in a closet-sized room.

Cheaper prices on everything (duh); and no tax on food!

Feeling just ok. Back in the city, I was flipping back and forth between hysteria and a feeling of helplessness. Paradoxically, feeling ok feels strange.

People seeming to be more willing to help you out

Cleaner public bathrooms – yay!

**

In short, on one hand, this feels like a retreat from the city life. On the other hand, I feel like a hermit/an exile who tells herself: “everything is temporary.”

Will update soon, preferably in a more organized manner, so stay tuned.