On hiatus

I've come to a point where I need to take a little time to work some things out on my own. I've been on a steady decline over the past month, and I need to refocus my energy on the business at hand: getting a life. I've spent too long being bogged down in my present circumstances (and I've spent too much time writing about them). Somewhere along the line a big chunk of my former identity got swallowed up by this pathetic new identity with its myopic self-pitying worldview. I think this blog has been a little too effective in encouraging those unhealthy attitudes. So it's time for a break.

(In case you were wondering, I won't be taking the dental magazine job because I didn't get it--which I think is a good thing.)

So I'll be going now. I'll be back when I've reclaimed a little dignity. Promise.

Until then, if you want to know what I'm up to, send me an email or give me a call.

I leave you (for now) with a few appropriate stanzas from my old pal Elizabeth Bishop:

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster;
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Oregon Trail

Last night, the Pacific Ocean got a little (or maybe a lot) closer.

I was out with my friend Dave (a buddy since the third grade) and thought I'd ask him, just for kicks, if he would want to move out to Oregon. He's been living at home since December (he was working at a Whole Foods in Boston after he graduated, but quit because he couldn't stand the condescending customers). I thought for sure he'd say he would but couldn't afford to move out, or that he plain wasn't interested.

Instead he said, "You know, just this weekend, Leslie told me that she wished I'd move out there."

Leslie is Dave's ex-girlfriend, but they've maintained a close friendship. She's been working in Boston since she graduated from college two years ago. In September, she's starting a Ph.D. program in psychology at the University of Oregon in Eugene.

"Leslie wants you to move to Eugene with her?" I asked.

He said, "Yeah, well she said she thinks I'd really like it out there. I'd consider it, but I wouldn't want to move out as a couple. So, actually, this sounds like something that might work out pretty well."

Hmm. I never imagine that all of these competing interests (Dave's, Leslie's, mine) would fit together so efficiently.

After I dropped Dave off, I went home and did a little Craigsresearch. A nice two-bedroom in Eugene can go for around 800, which is what I was planning to spend for a one-bedroom in New Haven. On the job front (a topic that always makes me nervous), Eugene is home (obviously) to the University of Oregon and all of the job opportunities that a large research university has to offer. It's also an hour away from the city of Corvallis, which is where Oregon State University and its attending job opportunities are located. And, if worse comes to worst, there are plenty of restaurants, bookstores, coffee shops and even a Kaplan center where I should be able to find some source of income (oddly enough, I meet the qualifications to teach a Kaplan LSAT course).

I was feeling pretty good about this plan until I went to bed. I tossed for a while, dreamed a few fitful dreams, and woke up in a panic around five. All I could think of was that yawning gulf of America between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Everything I know is in a little corner on one side. Between here and there are the daunting obstacles of a two hundred dollar plane ticket or a four(!)-day drive.

Needless to say, I've got some (more, ad nauseum) soul searching to do over the next couple of days. Plus, Dave and I have to pow wow.

Ah, one more thing: apparently William and Mary is well-known for being whoreish with their fee waivers. They flash those things all over town.

A few developments, briefly

Just got back from my *third* interview at the dental magazine, and I still don't have an offer from them.

They'd asked me back to retake part of the proofreading test (curious) and because the head of the magazine (the one doing the hiring) wanted me to assure her that I would devote myself to this job for the fairly long-term ("several years" was how she put it). They're worried that I'll leave to go to law school in six months (which I assured her wasn't possible). She said that, given the amount of energy it takes to train someone and acclimate them to the work done at the magazine, they want someone who's committed, someone who might want to make a career at this particular publication. You can probably imagine how I feel about that.

She said she'd call me tomorrow to let me know one way or the other.

All the way home I was thinking about taking that westward road trip. Quite frankly, I'm god-awfully scared of it (would I be able to find a place to live and a job to pay the rent?; what if I get hurt or sick or what if something happens to the car?; what if I get there and I'm incredibly lonely?). But maybe it's time to do something I'm god-awfully scared of doing. (Anyone reading this want to move out to Oregon?)

Today's other minor developement was that I got my first bit of correspondence from a law school. (I signed up for the referral service--LSAC gives out my address, undergraduate institution and LSAT score to schools and they send me informative literature if they're so inclined.) This bit of correspondece was an email from William and Mary letting me know that if I chose to apply to their law school the application fee would be waived (i.e., they're enticing me to apply by making it free). That pepped me up a bit. If I do decide to do the law school thing, a little flattery (and money) will probably go a long way. (It's nice to know that someone thinks I'm at least moderately qualified for *something*).

Two roads diverged

It's been a while since I've posted because I've been taking some time to think about what my next step is going to be. In particular, I've been thinking about some of the comments and suggestions I've received from people who read this blog.

I've spent plenty of time on these pages making excuses for why things are the way they are, and how they're not actually as bad as I make them out to be. But today is not the day for excuses. I hold myself fully and solely accountable for the decisions I've made, and I accept as inevitable those things that are out of my control.

At this point, all of my bases are covered: if I'm going to apply to law school or grad school, all I've got to do is apply. If I decide to move out, all I've got to do is pack up and put some gas in the tank. If I decide to take a job around here, I could get myself an apartment within the week.

By early next week, I expect to hear from the dental laboratory magazine. If I don't get it, my decision is made for me--I'll get it the car, drive west, stop when I hit water, get a job at a coffee shop or a bookstore, get a cheap apartment and...live.

If I do get this magazine job, I'll have a decision to make: take it or leave it. The argument for taking it at this point might be a little more convincing: it'd be good money and good experience. I don't have to make any long term commitments; I could leave after a year (or even less) and almost certainly still have enough freedom to move across the country (I don't intend to have any kids at this point next year).

Maybe the lesson to learn at this point is to stop seeing myself in terms of the things that I can't do. Some of those things are things I can't change (i.e., I don't have the grades or the scores to get into a good law school, I don't have the talent or experience or personality to get a good job in publishing). Some of them are defense mechanisms brought on by fear (i.e., I don't have the natural ability to be a good writer, I don't have the courage to move out and go somewhere far away). If I apply to good jobs or good law schools with a measure of confidence and without regard to my credentials, maybe I'll get lucky (it worked for undergrad) and maybe I won't. If I write or move out (and just do it) maybe something good will happen.

I can't really say whether I want this last job to work out or not. My sensible, rational side thinks there's still plenty of time to do something drastic and still plenty of opportunity to grow up while I'm living around here. My frustrated, ambitious side thinks it's time to listen to what it (and others) have been saying for a long time.

One of the most misguided things a person can do to himself is make promises. Like, "I promise that if I take this job I'll quit in a year and then I'll move away and won't look back until I've made something of myself." I've heard lots of stories of whole lives turning on single decisions. I don't want to be editing press releases about dentures and crowns twenty-five years from now. I just want what everybody wants--A little happiness (and somebody to share it with).