Wednesday, August 13, 2008

A bit about me.

I was born on Long Island, and am the oldest of three children, having a 22 year old brother and a 19 year old sister. My father went to college for sociology and teaching but is a small business owner; my mother, after training as a nurse and being some kind of executive assistant, was a stay at home mom for 22 years, and now has been a crossing guard and primary caretaker for her own mother for two years.

I went to nursery school at the YMCA, public school for K-12, and two private colleges for undergrad (graduating from a Seven Sisters school). I am now at another private college for grad school, where I'm a third of the way through a masters degree in library science. I hope to complete the degree by the end of next summer.

I lived on the same street until I left for college; we moved across the street and three houses up when I was eight. For the first year and a half of college, I was in the Finger Lakes region of New York State. In January 2004, I transferred to a school in Western Massachusetts. I stayed in the area after graduation, pretty much moving straight from the dorms to an apartment nearby with some friends and acquaintances. [I will note here that I am not decided yet how much personal, identifying information I will be using, so bear with the vagaries for now.] I've been living in Massachusetts now for about 4.5 years, and have been a resident of the state for nearly two.

I've been an athlete since I was six, playing soccer through junior high; also in junior high playing football, women's lacrosse, and volleyball; and rowing crew in high school and college. I was a fairly successful rower, winning a state championship my junior year of high school and competing nationally. In college I rowed in a mediocre boat at the Head of the Charles my first semester. After that fall, I quit the team. After transferring, I started rowing again, for an outstanding Div III team, and in my senior year was the starboard spare for the Charles and the NCAA championships, where the team placed fourth.

In high school I also played trombone in the marching band (and concert band, jazz band, wind ensemble, symphonic orchestra, pit orchestra, et cetera), was on the stage crew, scored really well on the SATs, didn't do much homework, and was an odd kid. My class voted me most eccentric.

In college I majored in English and minored in music; played in the wind ensemble; was in a bunch of lefty student orgs. I learned three dead languages, none of which were Latin or Greek. Despite not having studied Latin, I won an essay contest (which payed my rent for part of the following summer) with an historical comparison of about half a dozen translations of Juvenal's satire on women. I love my college, and wish I had spent four years there, rather than two and a half.

I am working on the MLS so that I'm, you know, actually qualified for something. Some direction. Plus, the particular program is mostly part time, so I can support myself while I'm at it. And I didn't have to move away from my beloved Western Mass. The original plan was to do it in three years. That's the rate I started at last year. But now, with the prospect of moving away somewhere with Bicycle, I'm speeding up the process, taking all the credits I can, and will finish next summer. I'm not exactly sure what this will look like, in terms of January and summer courses, but can and will be done.

In college I spent 3 semesters in successful cooperative living situations. One semester was at my first school, living in a big house with twelve other people. I spent my senior year in an on-campus apartment with three other women. Since then, however, my group living experiences have been unsuccessful. Immediately after leaving college, as I said, I took up with some friends. For two and a half months, four of us lived in a two bedroom apartment -- myself, a friend from high school, a student from the state school the next town over, and another who had dropped out and was, before our coming together, homeless. In short order, that last person had gotten pregnant and went to cohabitated with her boyfriend, now husband, and at about the same time the remaining three of us moved down the way to a funny shaped three bedroom apartment. A few months later, another homeless friend started to couch surf, and then ended up in our living room for six months. It was all a great mess, with dramatic personalities, and no cleaning, and irresponsibility, and too many people in too small a space. I found the whole thing very frustrating and high tailed it late the following spring.

I moved to the center of town, in a little one bedroom, which was also funny shaped, for example, needing to go through the bathroom to get to the bedroom. It was a rather pleasant little apartment, save for the upstairs neighbors, cool in the summer, heat included in the winter. I was a little lonely sometimes, as I work at home by myself, and was only in class once a week, so had to be purposeful if I was to go out or see people. I would have been happy to stay there, but my budget was getting a little precarious, so I gave it up at the end of this May. A friend moved into it when I moved out.

I spent most of this summer at my parents. This was different, as I hadn't been there for more than two weeks at a time in nearly three years. My lease was up, and I wasn't going to be earnig much this summer, as my boss was moving his business and his family from Massachusetts to Brooklyn. So, I figured that living with the family, despite the lack of a sufficient number of bedrooms, was better than paying rent that I'd be hard pressed to come up with.

My siblings were home from college, and Nana, my mothers mother, lives there about half the year, so she was around for the first half of the summer. My father, though at work all day, nearly every day, is recovering from a torn achilles tendon, and so is a general grouch most of the time. And to add injury to, well, injury, my mother also was injured early this summer, with two broken toes on one foot and several stitches on the other. My brother is working for my dad, so he wasn't about much, but my sister had a hard time finding a job this summer, so for several weeks she laid about all day watching soap operas. I put the blame partially on her and partially on the poor economy. Summer jobs are not in abundance this year, but damn, she didn't try very hard to find one. Lucky for my and my mother's sanity, she was handed a camp councilor job late in June by a friend of the family who had had a person quit on the first day of camp.

All was not unicorns and rainbows though, as said sister physically attacked my during an argument a week ago, and I duly left the house for Massachusetts, to my mother's great sadness. I've been staying with Bicycle and his roommate (who will be leaving for a new life in Arizona at the end of the week) for the last week, and shortly I will be moving up the road to Chris's, as his (insufferable) roommate just moved out. Chris himself is leaving for Maine in a couple weeks, upon which Bicycle will move in.

The original plan had my stay at Chris's overlapping with Bicycle's arrival a little bit, no problem. I was then going to, some time in September move to my new place. Most of my things have been in storage all summer (with things like plates and flatware and some furniture on loan to Bicycle and roommate), so I was going to retrieve them gradually as I was situated. Now I need to rework that plan, as I can begin to fetch them whenever it is I move to Chris's. Actually, I really need to start thinking about the whole move business (goodness, I hate moving), since our plans have really only changed to this in the last couple days. It's hard to plan things out with Bicycle, as he's at class and work most of the day, and then the evenings seem to fly by, and I'm sure as hell neither planning or carrying this out solo. Already I feel like I'm taking on a little more of the mental housework, and I'm not going to let that become habit.

So here I sit.

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