Growing Experiences -- Ninetieth Post

First off, the new blogger format where you can't tab quickly from the title to the body of the post is really annoying. I don't know if I said it before, but it's worth saying again.

Second off, I just had a growing experience and hated it thoroughly. I actually had it a few months ago, but I've been too busy to post the perfectly viable draft that I wrote right after it happened. The problem with this one was the extended stress levels. I moved to another state with hotel reservations for the parents and brother for three nights; this was after graduate housing fell through (they contacted me today saying they would have a place in September; thanks a heap, Coyote Ugly). I had a few meetings set up to look at apartments, and made a lot more as the days went on and I couldn't find anything. I don't think I encountered too many craigslist scams, but I saw a few kind of awful places, didn't sleep well due to snoring in the hotel room, had a couple places get snatched out from under me, and eventually ditched the whole "my future-roommate can move in later" plan as living on the street became more of a possibility. Finally, I decided to look for rooms to let in established places; i.e., I would become a new roommate in a house full of strangers who already knew each other. As a quick recap, junior year fall was great because no one knew anyone, but junior year spring was awful because everyone but me was already established. Still, it would better than being homeless. 

I hated this growing experience. I had to make phone calls and put my phone number on the internet (via craigslist emails) and meet lots of new people. 

This clip from Despicable Me 2 sums up how I feel about making phone calls.

And, while I hate the way my stomach still hurt from the stress as I wrote this three days after moving in, I feel pretty good about this whole endeavor again. For a few weeks, I was wondering if I was even supposed to end up in grad school, given the way housing was working out (or not working out, as it were). I was so stressed that I was getting tension headaches because my stress apparently settles in my shoulders and neck. Once we started the trip over here, I started not being able to eat a whole lot; you'd be amazed by how unappealing most food is when your stomach is twisted up and you feel like you could dry heave at any point. I mean, water made my stomach hurt. Breathing made my stomach hurt. 

Anyway, I found a place where I could move in immediately with nice people, two dogs, a flight of stairs between me and the kitchen, a washer and dryer, a monthly lease (nice if things don't work out), a nearby bus stop, and the cheapest rent I've ever seen in a four-person home. It's a mere ten dollars more expensive than my last place, with its unfinished basement and six people, and almost a third of the average rent in the area. 

Bam. 

Now I'm free to stress about (in approximately this order): 

1. Orientation

2. Preliminaries (have been too busy moving and stressing to study)

3. Teaching 

4. Teaching

5. Teaching

6. Class

But hey, this is what I signed up for. If I can meet someone and move into their house the same day, well, I can teach three labs of probably-won't-be-science-majors-after-this-semester undergrads. 

Also, I bought a bike for $80 and spent almost twice that much fitting it out with fenders, lights, grips, a kickstand, and a helmet. And I still have enough money to pay rent next month. And I can pay utilities.

Once I figure out how this house works, life will be pretty good. I've already almost forgotten the bone-crushing, vomit-inducing stress that comes when you have to be out of the hotel TOMORROW and school activities start in THREE DAYS. In the meantime, I'm still working out whether or not to use the dishwasher and how long the dryer takes to finish drying my sheets so I can go to bed. It seems a lot better than worrying about where I'll be sleeping tomorrow.

UPDATE: It's been a few months since orientation now, and I can hardly remember it. I've made friends, I've make mistakes, and I've made good choices. As far as I can tell, grad school is like having a teaching job, with all that stress and work, smashed in with having serious classes in school and a part-time job in a research lab. So, like real life but more stressful.
I regret nothing.