Chicas y Maletas

It is scholarship application day for me. "Please oh please, won't you give me some money?" No, I beg my future school in slightly more verbose, slightly less lyrical language.

"As an incoming non-resident student to the cohort, I am facing an extraordinarily large tuition bill for a relatively short program of study. Additionally, I will be relocating from Chicago, Illinois in order to take part in this program. I am excited about the fact that this accelerated program will allow me to be observing and working in the classroom almost immediately, but I am in need of some some significant financial assistance in order to make this dream a reality. I am pursuing any and all funding opportunities available. My sincerest gratitude to you for your consideration."

I'm also applying for a scholarship that is given exclusively to gay men. The age cutoff for award consideration is 35 years old. I find this to be a close call, which I then find to be incredibly disturbing. Like finding a rat in my refrigerator, it turns my stomach a bit.

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Work is going well. I feel like I've got most of the transition behind me now. I'm working out of the main office about half of the time, working at other branches the other days. After two years at the same desk at the same location with the same people every day, this obliteration of my safe, comfortable routines was just what I needed at just the right time. A swift kick in the ass; no more coasting, no more inertia.

And the time is passing so quickly! Just a couple more days until April. And then May, the month when everything changes.

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My parents are coming to visit for a few days next week. I'm excited about this. The last time they were in Chicago was back in the summer of 2006, a few weeks before I left for Taiwan. I've got a few things planned for us. Hopefully the weather will be nice and spring-like. It has been drippy nose temperatures the last few days.

The week after that I am expecting quality time with my dear friend Sarah as she visits Chicago for a medical conference. She is an extremely important medical professional - Dr. Sarah, in fact. We missed our yearly catch-up Christmas date this past holiday season, so it will be great, great, great to see her. Is her sister Kati Jo coming to town too, perhaps? I haven't heard, though I know that this was under discussion.

Spring! What an exciting time.

Last night I watched a wonderful film:

Broken Embraces, a film by Pedro Almodovar

Passion, Fruit

Sometimes you are just sitting in a really fine place, having a good tea, thinking or writing an email to a wonderful friend, and a Whiskeytown song comes on, and man, it is just so overwhelming. How good life is. How sweet and warm and perfect it can all be. How friends make your life so rich. How a little sadness and quiet time around the edges of your life make the laughter and fun of a night out with a couple of crazy kids that much more rewarding. How many things there are to miss, how much you miss those things but know that your life is so much better now. You think about all of the gifts you've been given, how undeserved and underappreciated this uncountable wealth. And you tear up a bit, the good tears, and take a deep breath and hope that no one will really notice.

And you thank God for Pandora and passion fruit juice and the people that she's blessed you with in your life and their kind words. And you look forward to good times, so many more good times to come. So many, many times.

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This week has been challenging. I'm working at a new office, learning new duties, meeting new people. For the first few days it all felt so surreal; I worked at the same office for two years, so this new thing felt like a temporary training exercise, an experience to conquer before returning to my comfortable, familiar old haunt and coworkers. As the week wore on, the panic began to creep its way in. This is my new situation, like it or not. And, oh no, I don't really like it.

But meeting the new officemates has been wonderful. Everyone has truly been so nice to me. I quickly developed a crush on one of my new coworkers. She is the kind of girl who is able to have a fully-formed, witty but low-key adult conversation with you the first time that you ever meet. She talks to you like she's known you for a while. This is a strategy that I often try to employ myself upon meeting a new person. It doesn't always work. Personality thing. Some people like to keep you at a distance and work their way towards warming up. Knowing Katie feels like wearing a comfortable old sweater. That sounds terribly strange and unromantic. Oh, she's so pretty also. Don't tell her. Crush, crush, crush.

(Don't wonder about this. You've had crushes on boys and girls that go against your sexual orientation also. Yes you have.)

Walking home from work in the evenings is a wonderful new therapy. I'm lucky enough to be living a mere ten Chicago city blocks away from my new bank location. I'm finding that at the end of a stressful day, there's nothing like a nice evening sunshine stroll to release the tension and debrief from whatever unpleasantness you've faced. Also, I love my neighborhood so fully that walking through it, people watching, checking out the new window displays, laughing at the ridiculous sunglasses, and greeting the Streetwise vendors is a joy no matter the quality of the hours that proceeded.

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I got fingerprinted today. I feel like I've been fingerprinted an inordinate amount of times in my adult life for a non-felon.


Currently
Catching up on this final season of Lost

I'm Not Saying

I had a bad dream two weeks ago Monday. Not bad, that's not enough. Maybe disturbing. Not just disturbing, though, more like awful. It was a dream that I woke up from, dealt with for a few minutes, and then felt like my life had changed. That I had been moved. Kind of like that earthquake in Chile that resulted in the entire city moving ten feet from its previous location; there were consequences to this dream.

I haven't slept in my bed since. I've been sleeping on my couch for the last two and a half weeks. If you have been lucky enough (oh so lucky) to have guested at my apartment, you will note how inconsequential this move actually seems. Seeing as how the couch actually touches the end of my bed, this is a pretty symbolic sort of action. Also, I haven't made my bed since that night. I am happy in my sleeping bag on my click-down couch and still feeling some pretty strong animosity towards my mattresses. My poor bed. I know it isn't her fault, but I have to work out my anger and ill will on something. We might need a professional arbitrator or relationship coach to help us out.

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Hey, I got into grad school, received my acceptance letter this morning. I should probably go this time.

Pretty excellent timing too, because I am facing quite a bit of unknown at work beginning next Monday. My bank branch is finally closing for good this Saturday - I tell people it has seemed like the longest, slowest death ever and has made me a firm believer in voluntary euthanasia - and I am headed to my small community bank's main office. I've had it pretty darn good for the last two years: plenty of leeway, a fair amount of leisure time and relaxation on the clock, lack of aggressive or strict supervision, brilliantly quirky customers and neighborhood characters. This new placement will probably turn all of those wonderful things right on their adorable little heads, so I'm liking the light at the end of the tunnel that this acceptance letter provides. Two months or so to go. If I go.

Currently Listening to

David Bazan's Curse Your Branches and

Currently Reading

The Wild Things by Dave Eggers