could it be?

I've noticed a remarkable thing lately: the days (which for months have dragged) are flying by. And they're full. I get home on Friday and it doesn't occur to me anymore to bawl my eyes out, the weekend of solitude stretching before me. The solitude is scented with incense, a new herb garden, lots and lots of friendly cat breath. The weekends have friends in them. Not people. Not forced conversation in a too-noisy bar, but friends, who are more familiar all the time. Friends for watching movies at home with, playing board games with, for going to potentially lame but possibly cool things with because even if it was lame we'd have fun.

I said at the start how the women and men in my program are uncommonly delightful. Sharp, thoughtful, funny, definite people with substance to tap into and learn from. I'm glad to say it again and mean it more the second time. I feel pushed to be better in different ways from being around them. It gets more interesting now, as we've covered the awkward initial ground. We're getting to know each other. Which I have a feeling is going to be fulfilling. With genuinely cool people (and that they are), you're rarely disappointed.

Beyond the people though. The sense of home is growing. The cold weather helps. :) And the time. My apartment doesn't feel like a weird place anymore, it feels like mine. My paintings, my scarves, my sprawling plants. My curtains and windows and walls. My bed, with sheets that no longer have the creases from being fresh out of their packaging. I still hate Gainesville. But I don't hate living there. I don't feel like I've moved to another planet. Anymore.

The questions which have tortured me the past half year are also fading. The "imposter syndrome" lives on, but it's not so crushing at the moment. :) The weight of - what? fear? pressure? - is there but lighter; it pushes me forward. Instead of sending me into fits of insomniac cold sweats. I might not be a rock star researcher or anything, but I'll do a good job. I can do this. And I belong here. I can't describe what it feels like to finally own that. I belong here.

i'd never hurt a salmon's feelings.

The black mold spores have finally gotten to my brain. It's been a night for Funky-Ass Dreams.

FAD the first: I am hanging out with a roomful of emo highschoolers listening to the newest Modest Mouse. I make some comment about how Good News for People Who Like Bad News was like soooo selling out to the mainstream and between that single and this newest one, which is better? To which they all emphatically agree this one is much better. The catch? There is no new Modest Mouse record.

FAD the second: I am a waitress in a fancy restaurant. Salman Rushdie comes in and asks for the salmon. I giggle and am about to make a wisecrack but suddenly feel deeply sorry for any man whose name sounds like a fish.

my brain says it's snowing.

I've found the temporary cure to Florida's perpetual summer: watching Christmas movies! Two hours of snowfall, white landscapes and thickly-wrapped scarves has transported me far from the land of palm trees.

How can people live without this? How can anyone stand to be where mittens are rendered useless? I can't imagine never breathing the bright air cold enough to condense your breath, to chill your skin but not quite your bones. Or walking in woods under bare trees, gray clouds, falling snow, with dead leaves underfoot and chimney smoke in the air. Even waiting on a crowded el platform after work in a blizzard of white has its own small magic when you look out the darkened train windows at snow piling on the stopped-up cars.

Here we are robbed of the excuse to cuddle up to someone for warmth. Tragic. :)

Which has led me to decide that I don't want to live without the beautiful cold. There's the real possibility of being permanently removed from places that snow (and all that comes with them), depending on my dedication to my career. Lately I've been in ongoing conversation about the life I envision after finishing here. There is a clear tradeoff in which you can work infinitely hard, give up nights, weekends, family, even choosing where you live, and be very successful. Conversely, the more you want out of your life, the more limitations on your career.

Don't get me wrong; I'd go bonkers if I wasn't being productive. But as I say often, I only get one life. I'm willing to sacrifice being where I want and have a limited personal life - for a few years, but not for my whole life. Because I don't get another one after this. Who would spend every minute of their one wild, precious life toiling after scientific knowledge? Well, someone would. But not me. I've got a few other things I want to do.


(I know it's been all introspective blogs lately and no random rants or cute pictures. Sorry. I thought at first I was getting too serious but let's be honest, this is a super-formative point of life. Probably the most ever. So I'm going with it and jabbering away as I see fit. I won't always be this trepidaciously obsessed with my current and future situations... or at least, I'm really hoping it's a phase-specific thing. Whoever you readers are, you seem to be showing up anyway - I saw today there's been almost 1000 reads! Who's reading this stuff? I don't have that many friends.)