What came first? Bob Dylan or Seasonal Depression?

I've started listening to Bob Dylan on repeat again.  It's the tell tale sign that seasonal depression is upon me.  I spend my time listening to Bob Dylan, ruminating and being crabby to those around me.  I also have been experiencing sincere apathy to....basically everything.  

It's worse this year because I have a graduate degree I am supposed to be getting and I am just not as engaged as I was last semester.  It's like the cold has seeped into my bones and sucked the life out of me.  It also happens to be the one year anniversary of when I stopped sleeping regularly, which also makes it one year that I have been trying to figure out why I f-ing can't sleep anymore.  I've chalked it up to age, along with my heartburn and loss of night vision.  

Bob Dylan may have alerted me to the presence my dear friend seasonal depression, but the interest inventory I took yesterday for my career class really brought it all home.  Out of 177 possible careers that I could "strongly like", I only picked one- race car driver.  That's either sheer apathy or I have an untapped affinity for danger.  Secret agent was not on the list but perhaps if it were I would have "strongly liked" two careers.  

Anyways, so I went to the gym today for the first time in two weeks, rocked out to Bob and recommitted myself to not being a bitchy slug.  I am too fabulous to let February get my goat again this year.  My tactic?  Punch February in the face.  That'll show her.

Resolutions

It's a new year friends! I absolutely love the New Years holiday. I mean, in actuality, it's about as pointless as groundhogs day, presidents day or any other random holiday that doesn't actually celebrate anything. It's just another day. And yes, it's technically a new year too. But nothing really changes, other than having to buy a new calendar.

I have to give a hand then to human ingenuity. At some point, somebody really smart said "Hey, let's make the new year a holiday. And to celebrate, let's get rip-roaring drunk. And then, let's not go into work the next day." Brilliant. Think about it- it's a nearly world wide boozefest. And if I could move the pumpkin pie from thanksgiving to New Years, I would be in absolute heaven.

The only downside is, of course, the resolutions. Judging by the gym today, the resolution-making aspect of new years is certainly holding its own. But like I said, it's just another day. The only resolution I ever feel like making on January 1 is to never drink as much as I did on December 31st ever ever again.

I guess people like the idea of having the chance to clean their slate. From what I have seen of humanity, there seems to be a draw to starting over. When a relationship ends or a job is lost, people find a bright side in the "fresh start". People move across the country- or across the world- just to feel like they can totally "start over".

I'm not saying it's a bad thing to want to start over, or to recommit oneself to personal betterment. In fact, I think there should be more of this sort of commitment, and that it should happen everyday. What's wrong with waking up literally everyday and wiping the slate clean? Each day is a new opportunity to be a better person. Whether it's June 12th or January 1st doesn't matter- it's just a day after all.

So in honor of new years, I guess I'll just give in and make a resolution. I resolve to make a fresh start every day of 2010. And I resolve to forgive myself if I royally f-up, because I'll have the next day to start over. I hope you, gentle reader, will think of doing the same. And thus, I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes. Cheers, my friends, to a bright new year.

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow". -Mary Anne Radmacher

Tracey Does UVA- The Sequel

Yesterday, I had an epic battle with financial aid and lost. I lost because I cried and they STILL wouldn't give me my money. Ahhh, graduate school. I never thought I would beg for money I have to pay back with 7% interest. But here I am, Tracey graduate student. Somewhere between waiting for my 11th amazon.com used book order to arrive and starting the 8th spreadsheet at my work study job I realize- I've made it.....through my first week. I'm feeling pretty confident with one week under my belt. My classes are fascinating and I feel that I have insightfully contributed to class discussions. I enjoy my classmates and respect my professors. I have avoided binge eating from vending machines and accurately identified which bathroom has the least traffic. I have gone a whole week accident free on my bike, a feat which I failed to accomplish in undergrad.  Finally, I have also not heeded the siren call overpriced Pav food. Suck it, Wrap Station.

Honestly, I'm surprised at how easy it's been to move my brain into academic mode. It's like my brain just perked right up and said "Ohhh you're going to stop drowning me in wine and let me WORK for a change! Goodie!" It's like being an abusive pet owner- I'm an abusive brain owner. If I didn't start letting it out more, Brain Control would be called in. I hope that I continue to love what I'm learning as much as I do now. I'm afraid that I'll suffer from early saturation and my brain will suddenly stop taking in information. It'll be like Alzheimer's for academia. I'll re-read the same sentence 4 times and realize I didn't remember a word and it'll all go downhill from there.

I jest, really. It's just been so relatively easy and fun, I'm waiting for the fall out. But, with any luck, it never will. I can't say the same for my ability to avoid the Pav. I can't say no to sushi and chic-fil-a forever....

Boldly Going Where I Have Never Gone Before

Graduate school is upon me. I know that when people begin something new, the often say that they are "excited and scared!", so it would be cliche for me to also say that I am excited and scared. Truth is, I am more ecstatic and terrified.

I've spent a great deal of my life avoiding a committed life plan. I've clung for a long time to the idea that if I wanted, I should be able to take off at the drop of a hat to xyz Latin American country and live the tragic and wonderful surf bum life. My liberal arts background, wino career and three TFA rejections are only a few of the stunning examples of my ability to accomplish feats that fail to lead me in any particular direction.

Right now, I finally feel like I have turned a corner. I have a plan that inspires me. I realize where this plan will lead me, and I understand the great difficulties and sacrifices that are involved, yet I am at peace with the plan. Though you can never be sure of anything, I am confident that I have made the right decision to return to school. It's going to be interesting, to say the least. I have a lot of old college habits and mindsets that are going to have to change. No more Freedom. No more tasteless jokes. Foxfield will have to be a lot tamer for me this year. But I know the things I gain will far outweigh what I aim to lose- the ability to listen and really hear, the capability to help others better themselves, a deeper appreciation for my fellow man.

Eventually the time comes for every man to stand up and better himself. My time has come. God help me to not screw it up.

Hugs, love, and quiet Friday nights

Tonight, I just wanted to be quiet. Though I don't tend to gravitate towards silence, I'm beginning to realize how much of life is better understood without words.

My evening of quiet was inspired by my roommate. He's falling in love. He didn't tell me this, but I can tell. He plays the piano with more vigor. He smiles, even when he is annoyed. He hugs me more, which is great because he gives excellent hugs. He floats rather than walking.

Love is patient and kind- it also grows quietly but with great purpose. Sometimes, love is certainly not quiet. It can come out in screams and sonnets and song, and is equally beautiful in all forms. But I contend, the greatest love to behold is the silent type. Love that permeates the air, is shared through a touch, passed in a gaze, felt in the heart.

Maybe all the love in the air is squelching the noise usually associated with the mid-20's lifestyle. Maybe I'm just getting to old to go out on Friday nights. Either way, I'm glad that I decided to revel in quiet for a while this evening. I hope to become more comfortable in quiet spaces. The quiet helps me appreciate the present so much more. And I hope that my roommate continues exuding love all over my apartment. The extra hugs are a great thing to come home to.