On five months

Has it really been exactly five months since I've last updated this blog? Clearly, the answer is yes, since the previous post is dated September 16, 2009 – but I'm still having trouble believing that a) so much time has passed and b) I neglected to write for such a span of time.

Then again, I probably shouldn't be so surprised – I haven't been in the mood to write for a while now. Disheartening thought, actually.

That being said, I'm back! So my journalism hopes have been dashed into thousands of teeny-tiny irreparable pieces – so what? I can still write for myself. For now, that will have to suffice.

In the five months that have passed, I've acquired a permanent position at SDSU Research Foundation, I came dangerously close to being in a relationship (okay, so dangerously may be a pessimistic/negative/generally displeasing adverb. I'm a generally pessimistic/negative/displeased person), and… well, that may be it, actually. Family is about the same, friends are about the same – life, in a nutshell, is about the same. (Maybe that's why I haven't written in five months. Not much to write about, really.) I've been looking at the bright side as much as possible (the bright side of what, exactly, remains a mystery as, aforementioned, I am generally displeased), and for the most part, it's been working. Great friends, great city (yes, I'm somewhat contented with the fact that I'll be in SD for at least the next year, probably more), great love-life (it's nonexistent, which makes it great from my point of view). Not much to complain about, in other words. (Yet I'm still generally displeased. Hm.)

First things first – the job (i.e. the reason why I'll be in SD for the foreseeable future). This harkens back to the whole "I'll never be a journalist, woe is me" thing: I'm essentially back to square one, and trying desperately to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Option A: Pray that my sister's business gets off the ground soon. Option B: Project Management. Option C: Win the lottery. I'm not a gambler, so at the moment, I'm shooting for Option B. And, as luck would have it, I'm in the perfect atmosphere for project management, since that's essentially what the people at the Research Foundation do – manage the professors' projects (to a certain extent). If this is the road I choose to wander down, I couldn't have stumbled across a more opportune place to be. I don't want to stay here, since this isn't exactly the type of project management I would want to do, but the experience will be (in)valuable.

My favoritest (as in, least favorite) holiday, Valentine's Day, has come and gone, and I can say with completely true enthusiasm – it was the best one yet. I spent the day with amazing friends – Jessica M., Taylor, Kolbe, Erika, and Allison – and I really could not have asked for a better group of people. We girl-talked (Kolbe napped through that part, and I think Taylor zoned out), we played Imagine Iff… (don't know why that board game needs to spell "if" incorrectly), and we went out for Thai. It was a great mix of new and old friends all on their best behavior, and if we concentrated hard enough we could forget that we were all there together because we were all single. \

The good vibrations from yesterday will keep me going for this whole week, I think – it was THAT good of a day. They may soon be negated by my coworkers going on and on and on about the cakes they baked for their boyfriends, however. Were cakes trendy this year, or something? Whatever happened to going out to dinner?

I'm not bitter.

So earlier, I lied. (Yes, I realize I said I wouldn't. Whatever.) The love-life isn't exactly nonexistent. It's non-nonexistent. It doesn't exist, but it doesn't quite not-exist. (If you think about this hard enough, it makes sense. Or it gives you a headache.) Long story short – I met a guy, I was interested in him, he was interested back, I DIDN'T RUN AWAY (yes, you read that correctly!)… and he moved to Seattle. Second long story short – it's happening again (but with a different guy). I guess I can't shorten this story, since it's still in the works; we'll just have to see how it unfolds. And if the universe still hates me. And if I still fail at life.

So – that's what's happened in the last five months. See you in July! (I kid. I think.)

A change in plans

I may not be applying to grad school this year. I've been having trouble gathering the appropriate letters of recommendation, but, more significantly, I've been having trouble gathering up the energy. I registered for the GRE and I still plan on taking the exam, but otherwise... my heart isn't really in it.

I might try an alternative route first. I'd like to take some courses at a community college since frankly, I didn't really take any journalism-specific classes at UCSD. Ideally, I'll take a few AP-style writing classes at one of SD's community colleges, and seek out some internships, either in print or in magazines.

And that's another thing - I want to test the waters before going to grad school to determine whether or not journalism is really my thing. I know I don't want to go anywhere near PR or marketing, but what if I want to write for a fashion magazine? What if I don't want to write at all?

No, I do want to write.

Who knows - maybe I'll take a few creative writing courses, too. I'll leave my options open for now, and try some new things. I'm still young. At the moment, I have all the time in the world.

For the longest time

For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to get married, have three children, and live the happy home life I didn't truly have. I always wondered why both of my older sisters wanted neither marriage nor children of their own; I thought it was bizarre and wrong that two women would not want that typical, sugar-sweet family life.

It hit me only recently that perhaps they responded to our home life differently than I did. All three of us were under great pressure growing up, and it didn't help that my parents' loveless marriage frequently led to violently angry arguments. Psychology argues that the three of us should have grown up to be complete and utter messes, drug-addicts or alcoholics. Instead, we've all had varying degrees of success in our lives.

The experience still scarred us all deeply, however. I grew up idolizing happy marriages and promising myself that my children would never suffer as I did. My sisters, on the other hand, shunned marriage and children for themselves. Again, I found this mindset foreign to my way of thinking, and to America's way of thinking as a whole.

But now, I look at their beliefs with a little more clarity. My solution to the unhappiness of our home was to build a better one for the future; my sisters' solutions appeared to rely on not ever taking the risk of building one for themselves. My parents' relationship nurtured in me a painfully intense desire for true love; my sisters appear to avoid repeating the same mistakes by avoiding marriage.

The eldest of us three, however, is the only one to have actually committed herself to relationships (as far as I know. I don't think S. has been in a relationship with anyone, but I could be wrong). Her current relationship is, in my eyes, truly something special. For as long as I've been alive, J. has always had to look after me (and believe me, I was NOT easy to handle) and bear the burden of being an adult when she should have been enjoying her youth. But with her boyfriend, she doesn't have to carry the all responsibilities on her own shoulders; her boyfriend knows what it's like to be the product of a torn household as well as being the eldest of three. He is, in almost every respect, her perfect partner, and I have never seen her happier in my 22 years (on October 13!) of life. They've made living a shared life while still retaining independence and their individual personalities look disgustingly easy. Yet she still refuses to consider marriage, and I can't help but believe that this mindset is one of the scars left on her by her experiences. Our shared experiences.

J. is six years older than me. If I can remember the shouting, the throwing of dishes, the driving off in cars, then what does she remember? What does S. remember?

Not much good, it's safe to say.

I bring this up because only yesterday, Fadiya and I were discussing how we used to think that the idea of not wanting to get married was freakish and abnormal. We talked about how we, as little girls, wanted to grow up and get married. Then, we grew up. We grew up paranoid, suspicious, mistrustful. We grew up scarred, scared. We grew up afraid to love and be loved. And our childish conceptions of love changed, our ideas of marriage changed. Suddenly, I understand that one good marriage will not automatically undo the mess left by one horrible marriage. Suddenly, I wonder whether or not I'm even capable of maintaining a relationship at all, in any shape or form. I'm a self-diagnosed Avoidant, and though I turned out well enough by societal standards, I'm still carrying a lot of baggage as a result of my childhood. I may have to rewrite my own assumptions of what I wanted as a kid, because as a pseudo-adult, my childhood aspirations are far from what I want now.

I dreamed big, as a kid.

Once an RA...

... but never again!

No, I truly did enjoy the experience, and I relish the lessons I've learned, but I'm happier with the freedom I have. I'll need it, too, since I've chosen an intense way to end my college career - I'm aiming to leave with a bang, not a whimper.
One decision I made during spring quarter was to minor in History. I've always regretted not minoring in anything, but for the last 2.75 years, I'd spent so much time doing extracurriculars and enjoying a healthy social life that I hadn't given much thought to my degree. Now that my time at UCSD is drawing to a close, however, I was suddenly struck by all that I didn't do, and in the beginning of spring, I was overwhelmed by this incredible desire to continue learning.
For the past three years, I've only ever taken three classes a quarter (except once, when I took dance as a fourth. That didn't really count). Now I regret that I wasted so much time, even if I spent it being very involved in Sixth College. I could have found the time to do both, plus work; now, I regret that I didn't take so many classes that the Communications Department offers. I did decide to add on a minor, though, because it will be relatively easy for me to complete History; I wish I had the time to take courses beyond the paltry necessities, but alas, I was a fool. With my AP scores, plus a class I took as a G.E., I'll be able to complete the History requirements without too much stress.
It's the Communications courses that I didn't take, however, that I regret the most. UCSD offers a lot of extremely intriguing courses, from cultural analysis to media production, that I want to have taken advantage, but time is running out. I've thought about it, but I don't want to take a fifth year; I'm ready to graduate.
However - and this is truly odd - I am seriously considering grad school. I've declared time and time again that I don't need grad school for my chosen career - I need experience. I've recognized, however, that my chosen career may not be what I actually want to pursue, now that I've had three years to think about it, and even if I finish my fourth year and decide that I would still like to be a journalist, grad school won't hurt. There are classes I still need to take and writing experience I need to gain before I can even begin to take myself seriously, let alone others.
Grad school, of course, means that I'll need to get strong grades this year. I'll also need to strengthen bonds with the Comm Department's faculty, as well; luckily, I have a budding mentorship with one of my TAs, and I've grown attached to a professor as well - I took a class of his in Winter, loved it, took another class in Spring, loved it even more, and am signed up for a class in Fall.
The mentorship I mentioned is what I really meant to discuss in this post, however. For a week in August, I will be a mentor to Girl Scouts attending a film camp put on by the San Diego Women's Film Foundation; I'll oversee a group of girls taking a course on film production taught by my TA, Lauren. My technical skills aren't something to boast about (a course on which I should take before I graduate. *sigh*), but they're good enough for me to serve as an overseer. I'm really supposed to act as a role model, who might also be able to answer some technical questions along the way. I'm encouraged to suggest ideas for activities - icebreakers, guest lecturers - and I'm supposed to stimulate confidence and encourage personal expression through the medium of film.
Which goes back to the title of my post. I don't know that I'll ever outgrow the "leader" tendency - the habit of throwing myself into positions that expect me to demonstrate positive mentorship and leadership. It's not that I mind (or else I wouldn't be doing these types of extracurriculars), but I'd been expecting to take a break.
Ah hell, who am I kidding? Summer's been a bore, without work; I'll be excited to get my girls and have some sort of task to accomplish. Plus, I'm working with a new age group, and they're all female. This is similar to positions I've held in the past, which is comforting, but on a completely different playing field, which is excitingly challenging. I'm looking forward to it. :D
I still need a job, though, especially since this will only last a week. It'll be full-time, 9:30am to 4:30pm, but it will still only be for a week. I've beautified my resume (thanks for the help, DJ!) with my m4d Microsoft Word skillz, but I haven't heard from any of the people I contacted, and I'm running out of appealing offers.
I may have to crawl back to LJS&C. :\

Oh, and I became a member of University City's branch of the San Diego Public Library! I adore being a part of a library; it's been keeping me sane, the past few days. I go, I check out a couple of books, read them within the day (since I have nothing else to do - I really need a job), and return them the following day, only to check out more. I always do a lot of reading during the summer, though, which is nice. I just want something to do on top of it all - work during the day, and read just one book a night. That's reasonable, isn't it?

Let's get married

OMG, EVERYONE AND THEIR DONKEY IS GETTING ENGAGED!
Jessica and Megan (both engaged to Chris', coincidentally) have been proposed to. Brian has popped the question. And Zach got down on one knee first, out of all of my high school friends (Megan is actually a college friend), and started off this chain reaction. It's... *Hanna struggles for an adjective* BIZARRE, knowing that my friends are all preparing for marriage. I mean, it's also wonderful, and I'm extremely happy for them! But knowing that we're all of marriageable (or engageable, at least) age is just... *struggles once more* FRIGHTENINGLY REALISTIC.
Damn reality. Damn it to insufferable chick flicks, 24-7 hell. I feel almost obligated to stay single, now. SOMEONE has to be Spinster Cat-Lady.
Actually, I prefer dogs. Can I be Spinster Dog-Lady, with my Jack Russells and whatevers?

A Series of Unfortunate Events

To all that is holy, I shake my fist at you. To all that is karmic, or cosmic, curse you and the horse you rode in on.
I've just had the worst five days of my life. Not that they're the worst I've ever had, but simply that this past string of five days, from Friday to today, has been the worst ever (the karma-cursing, fist-shaking probably doesn't help, but since when have I really believed in that, anyway?).
Let's start with Friday: I was the RA on duty for the last serious night of duty of the year. It was to be my last night of duty ever, since I am not returning to the RA staff or ResLife for at least a year. And why shouldn't I have closed out my year with a bang? My duty phone has never been called so often in my entire year as an RA - it was practically jumping out of my jeans pocket with students calling to check out of their rooms/apartments. Our office had closed at 9pm, but students did not seem aware of this policy, and called begging to be checked out. I, the kind soul that I am, ran to and fro from the office all night; I believe my last checkout was around 1am.
At around 10:30pm, during a brief spell from phone-ringing, I was taking a break in Juliet's apartment. I checked my personal phone and noticed that I had missed four calls, including one from my mother and one from my sister. My mother had left a rather urgent voicemail, so I returned her call first. What ensued was the worst shouting match she and I have had in quite some time, over my credit card. Long story short, Mom screamed at me about bad credit and irresponsibility, and I shouted back about work and stress. She apparently wiped her hands of me, and I hung up, shaking terribly. I burst into tears; Juliet (having overheard my end of the fight from her living room) rushed in to console me. While still rather traumatized, my duty phone rings yet again; Juliet leaves me in her room to calm down while she goes to handle the check out. Bless her.
I eventually calm myself down enough to call the credit card company - who tells me that there is nothing wrong with my card, no large transaction waiting to be authorized by me. Frustrated that all this anger and stress has been fueled by what the nice man says is nothing, I change my contact number and hang up. I called my sister back, rightly assuming that my mother had called her when she couldn't get a hold of me. Once Jane's kind voice came over the phone, I burst into tears again. She gave me time to calm down, said everything would be alright, and we eventually ended our conversation with me saying, rather unconvincingly, that I would be fine.
To wrap up the night, I had to alcohol confrontations, one in my own building. An extremely important binder, the one that the RA on duty carries with them, mysteriously disappeared, containing my notes on the incident in my building (which, by the way, I was going to simply not report, until one of the girls present - a Muir student, and a friend to many of my residents - pissed me off to no end). It miraculously reappeared outside my door the next morning, with the notes still missing.
I honestly don't know what they were playing at, removing the binder from my presence, since they were all my residents. Stupid, since it'll probably get them into deeper trouble, once I turn in my report.
Saturday, I relaxed with Fadiya and Michael on the beach, then returned to campus for the checkout shift. Once that was done, I bid everyone a very bad good-bye, considering that I'd worked with them for a year, and wouldn't be seeing them for quite a while. I was so fed up with being on campus, though, that I simply had to leave, and after a round of hugs, I left.
Saturday night was good, relatively. Spent some quality time with Chris, Fadiya, and Michael, which I really needed.
Sunday, I took Morgan and Sean to the airport. I don't know if Sean made his flight or not, since we ran late (I blame the pub's bad service), but that was another stressful half-hour. After dropping Morgan off, I returned to campus, shuttled some more items from my room to my apartment, and then went to graduation.
Monday - my car very nearly gets towed. I came back from campus, where I'm involved in hiring a new Sixth staff member (mainly sitting in on interviews and giving my opinions on the prospects), parked in what I had believed was my spot, and then puttered around my apartment for a little while. At some point, I realized that my purse was missing, and went out to my car. Luckily for me, since, as I approached the parking lot, I noticed a tow truck removing a blue Corolla - MY blue Corolla. I immediately flagged the nice man down, who informed me that there was a $79 drop fee. And that I had to pay in cash. Right then and there.
I don't have that kind of money on me at this point, either in cash or in my bank account. Paying rent without making money is a bit of a pain, to say the least. I called Kevin, who kindly drove me to the mall, which had the nearest BofA ATM machine. Along the way, I make a frantic phone call to Jane, asking her to deposit some money into my bank account. I withdraw the funds, Kevin drives me back, I pay the kind man, and I have my car safely returned to me.
Jane called me later, to make sure everything was alright. I very nearly burst into tears again as we talked about my current finances (very little) and my options (very few). I said I was going to find a job as soon as I got back from Korea - no point in taking a job, only to require a near three-week long vacation. She asked me what I was going to do if I didn't find one immediately, I said that right now, I need to hope on finding one immediately. We ended our conversation with her assuring me that I could ask her again for help, and that I need not pay her back immediately.
Sometimes, I really loathe money.
Today wasn't so bad, in retrospect. Earlier in the day, I thought I'd lost my car keys; I retraced my steps, with no luck, then rummaged through my rather messy apartment. They turned up in a bag; they had fallen off my little grappling hook thing, that I have my keys on. The hook thing isn't very secure, and I should have changed it before, but alas. In any case, I found my keys within 10 minutes of fearing them to be lost, and immediately transferred them to my more secure hook.
Keep your fingers crossed for me that nothing else goes wrong. I'm driving home tomorrow, to return Monday. The last interview takes place on Tuesday morning, and then I'll head home again immediately after that, to prepare for my trip to Korea. Hell, I could really use a vacation.

I NEED A JOB

I NEED A JOB! I NEED A JOB! I NEED A JOB!

Not much to say

Life has, for the most part, been uneventful. A few events (ba-dum cha!) have come and gone, but all-in-all, it's been very quiet.
I haven't decided whether this is a good thing or not.

It's usually around this time of year that I do one of my biannual retrospective reflections (now THAT is a mouthful!). In June, it's my end-of-another-school-year reflection, and on December 31 I sum up the entire 12 months.
Very exciting stuff.
(An aside: I am typing this all one-handed, as I am currently eating as ice cream bar and require at least one hand to do so; letting the ice cream bar just sit on my tongue while I type furiously with both hands - which I'm doing at this exact moment - results in a frozen tongue and a tired jaw. Stop innuendo-ing, you pervert. Anyway, the point is that I've discovered that I'm a marginally better typist with my left hand than my right. I think it's because the most important letters of the alphabet seem to be on the left side of the keyboard. Interesting.)

But on to the retrospective reflection for June of 2007.
I haven't yet come to terms with the end of the year, actually. This past Tuesday was the End-of-the-Year Banquet for the RA staff, and we all got a little bit choked up, but I still haven't fully digested the fact that my tenure as an RA is close to over.
I'm mostly relieved. I made a conscious decision to not return to the staff next year, and I'm happy for it. I'm anticipating the freedom of living off-campus and sharing an abode with just my dear Stephi, rather than 54 freshmen. As much as I loved my group, I'll be happier living in a much quieter space with many more freedoms.
I'll miss it, though, and Tuesday is part of the reason why. Tuesday night was one of those extremely rare nights during which all 23 of us could find a good thing to say about one another (and were jumping out of our seats to do so). No drama, just love and friendship, and THAT I will miss. A gigantic family of overachievers stressed constantly with work and life, and the balance of the two.
What I won't miss is the pain that was oftentimes associated with the struggle that came with adjusting life to fit in the RA persona. I most definitely will not miss being Hanna the RA. In fact, I'm positively thrilled to be just Hanna again (well, never again to 54 of my own residents, and who knows how many more just in general. I hope those who I wasn't personally looking after will forget the title after a while).
Oh, and I won't miss going to a club and running into people who claimed that I had written them up not too long ago. Yeah. That happened Thursday night, and was rather awkward, though the girls (drunk, no doubt) thought it was a very good joke. I ran into one of them again on Friday (though I STILL don't actually recognize them, and I remember people I've documented); I think I'd like to maintain just a bit of anonymity once more.
I'm enjoying the prospect of once again being surrounded by true friends on a regular basis; living with Stephi bodes nothing but good fortune, as we are very much one another's rocks. We've been wanting to try this experiment since high school; it's about time we carry it out.
I'll be looking toward my future next year, sorting out my life, the people in it, and what I want out of it. I'll have so much more ME time, and so much more time to dedicate to smaller numbers of people. I hate that I wasn't able to know my residents personally - detachment comes with the job - so going back to a smaller social circle is a comforting prospect. I'd like to really acquaint myself with a few people as well (name, Al) - we'll see what comes of that.
I'll be in my final year of college - I'm definitely not anticipating any more school for at least a little while. And I'm going to wear a different student involvement hat as a member of SCSC - a distinct difference from ResLife.
I'll miss what I lost, but I've been missing that for quite some time now. And I've already realized that it's completely irretrievable; I mourn what was lost but I see that it was inevitable, really.
Once again, another year of tough lessons learned. A little more heartache and heartbreak - I wonder how many times it can stand breaking apart and then being painstakingly pieced together before it's utterly ruined.
Another layer of skin. Soon it may be completely impenetrable. For the better or the worse.
Only one more to go.
I wanted to really live up senior year of high school (whatever that meant to me back then). I wanted to look back and think, "Damn, I want to go back to high school!" Now, I realize that that is complete idiocy, for who in their right mind would want to return to high school?
This time around, I want to enjoy my last year of school ever (or for a while, at the very least) for myself. I want to be happy, I want more gut-wrenching, face-aching laughter, I want more smiles, I want more sunshine (literally, as well as figuratively). Who knows - a little love could hurt, but could be fun as well.
Most of all, I want it to be memorable, for the right reasons. Sure, growing from the pain of heartbreak and hard lessons will Cultivate My Soul and Teach Me to Become A Better Person - blah, blah, blah. As far as I know, happy memories can be as well-qualified an instructor and much less painful. I'd like some more of those.
But all-in-all, the year's been interesting.
I'm glad it's over, though.

A dry spell?

Wow. I haven't posted in over a month! A lot of shit's gone down since then, but eh. I don't really care to make my dramas public.
Good news, friends who still read this! Stephi and I have leased an apartment together! Huzzah! We shall be living at Archstone together, in a 2-bedroom apartment. The world is grand!

<3

On the hunt

I'm officially back on the job hunt, and will be looking for an apartment soon, as well, for the next year. Actually, I'll hopefully move into my apartment this summer, and intern again (ideally at the Union Tribune).
Good-bye, ResLife! Hello, LIFE!