K.will - 이러지마 제발 (Please Don't)
박지윤 (Park Ji-yoon) - 나무가 되는 꿈 (Tree of Life)
Ailee - Heaven
B1A4 - 걸어 본다 (Tried to Walk)
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Hello, 2013
Do you remember when the US Mint started issuing the states quarters, way back in 1999? Like probably most every other family in the US with kids, our family started collecting them, albeit a little late -- maybe late 2000 or 2001. I remember my mom bought a case-book-thingy for each of us to keep ours in. I remember sitting on my bed in the attic of our house in Tennessee and looking at the slots for the year 2009 when the series would be complete and thinking it was so far away.
Oh, Time, how fast you fly! It's now been more than ten years since I was sitting on that bed, four years past so-far-away 2009. Just the other day while I was home for Christmas, my barely-8-year-old little brother announced, "People born in 2000 are old." My parents and I were sitting in the same room engaged in various other activities, and we all just laughed and laughed. But the evidence that the people around me are starting to be old is mounting. Both my grandfathers died in 2011. Neither of my grandmothers are as hale as they used to be, and both are facing ever-increasing health concerns. My father's beard has much more "salt" in it than it used to, and both he and my mother are a little more creaky than I remember. I have four younger brothers, but only the youngest can properly be called my "little" brother, and my youngest sister will probably stop being my "littlest" sister in just a few years. Craziest of all is that in just a few weeks my parents will be transformed into grandparents and my sister -- my baby sister, the one who is still always just barely 14 in my head -- will have a daughter.
Tomorrow marks two years since I moved to Utah, and that fact sets my head reeling, just a little bit. It seems impossible that it could have been that long. It seems like not too long ago that I anxiously prepared for my first day of "normal" college in more than four years, worried that somehow I wouldn't do very well or have problems adjusting. Now, two years later, I smile a little at my anxious past-self. I wish I could tell her she'd be fine, that she'd fall right back into the rhythm of class-homework-quiz-presentation-paper-test. I also wish I could tell her to start thinking beyond her all-consuming goal of just graduating and getting her undergraduate over with, and spend a little more time (seriously) planning for the future and discovering what exactly it is she wants out of life.
Which brings me to the cliched part of this post.
Ah, resolutions. They have such a bad rap, for an admittedly deserved reason: we're almost universally horrible at keeping them. We set lofty goals and then fall off the wagon by mid February. Sometimes we make it to March if we're diligent. I've been pondering off and on over the last few weeks how best to approach making the changes I want to make in my life. I've read a couple of great posts from some good friends (Autumn here and Kelsey here are lovely examples) that have inspired me to try approaching making resolutions from a different angle than I would normally. I've sat down and tried to work through things logically, attempting to hew to the wisdom that you need written goals broken down into manageable, accomplishable steps to actually change. I've tried just spontaneously writing down whatever came to me. The problem is that there are just too many darn things I'd like to change in my life.
I want to learn to enjoy cooking. I want to be more active and eat healthier. I want to improve my mind and learn new things. I want to take up new hobbies like photography and rock climbing. I want to be a kinder person. A more organized person. A more financially responsible person. A more-fluently-Korean-speaking person. A better dressed person. A person who does her hair in more ways than just a ponytail. A person who can shower in less than half an hour. And I'd really like to finally not be the person that becomes paralyzed and gives up on any change in the face of feeling overwhelmed by all the things she thinks she needs to change.
Really, how do you choose only a few things to resolution-ize in that long and not-comprehensive list? Not to mention the discouraging reality that making permanent changes in our lives and habits takes an incredible amount of energy, time, and patience. It's almost enough to resign yourself to being a hoodie-and-jeans-wearing, ponytail-sporting, longer-than-20-minutes-showering, often-sarcastic person for the rest of your life. (At least if you're me.) Almost.
Honestly, I'll probably never really learn to shower in less than 30 minutes. I'll probably always prefer wearing a hoodie and jeans to wearing a blouse and skirt. I might never learn to French braid my own hair and wear a ponytail every day for the rest of my life. I might always have to grit my teeth a little when the time to make dinner rolls around each day. Thus I have decided to not resolution-ize any of those things -- not because I'm likely to fail, but because I see a larger theme in what I want in life.
My resolution -- or goal, if you'd rather -- for 2013 is to love myself. To forgive myself. To respect myself. To be kind to myself. To be understanding with myself when I make mistakes, and to encourage myself to do better next time. To rejoice with myself when I do succeed, even if the success is small. To not undermine myself and set myself up to fail. I want to be friends with myself, and to enjoy spending time with myself. After all, the one person you're stuck with the rest of your life is yourself, and if you're not particularly fond of yourself it won't be a very fun or rewarding rest of your life.
Of course, that's a pretty broad goal. To be honest, I'm not even sure how to go about tackling it. Any ideas or suggestions would be welcome, particularly if they're things you've discovered working in your own life. Right now I think I need to start with establishing good habits in place of old, entrenched bad ones: going to bed on time, waking up early to pray and read my scriptures daily, being more active, and eating more regularly and better. Not all at once, but one decision at a time. It's overwhelming to think about overhauling your entire life all at once, but deciding to make one good choice at a time, independent of past or future failures -- that I can do.
Oh, Time, how fast you fly! It's now been more than ten years since I was sitting on that bed, four years past so-far-away 2009. Just the other day while I was home for Christmas, my barely-8-year-old little brother announced, "People born in 2000 are old." My parents and I were sitting in the same room engaged in various other activities, and we all just laughed and laughed. But the evidence that the people around me are starting to be old is mounting. Both my grandfathers died in 2011. Neither of my grandmothers are as hale as they used to be, and both are facing ever-increasing health concerns. My father's beard has much more "salt" in it than it used to, and both he and my mother are a little more creaky than I remember. I have four younger brothers, but only the youngest can properly be called my "little" brother, and my youngest sister will probably stop being my "littlest" sister in just a few years. Craziest of all is that in just a few weeks my parents will be transformed into grandparents and my sister -- my baby sister, the one who is still always just barely 14 in my head -- will have a daughter.
Which brings me to the cliched part of this post.
Ah, resolutions. They have such a bad rap, for an admittedly deserved reason: we're almost universally horrible at keeping them. We set lofty goals and then fall off the wagon by mid February. Sometimes we make it to March if we're diligent. I've been pondering off and on over the last few weeks how best to approach making the changes I want to make in my life. I've read a couple of great posts from some good friends (Autumn here and Kelsey here are lovely examples) that have inspired me to try approaching making resolutions from a different angle than I would normally. I've sat down and tried to work through things logically, attempting to hew to the wisdom that you need written goals broken down into manageable, accomplishable steps to actually change. I've tried just spontaneously writing down whatever came to me. The problem is that there are just too many darn things I'd like to change in my life.
I want to learn to enjoy cooking. I want to be more active and eat healthier. I want to improve my mind and learn new things. I want to take up new hobbies like photography and rock climbing. I want to be a kinder person. A more organized person. A more financially responsible person. A more-fluently-Korean-speaking person. A better dressed person. A person who does her hair in more ways than just a ponytail. A person who can shower in less than half an hour. And I'd really like to finally not be the person that becomes paralyzed and gives up on any change in the face of feeling overwhelmed by all the things she thinks she needs to change.
Really, how do you choose only a few things to resolution-ize in that long and not-comprehensive list? Not to mention the discouraging reality that making permanent changes in our lives and habits takes an incredible amount of energy, time, and patience. It's almost enough to resign yourself to being a hoodie-and-jeans-wearing, ponytail-sporting, longer-than-20-minutes-showering, often-sarcastic person for the rest of your life. (At least if you're me.) Almost.
Honestly, I'll probably never really learn to shower in less than 30 minutes. I'll probably always prefer wearing a hoodie and jeans to wearing a blouse and skirt. I might never learn to French braid my own hair and wear a ponytail every day for the rest of my life. I might always have to grit my teeth a little when the time to make dinner rolls around each day. Thus I have decided to not resolution-ize any of those things -- not because I'm likely to fail, but because I see a larger theme in what I want in life.
My resolution -- or goal, if you'd rather -- for 2013 is to love myself. To forgive myself. To respect myself. To be kind to myself. To be understanding with myself when I make mistakes, and to encourage myself to do better next time. To rejoice with myself when I do succeed, even if the success is small. To not undermine myself and set myself up to fail. I want to be friends with myself, and to enjoy spending time with myself. After all, the one person you're stuck with the rest of your life is yourself, and if you're not particularly fond of yourself it won't be a very fun or rewarding rest of your life.
Of course, that's a pretty broad goal. To be honest, I'm not even sure how to go about tackling it. Any ideas or suggestions would be welcome, particularly if they're things you've discovered working in your own life. Right now I think I need to start with establishing good habits in place of old, entrenched bad ones: going to bed on time, waking up early to pray and read my scriptures daily, being more active, and eating more regularly and better. Not all at once, but one decision at a time. It's overwhelming to think about overhauling your entire life all at once, but deciding to make one good choice at a time, independent of past or future failures -- that I can do.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
I'd Like to Thank My Father for Teaching Me to Use A Screwdriver
When I left work last night, the view of campus looked like this:
Magical, huh? It sure was gorgeous, but it was also very, very wet. It was so warm that when you stepped in it, it melted under your feet. Good thing I shoveled the sidewalks, because last night the temperature dropped almost 40 degrees and all that slush turned into ice. My walk to the office this morning almost killed me (okay, I exaggerate -- it almost dropped me on my tush) at least four times from the hazardously icy sidewalks. On the upside, though, there was this:
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Since the semester is now officially over, the office is, how shall I say this, extremely slow. At least one person came in yesterday, and I did get a few calls. However, today: zilch. Good thing I Had A Plan.
This is what my office looked like my first day of work back in August.
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This is what my office looked like at noon after I spent the morning rearranging it.
Okay, it wasn't that big of a rearrangement, mostly I just switched the orientation of my desk. You can't see it in either of the above photos, but my office houses the office's library on a couple of bookshelves just out of the picture on the left. That means people are popping in and out of my office looking for things. In the previous orientation, that meant getting out of or back into my desk space was really annoying if people were perusing our collection, and since people do that pretty often, the situation was less than desirable. So with all the lovely time I have on my hands while the semester is out, I hatched A Plan to fix that.
I have to say, I'm pretty darn proud of myself. That desk is huge and while it's not massively heavy, it is unwieldy. The two parts are actually screwed together, a fact I found out after clearing it off and trying to move it. Unscrewing it was easy, and once the two parts were separated it was pretty easy to get them moved to where I wanted them. The hard part was getting them screwed back together. You have to hold the smaller piece in place to make everything line up correctly, and obviously I can't hold it in place and screw it together at the same time. (Believe me, I did try. I tried to hold it up with my legs and screw it in (with my hands, obviously), but it was a no go.) No one else was in the office, and I couldn't just go pop into the Controller's office across the hall and ask some startled accountant if they'd like to come hold my desk in place while I screw it together.
The solution I came up with is, I think, certifiably genius. Or at least worthy of being dubbed "MacGyvered".
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Yup. That's a camera tripod. Genius, right? Sometimes I just really love myself.
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Well, that did the trick, and I had the two pieces back together. Then I spent about a half-hour wrangling the appalling tangle of cords sprouting out of the back of my computer into a manageable tangle...
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...and put everything back together. I have to say, I'm pretty impressed with myself for getting it all right on the first try. I didn't even have to hunt for the reason why my second monitor wasn't working or (fake) swear at my printer for doing wonky things. Nope, it all turned back on perfectly.
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Here's the view from the back corner of my office, looking out the door into the hallway leading to the rest of the office. You can see the bookshelves I mentioned above behind the lamp. And that's a picture of one of the bridges over the Han River in Seoul on my computer desktop.
All in all, it was a pretty good day. I feel accomplished.
Magical, huh? It sure was gorgeous, but it was also very, very wet. It was so warm that when you stepped in it, it melted under your feet. Good thing I shoveled the sidewalks, because last night the temperature dropped almost 40 degrees and all that slush turned into ice. My walk to the office this morning almost killed me (okay, I exaggerate -- it almost dropped me on my tush) at least four times from the hazardously icy sidewalks. On the upside, though, there was this:
.jpg)
.jpg)
Since the semester is now officially over, the office is, how shall I say this, extremely slow. At least one person came in yesterday, and I did get a few calls. However, today: zilch. Good thing I Had A Plan.
This is what my office looked like my first day of work back in August.
.jpg)
This is what my office looked like at noon after I spent the morning rearranging it.
Okay, it wasn't that big of a rearrangement, mostly I just switched the orientation of my desk. You can't see it in either of the above photos, but my office houses the office's library on a couple of bookshelves just out of the picture on the left. That means people are popping in and out of my office looking for things. In the previous orientation, that meant getting out of or back into my desk space was really annoying if people were perusing our collection, and since people do that pretty often, the situation was less than desirable. So with all the lovely time I have on my hands while the semester is out, I hatched A Plan to fix that.
I have to say, I'm pretty darn proud of myself. That desk is huge and while it's not massively heavy, it is unwieldy. The two parts are actually screwed together, a fact I found out after clearing it off and trying to move it. Unscrewing it was easy, and once the two parts were separated it was pretty easy to get them moved to where I wanted them. The hard part was getting them screwed back together. You have to hold the smaller piece in place to make everything line up correctly, and obviously I can't hold it in place and screw it together at the same time. (Believe me, I did try. I tried to hold it up with my legs and screw it in (with my hands, obviously), but it was a no go.) No one else was in the office, and I couldn't just go pop into the Controller's office across the hall and ask some startled accountant if they'd like to come hold my desk in place while I screw it together.
The solution I came up with is, I think, certifiably genius. Or at least worthy of being dubbed "MacGyvered".
.jpg)
Yup. That's a camera tripod. Genius, right? Sometimes I just really love myself.
.jpg)
Well, that did the trick, and I had the two pieces back together. Then I spent about a half-hour wrangling the appalling tangle of cords sprouting out of the back of my computer into a manageable tangle...
.jpg)
...and put everything back together. I have to say, I'm pretty impressed with myself for getting it all right on the first try. I didn't even have to hunt for the reason why my second monitor wasn't working or (fake) swear at my printer for doing wonky things. Nope, it all turned back on perfectly.
.jpg)
Here's the view from the back corner of my office, looking out the door into the hallway leading to the rest of the office. You can see the bookshelves I mentioned above behind the lamp. And that's a picture of one of the bridges over the Han River in Seoul on my computer desktop.
All in all, it was a pretty good day. I feel accomplished.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Homesick
Today is the official last day of the semester, and most of the students are long gone. That means things are slow at the office. I'm flying home for Christmas next week, and I'm starting to get (more) homesick, in more than one way. How many ways can you be homesick? you ask. I'm anxious to get home and see my family, of course, but I've been missing Korea more and more lately.
Last night after work I took the bus downtown and had dinner at the Korean place. The proprietor and I are pretty close. We chat about Korean politics (more like he lectures and I nod - my grasp of Korean-politics Korean is very tenuous), I hang out in the kitchen and chat with his mom (who makes the food), etc. And I can always count on him telling me I look like I've gained weight. (The topic is not taboo like it is in the States.) I've got to start working out regularly again, just so I can finally hear him tell me I've gotten skinnier.
I'd really like to go back to Korea soon. It doesn't look that will happen, especially not if I get into grad school this fall. The problem is that I don't know what I'd do there even if I went. I could teach English, but I don't know if that's something I'd want to do. I'd love to go to school there, but that's an expensive proposition. What I need is an American program that incorporates a study-abroad component, like the University of Hawaii's or American University's, but let's face it--I can't afford either of those places.
Actually, at this point, I'd like any kind of direction. Don't worry, I'm not all mopey like in my last post, but the frustration at my lack of direction is still there. I'm not any closer to knowing what I want to do with myself than I was three weeks ago or three months ago. It makes me feel a little lonely and pointless.
Last night after work I took the bus downtown and had dinner at the Korean place. The proprietor and I are pretty close. We chat about Korean politics (more like he lectures and I nod - my grasp of Korean-politics Korean is very tenuous), I hang out in the kitchen and chat with his mom (who makes the food), etc. And I can always count on him telling me I look like I've gained weight. (The topic is not taboo like it is in the States.) I've got to start working out regularly again, just so I can finally hear him tell me I've gotten skinnier.
I'd really like to go back to Korea soon. It doesn't look that will happen, especially not if I get into grad school this fall. The problem is that I don't know what I'd do there even if I went. I could teach English, but I don't know if that's something I'd want to do. I'd love to go to school there, but that's an expensive proposition. What I need is an American program that incorporates a study-abroad component, like the University of Hawaii's or American University's, but let's face it--I can't afford either of those places.
Actually, at this point, I'd like any kind of direction. Don't worry, I'm not all mopey like in my last post, but the frustration at my lack of direction is still there. I'm not any closer to knowing what I want to do with myself than I was three weeks ago or three months ago. It makes me feel a little lonely and pointless.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
A Journey Without a Destination Is More Like Aimless Wandering, Part II
Here I am. I'm 26, barely graduated from my undergrad, working two part-time jobs (but thankfully with insurance), and I've got a GRE Analytical Writing score that could very well keep me out of grad school. (At least this year.) The kicker is that when I checked, I saw that I only needed another half-point (or a 4.5) to jump all the way to the 73rd percentile. Basically, the difference between my reader being in a good or generous mood and s/he being anxious to get home or go to lunch. When there's a-- wait, let me do the math...29 percentage-point difference in just a half a point on your scale, you need a new scale.
Mostly I'm just mad. But there's another part of me, a not-very-small-and-in-fact-growing-increasingly-larger part of me, that wonders what the heck I do now. To be honest, I decided to apply to grad school more because I'm not too keen on continuing to do what I'm doing now more than because I finally know what I want to do with my life. Having an MA at least means I can start looking for work in my field, or I could move on to a more prestigious program and get a Ph.D. I figured the U would be a good choice; I could finally take some formal Korean classes, deepen my understanding of the culture and history of the region, and yet the tuition wouldn't totally break the bank and I'd have a decent shot at a fellowship, not to mention friends and family who live in the area. And the U is thankfully in a bigger city than Logan. It would be a leap of faith, but not a huge one.
So...now what? I could take the GRE again, but that's another $175 and I'd have no more time to prepare than I did last time. Not to mention, because I waited so long to take it the first time, now I have only about two dates I could even take it -- and that close to the application deadline, there's no guarantee that they'd receive my scores in time, anyway. I could call up the ETS people and keep squeaking until they give me some grease and take another look at my writing score, but let's face it, the probability of that happening is slim to none. I could throw myself on the mercy of the admissions committee at the U and try to explain my way into getting them to admit me. Or I could just give up.
Honestly, that last option was my first inclination. Just throw my hands up and say, Oh well, there's nothing I can do about it and resign myself to being a 26-year-old BA working two part-time jobs in a small city with no real job prospects in her field (but thankfully with insurance). But isn't that too pathetic? I already feel like I'm a pretty amazing failure, but that would really take the cake, no matter how much I just want to sit down and have a good cry. It's hard to feel upbeat when I look at so many of my friends and peers and they're working on their Ph.D.s or Master's, or traveling the world, or living and working in other countries, or gainfully employed and have cars and houses and kids.
Even worse than the (not inconsiderable) blow to my pride is the lack of direction, the shattering of expectations. I don't know what I want to do with my life. The pointlessness of it all is inciting an existential crisis. I want to do something, but it's eternally frustrating that I just don't know what. I wish I had that clarity of purpose and utter conviction I had as a three-year-old who wanted to be a ballerina. I'd settle for the naive confidence of the high school sophomore who was convinced she wanted to be a biochemist. (Whew, dodged that bullet.) Heck, I'd love to even have the optimism of the brand-new college freshman who wanted to become an English professor.
What am I doing with this time I'll never get back? Nothing very fulfilling. Please don't mistake me, I am so grateful to have a way to support myself, somewhere warm and dry to live, good food to eat, a little expendable income for fun things and to pay down my student loans a little faster, a family who loves and supports me, and an education. I am tremendously blessed, and even if that was all I had I'd still be one of the richest people alive. I've been trying to concentrate on those things, and I've been glad to be here in Logan for some things happening in my life and in the lives of people around me, but I feel like I'm stagnating here. The problem is I don't know where I want to go, let alone how to get there, to get myself moving and cease stagnating. I have no idea what the future holds or why this happened to me when everything suggested it wouldn't. I don't know what I want. I don't know what God wants me to want. I feel like every time I think I do know, it turns out not to be the case...? At this point I just want to stay in bed all day and stare at my ceiling.
Mostly I'm just mad. But there's another part of me, a not-very-small-and-in-fact-growing-increasingly-larger part of me, that wonders what the heck I do now. To be honest, I decided to apply to grad school more because I'm not too keen on continuing to do what I'm doing now more than because I finally know what I want to do with my life. Having an MA at least means I can start looking for work in my field, or I could move on to a more prestigious program and get a Ph.D. I figured the U would be a good choice; I could finally take some formal Korean classes, deepen my understanding of the culture and history of the region, and yet the tuition wouldn't totally break the bank and I'd have a decent shot at a fellowship, not to mention friends and family who live in the area. And the U is thankfully in a bigger city than Logan. It would be a leap of faith, but not a huge one.
So...now what? I could take the GRE again, but that's another $175 and I'd have no more time to prepare than I did last time. Not to mention, because I waited so long to take it the first time, now I have only about two dates I could even take it -- and that close to the application deadline, there's no guarantee that they'd receive my scores in time, anyway. I could call up the ETS people and keep squeaking until they give me some grease and take another look at my writing score, but let's face it, the probability of that happening is slim to none. I could throw myself on the mercy of the admissions committee at the U and try to explain my way into getting them to admit me. Or I could just give up.
Honestly, that last option was my first inclination. Just throw my hands up and say, Oh well, there's nothing I can do about it and resign myself to being a 26-year-old BA working two part-time jobs in a small city with no real job prospects in her field (but thankfully with insurance). But isn't that too pathetic? I already feel like I'm a pretty amazing failure, but that would really take the cake, no matter how much I just want to sit down and have a good cry. It's hard to feel upbeat when I look at so many of my friends and peers and they're working on their Ph.D.s or Master's, or traveling the world, or living and working in other countries, or gainfully employed and have cars and houses and kids.
Even worse than the (not inconsiderable) blow to my pride is the lack of direction, the shattering of expectations. I don't know what I want to do with my life. The pointlessness of it all is inciting an existential crisis. I want to do something, but it's eternally frustrating that I just don't know what. I wish I had that clarity of purpose and utter conviction I had as a three-year-old who wanted to be a ballerina. I'd settle for the naive confidence of the high school sophomore who was convinced she wanted to be a biochemist. (Whew, dodged that bullet.) Heck, I'd love to even have the optimism of the brand-new college freshman who wanted to become an English professor.
What am I doing with this time I'll never get back? Nothing very fulfilling. Please don't mistake me, I am so grateful to have a way to support myself, somewhere warm and dry to live, good food to eat, a little expendable income for fun things and to pay down my student loans a little faster, a family who loves and supports me, and an education. I am tremendously blessed, and even if that was all I had I'd still be one of the richest people alive. I've been trying to concentrate on those things, and I've been glad to be here in Logan for some things happening in my life and in the lives of people around me, but I feel like I'm stagnating here. The problem is I don't know where I want to go, let alone how to get there, to get myself moving and cease stagnating. I have no idea what the future holds or why this happened to me when everything suggested it wouldn't. I don't know what I want. I don't know what God wants me to want. I feel like every time I think I do know, it turns out not to be the case...? At this point I just want to stay in bed all day and stare at my ceiling.
A Journey Without a Destination Is More Like Aimless Wandering, Part I
The annoying thing about life is that it's impossible to do perfectly.
As much as I would like to be able to, I can't. And sometimes, Life throws you a curveball just to drive that home.
When I graduated earlier this year, I had no idea what I was going to do next. I'd kind of decided to move to Korea to teach English, and so I hadn't worried about doing silly things like taking the GRE or filling out a FAFSA. Well, Korea didn't pan out, much to my disappointment, and so I spent the summer pretty much lollygagging around until I finally got my act together and found a job. Then I got a second job because the first job was only half time. I vaguely figured I'd work for a year, pay down some of my student loan debt and regain my sanity, then plunge back into school the next fall.
It was a good plan. Okay, at least it wasn't a bad plan.
The only problem was, I forgot that grad school is not something you decide to do and just do in the spur of the moment. You have to plan ahead, waaaaay ahead, and do silly things like take the GRE and fill out a bunch of applications and ask a lot of people to write letters of recommendation and fill out the FAFSA. By the time I realized, Crap, I have to take the GRE and start looking at schools stat if I want to go to grad school in the fall! it was already early October. But the whole thought of that (and all the money it would require) was so overwhelming I procrastinated dealing with it. Finally, in early November I bit the bullet and went for it...but many of the places I was looking at had application deadlines on 1 December or in the middle of the month. If I wanted to even have a shot at applying to them I'd have to have my GRE results in to them by then, which means I'd have to take it in the middle of November at the latest. So I registered, paid my money (watching $175 go out of my bank account just for the pleasure of taking a test hurt a little bit), and took the test on 15 November at 8:00 in the morning.
I spent the lion's share of what little prep time I invested reviewing math concepts I was supposed to have mastered in middle school and the first couple years of high school. I'm sure this will not come as a shock to any who know me, but my mastery of math concepts basically stops at multiplication...if that. My grasp of even basic math was pretty rusty at best. I was not terribly worried about the vocabulary sections, since I knew about 90% of the words on the vocab lists in the prep book I borrowed from the library. (Let's face it, with my parents and my bookworm childhood, I'd be worried if I didn't.) Likewise, I was pretty confident about the analytic writing portion; if I managed to procrastinate every single paper I'd ever written at USU (some pretty spectacularly) and still not lose any points, I figured a half-hour to write one one-page essay was not going to be terribly taxing.
What's that scripture again? "Pride goeth before the fall"? (More accurately, "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall. But it still applies.)
The morning of the GRE I wasn't feeling too bad about life. Nervous, but confident. I'd said my prayers, and I figured any Asian Studies program probably wasn't going to look too closely at my math score anyway so I'd be okay. The analytical writing section came first, and I felt like I did a good job on the two essay prompts I'd been given. I asked the Lord for the inspiration and guidance of the Spirit and for His help in doing my best, and I felt like I'd received it. I moved into my first math section feeling confident. (I didn't end it feeling confident, but that's a whole 'nother ball game.) The rest of the GRE went pretty quickly, especially the verbal sections -- I finished those with almost half the time to spare. The new computerized version of the GRE tells you your raw scores for the math and verbal sections as soon as you're done taking the test, so I knew I'd done okay with a 163 in verbal and a 154 in quantitative. I left feeling pretty upbeat, which was only confirmed when I looked up the table that converts your raw score into the percentile score grads schools use for admissions. I was 91st percentile in verbal and 60th in math, definitely good enough to satisfy admissions requirements. I was sure that when I got my writing scores I'd get a 5.0 or a 5.5 (out of 6.0) and be fine.
I realize that sounds incredibly cocky, but nothing in my education to that point had ever given me reason to disabuse myself of that notion, so you can imagine my utter shock when I opened my official scores Sunday morning to see a glaring "4.0 -- 49th %ile" staring back at me. I've never been hit with a 2x4 before, but I imagine the feeling of stunned bewilderment and disorientation is somewhat similar to how I felt at that moment. In case your math is as bad as mine, the 49th percentile is 21 percentage points shy of the 70 I needed to be admitted to the program I was most seriously considering, the Asian Studies MA at the University of Utah. The 49th percentile is average. Average. I went down to my room and sobbed.
The thing is, I realize that I'm being compared to other takers of the GRE, who are on average a smarter bunch of people (or at least better test-takers) than your average US citizen. I know that, I do. Yet I find it utterly incomprehensible that my math score could be higher than my writing score, ever. Maybe back when I was two and learning to count but couldn't read yet. Definitely not now, not after not taking any math class for more than two years and not having a "real" math class since my second semester at UTM taking college algebra (and I got a B, by the way) more than six years ago. I felt like calling up ETS then and there and demanding to know how the heck this had happened. But I'm a chicken so I didn't. Now I'm desperately scrambling to find a way to fix this and I feel like my life has just been knocked into a flat spin. This post, however, is getting long, so I'll talk more about that in my next post.
As much as I would like to be able to, I can't. And sometimes, Life throws you a curveball just to drive that home.
When I graduated earlier this year, I had no idea what I was going to do next. I'd kind of decided to move to Korea to teach English, and so I hadn't worried about doing silly things like taking the GRE or filling out a FAFSA. Well, Korea didn't pan out, much to my disappointment, and so I spent the summer pretty much lollygagging around until I finally got my act together and found a job. Then I got a second job because the first job was only half time. I vaguely figured I'd work for a year, pay down some of my student loan debt and regain my sanity, then plunge back into school the next fall.
It was a good plan. Okay, at least it wasn't a bad plan.
The only problem was, I forgot that grad school is not something you decide to do and just do in the spur of the moment. You have to plan ahead, waaaaay ahead, and do silly things like take the GRE and fill out a bunch of applications and ask a lot of people to write letters of recommendation and fill out the FAFSA. By the time I realized, Crap, I have to take the GRE and start looking at schools stat if I want to go to grad school in the fall! it was already early October. But the whole thought of that (and all the money it would require) was so overwhelming I procrastinated dealing with it. Finally, in early November I bit the bullet and went for it...but many of the places I was looking at had application deadlines on 1 December or in the middle of the month. If I wanted to even have a shot at applying to them I'd have to have my GRE results in to them by then, which means I'd have to take it in the middle of November at the latest. So I registered, paid my money (watching $175 go out of my bank account just for the pleasure of taking a test hurt a little bit), and took the test on 15 November at 8:00 in the morning.
I spent the lion's share of what little prep time I invested reviewing math concepts I was supposed to have mastered in middle school and the first couple years of high school. I'm sure this will not come as a shock to any who know me, but my mastery of math concepts basically stops at multiplication...if that. My grasp of even basic math was pretty rusty at best. I was not terribly worried about the vocabulary sections, since I knew about 90% of the words on the vocab lists in the prep book I borrowed from the library. (Let's face it, with my parents and my bookworm childhood, I'd be worried if I didn't.) Likewise, I was pretty confident about the analytic writing portion; if I managed to procrastinate every single paper I'd ever written at USU (some pretty spectacularly) and still not lose any points, I figured a half-hour to write one one-page essay was not going to be terribly taxing.
What's that scripture again? "Pride goeth before the fall"? (More accurately, "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall. But it still applies.)
The morning of the GRE I wasn't feeling too bad about life. Nervous, but confident. I'd said my prayers, and I figured any Asian Studies program probably wasn't going to look too closely at my math score anyway so I'd be okay. The analytical writing section came first, and I felt like I did a good job on the two essay prompts I'd been given. I asked the Lord for the inspiration and guidance of the Spirit and for His help in doing my best, and I felt like I'd received it. I moved into my first math section feeling confident. (I didn't end it feeling confident, but that's a whole 'nother ball game.) The rest of the GRE went pretty quickly, especially the verbal sections -- I finished those with almost half the time to spare. The new computerized version of the GRE tells you your raw scores for the math and verbal sections as soon as you're done taking the test, so I knew I'd done okay with a 163 in verbal and a 154 in quantitative. I left feeling pretty upbeat, which was only confirmed when I looked up the table that converts your raw score into the percentile score grads schools use for admissions. I was 91st percentile in verbal and 60th in math, definitely good enough to satisfy admissions requirements. I was sure that when I got my writing scores I'd get a 5.0 or a 5.5 (out of 6.0) and be fine.
I realize that sounds incredibly cocky, but nothing in my education to that point had ever given me reason to disabuse myself of that notion, so you can imagine my utter shock when I opened my official scores Sunday morning to see a glaring "4.0 -- 49th %ile" staring back at me. I've never been hit with a 2x4 before, but I imagine the feeling of stunned bewilderment and disorientation is somewhat similar to how I felt at that moment. In case your math is as bad as mine, the 49th percentile is 21 percentage points shy of the 70 I needed to be admitted to the program I was most seriously considering, the Asian Studies MA at the University of Utah. The 49th percentile is average. Average. I went down to my room and sobbed.
The thing is, I realize that I'm being compared to other takers of the GRE, who are on average a smarter bunch of people (or at least better test-takers) than your average US citizen. I know that, I do. Yet I find it utterly incomprehensible that my math score could be higher than my writing score, ever. Maybe back when I was two and learning to count but couldn't read yet. Definitely not now, not after not taking any math class for more than two years and not having a "real" math class since my second semester at UTM taking college algebra (and I got a B, by the way) more than six years ago. I felt like calling up ETS then and there and demanding to know how the heck this had happened. But I'm a chicken so I didn't. Now I'm desperately scrambling to find a way to fix this and I feel like my life has just been knocked into a flat spin. This post, however, is getting long, so I'll talk more about that in my next post.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Skyfall
I went and saw Skyfall this afternoon. And it was awesome. I think Casino Royale has a better story, but Skyfall is definitely more epic (we won't worry about that other movie). The cinematography was fantastic, and I loved the lighting, too. Plus I enjoy how Daniel Craig plays Bond - much more restrained and dryly humorous than any of the previous actors. Not quite so smarmy as Pierce Brosnon (but I'll always love him nonetheless), but still suave. I thought the opening credits were fantastic, and the titular title track [is that redundant?] was an instant hit with me.
All in all, it might be a movie I have to see twice in theaters. Yes, it will come out on DVD and still be awesome...but not as awesome as seeing Daniel Craig's face five or six times as tall as a man on the big screen.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
I'll Tell You What I'm Not Thankful For
...the GRE. Specifically, that I have to take it in T-6 days. The Quantitative Reasoning sectioning is gonna kick my booty. Just reviewing the properties of numbers -- you know, with those fancy ones like exponents and roots thrown in for fun -- is giving me headaches. And obviously my times tables have suffered a little since I memorized them in second grade and was quizzed on them in fourth. And it's been ten years since my last geometry class. Well, okay, only five and a half technically, if you count Euclid freshman year at SJC. Which was awesome, but it's not algebraic geometry. Sadly, the GRE isn't going to ask me to construct an equilateral triangle using only circles and a line. (I probably couldn't do that, either, but I bet I could make a decent go of it. A better one than remembering the rules of exponents or roots.)
If the GRE tested on Korean pop culture, I would totally rock that section.
2 + 2 = ...4? Really?
If the GRE tested on Korean pop culture, I would totally rock that section.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Gratitude, Part I
November is the month of Thanksgiving, but that's not the reason I've decided to list at least five things I'm especially grateful for each day. It's just a happy coincidence. That being said, here are today's five things.
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1. I'm grateful I have a job. I have spent too much of my recent life unemployed to not appreciate being able to bring home a paycheck each month, even if my income and my time is split up among three different jobs. I may not have been particularly productive this last summer, but I have learned a valuable lesson about work: work is not something to be avoided (which is my first inclination), but in fact a divine principle. Work is enlightening and ennobling. Unemployment is degrading and soul- and self-esteem-destroying.
2. I'm grateful I can walk to my job. It's not terribly fun to be without a car, but every time I'm tempted to grumble (...very loudly...) about it, I remember that I'm so blessed to be so close to my various forms of employment. Without a car I could be jobless, but I'm not. Plus, walking is healthy and keeps me active.
3. I'm grateful that the local public transportation is reliable and free. It's not as nice as Seoul's public transportation, which is both vast and much more efficient, but I save a tremendous amount of money each month by not having to pay anything for transportation costs. Yes, it's inconvenient when I want to go grocery shopping or go anywhere after 8:00pm, but it's hard to argue with free and reliable.
4. I'm grateful for a good education and parents who value education. For this reason taking the GRE with only two weeks of preparation is only stupid and stressful instead of impossible.
5. I'm grateful that I listened to the prompting of the Spirit when I walked out of the library from picking up my GRE prep book (see above) and stopped to ask the girl crying on the bench if she was okay. As soon as I saw her I knew I needed to ask if she was okay. [Side note: It always puzzles me that we ask that question when people are obviously not okay.] I walked out the door of the library and immediately made eye contact with her tear-filled, red-rimmed, pleading eyes. As soon as I did I knew I needed to talk to her; as soon as I knew that my first impulse was to squash that knowledge and walk on past pretending she wasn't sitting there crying her eyes out in public. I took a half step past her and immediately felt horrible about myself, so I stopped and asked, "Are you okay?" I asked if she needed anything. She gave a half-choked sob-laugh and said something about relationship stuff. I sympathized a little bit and tried to be comforting. She stood up and gave me, a complete stranger, a hug. I think it was more for herself than anything, but it felt like a thank you. I complimented her scarf and told her to have a good day. I hope she did have a good day, because I sure felt fantastic as I walked to the bus stop to catch the bus home.
6. I'm grateful for friends who are awesome enough to crawl under my bed to help me put it on risers. No kidding, my friend Wendy did this last night, and in a dress no less. That's friendship, people. Thankfully for my embarrassment level under my bed is clean, uncluttered, and dust-free so it wasn't a terrible ordeal for her.
7. I'm grateful for gorgeous fall colors. I love fall. Right now the tree in our front yard is a stunning, intense yellow. Sadly most of the trees have lost most or all of their leaves, but a few brave souls are holding out.
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Presto Clean-o!
I spent my Halloween 2012 making this...
If only the actual cleaning was as easy and instantaneous as the pictures make it seem. I still have my desk left to tackle, but first I have to figure out where to keep all my hoodies (which are currently draped over my desk chair). My closet is full to capacity; I certainly can't fit four bulky hoodies in there. The two peacoats in there already are pushing it.
You can't see in the first picture, but the bookcase that is now on the far wall used to be where the shoe crate is now. I liked it there better, but since I put my bed up on risers (which have a wider footprint than the bedframe) it doesn't fit in that space anymore. Boo. But I need the storage space under the bed more than I need my bookcase within arm's length.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Just FYI
In case you were wondering, if you're "smart" enough to wrap your chicken breasts in saranwrap before you freeze them, in an effort to save time so you won't have to unstick them when you want to use them, you will spend approximately 20 minutes trying to pry saranwrap out from in between the parts of the chicken that have been frozen together. You know, just a helpful life hint.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
Life and Timing and Lack of Control
Not long ago I was talking to my dad on the phone. With a very few, rare exceptions this is an activity I enjoy immensely. While I no longer think my dad knows everything, he has the advantage of years of experience and has struggled with many of the same things I do. On this particular occasion we were discussing life, and how it never seems to go the way I want/expect/hope/plan for it to. I am hard-pressed to come up with even a single example of life working out that way. On the other hand, the list of things that have gone in a completely different direction than I thought they would is long.
During this talk with my dad, I brought up something a friend and I had been talking about previously, about how very little of what we want for ourselves seems to be what the Lord wants for us. We both confessed to being concerned about this -- are we too stubborn? too prideful? not in touch with the Spirit enough? Surely I should be concerned that every single big life-changing event in my life has included a long period of denial before I finally resigned myself to it, and that none of my life plans have unfolded remotely like I wanted them to.
Just a little while later, that same friend was teaching in church and shared this quote from this talk by Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles:
"How fundamentally different my life is than I had sought to plan. My professional life has changed. My personal life has changed. But the commitment I made to the Lord -- to put Him first in my life and to be ready for whatever He would have me do -- has carried me through these changes of eternal importance... It never ceases to amaze me that even when we plan out our lives to match up what we think would please our Heavenly Father we very rarely get the plan quite right. It's a good thing he is willing to make changes to our plans even when we don't understand the changes. It allows us to grow and become so much more than we ever would have made of ourselves had we stuck to our original plan."It struck me upon rereading it today: If an apostle of the Lord hasn't had his life work out the way he expected, I'm certainly in good company.
The difference is, I'm sure he has handled it with much more grace and faith than I have. Particularly lately. I have been struggling so much with finding purpose and direction in my life when I know whatever plans I make will ultimately just get interrupted or derailed. I struggle with flexibility and adapting myself and my goals to situations that are thrust upon me. I feel overwhelmed with the magnitude of the choices facing me and paralyzed at the thought of somehow screwing up and loosing opportunities I desperately want, personally and professionally. But, as my father has told me repeatedly throughout my life, making no choice is still making a choice. The irony of the situation is that by procrastinating or shelving making decisions I end up losing all the opportunities before me I'm delaying having to decide on and am forced to choose things I would never have wanted for myself.
The truth is that no one's life works out exactly the way they thought it would, because no one can know what's waiting for them just ahead, invisible around the bend in the road. We cannot control the decisions of others or the Lord's timing, both of which have tremendous impact on our lives.
However, Elder Oaks addressed this in another version of those same remarks:
"Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ prepares us for whatever life brings. This kind of faith prepares us to deal with life's opportunities -- to take advantage of those that are received and to persist through the disappointments of those that are lost. In the exercise of that faith, we should commit ourselves to the priorities and standards we will follow on matters we do not control and persist faithfully in those commitments, whatever happens to us because of the agency of others or the timing of the Lord. When we do this, we will have a constancy in our lives that will give us direction and peace. Whatever the circumstances beyond our control, our commitments and standards can be constant."As much as I'm resisting what I'm being taught, I know that this is what I'm supposed to be learning. To let go of my rigid, detailed expectations and trust that the Lord knows what is best for me, and the best time for those best things for me.
"It is not enough that we are going in the right direction. The timing must be right, and if the time is not right, our actions should be adjusted to the Lord's timetable."Not that that faith and trust is a passive thing. It requires me to make those preparations so that I can take the opportunities that the Lord would have me pursue. And I also need to remember something my father
"The lesson for me is that, certainly the Lord shapes us, but he does so chiefly within the circumstances we are handed and we choose. He helps us make the best choices based on his vision and our willingness to be shaped and to be patient. The lesson is that “this is a test,” and that as a test, it will hurt sometimes. In the end, however, the atonement is large enough to “wipe away all tears.”"
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Night Hiking: NOT a good idea
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| None of these are from this hike (my camera's dead). They're from my mission. |
But that's not the point of this post. Or rather, that's only to give you the necessary background for this post. Along with the gorgeous autumn leaves and the cooler temperatures comes the only thing I don't like about fall: less light. It gets darker faster. Well, a friend and I, hearing how gorgeous the canyon was with all the fall leaves, decided to leave right after work to go do a hike up there. We'd decided on a 3-miler that winds up the mountain, across the top of a small ridge, and back down again. Since it's not an up-and-down hike, we'd also have a 1.5 mile walk back to the car once we got back down the mountain: all together, 4.5 miles. We got there in pretty good time, and we started up about 5:30. The thing is, that hike is steep. And I am out of shape. Plus, I like to stop and admire the scenery from many different angles on the way up (and rest, because I'm very out of shape).
The rumors weren't wrong -- the trees were stunning and the views on the way up the trail and at the top were gorgeous, especially as the setting sun sunk behind the mountains. The problem is that we were only about halfway done by about 7, which is when (right now) the sun starts to set in earnest. On top of that, instead of hiking east to west so we'd be on the west side of the mountain coming down, we'd hiked west-to-east and were making our way down a very steep path in the rapidly fading light. And we hadn't thought to bring a flashlight. Or rather, we'd thought, but hadn't turned that thought into action. Let me tell you, coming down a mountain when you can barely see five feet in front of you is a little nerve-wracking. Thankfully (and with the help of some whispered prayers), we made it to the bottom right as full dark fell. That still left us with a 1.5 mile treck along the river at the bottom of the canyon to make it back to the car in the dark. With no flashlight.
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