Restless Furniture and New Friends

For all those of you who have been holding your breath since the last time I posted about my room, today is the day you can finally exhale. There have been quite a few changes in the last few weeks.

Let's take a little peek at how my room used to be.

And now for how things look now!

There's obviously a lot more work to be done, but let's not talk about that - let's talk about how it got to this point.

If you'll remember, in the post about the new curtains a couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I'd taken a trip to IKEA (that place full of wondrous happy dreams). Well, the curtains weren't the only thing I picked up while I was there. I also got a new duvet and duvet cover for my bed, a bedside lamp, and a few small picture frames. I was planning to do a post about these things last week, but I worked for the first half and was on vacation the second (post about that coming up!), so I was too lazy didn't get around to it. And in the interim, I went and bought a new bed when a local furniture store slashed their prices. (Seriously, I got it for less than one-third of the original price.) A significantly bigger, more comfortable bed. Hallelujah.

That's my kitchen on the left, and the hallway outside my room, looking in to the pantry, on the right.

Of course, it's a bit silly to have two beds in one room, so I needed to take apart and store the twin bed that was in my room.

This might have been true at one point (long, long ago), but I can attest that there was no "spinal care" or "back rest"ing going on while I slept on that thing.

I got this far without too much trouble, but then I ran into this:

I'm ashamed to admit it, but when I popped off the endcaps and saw this staring back at me, my mind went blank. Actually it more like, Great, what do I do with that? No screwdriver was going to get that thing out. I tried to persuade my roommate that we could maneuver the whole frame out of my room, down the hallway, through the kitchen, down the stairs to the basement, and into the storage room without wrecking the walls. She disagreed, and suggested I text some guy friends of ours that live around the corner. As I was walking over to borrow their tool kit, it came to me like a revelation: a socket wrench! From some dim place in the recesses of my childhood memories I remembered my dad teaching me what they were and how to use one.

Ten short minutes later, I had not only a tool kit, but a helper:

He wishes to remain anonymous. Actually I just can't take pictures, but it's a good excuse.

This is the tool kit he brought with him. Apparently boys have these things, though my dad did try to send me off to college with at least a screwdriver and a hammer. I'm not sure where they are, but he did try.

These are the bolts that were holding the bed frame together. They're longer than my palm. Pretty serious pieces of hardware. It still squeaked, though.

And voila! This (plus the sheets, of course) is where I've been sleeping since Tuesday. But my old furniture arrangement just wasn't going to work with this larger bed. The bookcase loomed over the frame-less mattress and box springs, and I couldn't push them all the way into the corner because of the awkwardly placed phone jack (!) and electrical outlet.

So this afternoon I whipped up this highly sophisticated, technical drawing:

I know, amazing, right?

And then I got down to work hauling my furniture all over my room, and ended up with this. I think it looks pretty darn close to the drawing.

This is more like what my bed looks like day-to-day.

And then I tidied up and stuffed a bunch of papers into my desk so that it looked like the picture at the top of the post.

Let me just say that this new, larger bed is pretty much the best thing ever. I like sleeping diagonally and sprawling, which is very difficult to do on a twin bed with a crater in the middle of it. And with no frame, my bed never squeaks. I'm not a fan of the "mattress on the floor starving college student" look, but I have a plan to remedy that and hopefully give my bed-on-the-floor a little class. Don't hold your breath, though, it's going to take a few weeks.

This post is already epicly long, but I want to show you my new duvet and lamp. Here's my new lamp, the JANSJO work lamp from IKEA in black.

I was planning to get the clamp variety, but when I saw it in person it was smaller than I liked and also $5 more expensive. Now that I no longer have a headboard to clamp it to, I'm glad my cheapskate ways made me choose the work lamp.

Sexy, right? I love the slim, flexible neck, and the LED light is much warmer and less blue than I expected. It also puts out quite a bit of light, and it's fantastic at night when I'm snuggled down in bed watching or reading something and I don't have to get out of bed to turn off the light when I get sleepy.

The other things I picked up at IKEA were my duvet and duvet cover. I went cheap here, too, but I did get the full/queen size instead of the twin, and I'm glad for that. The duvet I got is the MYSA STRA comforter with a warmth rate of 1, and the duvet cover is the EIVOR ORD. The cover isn't exactly what I would have chosen had money been no object, but I do like the alphabet design on it. I think it's pretty fitting for a book lover, don't you? I may dye it another color one day if I get tired of it being white, but we'll see.

As for the duvet itself, you might have noticed in the pictures that it's a bit lumpy. I accidentally dried it in the dryer. Without a dryer ball. So it clumped up and I cannot unclump the polyester filling. Thus:

The dark spots are the clumps of filling, and the light ones are where there's no filling. That was stupid of me, and it is a little annoying. But I'm forcing myself to live with it until 1) I figure out a way to pull out the ruined filling and stuff it with something else, or 2) I finally get tired of it and spend another $20 on a new one and do something else with this one. Until then, I haven't noticed it making a difference in how warm the various parts of me are, and I don't suppose anyone else besides me really cares.

So there you have it! Some restless furniture and a few new friends.

Grad School Is Happening

I've made some big changes in my living space and I just got back from an awesome vacation, but this is all I'll share for right now:

It's happening!

Curtains and Light

Lately I've been on quite the DIY-home-improvement-blog tear. I read them religiously and dream of the day I will own my own home and have the opportunity to do things like paint and knock down walls. While there's nothing wrong with my room, to me it still feels "Hello, I'm a college student!" and that was something I wanted to get away from. I'm trying to do things to distance myself from that mentality, especially since I work at the place I graduated from. I even work in the department my major is in. The gist of all this is that I'm making some changes around here in an attempt to reflect a more mature, less totally-broke-college-student atmosphere.

Remember the navy blue curtains that hung in my room? Here's a refresher for you.

It's not this clean any more.

I have nothing against navy blue, but I'm not a fan of the color for my curtains. Even with the two windows, one facing south (the one on the left) and the other west (on the right), when I woke up in the morning my room was pretty dim. My philosophy about light is that if you've got it, you should flaunt it, and so I decided to buy or make new curtains. Let's be honest: I have a lot of talents, but making things is not one of them.

Long story short, I went down to Draper last week for the wedding of one of my companions and made a pit stop here:

Please forgive the bad phone picture, I didn't have my camera.

That's right, IKEA, home of all wonderful homey goodness. Cheap homey goodness. Since I'm not exactly made of money and I don't plan on living here forever I didn't want to spend a lot of money. Whilst wandering around drooling I managed to collect myself long enough to pick up some Vivian curtain panels ($10, woot!) and curtain rods and finials. I also picked up a few other things, but I'll save those for later.

I'll spare you the details of putting them up. It involved a lot of climbing on chairs and muttering to myself and measuring and screwing things into the wall only to discover I had mounted them too close together, etc. You know, all the dirty, behind-the-scenes of the pretty DIY "after" pictures you see on blogs. So I'll just unveil the "in progress" shot.

The curtain is obviously too long, and since the panel was so wide and my window so small, just one panel would work for each window. Yay for saving money, but it meant cutting the panel in two and hemming the raw edges, as well as trimming and hemming the bottom. Fast forward a week and bam!

I wish I could say I was that handy, but it was actually my mother that did all the hemming. (I will take credit for cutting it in half and trimming the bottom, though.) It turns out that having your mom live in the same city you do, as opposed to 2000 miles away, is a really useful and handy thing. Thanks, Mom!

I haven't finished hanging the curtain on the other window, but I did take down the old curtains and wow! This morning when I woke up my whole room was filled with a symphony of light. Cheesy lines aside, switching out the curtains has made a huge difference in the amount of light in my room, which does wonderful things for my mood.

I've made some other changes in here, and I'm in the middle of a few more. I'll share updated pictures when I get things in a more complete stage of completion. Until then you're just going to have to stew in an agony of suspense. I know, I'm sorry. You're all dying to know all about every tiny detail of my room decor, but you're just going to have to wait.

Living Life on the Edge

I just cut my hair. Myself. With kitchen scissors. In my bathroom at 11:00 on a Sunday night.

That just happened.

Happy V-Day to Me!

For someone who has no special someone, I sure did have quite an impressive V-Day haul.

And this isn't even counting two cupcakes and the three other cake balls I already ate before taking this picture.

It started this morning when I arrived at my nannying job. The woman I work for is a professor at the university, and she made cupcakes for her class for the holiday and left one for me in the fridge as a valentine from the little girl I take care of. Then, when she got home I had another because she had some left over. (Let me tell you, that cupcake is possibly the yummiest thing I've ever eaten. At least this morning, anyway.) Then I arrived at work to find my boss had left six delicious red velvet cake balls in a cute bag on my desk. After work, as I was on my way downtown to do a little pants shopping a random group of girls passing by handed me the yellow paper heart.

Then I arrived home to find this waiting for me on my bed!

I know I knock them sometimes (physically as well as verbally), but little brothers have a few redeeming qualities. I have to say, I'm not very good at expressing it, but I'm very grateful for mine.

Just a few minutes ago there was a loud knock at my door and these showed up, thanks to some awesome friends. I'm pretty sure the one on the top left is meant to be a zombie cupcake. I already ate it. It was delicious.

I know Valentine's Day is dreaded by some, but to be honest I didn't spend the day dwelling on it. I even managed to forget that today was even V-Day several times. As I was shopping after work I wondered why the stores seemed so deserted and under-staffed...only to realize that, Duh, it's Valentine's Day! Anyhoo, I'm grateful for all the people who have gone out of their way to make me feel loved and appreciated today. Right back atcha!

I Guess My Mom Was Right About a Clean Room

A clean room really does make you feel better. Who woulda thunk? (Maybe me, after being taught the virtues of an orderly living space by my parents for years. Or not.) Right after I got back from Christmas vacation I moved from the basement of my house to the upstairs, thanks to a roommate who embraced matrimonial bliss. While I didn't mind living in the basement, per se, it is nice to see a little more sunshine in my room. I've been meaning to mention this, but the thing is it took me about two weeks to finally get around to actually unpacking/organizing. (If you're new, there aren't many things I loathe more in this world than unpacking, hence the procrastination.) But last Monday I had a day off of work thanks to MLK Day, so I decided to bite the bullet and just get it done. I present to you the pictorial record of my labors. And thanks to my awesomest-of-mothers and the new camera she gave me for Christmas, the pictures are actually decent. Warning: Below There Be Messes!

This is what my room looked like when I moved all my stuff in:

The view looking straight into my room from the door.

A slightly angled view into my room through the door.

Standing with my back against the open door, doorway to my left.

 The view from the head of my bed. 

The other wall as seen from the head of my bed. 

It never ceases to amaze me, the amount of stuff you accumulate, even when you try not to. It doesn't seem that bad when it's all hidden away in closest and drawers, but when it's spread out all over the floor it seems just a little ridiculous. Anyway, this is how I lived for about two weeks, until I figured I'd finally better tackle it instead of ignoring it and hoping little elves would unpack for me in the night.

But you know the saying, Things get worse before they get better?

I decided, after two weeks of sleeping with the bed on the south wall that I didn't like it there. I wanted my dresser next to my mirror so I could use it as a place to hold all my make up. Makes sense, right? But having the foot of the bed so close to the front of the dresser meant I had a hard time getting into it to get my clothes. Not to mention I wasn't awfully fond of the cinderblocks as bed risers, so with the help of my roomie's awesome boyfriend (thanks, Tyson!) I removed the cinderblocks, moved the bed, and put it up on my (slightly less ghetto-looking) plastic bed risers from Wal-Mart.

But you can see that I hadn't actually gotten anything put away at this point. The mess just migrated from one part of the room to the other.

See that frame hanging above my dresser? I should have taken a closer picture of it, but it's got four cards in it that are shaped like hanbok, or traditional Korean dress. Well, the ones I have are traditional Korean dress for nobility/royalty. Traditional Korean dress for peasants is much, much less elaborate (and not as pretty). The top two are for girls, the bottom two for boys. Appropriate for over a dresser, right? Right now they're just slapped into a frame I got half-off at Hobby Lobby, but I need to either get a new mat or paint this one, since I think the black is too stark. The chain of hearts down the left side of my mirror is actually a sweet letter from a friend of mine. Each heart is one thing she likes about me, and it makes my mornings just that much better.

Can you spot what's been added in this picture? In addition to the hanbok frame in the last picture, I hung these four, as well.

(Please forgive the bad pictures of my art. I was shooting at night in artificial light and I'm still getting the hang of my new camera.) To the left of my bed I hung my Proclamation on the Family, flanked by pictures of the First Presidency and three significant temples in my life: Seoul, Washington D.C., and Logan. At the head of my bed I hung a poster of Le baiser de l'hôtel de ville by Robert Doisneau, which I've had a sentimental soft spot for since my junior year of high school. Not, mind you, because of the subject matter, per se, but because a large poster print of it hung my high school French teacher's room and at the time I was enamored with all things French. Maybe it's because of the influence of my art-loving father, but I never really feel a space is mine until there's art on the walls, even if it's only the cheap kind I can afford.

Are you ready to see the final product now? I have to admit, it bears little resemblance to how it started out. Only the dresser stayed in the same place. Well, and the curtains.

I spent a good half-hour or forty-five minutes trying to figure out what to do with my desk. I'd had it facing the wall the window is in, but then my second bookcase had to be awkwardly placed on the blue wall, and it just didn't look right. I finally hit on placing it at the foot of my bed. It's not necessarily perfect, but it looks better than any other alternative I could come up with.

How about some closer shots?

Yes, I do have four pillows, and yes, all four are necessary. And yes, I do still sleep with my stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh my parents gave me for Christmas when I was three. He's a great cuddler. And yes, that blanket he's sitting on is my baby blanket that I still sleep with. I refuse to give them up until I have to sleep with someone else.

My Grandpa Saunders helped me put together this shelf, one of the last things I got to do with him before he died. Consequently, even though it's cheap it's rich with sentimental value. I love having a bookshelf next to my bed so I can always have my books within arm's reach.

  

My closet really needs little explanation, but I wanted to prove that I didn't leave it out of the organization/unpacking spree.

I'm determined not to clutter up my desk by throwing random papers and junk on it, which is what happens when it's next to my bed. I don't do any studying for school anymore (hallelujah), but I like having a dedicated space for my scripture study. It brings back an air reminiscent of the mission. The print I have there on the right was a gift from my mother. It's called Add to Your Faith Virtue; and to Your Virtue Knowledge by Walter Rane, and I love it. Perfect for this study space.

And last, but not least, is my second bookcase. This one holds all my church books and magazines, like my Korean Book of Mormon and Bible, old General Conference Ensigns, and a few books like The Miracle of Forgiveness by President Kimball and Jesus the Christ by Elder Talmage. I put the words Faith, Patience, and Diligence (from lots of places in the scriptures, but these are specifically referring to Alma 32:41-43 in the Book of Mormon) in frames to remind me to work on them, since unfortunately they are not terribly developed in my character. My Scentsy is behind the Faith frame.

And there you have it. My room, finally finished and in order. It only took me two weeks to get around to it and four hours to accomplish, but it's done. How about one last look? It's probably the last time my bed will ever be made.

Dear World...Again

My baby brother is going on a mission! After months (and months and months) of waiting, I woke up to his text saying it had finally come in the mail. After waiting several more hours while the family was rounded up, I got to see him open it on Skype. It's actually the first mission call I've seen opened -- in my family, at least, I suppose I did get to see Jordanne open hers. But I was at school when my other brother opened his, and I didn't actually open my own, since I had it sent to my house and I was in Annapolis working.

Yikes. I can't believe we're going to have another missionary in our family! I'm so excited for him to go, though I know his experience will be quite different from mine. He's going Stateside and English speaking, so he'll only be in the MTC for about a week and a half instead of the twelve I was there for.

Lots of big things happening in my family this week! First a baby, then a mission call. The only thing left is an engagement, but I have a feeling no one's going to be getting one of those any time soon.

Dear World

I AM AN AUNT.

On Repeat

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)

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.

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:

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.

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".

Yup. That's a camera tripod. Genius, right? Sometimes I just really love myself.

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...

...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.

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.

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.

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.

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.