Hit & Run

I officially have my first year of school down the hatch! That means there are less prerequisites waiting for me in my second and final year, and more challenging, interesting courses to look forward to.

Though it’s been a full-on semester but I’ve managed a distraction or two. I’ve been hiking, biking, hunting for snakes/salamanders/frogs, wine tasting, road tripping, and rooting around for temperature loggers on Texas horned lizards. I learned how to rock climb, and fish for blue gill and crappie; had a date with a fiddler and a Scottish folk singer in St. Louis, and discovered the fine pleasures of bourbon.

On finding morel-looking mushrooms in the yard, I invited some friends over for an impromptu potluck, and checked in with everyone the next morn to make sure we all made it through the night. I hit two new states – Oklahoma and Arkansas – (twice!) and experienced waking up to an all-too-perky bugle playing Reverie…I don’t recommend it.

I’ve skinned, stuffed and pinned almost a dozen rodents, and warmed up my bike and sneakers. And just like that, it’s time. Summer’s here and I’m once again in my midyear playground in the foothills of the Rockies for three months of romping with rodents. Bliss…

Life’s Rules

So while I was in bed the other night, listening to the tornado sirens going off and vaguely considering getting out of bed – I decided instead to snuggle deeper under the covers for protection against glass should the window go – I wondered why this semester seems so different from the last. I’m unmotivated, undisturbed at the prospect of ‘Bs’ and actually asked for an extension on a paper because I waited till the last-minute and was embarrassed to turn it in without further refinements.

I’ve become a slacker, albeit a selective one. I’m still working and volunteering many hours weekly, and I interviewed and finalized my summer crew with 2+ months to spare. I made a concerted effort to find more balance in my life but only succeeded in cutting into my sleep time. Could it be that I’m already burned out after just 1.5 semesters in? I still have over a year to go … and that’s just for this degree!

After all my ups and downs this past year, I jointly developed a two-part rule with a dear friend as a possible guide in dealing with life’s blows. The rules were meant to keep us from becoming cynical about life, though at first glance, it might appear that we already are.

Rule #1a: Expect less from yourself

I often set up ridiculously high expectations for myself and am disappointed on a fairly regular basis. But these are standards I would never impose on anyone else, because these expectations are mildly retarded. I know this when I sit back and evaluate with a clear-ish mind. It’s possible that I set myself up to fail because I expect myself to. When I’m feeling cavalier, I’d claim to want to push my limits to see what I’m made of. More likely though, I prefer to stress myself out in trying to attain impossible goals, so I don’t have to deal with other things in my life gone awry. In the process, I have found that I am still capable of surprising myself every now and then. I like that. I hope I continue to be unexpected, undefined and un-box-able.

Rule #1b: Expect less from others

Today, this rule took on a new meaning and a new low. I am deeply disappointed, but not surprised. Hurt but not morose. Angry but not petulant. Sometimes, people suck. If being a good friend comes at a high expense to yourself, find new friends.

It’s time to clean house. It is Spring after all. The daffodils are blooming, and life is calling out for some company.

Shoganai …It can’t be helped (or can it?)

Loneliness strikes when you least expect it to. Or perhaps, I should have been more mindful. After three weeks with family and dear friends traveling and gallivanting across Asia, ordinary life in the Midwest seems just a little bit empty, one-dimensional and yep, a little lonely.

Still … I was always proud to say that I didn’t mind my own company. And yet at this moment, I’m finding my company lacking and quite frankly, a little dull.

I’m still busy as a bee, and feeling trepidation about my over-planned weekly schedule. Between school, work, volunteer gigs, side projects, prepping for my summer field season, and the nagging minor matter of my GREs, technically, I should be too damn busy to think!

But think I do, and mull and ponder also. I think I sometimes miss a life that doesn’t revolve around me. Where everything that happens, happens because I make it so, and decide to do it. A life derailed because of circumstance, chance events, weather, or an unexpected phone call. I miss the chaos of life that I see in others.

My life is ridiculously regimented, in no small part, because I make it so. I feel more efficient and productive when I am able to tick things off my list. I have scheduled down to the number of hours that I will work, study, run; the number of times a week I can watch a movie (once); what day of the week I can cook for the following week, etc.

All this scheduling has made me yearn all the more for the impishness of life and its unexpected moments of complete turmoil.

My first week in Malaysia recently was marked by a remarkable series of events: a ridiculous extravagance of seafood, killing my first roach in years (after all the wildlife I have done, amazingly I haven’t lost my squeamishness for roaches!), stung by a jellyfish (with scars to prove it), and collecting buckets of water for an almost island-wide disruption of our greatest natural resource.

For three weeks in Asia, I lived outside my life and found it to be good. Now I just need to figure out how to regularly schedule an occasional event of pandemonium, and I’d be in fine shape. I’d feel alive again: less robotic, less put-together, less perfect.

Or maybe I just need to do less, be less, and be ok with that.