Ellyn the Post-Grad

My first task upon returning to my parents' house as a college graduate was to paint the room I've occupied since the summer I turned 13.  Today, after much frustration and hard labor, the task is complete.  My room is by no means perfect; there are poorly spackled bumps where huge screws used to hold shelving, annoyingly imperfect lines where paint leaked under the blue tape (a particularly strong pet peeve of mine), and a million tiny white splatters on the wood floor that I will never discover the end of.  But it's very, very pretty.  I owe endless hours to whomever invented those sliding paint edgers to go in corners and along the wall.  As a result, my coral accent wall is flawless (relatively).  I've been making excuses to enter the room so I can admire my work.  Sometimes I just stand there and look around.

Now, if all goes according to plan, I'll only be living in said room for the summer, so it really shouldn't matter whether I like the decor at this point.  But (shhhhhh don't tell) I may be trying to cope with the complete return to parental dependence.  It's a new and more mature color scheme, so I'm not exactly right back where I was 9 years ago, right?  Ummm... Okay so it sucks.  But I'm trying to focus on the positive.  Mainly, I'm just really proud of myself.  I didn't let the man at the hardware store convince me to buy the more expensive paint (an extravagance we Drathrings are staunchly opposed to).  I only had to ask for help once, when some screws proved too stubborn for my girlish muscles.  Overall, I persevered through scorching temperatures, sleeping in the basement, and the pressure to plan a garage sale and finalize grad school paperwork, to finish the job in three days!  Sign me up for the Ass-Kicking Club.

What does an amateur ass-kicker do next, you might ask?
This weekend:  Execute killer garage sale and make dollas.
This week:  Be the best Graduate Assistant Dr. Shweta Singh ever had.
Next week:  Begin Operation Master of Social Work.

Now, perhaps one day I won't have to rely on garage sales to finance an ice cream date with my BFFs. 

Items in my proverbial "bucket"

AKA, my "Bucket List".  I don't like that term, because it's only become widely used after the movie, which I have no interest in seeing.  What did they call these before the movie?  Wasn't it just "A List of Things to Do Before I Die"?  I'm fine with that.

1. Go to a pro baseball game.  Mostly for the nostalgia.
2. Host a Thanksgiving dinner.  The epitome of homemaking, a skill that by all accounts I should not want to have.  But I do.
3. Adopt a child.  I could spend hours on this.  Rather than conceiving one extra human to use up the world's resources, I can provide for one that already exists.  People often think this lacks warmth, like adopting a child is all about sustainability and efficiency.  Not so.  Think about it.  How many children out there are homeless, starving, or sick?  Or less extreme, are just living in a children's home with no family?  Most people say "Eh, that's sad, but I want a little ball of joy that looks just like me and is a manifestation of my love for my partner".  I could not possibly ignore so many children in need simply because they're not mine.
4. Hike the Appalachian Trail.  From Georgia to Maine, it takes about 6 months.  I'm not sure why from the moment I heard about this I've been set on it.  Maybe it's a sense of accomplishment.
5. Bike 50+ miles in one trip.  Again, a sense of accomplishment maybe?  Just a goal to strive for in something I enjoy.
6. Travel to...everywhere.  My top choices (in no particular order) currently are Norway, Germany, Jerusalem, and Morocco.  I think most other countries are more appealing than America.  They're more interesting and colorful, and less ignorant, and I really just like living in other cultures.

                                          ^Norway (the homeland)
7. Decorate a home...preferably mine.  Again, another feat of homemaking.  But also, I think the impression that your home gives people is important.  I don't want mine to be plain and pretty, but classy yet unique.
8. Have a rooftop or windowsill garden.  Yes, it's sustainable, but also cute.
9. Get a tattoo.  Of something meaningful, but I have no idea what.

Impulsivity strikes again

I look like a lesbian again.  Or a rich suburban mom.  Or Kate Gosselin.  The first time I looked like a lesbian being when I got a faux-hawk 2 years ago.  Here's the story.  I went to get the usual trim today, and chose Noonan's Hair'Em, where I've generally had good experiences.  I was privileged to see Dan Noonan himself, who in his mid-40s has the hair of a 20-something gay man - that is, spiked, gelled, highlighted, and all-around hip.  However, having a wife and children I assume he is not gay.  At first glance I would have thought he was just some old guy who hasn't let go of his youth...but that seems too harsh a judgment considering how extremely friendly and knowledgeable about hair he was.  He recognized immediately that he would need to repair some of the damage done by the Paul Mitchell student during my last trim, and I told him that no one's ever really gotten the angle that I want right, but at this point I'm just trying to grow it out.  He went on to tell me about the many dramatic angles that he's done, as extreme as from the crown of the head in back to below the shoulder in front.  Long story short, after discussing my history of impulsive haircuts and preference for exciting looks, I decided to go quite short in back.  I would not have done this if I did not completely trust his expertise.

So, onward.  I'm not sure if I misunderstood or just didn't realize that it would be quite so short in back, but it is.  Basically my hair is...about 3/4 of an inch long in the back, and the usual shoulder length in the front.  From the from it actually looks great, from the back I indeed look like a lesbian.  I'm not sure if it's a cute lesbian though.  I don't know, overall I'm a little nervous, but I think it will grow out nicely.  Dan did assure me that it looks "sexy" and "sharp" and that my boyfriend would "poop himself".  After letting the mild creepiness of these comments slide, I said "I hope not".

Being a Post-grad

In the past 3 days, I've applied to 5 jobs, called the Loyola Financial Aid office twice, picked out and bought paint samples, budgeted, planned, scheduled, and worried myself crazy.  Is this called being an adult?  It's funny, I thought May Term was gonna be a wonderful time to relax and do nothing, when really it's just time to catch up on everything that school prevented me from doing before.  To be fair, I still get to go back to Bloomington for two weeks of leisure time...but then I have to get all my stuff back home but not moved in so I can paint my room, plan a garage sale, and a graduation party.  You know, I actually don't think this is adulthood...I think it's transitionhood.