Three, to get ready

I hate moving.

Hopefully, once I actually get out to WCU, I'll be finished moving for a while. The apartment I found to rent is very small, and a ways from campus, so chances are I won't stay there throughout the entirety of my PhD. Chances are I'll be moving again at some point in the near future. Although I may be just sick enough of packing, loading, driving, unloading, and unpacking that I hold off as long as possible before doing it again.

I turned in the keys to my apartment, organized the items I want to take and those I'm going to leave, had my car checked over for travel, finished the myriad of other tasks I had to complete before leaving. For the past few days, I've been extremely busy, my activities continuous and all leading up to my departure. This marathon of tasks, however, has been peppered with brief periods of downtime, which is when my nerves start to catch up with me.

For the majority of the summer, I've avoided thinking about leaving. I'm excited to go. I'm looking forward to starting school, and to everything that goes along with it. But I am also sad to leave behind the little life I've built here, even knowing that it would never take me where I want to be ten years down the road. So I've pushed all thoughts of moving aside, and
focused on the present-- working on the ranch, riding Jet, barrel racing, spending time with my family and friends. Now, with my move date only hours away, I find all those thoughts catching up with me, and, along with them, the nervousness.

I think in large part the nerves stem from a complete lack of knowledge concerning expectations. I have only vague ideas about grad student life. I understand that it is fundamentally different than undergrad, and I've read countless accounts of current and former grad students' experiences. But programs vary so widely by discipline and department, and the very act of doing PhD research is so unique to each individual, that I literally can only guess at what my new life will be like.

That is likely the hardest part of this whole transition for me. I am the type of person who plans everything out in advance, as far as possible. When I envision the future, I am detail-specific, and reassure myself using a host of scenarios that I play out in my mind beforehand. But with moving, and with starting school, I just don't know what to expect, and thus cannot plan for anything beyond driving through my first long day, the only thing with which I have relevant experience.

I keep trying to remind myself that I've done this before, although in not quite so dramatic a fashion. Over two years ago now, I moved to Newcastle, WY. I had little idea of expectations then, much as I do now. I was going to an unfamiliar place to a new, unfamiliar job with no prior conceptions about what my day-to-day life would entail. I was nervous. I was sad to be leaving home. I didn't know what was up ahead. But I moved, and I started my job, and I made it through my internship just fine.

The difference now lies in several hundred additional miles from home, and 5 or more years away instead of 5 or more months. But hopefully, my path toward a PhD, with a cohort of new people, a built-in social outlet, a college-friendly town, and a host of like-minded people, will serve me far better than a tiny coal town in northeastern Wyoming. That, at least, I know is something I can look forward to.

Two, for the show

Friday was my last day at work on the ranch. Despite my move date coming up extremely quickly (as in, I leave at the end of this week, quickly), I haven't thought a lot about the fact that I'll no longer live in My Home Town, or work on the ranch. My last day of work was more or less like any other day. I did the same things I always do on Fridays, and never once thought, "Oh! This is the last time I'll have to do this!" even when I was scrubbing out the toilet in the bathroom in the barn.

There was one unusual event on Friday-- Debbie hosted a small going away party for me. I wasn't expecting any fanfare. I thought that, if anything, she and Marlene would take me to lunch or dinner. But Friday morning they sent me to run errands and when I returned at lunchtime the barn was decked out in party attire. She'd ordered pizza from my favorite local place, purchased cupcakes, and invited both my mom and one of my friends to come by, along with, of course, Joe and Marlene. It was a small gathering, but very much appreciated. Even though it was a going away party, we didn't talk much about my going away. I don't think I'm the only one that has been trying not to think about the fact that I'll be leaving.

The display of my support system in MHT has been enormous lately. I've had friends take me to dinner, help me move furniture, and offer to help me pack my car the night before I leave. I've received parting gifts from several people, and more than one of my friends has expressed dismay at my imminent departure.

It's nice to know that people care, but even though I appreciate the myriad of gestures, it's bittersweet. It serves to remind me that I've managed to build a life here these past two years, and when I move, I'll be leaving all of that behind.

My Failed Application Year

I've been having trouble the past few days envisioning what my life will be like at WCU-- living in a new place, meeting new people, life as a grad student. I have to keep reminding myself that at this time last year, it was very hard for me to envision myself anywhere but where I was-- stuck in a job that was going nowhere in a situation that was far from ideal. The thought of waiting an additional year to enter grand school, of completing the application process a second time, of wending my way through another anxious few months waiting to hear back from admission committees, was nearly overwhelming.

For a while last summer, I was very unhappy. I kept mulling over the things I'd done throughout life that had led me to that point, and wondering where I went wrong. What could I have done differently in high school, in undergrad, in my gap year, in my personal statement, that could have made my first round of grad school applications successful? What was it about me, as a person or a student or a potential ecologist, that didn't quite make the grade? Why was I being passed up in favor of other candidates? What should I have done differently?

I ended up having lengthy conversations with my undergraduate advisers, as well as much shorter interactions with prospective grad advisers. It was difficult to stop wondering what was "wrong" with me and instead focus on the things which I could actually control. It took me months to realize that, regardless of how prepared one may be for graduate school, and despite having all the necessary credentials for admission, even the most qualified applicants aren't guaranteed acceptance-- anywhere. It was difficult for me to reconcile my previous experiences applying to undergrad, where a handful of applications led to a handful of admittance notifications, with the idea that in applying to graduate school, fit is more important that ability, there are far more applicants than available spots, funding is at a premium, and, more than anything, many candidates go through the application process multiple times before getting accepted.

Ultimately, it was a combination of the internet community and a list of tasks to complete in the immediate future that helped me survive my failed application year. As part of The Grad Cafe's online forums I found that I was definitely not the only person applying to grad school a second (or even third) time round, and found at least a modicum of reassurance in knowing that a failed application year isn't as uncommon as it may initially seem. I also focused on being productive at increasing my odds for success in my second round of applications: I presented some research I'd completed as an undergraduate at a national conference, visited the schools in which I had the highest interest to meet with prospective advisers face-to-face, worked another season in the field, restructured my personal statement, and submitted a manuscript to a scholarly journal for review.

Amongst those activities I did what I could to stay sane. I worked my job on the ranch, took care of my apartment, entertained the rats, spent time with my family, and paid the bills. I tried not to think too much about being back in school, but instead attempted to live more in the moment, taking advantage of and enjoying the opportunities I had. And in that respect, I was largely successful. I had the chance to keep working with all the horses on the ranch, have a horse of my own by leasing Jet, improve my barrel racing, take up calf sorting, and spend time out on the trail. I learned to drive a tractor, improved my skills with the skid loader, and expanded my rodeo and horsemanship knowledge. I also took some time to visit a couple new cities, and took my first vacation in years to visit my best friend for a few days earlier this month.

At this point, it's hard for me to say how my upcoming entrance into graduate school will differ as a result of my additional, unexpected gap year. I will never know what my experiences would have been like had I been admitted during my first application season. What I do know is this: my failed application year was difficult, but not impossible. What initially seemed an insurmountable time period was, of course, just another year. Although I was occasionally unhappy with my situation, I did what I could to make the best of it. And I survived.

I had the opportunity to learn and try and participate in some things that I most likely would not have otherwise. My desire to return to school is even stronger than it was before. My additional time off enabled me to better focus my intentions for research. My improved application resulted in an acceptance to a school that seems like the perfect fit for my research and career goals. And even though applying (and waiting to hear back about applications) a second time was in many ways just as miserable as I imagined it would be, I will be heading to grad school in less than two weeks.

It took me a long time to realize that a failed application year didn't necessarily mean that I'd failed. But I think I finally did. And the more I think about it, the more I realize I'm probably better off for it.

The things I'll miss the most

• Mountains
• Autumn
• My apartment
• Always having dogs around
• Having a dog to borrow for hiking
• Working with horses
•  Dinner and dominoes nights
• My favorite local restaurants
• Long trail rides
• Separate living and bedroom spaces
• Reading for pleasure
• Having excess income
• Riding every day
• Having plenty of free time
• Working with Marlene 
• Random, wealthy-employer perks
• Snow
• Joe, without whom my two years at the barn would have been far less entertaining
• Barrel racing
• Familiarity
• My friends
• Jet
• My family

Things I will not miss

• Constant chaos in the barn
• Debbie freaking out about weird (and usually inane) things
• Trina's temper tantrums
• Watching people with more money than sense throw money away
• Watching Debbie buy Trina a new horse every four months instead of encouraging her to work with the twelve others she already has
• Seeing good horses pick up bad habits as a result of Trina's laziness while riding
• Having to constantly cater to Debbie's whims
• Having to constantly cater to Trina's whims
• Cleaning the office and bathroom in the barn
• Exercising the miniature ponies
• Tutoring Trina while she sends text messages and refuses to pay attention
• Watching Trina be disrespectful to everyone around her
• Fielding constant (and usually purposeless) early morning, late evening, and weekend phone calls from Debbie
• Having to stand by while Debbie's dogs and horses are under-exercised and over-fed
• Watching Debbie mishandle her dogs and then wonder why they have behavioral issues
• Patiently explaining something to Debbie or Trina, at their request, then watching as they completely disregard everything I've said
• Unforgiving hot weather in summer
• Always smelling like horse
• Constantly shifting plans at the barn, and making plans that always fall through because of a last-minute will of Debbie's
• Watching Debbie coddle Trina and then wonder why she isn't self-disciplined or independent
• The funny looks people give me when I say I want to get a PhD
• Trying to keep the barn tidy, while being the only anal person amongst a group of sloppy, disorganized individuals
• Icy roads in winter
• The creepy woman that lives two doors down from me
• Working in a place where the owners refuses to conserve, recycle, or even attempt to be environmentally conscious, despite claiming to be environmental advocates
• Flies