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

Progress

Things have been going well. I've been busy, of course, as always: working, riding Jet, and chipping away at my long pre-move to-do list. As a result, I've had little time for much of anything else. I looked at the calendar this morning and realized the time remaining between now and my move is extremely brief. I still have a lot left to accomplish, but things are running smoothly.

1. I finally got round to editing and reformatting my manuscript. As I expected, it didn't take nearly as long as I'd imagined. I sent it off to Walt, the co-author, and now all I have to do it wait for him to review it and see if he'd like to make any additional changes before we resubmit. This might take a long time, but I'm hoping I can encourage a speedier turn around by playing the "I'm starting grad school soon and want to get this off my plate before I have far too many other things to think about" card. We'll see.

2. My running is going well. I'm up to running for thirty minutes straight! I'm surprised how well the C25K program works. I haven't lost any discernible weight, but I do think I've put on a little muscle and I'm definitely more fit. I don't breathe nearly as heavily (I could actually hold a conversation now, while running), and my breathing and heart rate quickly return to normal after runs. I don't think I'm at a place where I 'love' running. But I certainly don't hate it, and it seems to be good exercise for the time being.

3.I found a place to live. I was lucky enough to score a hit on Craigslist for a studio apartment at a very reasonable price point. The landlord was willing to wait for me to move in to pay a security deposit and first month's rent, so I don't have to worry about losing money in a scam, and I can see the place in person before putting any money down. They agreed to my move-in date and hosting my one remaining rat. The only (potential) issue is that it's about a half-hour commute from campus. It's a shorter commute, mileage-wise, than the one I make now to the ranch. But it will mean additional time and expense. Hopefully it won't be too much of an issue, and it will be worth the commute to have an affordable place to myself. It even might end up being beneficial-- it could help me to maintain a healthy work/life balance if I'm not so close to campus that I feel like I'm there all the time.

4. I'm starting to go through things, paring down on what I have, selling off items I no longer need, and making plans on what to take, what to store, and what to donate. I've already had success selling some bigger ticket items that I no longer use (my first DSLR, for example), so I have a little extra money on hand to put towards moving expenses.

5. I got an iPad! :) A very generous gift from my mother to aid me in my graduate school endeavors. Initially, when the iPad was released, I couldn't see myself ever having a need for one. I have a laptop and a smart phone, and couldn't envision how something that was more than a phone but less than a computer would fit my needs. But after speaking with my aunt and uncle (both professors, and avid iPad users) as well as reading reviews of the device written by current grad students, I decided I needed one, too. It's AWESOME. It will completely replace my need for three-ring binders and loose-leaf paper for note taking, negate the need for printing out thousands of pages in PDF documents and articles every year, help me keep all my files and information organized digitally, and, potentially, help save me a lot of money if I can buy certain textbooks in eBook format. I've had a lot of fun learning how to use it, and I've started to slide back into a more academic mindset, reading articles and doing some research. Apparently, all you have to do to make me more productive is put my work on a toy.

One, for the money

It turns out that starting graduate school is going to be one of the most expensive things I've ever done. Aside from the money spent on the now-completed application process, I'm looking at a 1,500 mile move to a city where the cost of living is extremely high. Moving my stuff long-distance will require one of two things: either I rent a trailer or moving company to take my furniture from here to there (expensive), or I leave most of my furniture behind to consignment and pick up the essentials at thrift stores after I arrive (slightly less expensive, and easier, but still costly).

The transport itself won't be cheap. Two very long or three slightly shorter days of driving will add up to a lot of gas and at least one hotel stay, as well as the pre-trip maintenance (oil change, tire balance and rotation, brake check, etc.) I really should have done on my vehicle beforehand. There's also a security deposit and first month's rent on a new apartment to think about when I get there.

And what about starting school? I'll need a parking permit to make sure I can park on campus. I'll need to stock up on certain school supplies, including an external hard drive and a printer (two things I did without in undergrad, but cannot put off acquiring before starting my research). Most of the clothes I have are dirty, worn, holey, and sweat-stained from two hard years on the ranch-- I doubt my jeans (with the seats and seams worn out from hours in the saddle) will be appropriate for an academic atmosphere. That's not to mention the costs of textbooks for my classes and the fees I have to pay to the school that aren't covered by my stipend!

Looks as if I'll be picking up some extra hours on the ranch, and tapping into savings...

Yikes!

Separation Anxiety

When I was younger, I suffered from an inexplicable fear, a phobia in the truest sense. When friends would get together for sleepovers or school or girl scout trips were planned, I was always excited. I wanted to be included, involved. I would think about how much fun I would have visiting a new place or playing games and staying up late. And, in general, I would have a fantastic time. Until nightfall.

For reasons I still do not understand, as we neared bedtime and I was faced with the thought of sleeping away from home, I was stricken with a completely irrational, yet paralyzing, fear. Although I'd enjoyed myself during the day, and could foresee additional fun the next morning, I could not face the thought of the hours in between. I would suffer a complete breakdown, knowing only overwhelming fear.

There was no consoling me. No amount of rational discussion ("You're safe here," "You'll be home tomorrow," "It's only for a little while") could ease my anxiety. I wanted to be home, and I wanted to be there NOW. My parents had to be called. Often, they had to come get me. There were tears. Uncomfortable hosts. Angry, tired mom. Eventually, it reached the point where I was no longer allowed to even entertain the idea of attending a sleepover, regardless of how much I begged and pleaded. I so badly wanted to go, but it wasn't fair to anyone involved so long as meltdowns were a factor.

None of it made sense. I was an independent child. I wanted to go places and do things on my own. I wanted to explore away from home. I enjoyed going new places and spending time with friends. I wasn't clingy, needy, or particularly reliant. But every time I slept over somewhere, without fail, I would freak.

I eventually outgrew it, although even into my teenage years I suffered from bouts of anxiety when away from home at night. As I grew older, I could rationalize with myself, and convince myself to stick it out until morning. I learned that if I could suffer through an uncomfortable hour or two, I'd eventually fall asleep, and could enjoy myself again in the morning. At some point I realized that the fear had, for the most part, disappeared.

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about my impending move to WCU. On the whole, I'm really excited to make the transition to graduate school. I can't wait to get started. I'm looking forward to meeting my cohort, starting classes, developing a relationship with a new adviser, discovering new research outlets, making new friends, and living in and exploring a new part of the country. WCU is a beautiful place, and I've had fun thinking about hiking and backpacking in the surrounding natural areas. And I'm starting toward my PhD, my long-time academic goal. What could be better than that?

At night, before I fall asleep, I often envision my new life at WCU-- places I'll visit, people I'll meet, potential successes, potential hardships. In my mind, the way things fall out are largely positive. Although I'm admittedly nervous about moving to a new place and becoming a graduate student, I'm looking forward to this next step in my life. I can see good things coming my way.

But occasionally, just before I fall asleep, I'll be struck with a pang of fear reminiscent of a phobia I've long since outgrown. Because as excited I am to go, the thought of leaving my home, a place and the people I love, and the security and familiarity of the life I've built here?

It downright terrifies me.