Things have been a LITTLE crazy at chez Adams-Perinovic over the past week or so. This might be a really long post.
First, Monday was Eric’s birthday. (Everyone say, “Happy Birthday, Eric!”) He was up all night doing an econ paper and didn’t get home from class until late, so we didn’t do anything fancy. We went to Chili’s, talked about Harry Potter, the Wheel of Time (including how much we love Logain and who killed Asmodean), Harry Dresden, and Brandon Sanderson. It was an epic geek fest, and I can’t tell you how much I love him. Also, because I am terrible at giving people gifts, I gave him his presents last Wednesday because they were SO GOOD and I JUST COULDN’T WAIT.
Luckily, after four years, he is all too aware of this and was a good sport about it. As soon as he walked in the door, I was all like, “I BOUGHT YOU PRESENTS BUT YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM YET.”
He gave me a look, then said, “Okay.”
Which, of course, drove me crazy. “I mean, I guess you can open them now. Do you want to open them now?”
Eyebrow lift. “No, I’ll be okay. I can wait.”
“Are you sure? Because they’re really awesome and you totally want to open them now because I. AM. SO. EXCITED.”
Which led me to run and get them and make him close his eyes while I presented them from behind my back, a la Vanna White.
Like I said, he’s used to this by now, and accepted his gifts with a smile and an “I love you, honey.” They were pretty awesome gifts – Fallout New Vegas (“Do you want me to flunk out of grad school?!”) and season two of Flight of the Conchords.
Besides the birthday fun, our apartment has been a wreck because, as those of you who follow me on twitter know, the cats somehow became flea-magnets. (Eric, it’s too late, I told the internet two weeks ago. They know. It’s not that big of a deal.)
We are almost positive that the person before us had fleas, and they were living in the carpet. We had the air conditioner on all summer (until the building switched it to heat, two weeks ago. connection?). The first day or so that it got super warm in our apartment due to the AC being off, the cats were eaten alive. Poor babies. And on top of THAT, poor little Phoebe had an eye infection that the old vet told us was just herpes. It may have been herpes, but it was gone in a day with the antibiotic. Junky Kitty is junky no more!
Anyway, we boraxed and flea powdered and bathed the kitties and bought a new vacuum and washed everything and made a trip to the vet … and, hundreds of dollars and two weeks later, we are finally winning. There hasn’t been a single flea in our flea trap since Sunday. So tonight, it’s time to put everything back into place. Table cloth on the table, slipcovers on the futon and chair, etc., etc.
Also, I think I am having a quarter-life crisis. I told you this was going to be a long post.
You see, I’m giving this paper on December 4 on Melusine (who I spent 3/4 of my undergrad researching). I am very excited about it, because it’s so, well, academic and I know it’ll be awesome. I applied to give it thinking it would look great on my resume for graduate school.
Here’s the thing. I’m having what my mentor would call another “big dark night of the soul” moment.
Remember last year, when I was in crisis-mode over not knowing what to do with my life? When I decided that I wasn’t going to be a librarian and I wanted to be a professor and re-did all of my applications and then didn’t get in? But then it was all okay because Eric got into Georgetown and I got this awesome job?
I most definitely don’t want to do that again. So I thought about it all summer, and thought, hey, why don’t I apply for English programs? And I scheduled the GRE in English Lit. (sidenote: I took one – ONE – English course at OSU. ONE.) I thought, hey, I’ll be fine. It’s what I want to do, right? I want to be a professor and teach the joys of medieval literature to one and all.
Then I learned that Johns Hopkins has a fiction-writing MFA right here in DC. Actually, it’s right across the street from where I work. And since I’m full-time staff, I get tuition reimbursement. Which means it’d be free.
Since I’ve been little, I’ve been writing books. Getting an MFA in Fiction would be a dream come true. I also would be able to stay here at SAIS, just in case.
There’s also this fear I have that I’ll start an MA or PhD program somewhere and Eric will get a job overseas (the man is in the School of Foreign Service after all) and I’ll have to stop and go with him (because, realistically, Eric will be the one supporting us in the long run. And I love him, and even though I know he’d never ask me to go with him at the expense of my education, I would. I would in a heartbeat because he is the single most important thing to me). If I’m trained in the craft – and I mean, really trained, and Hopkins is one of the best schools in the world – I can write and be successful anywhere. And that’s what I want, right? I want to be doing what I love, living with the person I love, and living a life I love. And it’d be free. F-R-E-E. Free.
So now I’m canceling the GRE and wondering WHAT THE HELL. I am at such a crossroads. I don’t know what to do or which path to chose. I wonder if the two paths are mutually exclusive – honestly, what’s to say that if I choose to do my MFA that I won’t be able to do another MA (in English or French or Medieval Studies or what-have-you) and then my PhD? And what if I just go and get my PhD, and there aren’t any jobs? Humanities professors are being laid off. Would I have spent all of that time (and money) to be right back here, right where I am now, at 22?
So, interwebs, I’m asking you for advice. Help. Please.
(PS: My featured-image thing isn’t working right, so, while I had a hilarious image of Eric and I in Old Town Alexandria. Neither are my tags? This will have to do for now, until I get home and can tinker with the site. Whoops!)