Post-Secondary Post Mortem Part II: Plan A

About half way through my third year, in the height of my reheated lunches, late nights, and multiple jobs, I realized, "...wait a second, I might actually survive this. What happens next year once I'm all done?" This hit me like a ton of doorknobs in a burlap sack. Lumpy, painful, rather abrasive, and very puzzling. I hadn't even considered that there would be an "after" to this whole education thing, and felt kind of stupid for thinking about it. You see, I had developed a mentality of perversely delayed gratification; I wouldn't even think about the possible awards waiting further down the road. Instead, it was all about here and now and doing the unpleasant things I need to do.

And yet I started to realize that there might indeed be an end to this bizarro way of life. And as soon as I came to realize that this door had slowly creaked opened, I slammed it shut so I could concentrate on finish out the year. But I couldn't close it all the way, and my attention started to drift towards cars. To the point of being in the studio during class time and looking up MSRPs and reviews and classifieds. So I could, you know, just see what's out there.

As spring gave birth to flowers, so did this little bud in my mind start to blossom. The idea of being done in and of itself was the main reason that allowed me to go on vacation to Portland that summer and purchase a used DSLR in spite of my anti-spending mindset. And after that trip to, most of it spent in my brother's meek little Hyundai hatchback, I found myself thinking about cars more and more.

It's safe to say that between third and fourth year, I totaled my car and this desire increased tenfold, to the point where the entire purpose of completing my bachelor's degree was to get a new car once I had finished. That's what the last three and remaining one year have all been adding up to. To graduate is to drive again in a car that's new and reliable and mine.

When school resumed that fall, one class was dedicated to creating an informational book. I decided to do a statistical/visual comparison guide of entry level sports cars. And I knew very well that this project was laying the foundation to go car shopping in eight months. So I collected data and drafted it into a 30-something page book of charts, and I loved every second of it. I'd stay late on campus plugging away at it and tweaking the smallest details, before heading out and spending the subsequent bus ride daydreaming about being behind the wheel, and what cars I would test drive, and how I would review them, and where I'd take them and what music I'd listen to as I chased pavement across the landscape. Lusting after car ownership while riding public transit? It felt like borderline blasphemy.

And as the fall semester drew to a close, my mind was made up, I was sold. I was itching and squirming inside to graduate, because to graduate is to drive.

This was my Plan A, my Plan B, my Plan C. I wasn't sure what my impending shiny new career path would hold for me. All I knew was that there would be a shiny new car, and I just needed a job that would let me keep the gas topped up. I craved a modest sport-ish car that I would gladly dump my remaining savings into, and get a loan for. Go into debt for.
-Cril

Rag Mama rag
Where do you roam
Rag Mama rag
Bring your skinny little body back home
It's dog eat dog and cat eat mouse
You can rag Mama rag all over my house
 
 Hailstones beatin' on the roof
The bourbon is a hundred proof
And you and me and the telephone
Our destiny is quite well known
We don't need to sit and brag
All we gotta do is rag, Mama, rag, Mama, rag
 
Rag Mama rag
Where do you roam?
Rag Mama rag
Bring your skinny little body back home 

The Band - Rag Mama Rag

Post-Secondary Post Mortem Part I: Plan of Attack

Ahhhh, that feels so much better. After months and months of dread and putting it off, I just organized and consolidated all of the data on my desktop. Divided it into separate live and an archive hard drives (yo, yo - mix masta Chris bustin' the backup riggity rhymes). I still need to prepare to do a format, and that means diving into My Documents and Program Files to backup that which needs backing up, but as a whole, I'm on the right track. This week I need to consolidate it with my laptop, too. I need to pull everything off of there and mash it together into a system that makes sense. I'm long overdue, and with Certain Things on the horizon, it was about damn time to get it done.

Among all those files that I'm pushing and pulling around are a lot of school stuff. I'm lucky, though, in that I've had the foresight to keep that all organized from the get go. Every assignment in a folder, in a folder for the course, in a folder for the semester. Bam, bam, bam.  Dump all the semester folders into one all-encompassing "School Archive" folder, and problem solved.

And to wrap up that particular master folder, all I had to do was to boot up the laptop to file away everything from this last semester into a folder called Winter 2013. Semester eight of eight. C'est fini. And let me tell you, it's odd to see all those neatly labeled semesters all together in one folder like that. So tidy, so... contained. Squared away. Even worse, archived.

That's right, I have just archived an era of my life. I have tucked away four years worth of 60-80hrs a week as if they were just some pieces of paper to file. So many late nights and frayed nerves. Instant noodle dinners. Winter commuting, followed by a trudge through the snow to get to campus. Squeezing in work and tutoring and favours and freelance here and there. Hah, tutoring; eating those crappy instant noodles at lunch while I read through and correct an essay from a Chinese exchange student. Oh, the grammar. And the vocabulary, too - second-language students have a way of using a thesaurus/dictionary in such a way as to craft truly confounding, while technically correct, sentences. I'll admit that I had never before heard of the word 'urbane', and even if I had, I never would have thought it'd be a great word to describe how Jesus Christ looks in medieval paintings.

But I got through the noodles and odd essays and late nights. I got to the other side, even. I came out with skills and competencies beyond what I even knew was possible when I started. I developed talents in other, totally unexpected avenues. I now play the ukulele with a certain degree of proficiency for some reason. I know all my major and minor chords, and a few strum patterns, and a couple different ways of picking. I remember starting learning my first three chords (G, D, Am), so I could play Coldplay's Green Eyes. I strummed that song so many times, over and over, to the point where I almost can't stand it anymore. It's still a pretty song, though.

I also somehow became good at presenting of all things. As a shy, borderline anti-social introvert with extreme lack of confidence, this still kind of baffles me. But I remember where it started, way back in my first design fundamentals class where we were presenting our third assignment. We generally went through pieces in the order that they were put up on the ledge by students. I was 2nd or 3rd up, and before we started our crit the prof told us we had to introduce our piece and talk about it before it was the rest of the class' turn to comment. I didn't have much time to write a script in my head or get nervous. Instead I just decided to pretend to be confident about what I had made, and try to skew the words about to come out of my mouth towards why what I did was the right solution. And that was it. I got up and crushed it - I remember one girl commenting on how I "just explained everything really well." Since then, I consistently get compliments on my presentations, for projecting, being entertaining, knowledgeable and confident. It still makes me wonder what would've happened if that split-second decision would have landed on the side of "oh man, this is going to suck. My piece isn't good enough and I hate presenting." Maybe I would've been one of those people that mumbles in front of the class and rambles on and on.

Way back at the very start of this whole school mess, I applied for student loans and was summarily rejected because I had some savings. This kind of freaked me out - I wanted to keep some savings as an emergency cushion for a worst-case scenario, and I was relying on that student loan because I didn't think I'd be able to work part time while in school. I got scared. And in that moment, I made a goal. I would not go into debt over this whole debacle. No loans. Not owing anyone any money, no loan payments to drag me down.

So without hesitation, I worked part time. Prior I had talked to some friends I admired who were doing just that, going to school and working part time. I thought it was a herculean effort, and I couldn't handle that. But apparently I could, and I had a herculean effort hiding inside of me to give. 60hrs of school a week, and another 20 of work on the weekend and holidays and some evenings around classes. I remember getting to a point where I finished an assignment a bit early and I had no other projects on the go. So at 8pm, I got in my car and went to work for three hours before going home to be in bed on time. Part of that was due to the fact that I didn't know how to not work by that point. And when the summer rolled around, I made an agreement with my employers so I could work overtime and bank the hours to be paid out later. I worked 60hrs a week that summer, every week. What a grind.

No debt. Do anything to avoid debt. No spending on entertainment stuff, no buying snacks or treats, no eating out, no toys. Never once over the four years did I buy something from the vending machine or cafeteria (which apparently made award-winning stuff, but I never experienced why). Every purchase was scrutinized, every spare piece of change saved and accounted for.

Time trudged by, and I got hired to run study groups, thanks to the study guides I had made for myself in art history and passed along to the head of Learning Assistance to give to all the other students in first year. Not much later, I scored my first freelance client, doing odd pieces of work as they came. I had to drop working my part time job in the fall of second year because of the brutal demands of school work. My head turned to mush. I had one less course in the following winter semester, and I used that time slot to go back to work. More brain mush. I started doing some private one-on-one tutoring, leading off with an old Chinese lady in her 60's whose paper would introduce me to that word 'urbane'. She'd pay me for my time, but would also give me food now and again. Fries, chocolates, fruit. One time an entire roasted chicken, which still makes me smile.

Fall and winter came and passed, giving birth to spring. I had started taking my academic courses in then to ease the pressure during the rest of the school year, keeping the door open to work part time. Also in the Spring, I had to move to a new location. I scoured the classifieds for somewhere to live, and got in with a crazy Chinese landlord, sharing a house with his wife and young daughter and and three sheds. Since then, the sheds have multiplied to a total of six (there's now more sheds in the back yard than yard), and the house is under a constant state of renovations. At one point, the handle of the front door was installed backwards - key hole facing in, locking mechanism out. My landlords are so Asian that there wasn't a fork or can opener in the house when I arrived. But the rent was cheap, the space sufficient, and utilities included. Everything I bought to make do, from the tupperware for homemade meals to the standalone radiator to warm up my room during the winter, was purchased with shrewdness. I didn't want no debt.

Another summer of working and saving. Without overly-awesome roomates that didn't mind doing the shopping, I started to take charge of my own groceries. The first few trips were very tedious as I compared prices, and as I figured out the best deals I crafted meals that I'd eat again and again from the same set of groceries I'd buy every two weeks. Another fall and winter semester, full of brainmush and repetitive meals. Lots of sandwiches and lots of reheated rice or pasta-based leftovers.

One more spring of taking academic courses while maintaining a full work week. Part-time spring gave way to a full-time summer. But there was too much brain mush and too much saving. My resolve started to weaken, and I somehow bought a used DSLR from a co-worker and I went on a trip down to Portland with my brother. So much money, but... Probably for the best. I kind of needed it. And there were the odd raise and bursary that I had gotten over the last couple years. I could afford it, right? And I guess I did, but I had some guilt to show for it. It was the first time I'd actually used my vacation pay for its intended purpose, rather than getting paid out for it like I usually did.


But surprisingly, the world kept spinning. While I had always tracked all my transactions and spending, I got new budgeting software. In a move that surprised even myself, I assigned myself $25 each month for eating out. I found that I could stretch that out to a few 6" subs and one fast-food meal.

Then came the last year. The professors gathered all of the fourth year students together and talked about how they had a scholarship to attend the School of Visual Arts in New York for a year, and how students should talk to them if they're interested in applying. I huffed towards myself at that one - everyone saw it as such a prestigious opportunity, and I just wanted to be done with school. How did my classmates get the time and money to want to do something like this? So I plowed on, through one last fall and one last winter full of part time work (between three jobs) and full time school.

And then... Graduation.

With distinction, even (which, apparently, is for a GPA of 3.5 or higher).

With money left in my savings account, and without anyone to owe it to.

I feel damn proud of those three things. Especially because of how the three of them compound the achievement of the others.

Financially, I did a lot better than I had any right to. I'm not naive; I know a good portion of it was luck. My main job was VERY accommodating (having my own office keys and good bosses meant I had the most flexible schedule I could ever imagine), and it paid me far better than I think I deserved. The study groups and private tutoring also paid well and came about from a split-second decision to share my study notes. I found a ridiculously good deal on (albeit rather odd) living accommodations. Some bursaries, some scholarships. Some freakishly convenient (and lucrative) freelance opportunities. I also had really awesome support from friends and family that helped me make it all the way through.

Yes, very very lucky. But a lot of late nights and hard work too. I like to think I earned the results I got. You always hear about that person that goes through school while working three jobs and maintaining a 3.x GPA. I think I'm just now coming to grips with the fact that I am that person. That weirdo with no free time and no life, that just goes all out to do the best they can, and somehow doesn't go insane or dead. Don't get me wrong - it has taken a toll on me in some not-so-great ways (yaaaaay spending anxiety!) and I feel like I could've done even more. But nevertheless, here I am, not insane. For now, at least.

I keep flashing back to before I started, when a relative of mine informed me in a flat, matter-of-fact tone that no one goes through school without getting into debt unless they're living at home, having their parents pay for the whole thing, or receiving a comprehensive dream scholarship. I had none of those things. But I remember hearing about my brother-in-law (who's a Grade A awesome guy) who made it through his schooling without taking out loans. I guess that little seed stuck in my mind and grew into a massive tree that pushed me along more than I give it credit for.

And now I seem to have a great deal of foliage spilling out of my cranium, and I'm wrapped up and bound in vines that once grew around a tree trunk before spidering out. But it got me to where I needed to go, and I got there indeed.
-Cril

I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead
I just need some place where I can lay my head
"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand, "no" was all he said

Take a load off, Fannie
Take a load for free
Take a load off, Fannie
And you put the load right on me

The Band - The Weight

Mid-Summer Ramblings: More Meth, Superfolks, and Some Great Canadian Scenery

Ok. Done with Breaking Bad, all 4.5 seasons of it. Interesting show. It's interesting how it goes in tides, where it pushes the characters as far away from likable as possible, and then reels them back in a little ways so that you still want to watch. I almost gave up in late season 3 - there was no one I was really feeling good about. Jesse and Mike appeared as the most likeable characters, and they pulled me through. I almost stopped watching at the end of season 4 too - it seemed like a good place to bring things to an end. And if the rest of the show was an indicator, things would only go downhill from this brief respite. But I was 4/5 of the way through, so I figured I'd see it through to the end. It's really painful to watch, particularly how the White family falls apart. Mike died a good death, I suppose. One of those 'live by the sword, die by the sword' things. I hate how at the end of the first half of the last season things are going well, and Walt is supposed to be likable. I actually found it rather jarring how abruptly he quit considering how fanatical he was about things. I think he'll need to die by the end of the show, possibly in a Scarface-esque standoff. I hope Jesse survives and gets some sort of redemption, maybe in a Horatio-esque fashion. I hope Hank gets closure. I think I want Skylar and the rest of the family to get away in one piece.

I saw Man of Steel the other night. Interesting movie. I think it was pretty well cast (especially the fathers - Russel Crowe and Kevin Kostner were great fits), and the story was pretty solid. Although I wasn't quite sold on the art direction of Krypton, I appreciate the back story to it. Let me clarify; the art direction was incredible (especially the part with the history of Krypton and the computer displays), but it didn't feel like a good fit for the culture. But that's probably the issue - I'm stuck on the Christopher Reeve-era Krypton, that was a bit more peaceful and slick. These ones were more imperial. I appreciated that direction (it explains why they destroyed the planet), but I can't quite shake some of the aesthetic qualities that feel similar to the Gungans from the worst Star Wars movie ever. Total disconnect of visuals and culture types in my head. Anyways, I also appreciated how they also rationalized why/how Superman got his powers. I was REALLY impressed that they followed it up when they brought Lois onboard the ship by giving her a respirated. I like that consistency - they could've made it easy to just have her on the ship like anyone else. Also appreciated was how he wasn't formally called Superman and how they didn't use kryptonite. I'd be happy if they didn't use it in a sequel either, but save it for one or two more movies down the road so that it's actually a threat rather than a cliche. Other notes... Shirtless Clark Kent was disgustingly chiseled. It was kinda gross, personally. Very pretty visuals and explosions and destruction of property. Decent plot. Neat doomsday device. Lois was too action hero-y. Jor-El commanding the ship was awesome. I like how they showed Clark growing up through a bunch of flashpoints. Bonus points for some Canadians mixed into the story. Minus points for the painfully obvious Christian/church scene and an onslaught of product placements. Also, fight scenes. The problem with Superman vs Zod's Super Squad of Seven Superpeeps is that... They're all indestructible. It doesn't matter how many buildings good/bad guys get punched through, or what they're attacked with. Of course they'll survive and shrug it off. They're invibcible. After watching the first half of the first fight scene, it became obvious that there was no suspense during fights. Yes, I get the point, they're beating eachother up and they can't damage eachother. Can we move on with the story, already? Kinda lame, in my opinion.

In other news, FLOODING. That's exciting. I live and work far away from any threatened region, so it's been kind of surreal. This morning I went down to the city core, and while the waters have receded there's plenty of garbage and mud everywhere. It was good to actually go and connect what I've been seeing in the news with an actual experience. Hell, in my area the rain wasn't even that bad.

I bought Scribblenauts on Steam. I thought it would be fun and would run well on my laptop. So far (one hour of mucking around), it's cute, but not quite as fun as I thought. I played Bad Company 2 yesterday. Twas fun. I was hoping to have a new computer by now to do things on (such as BF3), but that didn't pan out. I think the only other game I'm holding out for is Far Cry 3, which I'll keep an eye on for during the Steam Supper sale. Aside from that... I'm not doing much in the way of gaming these days.

Speaking of purchases, I've destroyed large swathes of my budget this month. Particularly due to too much eating out. Some of it planned with people I wanted to have lunch with, some of it was spontaneous, some of it was from social pressure.

Did I mention that I went to Banff?



Yeah, I went to Banff. With my sister/brother-in-law/neice and my other sister. We had a great time. We went to the top of Sulphur mountain. It was pretty awesome, and sickeningly Canadian. You know, trees and rivers and mountains and snow and all that stuff.

And finally, there's a letter in the mail. It bears with it something that's going to have a profound effect on my life, in one of two possible directions. I'll be sitting on pins and needles until it arrives, at which point there will probably be a Big Post.
-Cril

Picture now a car ride through the plains
Where east meets west and only sky remain
Were you faking death to only gain concern?
The cut out lights and signals told us wrong

Damien Jurado - Hoquiam

My Weekend: Crystal Meth and Pants

I started watching Breaking Bad this week, and I'm already on season 3. I'm not sure if such a thing is possible, but I think I may overdose if I'm not careful.

...

After re-reading that sentence, I've realized what an amusing/punny it is. Strictly non-intentional, I assure you.

In any case, yes, the show is good. But just like how watching a train derail is exciting - it's horrific and terrible, but you just can't take your eyes away. The show is wildly dark and downright depressing. It seems like a race to the bottom, to see how far and hard these characters can fall. Thank goodness it wasn't quite as bad as the first few episodes... I don't think I could've kept going if it kept up that pace. At this point (early season 3), though, I'm having a rough time staying invested in the show. Sure, the plot is pretty suspenseful... But I've run out of characters to root for or be emotionally invested in. Just seems like they're all turning into terrible people, and I'm fairly certain nothing is going to work out well in the end.

And watching so much in such a short time definitely does things to my brain. The moods and thematic tones seem to seep into my stream of consciousness. Things all of the sudden are feeling a lot more bleak. I won't lie, part of me is looking forward to finishing the show. One part to see how it's resolved, one part to not have to watch any more depressing/dark people do non-redeemable things, and one part to just be done. As if it's something on a list I need to get out of the way. Ugh, that's another problem in and of itself.

On a less depressing note, shopping. It's a thing. A thing which I dread in all its forms. Particularly clothing.

This week I went through my closet, and donated six of my eight pairs of pants to charity, because they didn't really fit me that well. This was partly due to losing some weight while I was in school, and partly due to the fact that I was terrible at buying properly fitting clothes. I also threw out two pairs of pants due to (literal) wear and tear. So I dropped off my donated clothes, and promptly went to go get more, mostly because at that point I had no more than two pairs of pants to my name. I'm no fashion/clothes-o-holic by any stretch of the imagination, but I know that that number was fairly unsustainable.

So I went and spent more on clothing than I probably have in the last year, maybe year and a half combined. Four pairs of pants, and because of the money-spending hysteria I had placed myself in (mostly likely due in part to having two consecutive and full paychecks), I also got two hats and a shirt. Why hats? In the last two months, I lost my last cap to public transit and my fedora to private (air) transit. Both decided they needed me no further in their quest to do further travelling, and declined to come with me once I had left the respective vehicles.

Anyways. Clothes shopping. I hates it. Especially for having oddball measurements, it's not fun. Those four pairs of pants probably took me a solid 2.5hrs to figure out.

But now, luckily, it's all done. And I shall go on with life. In a full clothed manner, no less.
-Cril

Blue Man Group - Shirts and Hats