In less than a week, I will be done with graduate school. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but this is somewhat surreal—I started the path to this degree years ago, when everything was different. And now I am 99% done, and very nearly everything else in my life has changed and shifted and become something different, something new. For the most part, something better. (The sole notable exception is the debt, which was not part of the original plan. Le sigh.)
So. I will have a master’s degree. I will be theoretically qualified to be a planning professional. The job market is grim, and the situation is unknown in regard to what sort of job I will be able to get, and how quickly. I am applying for everything that seems remotely applicable, and am thus far getting interviews but no offers. However, it’s early days, and there’s no reason to be discouraged yet. Beginning a new career is exciting and scary—impostor syndrome abounds, of course, and I’m trying hard not to undervalue my skill set when applying for jobs (which is to say, not focusing exclusively on entry-level positions). I’m still excited about this field, and I still believe I’m capable of doing well in it.
In other continuing/beginning developments, M & I had a Real Conversation about living together, as opposed to an in-passing discussion. It appears we have consensus that, indeed, we both want to live together, and (thanks to a heroic display of effort on my part, which is apparently what is required to make M talk about Feelings and Commitment and What It All Means) that we have mutual agreement that living together means, you know, being partners as well as bf/gf, and, also that (insert disclaimer that of course sometimes things don’t work out the way you think they will*) we both anticipate that this relationship will continue indefinitely. Which is an awfully dry way of saying “M & K sittin’ in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G 4evah”. Which is also to say, I may possibly be using textbook-speak to avoid gushing and getting all sappy like a 13-year-old, because, dammit, I’m old and jaded do not do that sort of thing. Also, I am tough. Grrr.
We’ve been together for almost a year, and while it’s not 100% roses and puppies, it’s still really good. We’ve had some spats, but no real fights—which is good and bad, I suppose, since yay! no fighting! but boo! no solid sense of how we’d fight! I’m sure it’ll happen eventually, and I hope I can keep doing what I’ve done during spats, which is stay calm and be very clear about it if M does or says something unacceptable. I’m still pretty proud of myself for (finally) learning how to say “it’s fine you’re upset, but it’s not fine for you to yell at me” and stick to it.
We’ve also got a trip to the Bay area coming up next week, which will be our first major trip together & a week-long vacation together. I’m pretty excited about it! I get to meet a whole bunch of M’s chosen-family good friends, who I anticipate will be universally good peoples, since they all have been so far. And we’ll go to a wedding & hit some of the SF-area cocktail places, which will be all sorts of awesome.
* HA. HA. HA. On the other hand, I am perversely reminded of a Salon article in which a couple sent annual cards to their respective former partners, basically saying “Thanks for leaving me! I wouldn’t have done it, and it turns out I am WAY happier without you!” I am not planning to do this. Even though it might be funny.
