Future Will Eat Me!

Sorry I didn't post another installment on the California trip. I either forgot or was too lazy (story of my life, no?). I'm going to do that in the next entry, but right now I want to talk about current events a little. Or a lot.

I figure that two years of getting my feet wet in Real Life and decompressing from college is about enough, and it's time to start applying to grad school. I am looking at information science programs: I have found three that are supposed to be very good (at least two are in the top ten programs, and a very interesting one was recommended to me) and one that will probably make a good safety school (Drexel). I think I should apply to four or five places.

Of course, I am feeling very anxious about the whole thing (which is why I'm up writing at 5 AM), for all sorts of reasons, which I elaborated upon in an e-mail I sent to my mother, excerpted below:

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Yes, I am very nervous. I know some of the stuff I'm worrying about is beyond my control, or it will just take time to get done and there's no way I can change that. But I can't help feeling inadequate to the whole task. My mind is swirling with "should haves" and "what ifs."

Of course, if the worst happens, I still have a job here in Philly which is not unberable and at which I can make a decent living. The problem is, as I'm aware, the definition of success and socioeconomic survival is different depending upon one's culture and economic class. In my case, socioeconomic survival means getting some kind of graduate degree and, subsequent to that, a job in my degree field. I won't be destitute if I don't manage to do that, but I'll be...well, I'm not sure what exactly. "Failure" seems close.

Of course, I often felt similar in high school. Most of you (with the exception of shinyhappygoth don't know what I was like before college. I was disorganized, very socially inept and often had to be pushed by my parents to do anything. There were times when I didn't think I would make it to - or through - college, or I didn't think I could possibly get and hold down a job. Of course, I managed to get my act together, did well in college and had a job to go to when I graduated, which, all things considered, is pretty damn good. Because not only did I get here - I got here despite having ADHD, despite feeling inadequate most of the time, despite myself.

Thinking that way helps me cope a little. But I'm still not used to thinking of myself as a person who can accomplish things, and that's part of why I'm so anxious. When I look back at what I've done, I don't feel proud of what I've managed to do so much as surprised that I've managed to do it, or relieved that I've gotten it over with. And when I look ahead, I still think "how could I possibly do this?" instead of thinking that I've overcome challenges before, and I can overcome this one, too. But in the end, as always, I will just take the plunge and do it, because it feels like the best course - or possibly the only acceptable course - that I can take for myself.

And in the meantime, I will have to deal with a clenched stomach, feeling cold all over, and some nights of "can't sleep, future will eat me."

Sorry if I've made anyone uncomfortable. I am not used to being this honest, but if I kept my feelings to myself I really would go nuts.

Third Installment: Ghiardelli Square and the Japanese Garden

I forgot to mention something about the previous day in San Francisco. As we were walking along the waterfront street after lunch, we saw a whole bunch of different street performers - many of them very elaborately made up and/or with creative acts. A number of them had painted themselves and their clothes silver and would pretend to be robots. One of them was particularly good and even made mechanical noises. The most interesting thing about these performers was the particular strategy that many of them used to get money: they would stay absolutely still until someone put a dollar in their box/hat/whatever. Then they would dance, juggle, play music, or whatever their schtick was. I wonder if that's just a Bay Area thing.

This was also the day we went to Ghiardelli Square - the place where the flagship store for Ghiardelli Chocolates is located. I know of no Ghiardelli stores on the East Coast, and the selection of their chocolates available to us here is limited, but boy are they big over there! They had hundreds of varieties of candy and candy-coated foods and the place was packed. There was also a sundae bar in the store that sold specialties made with Ghiardelli chocolate hot fudge. Benjamin and I partook of one of the sundaes. I am now ruined for any other kind of hot fudge.

Okay, now that I've rectified that, I will go on to the third and last day of the San Francisco part of the trip. Dad took myself, Daniel and Benjamin to San Francisco's Palace of Fine Arts. The exterior of the Palace is modeled on ancient Greek architecture and built on a tremendous scale. It also has an associated pavillion of sorts - a great dome supported by towering pillars. The building sits on a sort of promontory in a small man-made lake. That, combined with the architecture and landscaping, makes it absolutely breathtaking in appearance.

Inside it looks totally different - or at least the part we went into does. It's called the Exploratorium, a museum of child-oriented interactive exhibits that teach visitors about physics, weather, and geology, among other things. The exhibits are grouped into different areas of a series of spacious chambers. It looks sort of like a converted warehouse. We were there mostly at Benjamin's behest, so we all ended up staying longer than we liked (except for Benjamin, of course, who was sorry to leave).

We then had a late lunch in Chinatown - this was at my behest - at a restaurant dad's friend John Markoff had recommended to us. As in most San Francisco area restaurants, the food was very good but the service was slow and, on occasion, downright incompetent (Daniel chalked this up to the "relaxed attitude" of the West Coast). As I said, though, the food was good, and my desire to have a meal in San Francisco's Chinatown was satisfied.

After that, we went to the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. Spring - not summer - is actually the best time to go there, since all the blossoms are in bloom. It was still quite lovely, and the landscaping was done well. However, the paths were asphalt or concrete - not gravel or flagstone - and there was a rather tacky gift shop in the park. There were also way too many people. It spoiled the effect that a Japanese garden is supposed to have, but for an American imitation, it wasn't bad. The park also showcased certain gifts to the city from Japan, such as a large Buddha statue, and had replicas of a torii gate and a Buddhist pagoda. There was also a teahouse that served a small selection of decent-quality teas. Benjamin, since he has no class whatsoever, was the only one of us who got a soda.

I bought some postcards at the garden's gift shop to send to various friends of mine, but a number of factors kept me from actually mailing them until a couple of days later. As a result, I got home before most of them reached their destinations. Ah, well. It's the thought that counts.

Upcoming Fourth Installment: Muir Woods and the Coastal Highway