Category Archives: Moving

Part Four: Summer 2011


PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE

This article was written by guest writer, Miss. Stefie.

I started at the library in the middle of March. For the rest of the month and for all of April, I am holding down five jobs (to recap: library, zoo, retail, modeling, work for dad), working at least 60 hours per week with no days off. I often work 12-14 hour days, bouncing between two or three jobs a day. I live with my boyfriend, but I never see him. Wake up, go to work, go to sleep, repeat. Then all of a sudden, the semester is winding down, the art classes have no more need for models. Around the same time, my dad actually hires someone to work with him, and I am free of that job as well. As April ends and I am filling out my day planner with May work schedules, I see it: a blank day. I triple-check my schedules, but it’s not a mistake, it’s really there. It’s a Thursday, and it is a day off for the first time in almost two months.

My day off is glorious. I wake up at 7, as I do every day, but I don’t get out of bed. I check my e-mail (unanswered for the past week), check facebook (untouched for the past month), wander through neglected messages and unvisited sites. It’s barely 10:00AM before I decide I need more days off. Even a few hours off. I still hardly ever see my boyfriend. I need to quit Bargaintopia.

My next Bargaintopia shift, I begin planting the seeds of my departure. I’m lamenting my return to work, raving about my day off. My co-workers know I have not had one in quite a while, and are excited for me. They’re all trying to find different jobs, and are mostly baffled as to why I continue to work there when I already have two jobs. I find the manager that likes me most and tell him I think it’s a bit too stressful holding down three jobs at once, and I realized that yesterday when I had a whole day to myself. He says, “Oh, that’s understandable. I wouldn’t want to work that much. But you’re not leaving us before inventory, right? We need you.” I agree to stay on for inventory, but could he please give me fewer hours? I’m sure other people would appreciate some extra shifts.

I am busy, but not unbearably busy, through June. I’m only working 40-50 hors per week, trading away many of my Bargaintopia shifts, waiting for my last day, July 7, inventory day. Finally, it arrives. The shift is from 6PM-2AM, I have to be at work at 8AM the next day. I manage to not fall asleep in the store or at the zoo or library the next day.

For the rest of the summer, I work 15 hours at the library and 15-30 hours at the zoo, depending on how busy the schedule is. I have Sundays off every week. Sometimes I have other days off as well. I adore the library. It has lived up to my expectations, and I can’t believe I didn’t realize earlier that this is what I want to do for the rest of forever. The only snag is, to be a full librarian, I need a Masters in library science. Until then, I can’t work more than 15 hour per week. Some sort of labor law. So now I know what needs to happen. It’s fun working at the zoo, but next fall, I’ll be a student again, working toward librarianship.

I think back to this time last year, having just moved, John dropping out of school. I’ll need a scholarship, or loans, or some kind of help. But I’m prepared to do whatever it takes. I’ve been scouting schools with distance programs lately. I am determined not to move again. I keep thinking that it’s about time for something to go terribly, terribly wrong. It’s strange, I feel the exact opposite of what I felt a year ago: happy, and hopeful, like I have a future waiting for me.

One Month Anniversary


By Nicole Hosette

September 1st officially marked the end of my first month in Massachusetts. A few days before I left Iowa, I spent a night saying goodbye to one of my best friends. Having followed her fiancé across the country a few years earlier when he joined the Navy, she knew what I would expect. She told me I would probably be miserable for a while, but that after a few weeks, I could fake it. She warned me that it might take a few months for me to be completely comfortable in my new surroundings.

These are things that no one else came out and told me when we made our decision to move. I just assumed that there would be things that I miss about my old home, and that it would take time to adjust. But she was the first and only person who plainly said, “Yeah, it’s going to suck for a while.”

And for the most part, she was right. My parents helped us move out here and spent a day helping us to get settled. The first few days after they left were the worst. I was constantly on the verge of tears and couldn’t force myself to help my boyfriend unpack. I felt that the boxes were like a safety net – all of my things were still packed up, so in theory I could still change my mind. I found myself looking at flight schedules constantly.

During the first week or two, I cried out most of my fears. Peter sat patiently with me and listened to all of my doubts, countering each one as they came up until I had calmed down again. We repeated this cycle over and over, and the space between my panics grew longer. We found ways to keep busy – unpacking, making plans for our new space, exploring the area.

What helped me the most was a visit from Peter’s parents. His dad was given the chance to take his boss’s place at a conference in Boston, so both he and Peter’s mom came for a 6-day visit. It helped me immensely to spend time with someone besides Peter at a place that wasn’t our apartment. They wanted to make the most of their visit, so we ate at some great restaurants all over the city and took in some interesting attractions. They gave us a reason to see parts of our new home that we hadn’t seen before, and my affection for this new place grew with the more that I saw.

The past seven days since their departure have been busy. Our weekend was wasted preparing for a hurricane that barely showed up (here, at least, as I know other places got hit pretty hard). Following that was the anticipation and culmination of my birthday on Tuesday, which was immediately followed by Peter’s first day of grad school on Wednesday.

At this point, I’d like to say I’m past faking it. I really do like it here, and every day it seems more and more like home. My friend’s advice was helpful, and I’m glad that someone told me honestly what to expect.

So this is me, honestly telling you what to expect. Hopefully you’re a more stable person than I am and get through it quicker. Hopefully you have someone to help you through it. Because as awesome as it can be to start your post-grad life, it’s not always instantly comfortable. But a month makes all of the difference.

Part Two: Autumn/Winter 2010


This article was written by guest writer, Miss. Stefie.

Our first week in Glens Falls, everything went according to plan. I was looking for a job, he was starting classes.

It was at this point that things went terribly, terribly wrong.

Less than a week into his graduate classes, he realizes we can’t afford them. The decision is made soon enough that he gets a full refund of what he’s already paid, but we still have a year-long lease. His family is disappointed; my family urges me to come back home. Everyone is confused. We had a plan, and now we are both looking for jobs.

I apply everywhere. Administrative work, retail work, manual labor, anything. I am overqualified. For everything. Even retail chains that would hire anything with a brain and a heartbeat won’t hire me. I stop bringing a resume to apply for retail jobs. I get the same answer every time: “We’re not actively looking for someone right now, but we’re always accepting applications.”

Luckily, we live close to a community college and there is another college half an hour away. I e-mail the art teachers and ask if they need any figure models this semester. I’d modeled off and on during college, but was really planning on getting a more respectable job, something I could tell conservative relatives about. Because, you see, being a figure model entails standing nude on a platform in the middle of a room full of art students. You know that dream you have where you’re up in front of the whole class and everyone is staring at you and all of a sudden you realize you aren’t wearing any clothes? That was my job. And it paid well, but the hours were sporadic.

Meanwhile, John is still unemployed. He is getting depressed. We apply for food stamps, the social services office jerks us around for two months, and finally we are accepted. It is a huge burden lifted. John does some contracting work that is just barely cost-effective. We continue this way until December. Finally, a job offer for him at a local bank. And just in time—my modeling work has dried up in the end of the fall semester. It takes him less than a week to figure out that he hates his new job. It is menial, repetitive, mind-numbing. He is depressed again, and so am I. I am home all the time, the best part of my day is walking to the library five blocks away. I love this library. It is by far the best part of the city. I could loiter there for hours.

It is after Christmas that things finally start looking up. Early in January, John gets a call from a company he had applied for months earlier. They want him to come in for an interview. The only problem is it’s three hours away. He goes anyway. There are two weeks of waiting, and then a phone call. They want to offer him the job, and they want him to start in less than a month. It pays more than double what he makes at the bank, and it comes with benefits. It seems he has no choice, he takes it.

We break our lease, earning the eternal spite of our landlord. We hire a couple of friends to help load the boxes, the furniture, everything into the U-Haul, and we are headed back from whence we came.

CHECK BACK SOON FOR PART THREE!

Part One: Summer 2010


This article was written by guest writer, Miss. Stefie.

From the day I declared my major, every conversation about it has gone something like this:

“So, what’s your field of study?”
“Communications.”
“Oh, like TV and radio?”
“No, that’s Media Communication.
I’m in Interpersonal/Organizational Communication.”
“Ohhhh.” (Accompanied by a politely confused countenance.) “What do you do with a degree in that?”
“…” (At this point, I look around nervously, as though I could spot another topic. Any other topic.) “It’s very broad.”

It was only three months after I graduated from Brockport with a B.S. in Communications, and two months into my very first retail job that I came to grips with reality: I have no idea what one can do with a degree in communications. To this day, I could not tell you what one might be able to do with a degree so ambiguous as Interpersonal/Organizational Communications.

During the fifteen months following my graduating, I have made my way through twenty-three audio books, eight part-time jobs, two apartments in two different cities, and one potentially life-changing career test. But let’s start at the beginning.

I didn’t attend my graduation. While the rest of my graduating class was waiting to hear their names called, I was already unpacking boxes at my parents’ house. I wasn’t worried about finding a job or what I should do next as a college graduate. Something would happen—some opportunity would present itself, just like always. I had loose plans for fall. John, my boyfriend of one year, was to begin his graduate work at a school in Glens Falls. I would move from Utica to be with him. It wasn’t a difficult decision for me; we had already been living together for five months in my college apartment.

I toyed with the idea of attending a graduate program. I was accepted at two schools, and would certainly have attended if a scholarship were in the cards for either. But I could not justify spending more money and accumulating debt to continue down a path that I was not sure I wanted to be on in the first place. To have no career goal in mind during undergrad is one thing; to attend grad school with no desires—or even vague notions—of a potential profession is quite another. So I scrapped the grad school plan, much to my family’s dismay. I would be moving to Glens Falls with a clean slate, a world of possibilities, a promise of new and exciting opportunities ahead.

But first I had to make it through the summer. After four weeks of bumming around the house, myparents insisted I get a job. So it was off to work at a bargain basement store. “Bargaintopia” was my very first retail job. It was fun for a couple of weeks, but the novelty quickly wore out. Soon, I was counting the hours until moving day. We packed up the U-Haul with all John’s furniture, my kitchen necessities and our combined collection of books. It was a Monday when we moved, one week before John was to start classes. The following five months were stressful, to put it gently.

CHECK BACK THIS WEDNESDAY FOR PART TWO!

Decisions, Decisions


By Nicole Hosette

Many post-grads make plans to move somewhere new after college. They move back in with their parents, take a job in a new place, or simply decide to take up residence somewhere fresh. In my case, the decision to move from Iowa to the Boston area took months to make, and I didn’t make it alone.

I mentioned in a previous post that I recently moved to Massachusetts with my boyfriend, Peter. We both graduated in May. He knew he wanted to get his PhD in physics, while I knew I didn’t want to go to grad school (at least right away). And after being together for four years, we knew we wanted to be somewhere new together. So it made sense that I would follow him wherever he went to school.

In December of last year, he started applying for grad school. It was a crazy, stressful time for him, as it meant filling out forms, writing essays, and securing letters of recommendation on top of his heavy course load. He applied to nearly ten schools, both Ivy League and state universities.

He got into his safety schools, and to his relief, most of his top picks as well.

In the end, the decision came down to two schools, University of Chicago, or Harvard. So we made a massive pro/con list and took everything we could think of into account – locations, cost of living, family factors, crime, job opportunities for me, and each school’s respective physics program.

For a month, he changed his mind at least every other day. I was pulling for Chicago from the beginning – I had spent a lot of time there, both visiting and inhabiting, so I knew the city’s offerings and limitations. I knew that my job prospects would be decent, and that I already loved living there. I knew it would be cheaper to live there and that I would be able to easily make the three hour drive back to Iowa to see my family and friends. But I also knew that Chicago would be my ideal place to “settle,” and I didn’t want to settle yet.

Eventually Peter made his decision, and he wanted to go to Harvard. The physics program would give him more opportunities. And, as he admits, he is a kind of nomad at heart, so he was getting restless in the Midwest. He already knew what Chicago had to offer and wanted a place with completely new opportunities.

In time, he convinced me that Massachusetts was right for us. We made budgets to make sure we could live off of his grad-student stipend in case my job search went badly. We took note of all of the cultural offerings of Boston (which excited the historian in me). I knew I wouldn’t be unhappy there, and I knew he would regret it if we didn’t go. So we went.

Our relocation wasn’t easy, but so far I don’t regret it. I hate that most of our friends are still together in Iowa City while I’m here basically alone. But I know that time will fix that. I miss having my car, but I like that I can walk practically anywhere I need to go. I absolutely love all of the things to do in my new place, and all of the new things I can try.

Be warned: even if you’re ready for it, making a move this huge will probably be hard. And, if you’re anywhere near as indecisive as I am, the decision will be just as difficult. But you’re a post-grad now – in theory, you have tons of opportunities ahead of you, even if the job market seems to disagree.

Maybe that’s me being the optimist, but for now, I’m going to take advantage of the fact that I haven’t had that beaten out of me yet.

Family Trip


When I was away at school, I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, pretty much whenever I wanted. As it happened there were quite a few times where I did nothing at all, but I even enjoyed that option, because it was mine and mine alone. Weekends would come, mostly in the winter, and if I did not want to leave my bed the entire time, I did not. Easter would roll around, and I wouldn’t return home if I did not want to. I would find somewhere else to spend the holiday (Dinner with my then-boyfriend’s family the first two years, and driving back from my first time in the Big Apple the third).

Living at home after having that freedom, I came to realize something.

I’m never going to have the same kind of freedom again. At least, not while I’m living here.

Not to say my parents control my every move, that would just be ridiculous. For the most part I have that same freedom. But there are a couple events that, as when I was still a teenager and child before that, I don’t get a say.

Family ‘reunions’ are one of them.

I’m not against seeing cousins and aunts/uncles again; especially the ones that I have not seen since before I graduated high school five years ago. But I like to feel like I have a choice on the matter. As if I am saying, “Oh, that sounds like fun. I’ll tag along.” Instead of being told, “There’s a family get-together at your cousin’s place next month. All of you will be there.”

“What If I have something else to -.”

“ALL of you will BE THERE.”

And, like it or not, this past weekend all of us jammed into my dad’s jeep and made the three and a half hour (four and a half, this time, on account of traffic following several fender-benders on the highway) trip to my grandmother’s house. (No, we didn’t go through any woods, although there were quite a few rivers). The reunion wasn’t until Sunday afternoon – late Sunday afternoon – so the boys and I were trapped in the hood listening to my grandfather go on and on about his hip surgery, while we buried our heads more and more into our books, praying he’d realize that we really were reading, not just trying to ignore him (I suppose it was a bit of both on Michael’s part, but I was justified – I had Stephen King in my hands).

Even though I was drafted to go to the picnic, I was resolved to make the absolute best of it – unlike the boys (particularly Michael), I probably would have wanted to go without being told that I had to.

For the most part, I think we all had a good time. The only trouble I had was answering the inevitable, “What are you doing now? Do you have a job?” But, this time I was actually prepared. Sort of. I decided a week and a half ago that I was NOT going to get anywhere (professionally) in farm country NY, and maybe it is finally time to consider fulfilling my dream of moving to Seattle, WA.

Not that I’m going to do it right away. But I’m working on getting a few jobs in order to save up enough money to move out there by this time next year. It was a little exciting, because I was finally able to share with plan with someone (I had been holding off on mentioning it to my parents, because I wasn’t sure how they would react to me moving so far away by myself).

And the two things I am looking forward to most besides obtaining some sort of job?

Privacy and Freedom.

Adventures in Redecorating


By Nicole Hosette

Moving blows. I’ve moved more times in the past four years than I care to count – into dorms, back home for the summer, into apartments, out of apartments. At least for those moves my parents (and their arsenal of Dodge vehicles perfect for hauling) were only 90 miles away. “Why yes Nicole, we’ll come out today to get a load of boxes, and then we’ll take you out to dinner!”

My parents were equally awesome when it came to moving from Iowa to Massachusetts – they supplied me with boxes, rented and drove a Budget truck to move mine and my boyfriend’s stuff out of our apartment in Iowa City and into their garage an hour and a half away, and then hitched a trailer to their Durango and made the 1,200 mile trip with us to Massachusetts (and the 1,200 mile trip back to Iowa). Because of all of their help, we saved at least a thousand dollars in moving costs and countless hours in frustration.

But there were still things that my parents couldn’t help me with – trips to Goodwill with clothes purged from our closet, packing up two years’ worth of accumulated junk, and cleaning every corner of our filthy apartment. And we were all on our own when it came to setting up our new place.

We were blessed with a pretty neat apartment in Iowa City. While it was a glorified studio with a curtain strung up between the living room and bedroom, it had tons of storage. There were two huge built-in bookshelves in the living room, and a wall full of built-in cupboards in the bedroom that were perfect for clothes, extra sheets and towels, cleaning supplies, and general crap with no other place to go. And all of this was on top of two pretty big closets. This made up for the cracks in the walls and hardwood floors that needed refinishing a decade ago.

So when we got to our apartment in Massachusetts, we were both pleased and disappointed. It had been recently painted, the hardwood floors were gorgeous, and the bathroom had been redone. But its three closets supplied less space than the two we had in Iowa City, and there were no built-in anythings. Plus, while we gained an office, we lost space in both the bedroom and living room.

Now we have the task of figuring out where to put…everything. We both had waaaaay too many books and one tiny bookcase. While we each have
our own closet now, my closet still doesn’t have enough space for me to hang all of my tops. We’re storing extra sheets and towels in a filing cabinet we found on the curb around the corner.

While this isn’t my first apartment, it feels like it is. I have never had to put this much thought into storage solutions or decorating, cruising Target and IKEA’s websites trying to decide who has the cheaper closet rod or which bookshelf would fit best in the living room.

In theory, this should be fun. Online shopping as a productive activity – who doesn’t like the thought of that? But it is frustrating, having an image in your head of exactly what you’re looking for and not being able to find something similar that fits your budget.

Now that we’ve been in Massachusetts for nearly three weeks, we’ve had enough time to get the basics, including one very tall bookshelf. We’re down to two boxes of random stuff that still need to be put away, but overall, we’re mostly unpacked. It’s not a perfect set up, but we’re getting closer.

These are absolutely insignificant problems. But right now, I still don’t have a job. I spend a lot of time in my home, and that’s exactly what I want it to be – a home. I want to be comfortable and happy here, not stressed out by clutter.

So fellow post-grad, if you haven’t found yourself here yet, you will.

A bit of advice – it totally helps to have a cat that makes you forget about the mess, your homesickness, and that “hopeless” job search. Trust me.

FOR REDECORATING TIPS, CHECK OUT THESE SITES!
Decorating on a Budget
Green Redecorating On a Budget
Interior Decorating Adding New Decor on a Budget

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