Parts-n-Pieces

The Third Stage of Life

Stage one:  I survived a violent and difficult childhood yet still grew up to be creative and tenacious in what I wanted from life.  I attended 18 schools in 8 years.  My family lived in a several states and dozens of cities in those states. I graduated from  high school without being pregnant.  At 25, I married a man I did not know well and we lived in Japan.  The marriage didn't last, and I returned to the United States.

 

Stage two:  I returned from Japan with a baby, a box of baby toys, a suitcase of our clothes, and a perspective about life and culture that I could not have gained had I not lived in that marriage.  Back in the US, I had to figure out how I would rear the child and form a meaningful life for us.  And it was hard.  I worked a series of meaningless jobs that paid a little more per week than the cost of child care.  We struggled. 

Returning to school seemed an idiotic choice (as others told me), but I felt it was the right thing.  I'd always wanted to go to college, but I didn't know what it looked like.  I didn't know HOW to go to college.  Nevertheless, I signed up for courses at the local community college.  I reasoned that if I earned an AA degree, I'd get a "great" job and I could provide for my family.   I continued to the BA degree then the MA degree, all the while rearing my daughter, providing her a home, being involved in the community and youth activities.  I held full-time jobs while attending school, but with increasing amounts of education, I could get positions that allowed us to live a more comfortable life.

During this phase, my daughter grew to be a creative, generous, talented, and forceful young woman.  She grew up in one neighborhood.  She attended school with many of the same children throughout their 12 years of required education.  She graduated from college and now is in graduate school.  She is not a statistic.

Earning the Ph.D. was a struggle in and of itself for me.  It took nine years, but it's finished.  Finally.  With the Ph.D., I can move onto stage three of my life.

Stage three:  It begins now.  With all that has lead me to this point in my life, I am anticipating significant growth and change to occur in this stage.  I'm ready for it.  It begins now.

Posts that I will possibly, someday, eventually write

I sit at the computer, and I intend to write something profound.  I sit, and look at the screen.  I sit, and play with the dog.  I sit, and shop on eBay.  I sit, and wonder why I'm not writing.  It's not as if I don't have subjects.  I do.  Lots of them, in fact.   So why am I not writing?  I . . . I, well,. . . I just don't know.

The end of the dissertation?  The weirdness and stress that surrounds an academic job search?   Maybe those are the real reasons, but I need to suck it up and just get over my bad self.  And write.

If I was writing as much as I once did in this space, I'd be writing about the following (and these might just pop up as blog posts in the near future):

• The applicability of the "alternative pedagogies and programs" used with underprepared student-athletes with other marginalized student groups ...

• The Writing Through Photography class I'm teaching this term ... and how teaching the skills of "good" photography can improve student writing.

• The radical change in perceptions students have toward me now that I call myself "Dr." ... maybe it's just me, but there is a dramatic difference in what these students will go along with without complaining now that I have a completed degree.  It's weird.

• The act of making such significant changes in my life at this stage of my life is unusual ... but necessary.  And noteworthy.

OK, that's the one I need to write about, how unusual but noteworthy these changes are for someone like me.  I'll write about it later today, but that's where I'll start.

But in the meantime, a practice photo from my new camera, the Nikon D-90 (taken at lunch yesterday):

The biggest version is the coolest.

My "Remember the Milk" List Keeps Growing

I know I'm forgetting some things, so I'll be adding to the list over the next few days.

• Make reservations for MLA, air and hotel
• Annotate three articles for Bedford Bibliography
• Visit doctor (2)
• Read those 722 937 1277 posts in Bloglines
• Continue to edit dissertation
• Create research agenda for spring semester
• Find "Sunday in the Park with George" for my diss director.
• Create on-line teaching portfolio
• Install larger hard drive to my laptop
• Write an essay prompt
• IRB forms for spring research project
• Finalize dissertation abstract
• Post-process Photographs from trip to LA

Finished:

• Prepare for funeral on Thursday
• Grade exams
• Send out last batch of job applications
• Finalize writing sample
• Grade 9 gatrillion more essay
• Write a unit exam for another class
• Grade 1 gazillion essays
• Order academic regalia (W00t!)
• Vote
• Send out last batch of job apps
• Order books for spring
• Create course descriptions for two of three courses (and they are new courses!)
• Grade 19 gazillion essays (yes, I wrote "gazillion")
• Create course handouts for next assignment (1 of 3)
• Create course handouts for next assignment (2 of 3)
• Create course handouts for next assignment (3 of 3)
• Organize all the paper in my home office
• Schedule dissertation defense
• Course prep for the week
• Finalize statement of teaching philosophy
• Create unit syllabus for comp courses (next assignment)
• Take dog to groomers
• Purchase dog food and cat food

Not so Subtle Title (Dog Picture on a Blog)

'nuff said.

A Study in Venn Diagrams (or, why I'm not blogging)

The lack of blog activity is pretty simple, really.  I got nothin'.  Just nothin'.  The dissertation is taking all my energy and focus.  I'm on "vacation" from my job for a few weeks (this is a good thing) and I felt my energy and creativity returning being away from that daily grind, but the diss sucks those positive energies right up (I feel that I have to finish the dissertation in these three weeks, and you know, it's not gonna happen that fast).  OK, the diss is taking a lot of my energy and focus, but there are a few other things keeping me from writing in this space.  I'm missing my daughter like crazy.  I'm thinking about the upcoming job search, my current job, what I want for (and from) my life, and I'm stressing.  All that stress takes energy, too. 

This photo depicts my life at the moment.  All the yellow/orange circles (Christmas lights, by the way) represent areas of the dissertation I'm thinking about, writing on, researching, my daughter, my job.  The black area is just about everything else in my life.   It all overlaps.  But I'm blaming my lack of writing on the dissertation.

 

Photo is much cooler in a larger size.

 

I plan to do a few things to take care of myself while I'm on "vacation":

• A massage next week (before I go back to work).
• A few more minor-league baseball games.
• A photo excursion on Saturday (a day trip somewhere).
• A few afternoons at the pool.
• A visit from the Bundle the last weekend of July.  :-)

A Potential Explanation (for some recent events)

My daughter moves to another state in 34 days.

Yep.  I think that's a lot of the recent emotions.  I typed that line then burst into tears.  Yep.  That's it.  She's leaving in 34 days.  I'm proud of her.  I'm happy for her.  She's ready to go.  I'm ready for her to go.  Yet, she's going.  And I don't quite know what to do with myself.  While I have worked and gone to school, I have devoted the last many years (all her years) to her growth and development.

Yes, yes, yea, I'll reinvent myself when she leaves.  I'll finish the dissertation.  I'll become a cougar.*  All that sounds easy enough.  But in 34 days, she'll be gone.

(*)  Just kidding people, just kidding.

Happy News for the Bundle

The Bundle called today and she had such happy news:

• She will graduate from college in about 10 days.
• She passed her state licensing exam in Athletic Training.
• She passed her national licensing exam in Athletic Training.
• In 10 days, she'll have letters behind her name:  "Bundle, BS, ACT, LAT"
• She received her letter of admission from graduate school that outlines her financial aid, her duties as a graduate athletic trainer for women's soccer, and a form asking her for her clothing sizes.  She's heading to graduate school.

I'm so proud I can't stand it.

He said, "...the fight won."

At the end of the funeral, the pastor stated to those who had gathered, "Sometimes it doesn't matter how resilient a fighter is or how determined the combatant; sometimes, the fight wins."

That was a statement uttered to help those left behind deal with such a sad (yet somehow expected) loss.  She died last Tuesday, by her own hand, after years of addiction, alternating between depression and mania, alternating between poverty and relative wealth, between working and giving, between subsisting and living, between being a mother and needing one.  She lived between.

She was a college graduate, a military officer, a mother, a teacher.  She was an outsider to her family and and an insider to many of her friends.  She didn't really care what other people thought, but she wanted to belong.  She lived on the outside of what others consider "normal."  She was persistent and a dreamer.  She was hopeful and a believer.  Wanting the best, believing for the best. Yet she lived in a world that could not (would not) accept her difference, her need for autonomy, her need for independence, her need for control.

She was an addict.

Her sister said it best:  "My world is black and white, very little gray.  [Her] world, on the other hand, was filled with only shades of gray, there was no black or white, just everything else.  We were so different.  I didn't understand her."

The small chapel was filled with people, many of whom were from the recovery group she attended.  They laughed at the stories that described her energy and her hope.  They nodded their heads in recognition and agreement when those words of recovery crept into comments, but they also noted the shaking of heads and the shrugging of shoulders from those who did not understand the vocabulary or who did not see the shades of gray that she embodied . . . indeed, that embodied those in the chapel.

Family members mentioned how much they loved her, but that she was difficult to love.  They talked about how smart she was, but that she couldn't break the addiction.  They talked about their family, but that the family only recently included her.  They talked about her ability to see the truth in the lives of others, others like herself (poverty stricken, homeless, abused, addicted), but that they did not accept that truth into their own lives.  But.   

It was sad.  It is sad that she's gone.  It's sad that those two groups of people represented at yesterday's service did not know each other (the family and the group from recovery).  It's sad that the two groups could only exchange polite pleasantries.  Nothing more.  Nothing more in common than her death.

But she needed both.  She needed her family and her friends.  She couldn't choose, and she shouldn't have had to.  Perhaps with both-- with both having full knowledge and understanding of the other-- she could have survived.   Maybe. 

Maybe that's what's needed to fight the fight -- unity and cohesion, support and openness, black and white and shades of gray -- all so the fight doesn't win, so the fight is outnumbered.

Manning or Brady? (A Car Convo)

In the car this morning, the Bundle and I had a conversation about today's Super Bowl.  [A bit of context:  we were discussing her cell phone background picture she has of herself and Mike Modano . . . the über hot Mike Modano [background story here]. . . then the Super Bowl convo):

---

Me:  So, who do you like for today's game, Brady or Manning?
Bundle:  Brady's over-rated.

Me:  Really?  I think he's pretty cute.
Bundle:  crickets . . . crickets . . .

Me: What?
Bundle:  He's over-rated because his O-line does all the work -- and they don't get anywhere near the credit they deserve.  He has a good passing rate, but that's because he has 5 minutes to throw the ball -- because that O-line is holding back the defense so he can get the pass off.  Plus . . . he throws a lot of short passes that his wide receivers make into really big plays . . . . overrated.  The team is good; he's overrated.

Me:  [Simultaneously embarrassed that I had thought about these players in such superficial means and proud that she talks football and that she's NOT focused on the superficial]:  Oh.  Cool!

---

Things to do (and avoid) when I am sick

I'm sick . . . a nasty cold, a winter bug, something.   But in the spirit (of trying to think) of "good things," 10 things to do (or not do) when I'm sick-- a long not to myself (for today and later):

• Avoid talking to anyone . . . because you'll only be impatient, and when they don't listen to you (because you are, after all, always right), you'll yell at them.
• Avoid logging onto the church website . . . because you'll only see the interesting functions directed toward men:  "Game Ministries:  ...sure to get your heart pumping! . . . basketball, football, softball..."   Yea, right, women don't like sports . . .  women only like babies and baking bread.
• Avoid writing about things that make you angry; the writing only makes you more angry.
• Avoid cleaning the house, because the dust and mess only makes you yell at the dog.
• Avoid looking at a calendar, because it only makes you think about your mother.  Then you yell at someone.

---

• Take photographs of nature-- the natural always makes you feel better.
• Take medicine-- even if it's over the counter stuff; it makes you feel better.
• Take hot showers-- being clean and warm makes you feel better.
• Take comfort that when you are sick and feeling like no one loves you, that that is not true.  ("The devil is a liar.")  And knowing this?  It makes you feel better.
• Take a nap-- you'll feel better when you wake up.

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Edited to add: Sleep, take meds, rest, take more meds . . . because when you feel better (this weekend, for example), you get to do this:   A Big Cat Photo Shoot (at the Big Cat Rescue Center) in McKinney, Texas.

(Photo taken from the TexasPhotoForum, attributed to photographer, Tom Hicks.)

"You want it, you take it, you pay the price"

I lived by these words long before I knew the song existed.  The song-- "Prove it all Night"-- is my theme song.  Today and yesterday.  Tomorrow, too.....

---

"Everybody's got a hunger, a hunger they can't resist,
There's so much that you want, you deserve much more than this,
But if dreams came true, oh, wouldn't that be nice,
But this ain't no dream we're living through tonight,
You want it, you take it, you pay the price."

---

For your enjoyment (or mine), two clips of Springsteen performing "Prove it all Night."  The first is a video from the NYC shows a few years ago.  Note the dueling "yeahs" with Little Steven.  Rockin' awesome.

 

The second is a clip of the song's introduction that the band use to do back in the day . . . beautiful. Roy Bittan just rocks on the piano. Note Springsteen's words in the short commentary at the beginning of this clip as they are significant: "All day long you gotta prove it to your boss and all night long you gotta prove it to your wife, and on the weekends, you gotta prove it to your kids . . . it seems like the jokes on you, it never lets up."

And if you know me in real life (and maybe if you don't), you'll understand why these clips-- why this song-- is so important. I have made a decision. I must now pay the price. At least I can rock out while I do it.  And April 13th is not that far away.  It'll be my 20th show.

Note to Self: You really do have limitations

Note to self:

Moving a very heavy 27" television from one end of a very large apartment to the other, and moving this television when your badly sprained knee is just beginning to heal . . .  is not such a good idea.

---

I dropped the TV and re-injured my knee.

Good things from this experience?

• The TV still works.
• Luckily I really like the TV to be at a constantly high volume level.
• Really.  Changing volume levels is way overrated. 
• The channel that carries the most Law & Order episodes is the only one I can get.  Whohoo!  Who wants to watch any of those other shows?
• I own crutches and a knee brace.  No need to repurchase those items.  Look at all the money I'm saving!

I so rarely remember that I have limitations, that I can't always do everything I want to do.  What a way to (re)learn.

Sometimes I notice things . . .

Since my knee has been twisted and sprained, I haven't been able to take a shower.  Now, I could go on and on about how much of a drag this is as I really like showers, but in the spirit of "good things," I will note the one item I've learned in the process of taking baths:

My bathtub is really dirty.

Things to do this week

Since I'm now mobile, and since I have to go to work tomorrow, a to do list for the next few days. 

• schedule appt. with advisor
• find readers for second and third case studies
• have blood work done
• get camera sensor cleaned
• send proposals to two conferences
• get prescriptions refilled

oh, and write a dissertation

These things are completed:

• make plans for a "tiger shoot" (more on this shortly)
• place course content on eCollege
• make photocopies for classes
• make PDFs
• update class schedules
• return library books
• check video library for documentary films
• check bookstore for course books
• post office hours/weekly schedule
• make reservations for 4Cs (hotel and air)
• print and organize calendar for upcoming deadlines
• change classroom assignments from all over campus to my building
• finalize annual report and submit
• complete course request form for 2008-2009
• reschedule Carpet Cleaning
• make appt with orthopedic doctor
• update EndNote database
• print MindMap of literature review
• update writing schedule (through spring)
• make air/hotel reservations for this conference
• update CV (short version)
• check high school b-ball schedule
• import references into EndNote from Memory Studies (more on this shortly)
• finish syllabi (three of 'em)
• construct class wiki (20803) and class blog (10833)
• update departmental web pages
• finish reading Catherine Prendergrast's Literacy and Racial Justice (thanks, JK)

Day Three of Hell or (Maintenance Man Fantasies or Fears?)

I haven't been outside this apartment since Thursday morning, and I'm about to go stark-raving mad.  And it's only been three days.  There is only so much of America's Next Top Model or Law & Order SVU that I can watch in a single day.  Reading is difficult, just like writing is difficult, as the dog begs to be in this chair next to me.  Sometimes it's easier to give in than to make her sit elsewhere.   I can't sit at the desk as there is no place to put my leg.  The only real option is this chair (which has an ottoman) or the couch.  The light is better in the chair.

But I'm bored out of my mind.

The maintenance man at this complex came by to repair something on Friday (a scheduled maintenance visit), and he offered to walk my dog for me (then, and then when he left that afternoon).  I gratefully accepted.  He came by this morning (Saturday is not a typical work day for any of the maintenance workers) to see if I wanted the dog walked again.  I was surprised as this was unexpected.  "Very kind," I said.  "Thanks!"   At 6:30 tonight he came by again, but he brought me a salad from McDonald's.   Those were two unexpected surprises.  "Oh!" I said. "You didn't have to do that!"  "That's OK," he said.  "I wanted to.  You take care, now!" Then he kissed me on the cheek as he left.

Hmmmm.   We went from a handshake (maintenance work), what I thought was another handshake but could have been interpreted as a hand hold (after he walked my dog this morning), to a kiss on the cheek (for an unsolicited salad).  I not sure what he'd be expecting next.  I guess I should have been clued in to the escalating "relationships" by the names he called me:  Ms. [insert last name here], to Billie, to baby.

Typically I wouldn't think twice about this kind of action, but given the experience Lisa is having with the maintenance man at her apartment, I think twice.  I think twice, too, because it's not like I could run very far (or very fast or even at all) if someone came after me.  I could use my crutch as a weapon I suppose.

Crap.  See how bored I am?  I'm making up fantasies about a very kind man who brought me a $3.50 salad from McDonald's.    I.have.got.to.get.out.of.here.