Random 5 Friday (On Friday This Time)

It's Friday and time for my five random events or thoughts this week.

1.  I love my students, and this week I got to take a class on a field trip! I'm so grateful for grant funding and pilot courses.  This one was to the Wind Farm just outside of town.  The winds are regularly up to 40 miles per hour.  There is a local sandwhich shop and the owner, Roz, made us paninis (Ok, mine was a gluten free, vegan sammy) and sent along a panini grill. I cooked lunch for everyone.  We did a boatload of writing, had a very interesting, hour-long lecture and got to go inside one of the turbines. These ones are 220 feet tall, taller than the Statue of Liberty and there are 149 in our area.  Good times!

It was so loud, but the noise is mostly wind.  The propellers sound much smoother and are so enormous.  This is the first video I've tried to upload so let me know how it plays.

My Class

Perspective Shot

2.  I am not a morning person.  Repeat: I am not a morning person.  At least I never have been.  Maybe I'm getting old, but I used to regularly stay up until 1, 2, and 3 a.m.  Now I'm yawning by 9:15 and passed out by 9:45.  Eleanor also gets me up pretty early to feed her and give her water. She really likes routine, much like her staff.  I mean owner.  Ah, who am I kidding? I'm pretty much her servant.  It's also getting colder at night and G likes the bedroom cold. There are two comforters on the bed and another blanket.  Eleanor usually sleeps on my feet, but lately I'll wake up to her sleeping under the covers next to me- both of us purrfectly warm.  Happens every winter.  However, since she's taking Methiozole for her thyroid, she's lost the volume of her meow and the volume of her purr has increased.  This wakes up G.  Usually he can get back to sleep but not always.  When that happens, well, let's just say that I woke up extra early this morning to a kitty extraction.  He removed her from the covers, snuggled her and put her back where she belonged.  She huffed off and didn't come back for hours! 

Also, no pictures of that... 

3.  Since I'm not a morning person but a night person forced to function in society and to serve a cat, I spend a little time each week, maybe thrice weekly, at the gym.  I enjoy weightlifting and G does not. He also goes in earlier than I do each day.  So he heads to the shower and I head to the gym around 6:30.  Here's what that looks like in Ellensburg, Washington. 

"So that's what morning looks like!" 

4. Next week is my last week working at my job.  It's been a nerve-wracking and frightening journey since June. I am disappointed that even though I have a contract, my employers just couldn't come through.  I am glad they tried. I'm incredibly sad that this is happening but not sad that we came here.  G feels the same way, and says we'll be just fine.  It's so hard to let go. I'll still be teaching for the English department and they have been so, so supportive! They will put me on full time in January if I'd like, even though the pay is deplorable for people who do not have an annual contract.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all of the love and support I've experienced.  We will get back on track soon. G is terrific at his job and I'm not sure how they ever managed without him. :) He amazes me with his resiliency.  I think it's true that even though my job is falling apart, I am not as worried as I could be.  Everything else is so good.  Work is work, but my life is very fulfilling.  What's life without a little danger, right? 

Yeah, I'd still rather have some security.

5. I cut my hair off today.  I usually cut it in the fall/winter every other year but I just got tired of all the styling and junk you have to do to look good and cut six inches of my hair off.  Pictures to come soon...

Tomorrow and Tomorrow

I'm just a 12 year old white kid, walking down a gravel driveway, picking apples and dreaming of what my life will be like one day when I get a job or get married or have kids. It's hot and the sky is blue, blue, blue and life is simple and filled with canned food, deer and elk meat and boots and jeans. I'm a wildflower; my great-grandpa told me so. A wild rose, vibrant and defiant growing out of rimrock on the hillside.  Snakes bother me and so do ticks but not much else in the world. It's wide open.

I am 27 and living in a nice suburban neighborhood. I have a job but mostly am a student. I spend my entire spring break reading a series of seven books, one for each day. I used to be so happy to be married, to not need for anything and to have a closet full of nice clothes. My life is far from the backroads of the North Touchet river. It is never quiet and the neighbors are all alike.  I am lost. I am alike.  I plant roses and strawberries and eventually a garden and some trees but there is not enough to do, enough to keep my mind off of the idea that I do not belong and that I may never fit in.  I want more. I want something real. I look out the big picture window and feel narrow.

I am 35 and have been divorced for five years.  I live on the second floor of an apartment building with my cat and have one friend who I see all the time. I teach in a prison and see injustice as a way of life. I see the broken system, the poor punished disproportionately, the mentally ill incarcerated instead of helped.  I visit my grandparents often because they are very old by now and are not long for this world. My beloved great uncle dies, and I am honored to speak at his funeral. I am a raw vegan except for hot, burning coffee.  I hate being stared at every day at the prison. I hate the rumors. My grandma talks to me some months later since I am thin and tired and drinking way too much alone in my apartment. "Go home, to Oklahoma, where people love you." I move, return to graduate school and both of my grandparents die.

Tomorrow, I defend my dissertation. I still have my cat. Four white men and one white woman will vote and I will be magically transformed into a doctor of philosophy.  I do not know how one goes to sleep one night as a regular person and suddenly becomes something else the next day.  I am dragging my feet on revisions, writing blog posts and putting off doing my real work until now.  I do not want it to be over. I did this so that people would be more obliged to listen when I talk to them about injustice and suffering. I want to help. I want to be the change, as they say.  Now people might actually listen (because of a stupid credential? Really?) and I am not certain I have anything worthwhile to say. I am still a wild flower, but older, wiser and slower to speak. I pick my way down the hillside into the wide, wide world and never take my eyes off of the sky.