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...

The End of the Friggin' World

Almost there.  I was almost there.  Today was supposed to be my last day as a graduate student. 

I am sometimes a planner. There are things I am a little exacting about and with good reason.  Allow me to give an example using the graduate college at the university I am currently attending. 

As a master's student, I selected the thesis option and wrote about 125 pages of thesis, including three case studies and a self reflective journal with the requisite review of relevant literature and traditional five chapters. I met for the first time with my graduate college liasion during that summer. She instructed me to print out my thesis on 100% cotton paper and bring it to her for inspection prior to giving it to the library.  I did so.

It wasn't right.

I fixed what she told me to.

She found other things.

Each time I brought my revisions to her, they were on 100% cotton, acid-free paper.  It gets expensive.  After the sixth revision, I had to stop dealing with her.  I was so angry.  I spent over $100 on copying things so that she could make big changes that she should have seen the first time.  I got the paper delivered to the library with something like 20 minutes to spare.  Depositing the dissertation is the last step before becoming a PhD too. 

So yes, I am a little more careful these days.  I tend to plan things out and read completely before taking any action concerning the grad college. I made an effort to go purchase my own cotton paper (with thanks to my friend Cathy for also providing her extra stuff) and went to the one place in Oklahoma City that carries specialty paper. 

I walked in the door marked "Will Call".  It was a little mystifying; I wasn't aware that a show would be playing too.  But what the hey.  The nice men in the warehouse-which is where I found myself- escorted me to the retail area.  A middle-aged and burly man looked me up and down and then addressed me.
"Did you need to buy some paper?"
"Yes.  I need a ream of 100% cotton, acid-free paper.  Of course, it would be cellulose free as well and that's important.  Do you sell that kind of paper?"
"Well, it's very expensive.  Let me look." He spoke slowly to me as though I were a scared rabbit.  "You know, we only usually handle commercial distribution."
"Are you saying that you can't sell me a ream of paper?"
"A ream is the smallest increment possible. How much do you need?" Didn't I just say what I needed?
"It's for my dissertation," I blurted out.  I wanted to say "I'm almost 40 asshole and I'm finishing the most important document of my life to date.  How's about you look up the paper before I rip you a new asshole," but I didn't.  I hate being patronized.  It makes me cranky. 
But the salesman wasn't done. He leaned forward.  "There's a nice gentleman outside who knows everything in the world about paper.  I'm going to ask him if this is the paper you need." I was standing so I just held up my hands, palm up and looked askance.  He went outside to some old fella who was smoking and talked to him a minute. 
"Well little lady, he says this is just what you need."
"Awesome," I said.  He looked at me carefully.
"A ream of this paper is $33.  Is that ok?"

Do I look poor, young and completely clueless?

I did get the paper, but I sort of feel bad for that man, what with his current inability to sit down anymore.

Today I visited the graduate college. 
Two weeks ago, I visited with all of my papers, to make sure before I printed on 100% cotton paper, that everything was indeed in order and that we would not have to make any revisions, reprints or anything else like that. 

It was fine. Everything was fine.

Until today.  Today they tell me that my signature page has the title doublespaced and it needs to be singlespaced. 

This is the third time that the grad college has seen my paper.  Seriously.  And do you know what the counselor tried to say? That I must have switched the pages since they would have completely caught that the first time through.

Do I look like I would make a stupid move like that?  Did I mention that they went through three different counselors this semester alone?

So they wouldn't accept it today. 

And there are implications.  I cannot graduate unless the dissertation- both copies- are turned in to the library. Graduation is Friday and I have no idea where my professors are.  I have taken off of work twice for this and now they are wasting my time.  This is not a simple mistake.  This has happened twice now.  It's happened with other graduate students too...almost every single one.  I am not uncareful.  I am not a slipshod person.  Right now I have no idea if I will be allowed to graduate.

I was able to get 2 of five signatures tonight.  My advisor realized as we were talking that he has doctor appointments on Friday and may not make convocation.  He said they don't do the hooding ceremony then anyway if his memory serves.  My other adviser told me he probably won't come.  He just doesn't want to.  I'm not sure how I feel about graduating with nobody to hood me.  I will go; my sisters are coming just to see this. 

In all of my panic tonight, I forgot my eye appointment.  My house is a mess and my sisters are coming tomorrow.  So I called a couple of friends to blow off steam and stop my shoulders and ears from meeting so often.  I sent an email to my committee and asked them to re-sign the paper. Hopefully it will all clear up tomorrow. 

Tonight, I was going to clean and straighten up and maybe do some laundry.  Instead, I'm writing and thinking and breathing.  Maybe I will go paint. Maybe I will watch television. Maybe I'll read a relaxing book.  The sun will come up tomorrow, life will go on and likely everything will be alright.  I didn't punch anyone and probably only hurt the copy paper guy's feelings.  Nobody died and if I have to spend another semester as a grad student, then so be it. 

It's not the end of the friggin' world.

Every Rope Has An End

When I was a young woman, I was confused. I thought that I was defined by my family. I worried because I thought that secondarily, I was defined by the community I lived in. I worried even more because it seemed I should get married and that the person I married would be the definition of me. I spent a great deal of time in a church, praying that I would be someone good and that God would love me.

Sometimes my family is a little crazy. Sometimes I'm not in a great community. And it's 100% unfair 100% of the time to expect some poor man to do all of the work of defining me. Honestly, I wore men out with that one. Loaves of men. Those poor men, with their skeletons stacked to the ceiling of my closet. Metaphorically, of course. They just all fell short of the perfection I had to have within myself.

No, I pretty much define myself. Through the words that I say, the actions I take and the company I keep, I write the book of my own life. But let's dwell for a moment on my friends. They make me look pretty dang good. They sometimes make me look pretty damn crazy. I have a few very close friends that I can call in the middle of the night and they'll come over - or I'll go over there- and we'll talk it out. I return that favor, of course. When I moved from Washington back to Oklahoma, my friend Cathy steam cleaned my carpets for me, set up my bed, brought in flowers and potpourri and stayed up waiting half of the night to keep a light on for me. I'm just never going to forget that and hope I'm half that great as a friend. I have other friends who would help me hide a body. That's not a metaphor. I have friends who trust me with their children and invite me to a bridesmaid at their weddings.

I have a few friends who I have made through either Facebook or my blog. I find things in common with the most unlikely people. I think I love that part the most. I wrote to one friend:
"I write so much because I feel inarticulate in real life. I'm a..hider. I like isolation because then people don't get to come too close. And I never feel as connected to humanity as when I'm divorced from that noise, writing. As for teaching, well, it's a mask and persona that I wear so that I can feel close to people."
It surprised me because he responded that he felt the same way. It's hard for me to admit that I avoid crowds of people like the plague ever since I taught in a prison. It just seems so dangerous and it's very tiring for me. But when I write about it and share it with someone, it seems the burden is made light. I hope these are the kinds of people who define me, because they do often bring me into sharp focus.

It seems this semester that I will need my crazy, sane, safety release valve, intellectual, silly and supportive friends more than ever. It seems that I've finally found my limits as a human being. It starts at 5 a.m., when I get up. Yes, this night owl has to be a morning person for a bit. Seriously, I don't ever *want* to see 5 a.m. unless I'm stumbling out of a casino, having not gone to bed and perhaps missing my stockings.
I have to get up so early to commute to Ada, Oklahoma and teach at 8. It's a 70 mile one-way commute. I teach on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, five classes in a row. And it's all the same class. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I don't have to get up as early, but still make the commute to hold office hours. I'm also taking 6 graduate hours- my final classes in the program. Yeah! But they're also difficult hours. One is a teaching language class wherein I will learn some basic Italian and figure out how to teach English as a foreign language. I have a minimum of four pages due every week. I don't really "need" this class, but I do need two in order to remain a full-time students.
The other class is a curriculum theory class. The professor rotating into that one is very tough. I have had her before and got an A, but she worked us pretty hard. So minimum of a book a week there and some heavy research. And the class gets out at 10:15 on a Thursday night, so getting up at 5 on Friday mornings will suck even more.

Oh, and I'm taking my general exams this fall as well. That's where I'll get a list of three questions from my committee. In two weeks I will have written three 20-page papers. I will be required to defend my generals. Oh, and at the end of the semester, my language professor wants me to find the money to go to Italy.

I'm a little overwhelmed, but there are some benefits to these decisions. For one, I like where I'm teaching. I like them a lot. I will have my final semester of coursework and my generals out of the way by December. I will have the comfort of a good friend who is doing her generals this semester too- while pregnant and commuting to Norman from Lawton twice weekly. I'll have a regular paycheck that doesn't just stop in December and regular 401k contributions. And I'm hitting up a dentist, doctor and chiropractor as soon as I can. The first two are preventative; the chiropractor is to look at my neck. It's probably grad school-itis. All the knots will uncoil as soon as my advisor signs the last piece of paper.

Maybe it's my friends who extend the end of my rope. They throw me a line when I'm at the end of mine and I'm starting to sink. Yeah, that's about right. I appreciate you, friends, whomever and wherever you are. Sing it with me: Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming!