This started out as a general What's Going On With Me post, but evolved fairly quickly into What's Going On With My Brain a.k.a. I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS.
One of the biggest things going on in our life right now is moving. This is fairly all-encompassing, because it's not just The Move I/we are thinking about, it's everything that we're doing once we get there.
Both Ryan and I are planning on visiting a GP when we get back, and possibly a nutritionist as well. It was originally Ryan's idea, for himself, to get in shape for the wedding and just generally become healthier. As he's talked about it, I've thought about my health more, and how much I need to change. Plus, I'm obviously going to support him in whatever way I can, both in diet and exercise. The details all depend on what the doctor's say, obviously, but we know we need to make a lot of changes. Big changes. Cutting things out of our diet, signing up for classes, getting on the Wii Fit changes. The more we talk about it, the more excited I get.
Something else I'm doing when we move is going back to therapy. I had decided this even before the awful summer I've had, as I still have very specific issues that I'm sick of living with. Then this summer happened, and it became a definite. Most of June and July disappeared into a black hole of depression--and I mean that pretty strongly, thinking back on those months doesn't bring up a lot of specific memories. It's a big, dark, awful blur. August brought a lot of normalcy back, but there have been nights where the emotions want to creep up again. Even when that doesn't happen, I've been thinking about it, and I think I've figured out exactly what's wrong.
...Even before Ryan and I decided to move to Indiana last year, we had talked about going somewhere, mostly because his choice of grad schools for the program he wanted was slim and scattered. I knew I wanted to get out of the area, at least temporarily. Not because I hate the place or the people, but because I felt...stifled. Which is a stupid word if you know my parents, but there it is.
It's hard to grow when you live in a place that has known you as one thing for your entire life.
Everyone, even people who loved and adored and supported me, even the people who were the best for me and helped me grow the little I did, still saw me as the same person I'd been as long as they'd known me. In a situation like that, there are expectations, and actions based on those expectations, both conscious and unconscious. Hell, I had expectations, I have no doubts that I've always been my own worst enemy, and have gotten in my own way more and better than anyone else. Ever.
POINT IS. I was stuck. Then we did the biggest, scariest, and best thing ever, and moved 800 miles to a strange place to live and work with strangers. We gambled everything--our money, our credit, our identities, our relationship, I suppose even our lives--and jumped. And we grew. We grew a lot.
Then, over the second weekend of June, we went back home to visit for four days. We had a great time, we came back, we started up our lives again, and then I fell into a hole and didn't crawl out for almost two months. And even though I'm out of it, I'm still struggling, and I finally know what's wrong.
I'm having an identity crisis.
When we moved out here, I withdrew from my classes at MCC and basically ignored my acceptance to ECSU. I had a lot of interests fighting in my head, to the point of just...seizing up with indecision. I decided that, when we got to Indiana, I would just work. I wouldn't pursue marketing or graphic design or art or editing or anything else, I would just work and see what I would do without any requirements, what would emerge naturally. And it did. And it still feels like I want, with my whole heart and soul, to do and be: mother, wife, artist, writer.
But I'm still struggling with other parts of myself. I'm struggling with parts I didn't know existed, struggling in ways I don't really comprehend. If I think about it too much, I get this disconnected feeling--literally disconnected, as if gravity has cut off and I'm about to float away. I feel like vomiting and screaming and attacking the furniture.
Even if I don't think about it too closely--and trust me, with that reaction, I avoid doing so--I find myself...grasping. I'll think about getting a spontaneous tattoo or piercing, going home and getting very drunk, or even trying a drag of my friend's cigarette--I KNOW. That last one, especially, made me realize that I'm grasping at straws, at others' identities.
One night, talking with Aurelie, I re-mentioned that I loved her new tattoo, and how much I really want to get one, especially before we move back. She said that she'd talked about tattoos with Allie, and they'd agreed that, to them, tattoos aren't about tattoos, they're about feeling so strongly about something that they want it permanently on their body for the rest of their lives. She advised that I should think of it that way, not the way of Tattoos Are Awesome I Want One.
And I started thinking about it, and the more I tried to narrow down that One Thing I felt That Strongly about, the dizzier I got and the more I felt like vomiting and screaming and punching furniture.
POINT IS (again) I have some issues going on, and I need to buckle down and deal with them. Thinking about therapy, I know that I'm going to go in there ready to buckle down, and I know that I'm going to spend a lot of time being asked really hard questions, feeling like I'm going to float away, wanting to scream and run away. It's going be really fucking hard, and it's going to hurt like a motherfucker.
But I have to do it. For my relationship, for my future, for my physical health, for my mental health, for my identity. For my life.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Friday, August 26, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Not A Good Time For Blogging...
...it's not that I'm having a hard time right now. It's just that my head is all over the place, and most of the places aren't great for blog material. I'm not depressed or anxious or anything that needs worrying about, I'm just...weird.
But I'm alive. So. You know. That's good.
I'll return sometime soon. Promise.
But I'm alive. So. You know. That's good.
I'll return sometime soon. Promise.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Did I Mention Blargh?
Not sure what to call this list...it's a combination of things going on in my life, things I WANT to be going on, things I'm focusing on or need to be or want to be...oy.
Anyway:
[o] On The/Running (haven't touched it or even thought about it in at least a month)
[o] photography (energy, schedule, weather, blargh)
[o] Etsy photography shop (energy, schedule, pricing, policies, blargh)
[o] wedding (yes it's a year and a half from now I CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG TO PLAN)
[o] moving (consists mostly of worrying over money)
[o] trip to Connecticut (waiting to book tickets depending on upcoming funeral)
[o] housework (dishes, cleaning, laundry, feeling like it's all on me, BLARGH)
[o] oh, yeah, that job thing (a.k.a. 99% of my life)
And now, it's time to hopefully fetch my laundry. I say hopefully because, when I went down to move it from washer to dryer, there was a finished load in each dryer. I had to empty one to put mine in, and I'm nervous that I'll find my clothes removed, or an angry note, or an angry person, or I don't know. Oy. Wish me luck.
Anyway:
[o] On The/Running (haven't touched it or even thought about it in at least a month)
[o] photography (energy, schedule, weather, blargh)
[o] Etsy photography shop (energy, schedule, pricing, policies, blargh)
[o] wedding (yes it's a year and a half from now I CAN'T WAIT THAT LONG TO PLAN)
[o] moving (consists mostly of worrying over money)
[o] trip to Connecticut (waiting to book tickets depending on upcoming funeral)
[o] housework (dishes, cleaning, laundry, feeling like it's all on me, BLARGH)
[o] oh, yeah, that job thing (a.k.a. 99% of my life)
And now, it's time to hopefully fetch my laundry. I say hopefully because, when I went down to move it from washer to dryer, there was a finished load in each dryer. I had to empty one to put mine in, and I'm nervous that I'll find my clothes removed, or an angry note, or an angry person, or I don't know. Oy. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Bounding and Bounding and Bounding...
I'm tired and sore. Sleep was rough last night, and I had a long day, so I'm completely exhausted. I had the stressful pre-closing shift and had a couple of small but unexpected expenses come up, so my body is a mass of knots.
Frustrations abound.
I would kill to be able to take a week off of work, just to sleep and think and sit out of the endless cycle for just five minutes.
Oy.
The funny (or sad?) thing is, I didn't have a bad day.
I'm just exhausted. And frustrations abound.
Frustrations abound.
I would kill to be able to take a week off of work, just to sleep and think and sit out of the endless cycle for just five minutes.
Oy.
The funny (or sad?) thing is, I didn't have a bad day.
I'm just exhausted. And frustrations abound.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Where I Am Right Now.
I was raised by, in a community of, hippies and feminists and liberals. From the moment I took breath, I was taught and told and shown that I could do and be anything. President? No problem. World traveler? Fantastic! Literary legend? Of course! Genius artiste? Duh!
The fact that I was a girl was never part of the lesson, except perhaps for the lesson of They Might Try To Say You Can't Because You're A Girl, But That Just Means They're Dumb. The words "housewife" and "secretary" weren't exactly dirty, but...
Gender, age, money, none of these things mattered, what mattered is that I put my mind and heart and soul into it and I can go anywhere, I can do and be anything.
...is it wrong, then, that I want to stay home? That I want to be a homemaker, to literally spend my time making a home for my family?
I spent my mini-vacation being domestic. I cleaned, I neatened, I laundered, I cooked, I washed, I rearranged, I organized, I grocery shopped, I planned, I outlined, I budgeted. I neatened my boyfriend's desk, cleaned up his dishes, refilled his drink, made him breakfast and dinner, helped him cook and get ready for work.
I loved every single second of it. Even the frustrating seconds, the seconds where I looked at our money situation and wanted to throw up my hands, the seconds where I got to the laundry room after hauling down an overflowing basket only to discover that I had forgotten the quarters, the seconds where the pancakes burned and the cupcake batter turned to cement and I got sauce on the bottom of my sock and Ryan spilled melted chocolate on the white shirt I just washed yesterday.
I loved taking care of my man. There it is. I gave him shit and sassed him while doing it, I never once did anything because I thought it was "my place" to do so, I helped him when he asked and got his help when I needed it. He never once just assumed I would do something because I'm a girl, he never waved off what I was doing as a given, and all references to my being domestic were either ironic or completely appreciative.
I didn't spend every moment focusing on the house, of course. I also worked on my photography, spending hours taking, editing and uploading pictures. I even hacked at my writing a bit, although that's been quite sticky. As much as I focused on making up our home, I also focused on my own personal and artistic endeavors.
Part of the plan in moving to Indiana was to figure ourselves out, to work and live and get by and think on what we missed from what we were doing in Connecticut. Specifically for me, I hoped to dabble in all my interests--photography, graphic design, marketing/advertising, writing, editing--and see which ones stuck, which ones I made time for because I wanted to, which ones I wanted to invest my time and money in, in terms of potential college degrees.
I have a full time job where I am on my feet all day, I spend a good deal of time taking care of the house, and I still make sure I find time to read, write, do art photography, and be with my friends and boyfriend. These are the things I find important: words, art, people.
I realized, months ago, that I don't want to back to school. In fact, the thought gives me the willies--spending thousands to sit in a room and learn crap I don't need so I can get a piece of paper? I'd rather spend a fraction of the money to get good lenses and materials, I'd rather spend the time concentrating on an outline or learning what exactly each button and dial on my camera does or having a movie & crafting night with my friends or cooking dinner with my love.
The things I care about, the things I want to do, the person I want to be...I don't need college for that. I just need to get the hell out of my own way.
Okay, so I don't just want to be a homemaker. I also want to be an artist and a writer. I know my hippie parents will be overjoyed that I'm finally realizing the last part. I guess I'm just worried about the first part. I was raised in the woods, in workshops, at period faires and drum circles and Pagan gatherings...and I want to be a housewife? A stereotype?
For me, the real stereotype is the woman who is only at home because she's been taught, from the moment she took breath, that it is her destiny, that her brain doesn't matter. The woman who has never had a choice. So no, I don't want to be a stereotype. I just want to be me.
And that happens to mean that I stay at home and take care of my children, my spouse, and our home. I'd even be happy staying a barista part-time to help with bills--not a shift supervisor, not a manager, but a barista, because I happen to love it.
I guess that's what it comes down to--I happen to love my life where I "just" serve people, "just" keep house, "just" write and take pictures.
I'm losing that frantic feeling that I NEED to Do Something, to Have A Career or at least a Real Job, because without one I'm wallowing in the rut that so many people fought for me to be able to leave. I'm losing the self-imposed of cloud of Should, of What Am I Going To Do With My Life, the guilt that's more from myself than anybody else. I'm gaining self-respect, fulfillment, peace and contentment with who I am and what I want to do.
And hell, I'm not even there yet! I'm still in the part where we have to work our asses off to get by, where I can only get myself to write once or twice a week, where I have a small window for photography each day that I miss as often as I hit, where most nights I'm so tired that even reading sounds too taxing. I'm still at the part where the house and the family and the life that I crave is far enough away to seem impossible.
But I know I'll get there, I know we'll get there. And I know now what I want it to look like.
I love that picture. I'm proud of that picture.
And that's all that matters.
The fact that I was a girl was never part of the lesson, except perhaps for the lesson of They Might Try To Say You Can't Because You're A Girl, But That Just Means They're Dumb. The words "housewife" and "secretary" weren't exactly dirty, but...
Gender, age, money, none of these things mattered, what mattered is that I put my mind and heart and soul into it and I can go anywhere, I can do and be anything.
...is it wrong, then, that I want to stay home? That I want to be a homemaker, to literally spend my time making a home for my family?
I spent my mini-vacation being domestic. I cleaned, I neatened, I laundered, I cooked, I washed, I rearranged, I organized, I grocery shopped, I planned, I outlined, I budgeted. I neatened my boyfriend's desk, cleaned up his dishes, refilled his drink, made him breakfast and dinner, helped him cook and get ready for work.
I loved every single second of it. Even the frustrating seconds, the seconds where I looked at our money situation and wanted to throw up my hands, the seconds where I got to the laundry room after hauling down an overflowing basket only to discover that I had forgotten the quarters, the seconds where the pancakes burned and the cupcake batter turned to cement and I got sauce on the bottom of my sock and Ryan spilled melted chocolate on the white shirt I just washed yesterday.
I loved taking care of my man. There it is. I gave him shit and sassed him while doing it, I never once did anything because I thought it was "my place" to do so, I helped him when he asked and got his help when I needed it. He never once just assumed I would do something because I'm a girl, he never waved off what I was doing as a given, and all references to my being domestic were either ironic or completely appreciative.
I didn't spend every moment focusing on the house, of course. I also worked on my photography, spending hours taking, editing and uploading pictures. I even hacked at my writing a bit, although that's been quite sticky. As much as I focused on making up our home, I also focused on my own personal and artistic endeavors.
Part of the plan in moving to Indiana was to figure ourselves out, to work and live and get by and think on what we missed from what we were doing in Connecticut. Specifically for me, I hoped to dabble in all my interests--photography, graphic design, marketing/advertising, writing, editing--and see which ones stuck, which ones I made time for because I wanted to, which ones I wanted to invest my time and money in, in terms of potential college degrees.
I have a full time job where I am on my feet all day, I spend a good deal of time taking care of the house, and I still make sure I find time to read, write, do art photography, and be with my friends and boyfriend. These are the things I find important: words, art, people.
I realized, months ago, that I don't want to back to school. In fact, the thought gives me the willies--spending thousands to sit in a room and learn crap I don't need so I can get a piece of paper? I'd rather spend a fraction of the money to get good lenses and materials, I'd rather spend the time concentrating on an outline or learning what exactly each button and dial on my camera does or having a movie & crafting night with my friends or cooking dinner with my love.
The things I care about, the things I want to do, the person I want to be...I don't need college for that. I just need to get the hell out of my own way.
Okay, so I don't just want to be a homemaker. I also want to be an artist and a writer. I know my hippie parents will be overjoyed that I'm finally realizing the last part. I guess I'm just worried about the first part. I was raised in the woods, in workshops, at period faires and drum circles and Pagan gatherings...and I want to be a housewife? A stereotype?
For me, the real stereotype is the woman who is only at home because she's been taught, from the moment she took breath, that it is her destiny, that her brain doesn't matter. The woman who has never had a choice. So no, I don't want to be a stereotype. I just want to be me.
And that happens to mean that I stay at home and take care of my children, my spouse, and our home. I'd even be happy staying a barista part-time to help with bills--not a shift supervisor, not a manager, but a barista, because I happen to love it.
I guess that's what it comes down to--I happen to love my life where I "just" serve people, "just" keep house, "just" write and take pictures.
I'm losing that frantic feeling that I NEED to Do Something, to Have A Career or at least a Real Job, because without one I'm wallowing in the rut that so many people fought for me to be able to leave. I'm losing the self-imposed of cloud of Should, of What Am I Going To Do With My Life, the guilt that's more from myself than anybody else. I'm gaining self-respect, fulfillment, peace and contentment with who I am and what I want to do.
And hell, I'm not even there yet! I'm still in the part where we have to work our asses off to get by, where I can only get myself to write once or twice a week, where I have a small window for photography each day that I miss as often as I hit, where most nights I'm so tired that even reading sounds too taxing. I'm still at the part where the house and the family and the life that I crave is far enough away to seem impossible.
But I know I'll get there, I know we'll get there. And I know now what I want it to look like.
I love that picture. I'm proud of that picture.
And that's all that matters.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
My Mini-Vacation, Day 4.
What I did today:
[o] Futzed with more photographs
[o] Went to my Bux to hang out with people for a couple of hours
[o] Went to Hobby Lobby and dorked around a bit with AD
[o] Made dinner with Ryan (eggs and bacon, yum!_
[o] Attempted to make chocolate cupcakes....
We had the recipe for chocolate cupcakes, we had the ingredients for chocolate cupcakes, everything was peachy...until I went to add the brown sugar, and found that the container we kept it in wasn't even close to airtight, and the brown sugar had turned into rock candy. We chipped out enough to get the molasses flavor before giving up and substituting the rest with regular sugar, but the time it took changed the nature of the batter. So instead of chocolate cupcakes, we have cupcake-shaped fudge brownies. Not necessarily a bad thing, but not what I was going for. I'm a bit disappointed, as I was more in charge of this baking project than on previous ones, but again--fudge brownies. Not a bad thing.
I realized as I was baking, that I am a lucky fool. I'm a fool in that I had a childhood filled with cooking and baking, with my stepfather David doing his best to instill the love for it in me, and it just...never seemed to stick. I enjoyed the time spent with him in the kitchen, but I never had the inclination to do anything on my own. I've always felt guilty about that.
I'm lucky, first off, that I had someone in my life to plant that first seed, someone to coax and urge and gently push, even when I was a complete teenager about it. I am lucky, now, that I'm finally learning the joys of it, and that I again have someone to gently coax and urge and coach and push. Both of them have been extremely patient with my trepidation and second-guessing, firm about my doing it on my own without constant hand-holding or pampering, and encouraging of my successes without coddling. I have been spoiled with these presences in my life, and I couldn't be grateful or happy for it :)
This is the last day of my mini-vacation. I've spent most of it doing errands and chores; I cleaned up around the house, did dishes and endless loads of laundry, cooked and helped to cook, baked and helped to bake, caught up on correspondence, done the budgeting and planning and busywork to keep our teensy two-person "household" going...and I've enjoyed every second of it. It certainly helped that I still had the time to spend on art and socializing, and that I had my favorite person with me for half of it.
I'm looking forward to going back to work--I miss the people more than anything, but I also miss the barring and customer interaction to some weird degree. I blame the brainwashing. Still, it's been a lovely rest, and I can't wait until I get actual vacation time and can do this on a more regular basis!
[o] Futzed with more photographs
[o] Went to my Bux to hang out with people for a couple of hours
[o] Went to Hobby Lobby and dorked around a bit with AD
[o] Made dinner with Ryan (eggs and bacon, yum!_
[o] Attempted to make chocolate cupcakes....
We had the recipe for chocolate cupcakes, we had the ingredients for chocolate cupcakes, everything was peachy...until I went to add the brown sugar, and found that the container we kept it in wasn't even close to airtight, and the brown sugar had turned into rock candy. We chipped out enough to get the molasses flavor before giving up and substituting the rest with regular sugar, but the time it took changed the nature of the batter. So instead of chocolate cupcakes, we have cupcake-shaped fudge brownies. Not necessarily a bad thing, but not what I was going for. I'm a bit disappointed, as I was more in charge of this baking project than on previous ones, but again--fudge brownies. Not a bad thing.
I realized as I was baking, that I am a lucky fool. I'm a fool in that I had a childhood filled with cooking and baking, with my stepfather David doing his best to instill the love for it in me, and it just...never seemed to stick. I enjoyed the time spent with him in the kitchen, but I never had the inclination to do anything on my own. I've always felt guilty about that.
I'm lucky, first off, that I had someone in my life to plant that first seed, someone to coax and urge and gently push, even when I was a complete teenager about it. I am lucky, now, that I'm finally learning the joys of it, and that I again have someone to gently coax and urge and coach and push. Both of them have been extremely patient with my trepidation and second-guessing, firm about my doing it on my own without constant hand-holding or pampering, and encouraging of my successes without coddling. I have been spoiled with these presences in my life, and I couldn't be grateful or happy for it :)
This is the last day of my mini-vacation. I've spent most of it doing errands and chores; I cleaned up around the house, did dishes and endless loads of laundry, cooked and helped to cook, baked and helped to bake, caught up on correspondence, done the budgeting and planning and busywork to keep our teensy two-person "household" going...and I've enjoyed every second of it. It certainly helped that I still had the time to spend on art and socializing, and that I had my favorite person with me for half of it.
I'm looking forward to going back to work--I miss the people more than anything, but I also miss the barring and customer interaction to some weird degree. I blame the brainwashing. Still, it's been a lovely rest, and I can't wait until I get actual vacation time and can do this on a more regular basis!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Wish Me Luck.
Thinking about what I wanted to change in/for 2011, I thought of a lot of things: eating habits, exercise habits, daily habits, writing habits, etc. The usual New Years Resolutions stuff.
The one thing that kept popping up, however, was Honesty.
I want to be a more honest person. I'm not exactly a dishonest person now, I don't lie or cheat or steal. I do, however, partake in some gossip (something I'm not proud of), and I keep things to myself that hide the whole picture of how I feel about a person or a situation, the whole picture of who I am. I've been thinking on how I'd like to change these, and other, things.
Then, as always, Free Will Astrology decided to play with my head.
Can you finally escape the pain you got imprinted with during adolescence? Is it a realistic possibility that you could triumph over the conditioning you absorbed before you knew how to talk? Do you have the power to do what few of us have done, which is to get out from under the weight of the past, shed the inertia of your memories, and live brave and free in the raw truth of NOW? If there will ever in your life be a time when you can accomplish at least some of this noble quest, Gemini, it will be in 2011.
The raw truth of Now. That is exactly what I want, and what I need.
I'm going to spend the next month concentrating on purging myself of the Bad and Not Good For Me Secrets, on being upfront with people and not being fake, on telling the whole truth to the world and myself.
I won't give away all my secrets, because some are Good, or are secret for a reason, or aren't mine to give away. I won't stop being fake by brandishing when I'm unhappy or disapproving or downright cranky, but by highlighting the honest good moods and feelings instead of squashing them when I think it'd be more "popular" to do so.
I want to do what the horoscope suggests: get out from under the weight of my past and shed the inertia of my memories. I have spent most of my life hunched over under the burden of the guilt and shame I've either put on myself, or let others put on me. Neither is right. Neither has ever been okay, but I refuse to let it be okay anymore.
I want to say "I renounce it all from this moment!" but it's so much harder than that. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. I know that many of you reading this can understand this feeling, understand the desire, the fear, and the difficulty of which I speak.
I want to live in the raw truth of now. The raw truth of now can be beautiful and ugly, can be easy and hard, can be exactly what I want and exactly what I fear. But it is not what the terrified 12-year-old that still hides in my brain thinks it is, nor is it what the anxious 18-year-old thinks it is, or even the mired 24-year-old. It is not what I've been taught by years of conditioning done by others and myself. It is not what has happened before, good or bad.
The raw truth of now is only what is in front of me. I can draw on experience, on what wisdom I've gained in my 25 years, on lessons I've been taught and told by the people in my life. But I need to learn that drawing on those things is not the same as looking into a crystal ball and knowing what will happen.
I can never know what will happen. That's terrifying and exhilarating.
Honesty, and the raw truth of now. That is what I want to grow in myself in the year 2011. I know I can do it.
The one thing that kept popping up, however, was Honesty.
I want to be a more honest person. I'm not exactly a dishonest person now, I don't lie or cheat or steal. I do, however, partake in some gossip (something I'm not proud of), and I keep things to myself that hide the whole picture of how I feel about a person or a situation, the whole picture of who I am. I've been thinking on how I'd like to change these, and other, things.
Then, as always, Free Will Astrology decided to play with my head.
Can you finally escape the pain you got imprinted with during adolescence? Is it a realistic possibility that you could triumph over the conditioning you absorbed before you knew how to talk? Do you have the power to do what few of us have done, which is to get out from under the weight of the past, shed the inertia of your memories, and live brave and free in the raw truth of NOW? If there will ever in your life be a time when you can accomplish at least some of this noble quest, Gemini, it will be in 2011.
The raw truth of Now. That is exactly what I want, and what I need.
I'm going to spend the next month concentrating on purging myself of the Bad and Not Good For Me Secrets, on being upfront with people and not being fake, on telling the whole truth to the world and myself.
I won't give away all my secrets, because some are Good, or are secret for a reason, or aren't mine to give away. I won't stop being fake by brandishing when I'm unhappy or disapproving or downright cranky, but by highlighting the honest good moods and feelings instead of squashing them when I think it'd be more "popular" to do so.
I want to do what the horoscope suggests: get out from under the weight of my past and shed the inertia of my memories. I have spent most of my life hunched over under the burden of the guilt and shame I've either put on myself, or let others put on me. Neither is right. Neither has ever been okay, but I refuse to let it be okay anymore.
I want to say "I renounce it all from this moment!" but it's so much harder than that. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. I know that many of you reading this can understand this feeling, understand the desire, the fear, and the difficulty of which I speak.
I want to live in the raw truth of now. The raw truth of now can be beautiful and ugly, can be easy and hard, can be exactly what I want and exactly what I fear. But it is not what the terrified 12-year-old that still hides in my brain thinks it is, nor is it what the anxious 18-year-old thinks it is, or even the mired 24-year-old. It is not what I've been taught by years of conditioning done by others and myself. It is not what has happened before, good or bad.
The raw truth of now is only what is in front of me. I can draw on experience, on what wisdom I've gained in my 25 years, on lessons I've been taught and told by the people in my life. But I need to learn that drawing on those things is not the same as looking into a crystal ball and knowing what will happen.
I can never know what will happen. That's terrifying and exhilarating.
Honesty, and the raw truth of now. That is what I want to grow in myself in the year 2011. I know I can do it.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
I Love It When These Things Match My Life...
This week's horoscope from Free Will Astrology:
How well have you been attending to 2010's major themes, Gemini? Since we're midway through the year, let's do a check-in. I hope that by now you are at least 15 percent sturdier, stronger, and braver than you've ever been in your entire life, and at least 20 percent better organized and disciplined. I hope that you have outgrown one of your amateur approaches and claimed a new professional privilege. Now write the following questions on a slip of paper that you will leave taped to your mirror for the next six months. "1. How can I get closer to making my job and my vocation be the same thing? 2. What am I doing to become an even more robust and confident version of myself?"
Let's see:
[o] sturdier--check
[o] stronger--check
[o] braver--check
[o] better organized--check
[o] better disciplined--check
[o] outgrown one amateur approach--hmm...not sure about that one...
[o] claimed new professional privilege--I POUR COFFEE GOOD!
I was going to add little notes after each "check," but all but the last two ended up being one thing: out of necessity. Not only necessity because of the move, but necessity causing the move. If I hadn't been strong, brave, or well organized, I would not be doing as well as I am; I would still be working barely part-time, half-assing my education, not doing anything real with my life, and not trying out of fear.
I am indeed going to write those questions on a slip of paper, although they'll be going on my computer monitor instead of my mirror, as (a) I look at the former more often, and (b) the latter is shared with the house and it'd be...odd. They are good questions, and I think they'll help me focus on Diplomatic Solutions and my art, as well as being a good worker at Starbucks. :)
How well have you been attending to 2010's major themes, Gemini? Since we're midway through the year, let's do a check-in. I hope that by now you are at least 15 percent sturdier, stronger, and braver than you've ever been in your entire life, and at least 20 percent better organized and disciplined. I hope that you have outgrown one of your amateur approaches and claimed a new professional privilege. Now write the following questions on a slip of paper that you will leave taped to your mirror for the next six months. "1. How can I get closer to making my job and my vocation be the same thing? 2. What am I doing to become an even more robust and confident version of myself?"
Let's see:
[o] sturdier--check
[o] stronger--check
[o] braver--check
[o] better organized--check
[o] better disciplined--check
[o] outgrown one amateur approach--hmm...not sure about that one...
[o] claimed new professional privilege--I POUR COFFEE GOOD!
I was going to add little notes after each "check," but all but the last two ended up being one thing: out of necessity. Not only necessity because of the move, but necessity causing the move. If I hadn't been strong, brave, or well organized, I would not be doing as well as I am; I would still be working barely part-time, half-assing my education, not doing anything real with my life, and not trying out of fear.
I am indeed going to write those questions on a slip of paper, although they'll be going on my computer monitor instead of my mirror, as (a) I look at the former more often, and (b) the latter is shared with the house and it'd be...odd. They are good questions, and I think they'll help me focus on Diplomatic Solutions and my art, as well as being a good worker at Starbucks. :)
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Call Me Lover. Change-Lover.
The following is this week's horoscope from Free Will Astrology, the site the features Pronoia (the belief that the world is conspiring to shower you with blessings) and eerily accurate horoscopes:
Congrats, Gemini! You have not only weathered your recent phase of relentless novelty; you've thrived on the adjustments it demanded of you. I am hereby awarding you with the rare and prestigious title of Change-Lover, which I only bestow upon one of the signs of the zodiac every four years or so. So what's next on the schedule? The shock of the new will soon subside, giving you a chance to more fully integrate the fresh approaches you've been adopting. I suggest you relax your hyper-vigilance and slip into a slower, smoother, more reflective groove.
Well, this certainly feels true! It was one month yesterday that we arrived in Indiana, with only two cars and a trailer full of stuff. Relentless novelty is a perfect phrase for the past month--so perfect I feel the need to bold it. Everywhere I've looked, there's been a new store, a new restaurant, a new bird, a new habit, a new phrase, a new way of saying or doing things. And I have thrived on it, especially with the new environment of Starbucks.
I know I've been obsessively updating with every little thing about my new job, but I can't help it. I feel more competent and useful than I have in a long time. I wasn't bad at my job at Curves, this is evident from the card the members all signed for me, the presents they gave me before I left, the love and support they gave me. But I could have done more, and I will always regret the way I worked there--hiding in a corner, not striving to shine. I was always afraid of not being able to keep up a conversation, or relate enough with a member, or be motivating enough.
At Starbucks, all my tasks are concrete--pouring, pushing, pulling, mixing, washing, sweeping, mopping, moving. The only abstract element of the job is the attitude, and it's easy enough for me to be upbeat and bubbly, even if I don't feel it 100%. It is immediately evident if I'm doing something wrong, or if I need some improvement. That, along with the fantastic feedback from my superiors and co-workers, leads to feeling like I'm learning and improving, and not just getting by. Thriving, even.
My point is, if this horoscope speaks the truth, then I need to work at slipping into a "slower, smoother, more reflective groove." And not only do I feel that it speaks the truth, I feel like it screams it. Getting into that groove should be easier now than two weeks ago, as I'm getting a paycheck next week that will take off a lot of the stress I've been holding, and I'm feeling more comfortable and confident at my job.
For today, I have done the grocery shopping, and now I plan on grabbing my camera and going back out, to search for picture opportunities. I'll try to be slower, smoother, and reflective as I click away.
Congrats, Gemini! You have not only weathered your recent phase of relentless novelty; you've thrived on the adjustments it demanded of you. I am hereby awarding you with the rare and prestigious title of Change-Lover, which I only bestow upon one of the signs of the zodiac every four years or so. So what's next on the schedule? The shock of the new will soon subside, giving you a chance to more fully integrate the fresh approaches you've been adopting. I suggest you relax your hyper-vigilance and slip into a slower, smoother, more reflective groove.
Well, this certainly feels true! It was one month yesterday that we arrived in Indiana, with only two cars and a trailer full of stuff. Relentless novelty is a perfect phrase for the past month--so perfect I feel the need to bold it. Everywhere I've looked, there's been a new store, a new restaurant, a new bird, a new habit, a new phrase, a new way of saying or doing things. And I have thrived on it, especially with the new environment of Starbucks.
I know I've been obsessively updating with every little thing about my new job, but I can't help it. I feel more competent and useful than I have in a long time. I wasn't bad at my job at Curves, this is evident from the card the members all signed for me, the presents they gave me before I left, the love and support they gave me. But I could have done more, and I will always regret the way I worked there--hiding in a corner, not striving to shine. I was always afraid of not being able to keep up a conversation, or relate enough with a member, or be motivating enough.
At Starbucks, all my tasks are concrete--pouring, pushing, pulling, mixing, washing, sweeping, mopping, moving. The only abstract element of the job is the attitude, and it's easy enough for me to be upbeat and bubbly, even if I don't feel it 100%. It is immediately evident if I'm doing something wrong, or if I need some improvement. That, along with the fantastic feedback from my superiors and co-workers, leads to feeling like I'm learning and improving, and not just getting by. Thriving, even.
My point is, if this horoscope speaks the truth, then I need to work at slipping into a "slower, smoother, more reflective groove." And not only do I feel that it speaks the truth, I feel like it screams it. Getting into that groove should be easier now than two weeks ago, as I'm getting a paycheck next week that will take off a lot of the stress I've been holding, and I'm feeling more comfortable and confident at my job.
For today, I have done the grocery shopping, and now I plan on grabbing my camera and going back out, to search for picture opportunities. I'll try to be slower, smoother, and reflective as I click away.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Activity #2,719 To Never Do At...You Know...THAT Time.
All I really did today was get a haircut. I went to the MasterCuts in the mall, and asked to get about two inches off my bangs, and shorten the back of my hair to the bottom of my ears. I was horrible at translating this to the stylist, and that, paired with her inability to follow what I did translate, led to a haircut I am not happy with.
The bangs, while now out of my face, were cut in such a way that they hang badly. Even after telling the stylist that there was no such thing as "too short," she kept taking off a quarter-inch at a time for fear of going too far, until I just gave up and said it was fine. The back of my head is still longer than I'd like, and I'm not entirely sure how I didn't notice at least that after the stylist finished. I felt good enough about it when I paid and left--after all, the hair I cared about was all shorter. Later, after it had dried out from being spritzed for cutting, it started forming into a helmety shape, and the bangs refused to behave, and regret set in.
When BJ got home, he felt the need to try and fix my hair, using Sammeh's hair supplies. Alex and Rachel stopped by while he was attempting to straighten it, and it turned into a what-can-we-do-with-Ruthie's-hair party. In the end, I looked like a Mudkip, and my hair was stiff and goopy and...weird.
I showered all the crap out, and used a little styling gel in my wet hair to put it how I wish it would stay. That mostly worked, and I think I'll be doing that every morning as my hair grows back out. I don't plan on going back for a repair or refund, as it's half my fault for not being clear about what I wanted, and I didn't express displeasure at the end of the cut. I'm just taking it as a few valuable lessons learned:
(1) Know exactly what you want when you go to get a haircut,
(2) Make sure the stylist understands what you want, and
(3) To make it easier all around, never get a haircut when you're menstruating.
I thought I knew better...
The bangs, while now out of my face, were cut in such a way that they hang badly. Even after telling the stylist that there was no such thing as "too short," she kept taking off a quarter-inch at a time for fear of going too far, until I just gave up and said it was fine. The back of my head is still longer than I'd like, and I'm not entirely sure how I didn't notice at least that after the stylist finished. I felt good enough about it when I paid and left--after all, the hair I cared about was all shorter. Later, after it had dried out from being spritzed for cutting, it started forming into a helmety shape, and the bangs refused to behave, and regret set in.
When BJ got home, he felt the need to try and fix my hair, using Sammeh's hair supplies. Alex and Rachel stopped by while he was attempting to straighten it, and it turned into a what-can-we-do-with-Ruthie's-hair party. In the end, I looked like a Mudkip, and my hair was stiff and goopy and...weird.
I showered all the crap out, and used a little styling gel in my wet hair to put it how I wish it would stay. That mostly worked, and I think I'll be doing that every morning as my hair grows back out. I don't plan on going back for a repair or refund, as it's half my fault for not being clear about what I wanted, and I didn't express displeasure at the end of the cut. I'm just taking it as a few valuable lessons learned:
(1) Know exactly what you want when you go to get a haircut,
(2) Make sure the stylist understands what you want, and
(3) To make it easier all around, never get a haircut when you're menstruating.
I thought I knew better...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Ah, Weekends.
Today was pretty boring, at least to write about. BJ and Sammeh had work early, Ryan and I slept in. I worked out. Ryan and I played video games all day. The four of us watched a couple more episodes of True Blood. I'm about to chow down on a large amount of cheese tortellini, then the four of us are participating in a raid on WoW at 8, which will go until midnight.
This weekend was pretty empty...I did some laundry and fetched smoothies, but beyond that, nothing "productive" happened. Usually this would bother me, but...it doesn't. The past week and a half since we arrived have been pretty busy--moving, rearranging, building, shopping, buying, setting up house and accounts and lives. And if all goes as planned, sometime in the next few days we will get phone calls that will make life even busier. We're hoping for it. So two days where barely anything of Value happened might turn out to be pretty valuable in the long run.
Now, this pasta is much too tempting, so I'm signing off until tomorrow. *nomnomnom*
Oh, something kinda cool. New character in the show, crazy hippie-dippie chick named Amy? Character is from Storrs, Connecticut. Ryan and I chuckled, and I then couldn't help but notice how weird she sounded among the Louisiana characters.
Anyway. Nom.
This weekend was pretty empty...I did some laundry and fetched smoothies, but beyond that, nothing "productive" happened. Usually this would bother me, but...it doesn't. The past week and a half since we arrived have been pretty busy--moving, rearranging, building, shopping, buying, setting up house and accounts and lives. And if all goes as planned, sometime in the next few days we will get phone calls that will make life even busier. We're hoping for it. So two days where barely anything of Value happened might turn out to be pretty valuable in the long run.
Now, this pasta is much too tempting, so I'm signing off until tomorrow. *nomnomnom*
Oh, something kinda cool. New character in the show, crazy hippie-dippie chick named Amy? Character is from Storrs, Connecticut. Ryan and I chuckled, and I then couldn't help but notice how weird she sounded among the Louisiana characters.
Anyway. Nom.
The Rest of Saturday, June 5th.
The day ended up being pretty boring. I fetched smoothies, did laundry, played a lot of Pokemon. There were three highlights:
[o] The smallest thing was watching three more episode of True Blood, an HBO series about vampires in the south that BJ and Sammeh (mostly BJ) have introduced us to. It's very good, with fantastic characters and great writing.
[o] Next up: DRIVE-THRU PASTA. There's a chain here called Fazoli's that is basically just what I said: pasta in a drive-thru. Alfredo, lasagna, chicken parmigiana, ziti, etc etc. Anyone who knows me, and my pasta obsession, can only imagine my happiness when I learned of this place. Is it the best pasta in the world? No, but it's damned good for drive-thru. And the breadsticks! Yummmm....
[o] Last but never least: I finally got to talk to David for the first time since Ryan and I moved, and since David and Dorita's trip to Ireland. I learned that it wasn't the trip they had planned. Originally, they had signed up for a caravan--horses, wagons, the whole bit--across the country. Talk about awesome! But the first day, Dorita ended up being dragged by her foot by a horse, and destroyed most of the muscles and tendons in one foot. She's going to be fine, and she actually had the best foot and ankle doctor in all of Ireland operating on and treating her...and from what David told me, it was almost a better trip from then on.
Everyone they encountered was beyond courteous, beyond nice, beyond anything they were used to. The hospital, the U.S. Embassy, the taxi drivers, the visitors for other patients--everyone went out of their way to help them, whether it was giving David a place to stay, providing internet and phone numbers, pushing the wheelchair in the airport, everything. They were already changing their views and perceptions of the world, and this really motivated that even further.
It was a lot to absorb, and, while I got what he was telling me, it's hard to put it all down in writing. Plus it's not entirely my message to share; it's just part of what happened me today. However, knowing the two of them, I'm very glad for all the positives they are going through right now, even if it's influenced--recently and currently--by seemingly negative circumstances (guess what the key word is). I completely supportive and happy for them :)
And now, as it's almost 2 in the morning, I'm finally off to bed. I'll find something else to talk about tomorrow, I'm sure.
[o] The smallest thing was watching three more episode of True Blood, an HBO series about vampires in the south that BJ and Sammeh (mostly BJ) have introduced us to. It's very good, with fantastic characters and great writing.
[o] Next up: DRIVE-THRU PASTA. There's a chain here called Fazoli's that is basically just what I said: pasta in a drive-thru. Alfredo, lasagna, chicken parmigiana, ziti, etc etc. Anyone who knows me, and my pasta obsession, can only imagine my happiness when I learned of this place. Is it the best pasta in the world? No, but it's damned good for drive-thru. And the breadsticks! Yummmm....
[o] Last but never least: I finally got to talk to David for the first time since Ryan and I moved, and since David and Dorita's trip to Ireland. I learned that it wasn't the trip they had planned. Originally, they had signed up for a caravan--horses, wagons, the whole bit--across the country. Talk about awesome! But the first day, Dorita ended up being dragged by her foot by a horse, and destroyed most of the muscles and tendons in one foot. She's going to be fine, and she actually had the best foot and ankle doctor in all of Ireland operating on and treating her...and from what David told me, it was almost a better trip from then on.
Everyone they encountered was beyond courteous, beyond nice, beyond anything they were used to. The hospital, the U.S. Embassy, the taxi drivers, the visitors for other patients--everyone went out of their way to help them, whether it was giving David a place to stay, providing internet and phone numbers, pushing the wheelchair in the airport, everything. They were already changing their views and perceptions of the world, and this really motivated that even further.
It was a lot to absorb, and, while I got what he was telling me, it's hard to put it all down in writing. Plus it's not entirely my message to share; it's just part of what happened me today. However, knowing the two of them, I'm very glad for all the positives they are going through right now, even if it's influenced--recently and currently--by seemingly negative circumstances (guess what the key word is). I completely supportive and happy for them :)
And now, as it's almost 2 in the morning, I'm finally off to bed. I'll find something else to talk about tomorrow, I'm sure.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Made For You
There has been so much going on in my life since my last post. I have been stretching my skills and abilities, working hard on several projects, fighting hard battles with myself, and always learning. Hell, I walked on fire two weekends ago! I have so much I could write about!
...but that's not what I'm posting today.
I'm not sure if I believe in Fate or Destiny...I tend more toward the You Make Your Own Destiny side of things. I do believe that, sometimes, little things happen for a reason. You'll notice something on the side of the road, a song will come on the radio, a random stranger will say something that strikes you as relevant to your story, and it happens because you need to hear or see it.
Last week, for the first time in a few months, I felt like listening to my OneRepublic combination CD, with songs from both their albums. I'm not sure what compelled me to put it in, but I'm glad I did. Almost all of their songs make me feel better about life in general, or just plain make me happy. This song, however, is the one that has been leaping out of the speakers and jumping up and down on my head.
I was writing
Thinking with my long hand
Put pen to paper
Everything was sinking
Then you start to wonder
How you gonna handle me when I'm under
Sinking in the darkest sea
Everybody wants you to make it
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to make it
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it
T-t-take it
Can you feel all the love?
Can you feel all the love?
Can you feel all the love?
Can you feel all the love?
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
It was made for you...
Tell me something
Something that can move me
Don't tell me lies
Or I swear you're gonna lose me
Didn't like the notion
Jealous of the fish
It feeds your devotion
Swimming inside of me
Everybody wants you to make it (Can you feel all the love?)
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it (Can you feel all the love?)
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to make it (Can you feel all the love?)
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it (Can you feel all the love,)
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
It was made for you...
(Song on YouTube)
I'll admit, I'm not 100% sure of what's going on in the verses, lyric-wise. I think it's a writer struggling with the inner insecurities that many creatives have, the worries that "it" won't happen, whatever "it" means for each person.
It's the bridge and chorus that I care about. I have listened to this song so many times over the past week, trying to nail that sucker of a message home: Everybody wants you to make it, everybody wants you to take the chance...feel the love, it was made for you.
I'm not proud of it, but I can be very delicate, and have been even moreso over the past two months. I'll be in a fine mood, even a great mood, and then one little thing will set me off, and I'll sink into tears or temper. Doesn't help that I have this habit of anthropomorphizing every single thing in existence, so when an object doesn't stay where I put it, or jumps out to trip me, or doesn't hang right, or whatever, it feels like a personal slight.
I live on the edge of frustration, and it sometimes feels like Something is pushing me over that edge on purpose. I usually accuse the Universe of being that Something, of not wanting me to keep going in the direction I was heading, of sidetracking me with annoyance and frustration. This song's message is one that I need to take in and glue to my insides.
The Universe is not out to get me; it wants me to be happy.
My friends, my family, and the Universe all want me to succeed.
This is hard lesson to learn, to hold on to.
I am trying.
...but that's not what I'm posting today.
I'm not sure if I believe in Fate or Destiny...I tend more toward the You Make Your Own Destiny side of things. I do believe that, sometimes, little things happen for a reason. You'll notice something on the side of the road, a song will come on the radio, a random stranger will say something that strikes you as relevant to your story, and it happens because you need to hear or see it.
Last week, for the first time in a few months, I felt like listening to my OneRepublic combination CD, with songs from both their albums. I'm not sure what compelled me to put it in, but I'm glad I did. Almost all of their songs make me feel better about life in general, or just plain make me happy. This song, however, is the one that has been leaping out of the speakers and jumping up and down on my head.
I was writing
Thinking with my long hand
Put pen to paper
Everything was sinking
Then you start to wonder
How you gonna handle me when I'm under
Sinking in the darkest sea
Everybody wants you to make it
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to make it
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it
T-t-take it
Can you feel all the love?
Can you feel all the love?
Can you feel all the love?
Can you feel all the love?
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
It was made for you...
Tell me something
Something that can move me
Don't tell me lies
Or I swear you're gonna lose me
Didn't like the notion
Jealous of the fish
It feeds your devotion
Swimming inside of me
Everybody wants you to make it (Can you feel all the love?)
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it (Can you feel all the love?)
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to make it (Can you feel all the love?)
It's all yours (uh huh)
Everybody wants you to take it (Can you feel all the love,)
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
Like it was made for you
It was made for you...
(Song on YouTube)
I'll admit, I'm not 100% sure of what's going on in the verses, lyric-wise. I think it's a writer struggling with the inner insecurities that many creatives have, the worries that "it" won't happen, whatever "it" means for each person.
It's the bridge and chorus that I care about. I have listened to this song so many times over the past week, trying to nail that sucker of a message home: Everybody wants you to make it, everybody wants you to take the chance...feel the love, it was made for you.
I'm not proud of it, but I can be very delicate, and have been even moreso over the past two months. I'll be in a fine mood, even a great mood, and then one little thing will set me off, and I'll sink into tears or temper. Doesn't help that I have this habit of anthropomorphizing every single thing in existence, so when an object doesn't stay where I put it, or jumps out to trip me, or doesn't hang right, or whatever, it feels like a personal slight.
I live on the edge of frustration, and it sometimes feels like Something is pushing me over that edge on purpose. I usually accuse the Universe of being that Something, of not wanting me to keep going in the direction I was heading, of sidetracking me with annoyance and frustration. This song's message is one that I need to take in and glue to my insides.
The Universe is not out to get me; it wants me to be happy.
My friends, my family, and the Universe all want me to succeed.
This is hard lesson to learn, to hold on to.
I am trying.
Friday, March 19, 2010
*Boom*
So. I made a post about making some new rules and moving my life along.
Then everything exploded.
On February 27th, I found out that a dear friend, one I’ve known online for almost ten years, committed suicide in August. Three weeks later, I am still being hit with waves of grief, regret, sorrow, and shock. The fact that I found out almost exactly a year after my first big loss in Uncle Bill, the day before his memorial, just adds to the weight of it on my heart. She was a gorgeous soul, and I currently can’t talk about her too much without getting upset, so, as I’m at work, this will be all on that subject for the time being.
On March 2nd, I decided to withdraw from my classes and basically leave school for the foreseeable future.
A period of depression and anxiety that swept through in February, classes that were a combination of unchallenging and needlessly complicated, and the news about my friend all took a toll on my attendance and willingness to just plow through. A meeting with an Eastern advisor that did not go exactly as planned was the nail in the coffin for this semester, and school in general.
I started at Manchester Community in the fall semester of 2004. I’ve gone through four majors, five and a half years, eight semesters, almost 30 classes, and 84 credits.
Subjects that first gave me a thrill—new! exciting! creative! fun! challenging!—somehow became just another set of classes to slog through to get the biscuit at the end. The question is—was it the subjects, the classes, the teachers, or me?
If I went class by class, I could answer that question, but I’m more interested in the overall arc of my trip through secondary education. I keep skipping about from one interest to another. Graphic design…art…web design…writing…editing…marketing…hell, even accounting still holds some appeal, if only I could get my head around numbers (As Ryan pointed out, with my math skills, I’d make me accounting clients very happy…until we all got arrested). Whenever I think I’ve settled down on something, I get distracted by something else. This could possibly be worked around, but not without some finesse and planning.
When I met with the transfer advisor at ECSU, I told her about all my interests, and my curiosity with the individualized major. She took what I told her and outlined a possible plan—a major in Digital Art & Design, with minors in English and Business. This path would take three and a half years—one semester would be comprised solely of General Education Requirements.
All through MCC, I was led to believe that getting an Associates would automatically check off the general stuff, and all but guarantee that I would enter any four-year college as a junior, only needing to take classes in my major.
Now, maybe I misunderstood what I was told; I am willing to admit that. What I took away from that meeting was not that someone on one side or the other had made a mistake; it was that I was being thrown a much different clump of information than I was expecting. After years of getting through for the sake of getting through, a month of barely having the energy for uninspiring classes, and only two days after receiving a horrible bombshell on the anniversary of the biggest loss I’d yet suffered, it was just too much. Something had to give, and the choice came down to school or my sanity.
I promise, if this sounds melodramatic, that I am not exaggerating the stress and sense of calamity that I have been living through for the past three weeks. If anything, I am downplaying it. The first week of March, for the only time in my life, I was stressed to the point of nausea, spending more time ready to throw up than anything else. My sleep has suffered, and all the areas of my body that usually respond to stress—my skin, my feet, my shoulders—have all been miserable.
To say that this was an easy decision would be a complete lie. The fact is, however, that it was not one that took a long time to make. I won’t say that it was hastily made, but I won’t say that it was drawn out, either. Honestly, I spent more time worrying about my parents’ reactions than I did about wether or not it was a good idea.
While this complicates things, drastically changes plans, and otherwise throws a giant wrench in the machine of my life…this feels right.
What it comes down to is this: As it is, I have spent enough time and money on college, pursuing different paths. I won’t call it a waste, as I have learned a great deal, and I even got an Associates out of it—in a subject I enjoy, and may even end up pursuing! However, after so many years and so much shit, it feels like going any further, with my mind the way it is, would be a waste. Of money, of time, of energy…of everything.
I don’t know what I want, and it just doesn’t feel right to marry one subject when I can’t commit fully, or to even just “love the one I’m with,” going for a business degree that might only be two years just to get a diploma in something. It feels, in fact, completely wrong.
There is more, much more, but I have once again let a post run quite long, and I've been hacking away at this one for the better part of two hours. Apologies if this is ending on an abrupt note, but it's either that or let it keep rambling forever. I promise, more is to come, and soon.
Then everything exploded.
On February 27th, I found out that a dear friend, one I’ve known online for almost ten years, committed suicide in August. Three weeks later, I am still being hit with waves of grief, regret, sorrow, and shock. The fact that I found out almost exactly a year after my first big loss in Uncle Bill, the day before his memorial, just adds to the weight of it on my heart. She was a gorgeous soul, and I currently can’t talk about her too much without getting upset, so, as I’m at work, this will be all on that subject for the time being.
On March 2nd, I decided to withdraw from my classes and basically leave school for the foreseeable future.
A period of depression and anxiety that swept through in February, classes that were a combination of unchallenging and needlessly complicated, and the news about my friend all took a toll on my attendance and willingness to just plow through. A meeting with an Eastern advisor that did not go exactly as planned was the nail in the coffin for this semester, and school in general.
I started at Manchester Community in the fall semester of 2004. I’ve gone through four majors, five and a half years, eight semesters, almost 30 classes, and 84 credits.
Subjects that first gave me a thrill—new! exciting! creative! fun! challenging!—somehow became just another set of classes to slog through to get the biscuit at the end. The question is—was it the subjects, the classes, the teachers, or me?
If I went class by class, I could answer that question, but I’m more interested in the overall arc of my trip through secondary education. I keep skipping about from one interest to another. Graphic design…art…web design…writing…editing…marketing…hell, even accounting still holds some appeal, if only I could get my head around numbers (As Ryan pointed out, with my math skills, I’d make me accounting clients very happy…until we all got arrested). Whenever I think I’ve settled down on something, I get distracted by something else. This could possibly be worked around, but not without some finesse and planning.
When I met with the transfer advisor at ECSU, I told her about all my interests, and my curiosity with the individualized major. She took what I told her and outlined a possible plan—a major in Digital Art & Design, with minors in English and Business. This path would take three and a half years—one semester would be comprised solely of General Education Requirements.
All through MCC, I was led to believe that getting an Associates would automatically check off the general stuff, and all but guarantee that I would enter any four-year college as a junior, only needing to take classes in my major.
Now, maybe I misunderstood what I was told; I am willing to admit that. What I took away from that meeting was not that someone on one side or the other had made a mistake; it was that I was being thrown a much different clump of information than I was expecting. After years of getting through for the sake of getting through, a month of barely having the energy for uninspiring classes, and only two days after receiving a horrible bombshell on the anniversary of the biggest loss I’d yet suffered, it was just too much. Something had to give, and the choice came down to school or my sanity.
I promise, if this sounds melodramatic, that I am not exaggerating the stress and sense of calamity that I have been living through for the past three weeks. If anything, I am downplaying it. The first week of March, for the only time in my life, I was stressed to the point of nausea, spending more time ready to throw up than anything else. My sleep has suffered, and all the areas of my body that usually respond to stress—my skin, my feet, my shoulders—have all been miserable.
To say that this was an easy decision would be a complete lie. The fact is, however, that it was not one that took a long time to make. I won’t say that it was hastily made, but I won’t say that it was drawn out, either. Honestly, I spent more time worrying about my parents’ reactions than I did about wether or not it was a good idea.
While this complicates things, drastically changes plans, and otherwise throws a giant wrench in the machine of my life…this feels right.
What it comes down to is this: As it is, I have spent enough time and money on college, pursuing different paths. I won’t call it a waste, as I have learned a great deal, and I even got an Associates out of it—in a subject I enjoy, and may even end up pursuing! However, after so many years and so much shit, it feels like going any further, with my mind the way it is, would be a waste. Of money, of time, of energy…of everything.
I don’t know what I want, and it just doesn’t feel right to marry one subject when I can’t commit fully, or to even just “love the one I’m with,” going for a business degree that might only be two years just to get a diploma in something. It feels, in fact, completely wrong.
There is more, much more, but I have once again let a post run quite long, and I've been hacking away at this one for the better part of two hours. Apologies if this is ending on an abrupt note, but it's either that or let it keep rambling forever. I promise, more is to come, and soon.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
What What's Goin' On Means
As mentioned in my previous post, a week ago I gave myself a good verbal thumping. The law, it was laid down. After a stern lecture, comforting words, and reassuring hug, I made up some new rules for myself. Though they are few, they are important, and they are as follows:
[o] When I get up in the morning, no World of Warcraft until some exercise has occurred. It could be a handful of pushups, it could be an hour-long strength-training routine, but it will happen. I may soon further the restriction to just plain no internet until exercising. We shall see.
[o] Around 11, take a melatonin or some chamomile tea, and start winding down for bed. Get offline at midnight or soon after.
[o] Alarm is set for 9 a.m. every day (except Saturday, when I have work at 7 and need to get up at 6). If I don’t get to sleep until later, or the quality of sleep is severely lacking, move the alarm down to 10:30, but no later.
Hopefully the combination of early to bed and early to rise will swing my sleep schedule back to what I want it to be, which is not 3 a.m. to sometime past noon.
[o] Start the process of getting my life moving. Apply to Eastern (done on Tuesday!), put together a resume, start for either a second job or a new job.
I love Curves, but it’s becoming too comfortable, in too many ways to get into. Not to mention, I currently have fewer than 15 hours a week, and make barely over $200 a month. At the moment, I’m lucky enough to not have a lot of expenses to worry about. This will not always be the case, and I need to get myself into a job with more responsibilities at least, if not more of a future. Also, I have no savings to speak of, and that’s just unacceptable.
[o] Amp up the social. During this past funk, the only personal interaction I had, outside of work and school, was my weekly dinner with my father. This is simply not enough—hell, Dad would even agree! I am going to make a serious attempt to have more breakfasts with my mother, more lunches with friends, and try to find another meal in there somewhere with Dad. Will this be easy, with my complicated schedule? A-no. Will it be worth it, in terms of laughter, communication, support, love, and overall good times? Hell. Yes.
As I said, not many rules, but I’m working very hard at following them. Sadly, this week has so far not worked out according to plan. The shitty weather and minor health issues have combined their efforts to drain me of energy, both mental and physical, and yesterday was the first one this week where I actually worked out (although I did Body Test Monday and Tuesday to keep up an accurate record of measurements). I didn’t go to class Monday or Tuesday, either. While I did have a few hours of work on Monday, I left an hour early with an uneasy stomach. That same stomach deprived me of decent sleep for three nights in a row (although Tuesday night was definitely better than previous nights), and only really settled down Wednesday morning.
I won’t call this week a bust, because there’s still two days left before the weekend, which should be nice. Today I have work, see my therapist, and have my first and only class for the week; tomorrow I have work, dinner with my father (the first in two weeks), and possibly see an art show my friend has put together in Windham. Saturday, Ryan and I celebrate our two-year anniversary*. Sunday is a memorial for my Uncle Bill, who died a year ago—with my family, it promises to be lovely, with fun and laughter among the tears and memories.
While the rest of the week is not guaranteed to be wonderful, it is neither guaranteed to be lousy, and I must remember that.
*Ryan’s and my anniversary is, officially, February 29th, a.k.a. Leap Day. That is my fault. I thought it was cute at the time, and I’ll have to live with it. Last year we celebrated on March 1st, as my father’s birthday is the 28th and taking that day to celebrate would be just a wee bit selfish. This year, March 1st is a Monday, which includes class for me, and one Justin’s weekly visits and an important raid for Ryan. So: Saturday the 27th.
There we go. My new rules, and too much background to go with them. The usual for me.
I like this posting-multiple-days-in-a-row thing, maybe I’ll see how long I can keep it up...
[o] When I get up in the morning, no World of Warcraft until some exercise has occurred. It could be a handful of pushups, it could be an hour-long strength-training routine, but it will happen. I may soon further the restriction to just plain no internet until exercising. We shall see.
[o] Around 11, take a melatonin or some chamomile tea, and start winding down for bed. Get offline at midnight or soon after.
[o] Alarm is set for 9 a.m. every day (except Saturday, when I have work at 7 and need to get up at 6). If I don’t get to sleep until later, or the quality of sleep is severely lacking, move the alarm down to 10:30, but no later.
Hopefully the combination of early to bed and early to rise will swing my sleep schedule back to what I want it to be, which is not 3 a.m. to sometime past noon.
[o] Start the process of getting my life moving. Apply to Eastern (done on Tuesday!), put together a resume, start for either a second job or a new job.
I love Curves, but it’s becoming too comfortable, in too many ways to get into. Not to mention, I currently have fewer than 15 hours a week, and make barely over $200 a month. At the moment, I’m lucky enough to not have a lot of expenses to worry about. This will not always be the case, and I need to get myself into a job with more responsibilities at least, if not more of a future. Also, I have no savings to speak of, and that’s just unacceptable.
[o] Amp up the social. During this past funk, the only personal interaction I had, outside of work and school, was my weekly dinner with my father. This is simply not enough—hell, Dad would even agree! I am going to make a serious attempt to have more breakfasts with my mother, more lunches with friends, and try to find another meal in there somewhere with Dad. Will this be easy, with my complicated schedule? A-no. Will it be worth it, in terms of laughter, communication, support, love, and overall good times? Hell. Yes.
As I said, not many rules, but I’m working very hard at following them. Sadly, this week has so far not worked out according to plan. The shitty weather and minor health issues have combined their efforts to drain me of energy, both mental and physical, and yesterday was the first one this week where I actually worked out (although I did Body Test Monday and Tuesday to keep up an accurate record of measurements). I didn’t go to class Monday or Tuesday, either. While I did have a few hours of work on Monday, I left an hour early with an uneasy stomach. That same stomach deprived me of decent sleep for three nights in a row (although Tuesday night was definitely better than previous nights), and only really settled down Wednesday morning.
I won’t call this week a bust, because there’s still two days left before the weekend, which should be nice. Today I have work, see my therapist, and have my first and only class for the week; tomorrow I have work, dinner with my father (the first in two weeks), and possibly see an art show my friend has put together in Windham. Saturday, Ryan and I celebrate our two-year anniversary*. Sunday is a memorial for my Uncle Bill, who died a year ago—with my family, it promises to be lovely, with fun and laughter among the tears and memories.
While the rest of the week is not guaranteed to be wonderful, it is neither guaranteed to be lousy, and I must remember that.
*Ryan’s and my anniversary is, officially, February 29th, a.k.a. Leap Day. That is my fault. I thought it was cute at the time, and I’ll have to live with it. Last year we celebrated on March 1st, as my father’s birthday is the 28th and taking that day to celebrate would be just a wee bit selfish. This year, March 1st is a Monday, which includes class for me, and one Justin’s weekly visits and an important raid for Ryan. So: Saturday the 27th.
There we go. My new rules, and too much background to go with them. The usual for me.
I like this posting-multiple-days-in-a-row thing, maybe I’ll see how long I can keep it up...
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
What Else Is Goin' On, 2/24/10 Edition
What else is going on with me:
…well, winter just won’t die, if that’s anything new. Looking back over the past, oh, 24 winters of my life, I’m fairly confident in making a self-diagnosis of SAD—Seasonal Affective Disorder. Every year, when spring rolls around, I get this blast of Happy and I feel like I can do anything—this is partly due to spring, yes, and partly due to the fact that the prior season left me feeling like I can do nothing, and that’s perfectly fine, I’ll just curl up on the couch and stare at a screen and turn into a spud, thanks.
To revel in the negative for a moment: I’m sick of being cold, I’m sick of wearing layers, I’m sick of frost-heaving back roads, I’m sick of dry skin and of small cuts never healing, I’m sick of wet socks and pant hems, I’m sick of hat-tangled hair, and I’m sick of having to deal with all off it whenever I want to leave the house. SICK. OF ALL OF IT. DONE.
*Ahem*
On a positive note, I actually have been more physically active in the past month and a half than in a long time. The day after Christmas, with Christmas money, I went out and bought a Wii Fit Plus. Ryan and I currently have Justin’s Wii on semi-permanent loan, so all I had to buy was the game and board, yay!
It’s been a slow, stuttering start, but I’ve been using the thing more days of the week than not. When I first recorded my information, the game gave me a BMI reading in the lower ends of overweight. In the past two weeks, measuring almost every day, I’ve been hitting normal more and more often (weight can fluctuate two pounds from day to day, just due to food intake or other factors). My current goal is to lose a very modest five pounds by March 10th, and I’m making slow but sure progress.
The best part is the fact that I’m changing. My body shape is slowly but surely changing, my waist and belly getting subtly smaller. My muscles are growing, both in size and number, most notably in my thighs and calves. Exercises that used to knock me out don’t hurt quite as much as they used to—they still do, trust me, but less so!
I am getting stronger and healthier, and it feels fantastic.
On a geekier note: I’ve become even more of a WoW nerd. I hit 80 with my Blood Elf Mage, and I’ve spent the past two weeks gearing up, getting my rotation down, creating macros, fine-tuning my stats, and learning raids. I’ve also been making friends in the guild, since I can actually run dungeons and raids with them without it being a welfare-run to get me desperately needed gear or badges.
…to translate: I hit the cool part of the game, and it’s meant being geekier and more social. Yay!
Still, even with that, and the working out, this season has been getting me down. I have been in a pretty annoying funk for most of this month. For a small while, I was having really annoying and upsetting mood swings—I’d go from pleasant to enraged at the drop of hat. Literally, I’d go to place a hat, and it’d fall, and I’d get spitting-mad-frustrated. Or something wouldn’t close or open properly, or I’d bump into something, or any number of small, stupid things that would set me off for no reason other than You’re Not Doing What I Asked Of You, Stupid Object.
Fortunately, that seems to have scaled down by a large amount, so I’m in a much calmer funk. Hooray.
Overall, I’d love to blame the weather and the season entirely for the rut, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair. Part of it has just been me.
Last Thursday, I had work from 10 to 2 while the boss had a business meeting. I had a few hours to myself, just me and the computer, in the slowest part of the day. The funk had been deepening as the week went on, so I was feeling pretty crappy. In a rare moment of I don’t even know what, I opened up a notepad and started yelling at myself. I gave myself a damned good talking to about feeling sorry for myself, and not doing anything about it, and sitting on my butt, and so on.
This has again grown long, so tomorrow I’ll post the aftermath: my new set of rules for Getting Off My Butt, Literally & Figuratively.
…well, winter just won’t die, if that’s anything new. Looking back over the past, oh, 24 winters of my life, I’m fairly confident in making a self-diagnosis of SAD—Seasonal Affective Disorder. Every year, when spring rolls around, I get this blast of Happy and I feel like I can do anything—this is partly due to spring, yes, and partly due to the fact that the prior season left me feeling like I can do nothing, and that’s perfectly fine, I’ll just curl up on the couch and stare at a screen and turn into a spud, thanks.
To revel in the negative for a moment: I’m sick of being cold, I’m sick of wearing layers, I’m sick of frost-heaving back roads, I’m sick of dry skin and of small cuts never healing, I’m sick of wet socks and pant hems, I’m sick of hat-tangled hair, and I’m sick of having to deal with all off it whenever I want to leave the house. SICK. OF ALL OF IT. DONE.
*Ahem*
On a positive note, I actually have been more physically active in the past month and a half than in a long time. The day after Christmas, with Christmas money, I went out and bought a Wii Fit Plus. Ryan and I currently have Justin’s Wii on semi-permanent loan, so all I had to buy was the game and board, yay!
It’s been a slow, stuttering start, but I’ve been using the thing more days of the week than not. When I first recorded my information, the game gave me a BMI reading in the lower ends of overweight. In the past two weeks, measuring almost every day, I’ve been hitting normal more and more often (weight can fluctuate two pounds from day to day, just due to food intake or other factors). My current goal is to lose a very modest five pounds by March 10th, and I’m making slow but sure progress.
The best part is the fact that I’m changing. My body shape is slowly but surely changing, my waist and belly getting subtly smaller. My muscles are growing, both in size and number, most notably in my thighs and calves. Exercises that used to knock me out don’t hurt quite as much as they used to—they still do, trust me, but less so!
I am getting stronger and healthier, and it feels fantastic.
On a geekier note: I’ve become even more of a WoW nerd. I hit 80 with my Blood Elf Mage, and I’ve spent the past two weeks gearing up, getting my rotation down, creating macros, fine-tuning my stats, and learning raids. I’ve also been making friends in the guild, since I can actually run dungeons and raids with them without it being a welfare-run to get me desperately needed gear or badges.
…to translate: I hit the cool part of the game, and it’s meant being geekier and more social. Yay!
Still, even with that, and the working out, this season has been getting me down. I have been in a pretty annoying funk for most of this month. For a small while, I was having really annoying and upsetting mood swings—I’d go from pleasant to enraged at the drop of hat. Literally, I’d go to place a hat, and it’d fall, and I’d get spitting-mad-frustrated. Or something wouldn’t close or open properly, or I’d bump into something, or any number of small, stupid things that would set me off for no reason other than You’re Not Doing What I Asked Of You, Stupid Object.
Fortunately, that seems to have scaled down by a large amount, so I’m in a much calmer funk. Hooray.
Overall, I’d love to blame the weather and the season entirely for the rut, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair. Part of it has just been me.
Last Thursday, I had work from 10 to 2 while the boss had a business meeting. I had a few hours to myself, just me and the computer, in the slowest part of the day. The funk had been deepening as the week went on, so I was feeling pretty crappy. In a rare moment of I don’t even know what, I opened up a notepad and started yelling at myself. I gave myself a damned good talking to about feeling sorry for myself, and not doing anything about it, and sitting on my butt, and so on.
This has again grown long, so tomorrow I’ll post the aftermath: my new set of rules for Getting Off My Butt, Literally & Figuratively.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
What's Goin' On, 2/23/10 Edition
I started writing this last month, before the current semester had even started. Opened it again today, and had to edit it a bit. At any rate, this is my life right now:
WORK
Work is…the same. I’m not working Monday nights anymore, my schedule is just Fridays from 11-12-1ish to closing (when I start depends on the day), and Saturday from open to close. I find that I actually really miss working on Monday nights. In theory, the same regulars that work out that night work out on Friday night, so it should be the same. Except for two things: first, I work a longer day on Friday, so by the time they come in I’m ready to go home; second, it’s the end of the week, and they’re feeling the same way. I’m seeing way less of my favorite regulars, and I’m just feeling…apathetic toward work in general.
Although: last week and this week, I’ve gotten some more hours, due to my boss having outside obligations. There’s a chance I may start working on a weekday again, at least for a few hours before class. I’m kinda hoping—both for money, and for Time Out Of The House That’s Not Class.
I’ve also been doing housecleaning for my mom, who has big back problems and can’t do as much as she used to. Of course, I say I’ve been doing it, but I’ve only done one day of it. Weather, school, and lack of energy have made it rather difficult to get over there with enough time to be actually useful. But I’m trying!
SCHOOL
The reason I’m no longer working Monday nights is because of my classes: only available times for the two classes I need* are at night, MW from 6 to 9, TR from 7 to 10. Shoot me now.
*I actually have three classes left in the program, but Graphic Design filled up insanely quickly (I blame the way the computer set up the registration, but that’s a rant I won’t start).
Which leads me to the next school sub-topic: The Next Step. This has been a bit of a saga the past month.
I was looking at the colleges in the area (namely UConn and ECSU), focusing on the availability of three areas: Marketing, Editing, and Graphic Design. UConn has an official Marketing degree, enough classes for me to throw together an Editing degree through an Individualized Major, and the same deal for Graphic Design (there is a “Communications Design” major, but (a) it’s less graphic and more all-around design, and (b) the admission requirements are out of my reach). ECSU has a Visual Design minor, and enough classes for me to make a Marketing Individualized Major, but that’s it. So UConn looked to be winning.
Then this semester started, with the Advanced Computer Graphics class. Very first class period, we watched a short movie on a digital artist named Bert Monroy. This short blew my mind, and had me scraping my jaw off the floor. The digital paintings this man does are ridiculous, in terms of beauty, detail, and staggering talent. That picture on the front page of the web site? That’s not a photograph, that’s a painting, made entirely in Illustrator and Photoshop. Ridiculous.
That short got my mind working, and I did another poke at UConn and ECSU for anything involving digital media. Somehow, on my first search, I had missed the Digital Art and Design concentration at ECSU; reading it over, I fell in love. With the classes, with the program as a whole, and, thanks to alumnus Ryan, with the college.
Just this morning, not half an hour ago, I pulled together enough energy to do the Online Application - Transfer on the ECSU Online Services page. Thought I’d fill out as much as I could, and find out what else would needed to be done to actually apply.
Next thing I know, it’s saying I’m all done and hit this button to send it off. So I did. Surprisingly fast and easy, and I’m actually feeling a little dizzy because of it. It appears that all I have left to do is fetch my high school and MCC transcripts and send them off, and I’m set.
I’ve applied to college. … Eek!
Funny side note: There was a College Transfer Fair at MCC two weeks ago, and I popped by it to grab some material off the ECSU table. One of these materials was a postcard to send in asking for more information on a given major. One of the blanks to fill in on the postcard, along with name and address and college and what-have-you, was credits earned thus far. I went to my online MCC transcript to find out.
I have 84 credits. After this semester, I will have 90. 90 mothereffing credits. Every one earned at Manchester Community College.
I NEED TO MOVE ON ALREADY.
This has gotten a bit long, so I shall save the rest of the post (What Else Is Goin’ On, 2/24/10 Edition) for tomorrow.
WORK
Work is…the same. I’m not working Monday nights anymore, my schedule is just Fridays from 11-12-1ish to closing (when I start depends on the day), and Saturday from open to close. I find that I actually really miss working on Monday nights. In theory, the same regulars that work out that night work out on Friday night, so it should be the same. Except for two things: first, I work a longer day on Friday, so by the time they come in I’m ready to go home; second, it’s the end of the week, and they’re feeling the same way. I’m seeing way less of my favorite regulars, and I’m just feeling…apathetic toward work in general.
Although: last week and this week, I’ve gotten some more hours, due to my boss having outside obligations. There’s a chance I may start working on a weekday again, at least for a few hours before class. I’m kinda hoping—both for money, and for Time Out Of The House That’s Not Class.
I’ve also been doing housecleaning for my mom, who has big back problems and can’t do as much as she used to. Of course, I say I’ve been doing it, but I’ve only done one day of it. Weather, school, and lack of energy have made it rather difficult to get over there with enough time to be actually useful. But I’m trying!
SCHOOL
The reason I’m no longer working Monday nights is because of my classes: only available times for the two classes I need* are at night, MW from 6 to 9, TR from 7 to 10. Shoot me now.
*I actually have three classes left in the program, but Graphic Design filled up insanely quickly (I blame the way the computer set up the registration, but that’s a rant I won’t start).
Which leads me to the next school sub-topic: The Next Step. This has been a bit of a saga the past month.
I was looking at the colleges in the area (namely UConn and ECSU), focusing on the availability of three areas: Marketing, Editing, and Graphic Design. UConn has an official Marketing degree, enough classes for me to throw together an Editing degree through an Individualized Major, and the same deal for Graphic Design (there is a “Communications Design” major, but (a) it’s less graphic and more all-around design, and (b) the admission requirements are out of my reach). ECSU has a Visual Design minor, and enough classes for me to make a Marketing Individualized Major, but that’s it. So UConn looked to be winning.
Then this semester started, with the Advanced Computer Graphics class. Very first class period, we watched a short movie on a digital artist named Bert Monroy. This short blew my mind, and had me scraping my jaw off the floor. The digital paintings this man does are ridiculous, in terms of beauty, detail, and staggering talent. That picture on the front page of the web site? That’s not a photograph, that’s a painting, made entirely in Illustrator and Photoshop. Ridiculous.
That short got my mind working, and I did another poke at UConn and ECSU for anything involving digital media. Somehow, on my first search, I had missed the Digital Art and Design concentration at ECSU; reading it over, I fell in love. With the classes, with the program as a whole, and, thanks to alumnus Ryan, with the college.
Just this morning, not half an hour ago, I pulled together enough energy to do the Online Application - Transfer on the ECSU Online Services page. Thought I’d fill out as much as I could, and find out what else would needed to be done to actually apply.
Next thing I know, it’s saying I’m all done and hit this button to send it off. So I did. Surprisingly fast and easy, and I’m actually feeling a little dizzy because of it. It appears that all I have left to do is fetch my high school and MCC transcripts and send them off, and I’m set.
I’ve applied to college. … Eek!
Funny side note: There was a College Transfer Fair at MCC two weeks ago, and I popped by it to grab some material off the ECSU table. One of these materials was a postcard to send in asking for more information on a given major. One of the blanks to fill in on the postcard, along with name and address and college and what-have-you, was credits earned thus far. I went to my online MCC transcript to find out.
I have 84 credits. After this semester, I will have 90. 90 mothereffing credits. Every one earned at Manchester Community College.
I NEED TO MOVE ON ALREADY.
This has gotten a bit long, so I shall save the rest of the post (What Else Is Goin’ On, 2/24/10 Edition) for tomorrow.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
This Ruth in 2009.
I’m going to start this off on a bad note, for two reasons: so I can end it on a good note, and because I hated this year with fiery passion and I need to get it off my chest.
This. Year. Sucked.
The winter went on for eons and was bitter cold. The spring was cold and damp and unpleasant. Summer started off with an ocean’s worth of rain, then petered out in a humid misery. I will admit that fall and this current winter have not been too bad (knock on wood), but the first two and a half seasons of this year straight-up blew.
The people we lost, dear god. Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, Brittany Murphy, Ed McMahon, Bea Arthur, Dom DeLuise, Ted Kennedy, Frank McCourt, Les Paul, Patrick Swayze, Walter Cronkite. Icons, idols, heroes, many taken too soon.
Closer to home, a dear friend of mine lost his father this year, only a few months ago, and my dad lost an employer and close friend, as well as had many friends diagnosed with various illnesses, mostly cancers. My boss lost her mother-in-law.
The worst death for me this year was my Uncle Bill, technically my great uncle, who passed away in February. Bad enough that this was my first experience with losing someone close to me, Uncle Bill was essentially my grandfather, something I never realized the magnitude of until it was almost too late. That alone is all I need to say that this year sucked.
The cherry on top, though, was my cousin Zach. In June, he was diagnosed with bile duct and liver cancer, and was given only a few months to live. He is in his early 30s, and is happily married with two small daughters, one 5 and one turning 2 in just a couple of days. Prime of his life, and a horrible diagnosis.
This is where I will start to climb back up.
Zach is still alive, and is getting well. Next month he will be celebrating the sixth month mark of his diagnosis, and the fact that he has so far beaten the diagnosis. The chemo is working, and his attitude is fantastic--he refuses to see that the odds or statistics relate to him, and has been 99% positive throughout. His tumors are shrinking at a fantastic rate, and his upcoming surgery, while scary, will be a huge step towards recovery.
Due to being sick both days, I missed both Uncle Bill’s funeral, and his ashes ceremony. But I got to say goodbye. I visited him a few days before the end, I got to thank him and tell him I loved him, we had one last embrace. I wish I could have made those ceremonies, but I would never trade one for the other. Beyond that, he had a wonderful, full, long life, with loving children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, with a loving wife he was married to for over sixty years. The church was filled to the brim at his funeral, over 300 people came to show their respects. If that’s not a sign of a good man, I don’t know what is.
There were beginnings this year as well as endings. My cousin Aliza was married in April, with a beautiful ceremony and an awesome, fun-filled reception. My childhood best friend, Lindsay, was also married this year, in September.
Many women at Curves were blessed with grandchildren this year, including my boss, whose stepdaughter had twin boys the day after Easter.
I made a lot of progress on many personal levels—I started another program at MCC, made great progress in therapy and with inner revelations, and made huge strides in getting healthier and more fit. I also made my first “big” purchase (a Queen-sized bed) and moved in with my wonderful boyfriend (who is also making big strides in his own life). Even at work, I’ve gotten closer to some of the members (to the point of friending a few on Facebook), and I’m enjoying the projects I work on and what I do there in general.
And, while he is currently acting as a disappointment to many of those who voted for him, I still count Obama’s inauguration as a big plus to the year; I’ve even been joking that we used up all the good karma on January 20th.
So, this year wasn’t a total bust. I still think it sucked, though. And I can’t wait for 2010.
Next post: Resolutions, and where I want to go in the new year!
This. Year. Sucked.
The winter went on for eons and was bitter cold. The spring was cold and damp and unpleasant. Summer started off with an ocean’s worth of rain, then petered out in a humid misery. I will admit that fall and this current winter have not been too bad (knock on wood), but the first two and a half seasons of this year straight-up blew.
The people we lost, dear god. Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, Brittany Murphy, Ed McMahon, Bea Arthur, Dom DeLuise, Ted Kennedy, Frank McCourt, Les Paul, Patrick Swayze, Walter Cronkite. Icons, idols, heroes, many taken too soon.
Closer to home, a dear friend of mine lost his father this year, only a few months ago, and my dad lost an employer and close friend, as well as had many friends diagnosed with various illnesses, mostly cancers. My boss lost her mother-in-law.
The worst death for me this year was my Uncle Bill, technically my great uncle, who passed away in February. Bad enough that this was my first experience with losing someone close to me, Uncle Bill was essentially my grandfather, something I never realized the magnitude of until it was almost too late. That alone is all I need to say that this year sucked.
The cherry on top, though, was my cousin Zach. In June, he was diagnosed with bile duct and liver cancer, and was given only a few months to live. He is in his early 30s, and is happily married with two small daughters, one 5 and one turning 2 in just a couple of days. Prime of his life, and a horrible diagnosis.
This is where I will start to climb back up.
Zach is still alive, and is getting well. Next month he will be celebrating the sixth month mark of his diagnosis, and the fact that he has so far beaten the diagnosis. The chemo is working, and his attitude is fantastic--he refuses to see that the odds or statistics relate to him, and has been 99% positive throughout. His tumors are shrinking at a fantastic rate, and his upcoming surgery, while scary, will be a huge step towards recovery.
Due to being sick both days, I missed both Uncle Bill’s funeral, and his ashes ceremony. But I got to say goodbye. I visited him a few days before the end, I got to thank him and tell him I loved him, we had one last embrace. I wish I could have made those ceremonies, but I would never trade one for the other. Beyond that, he had a wonderful, full, long life, with loving children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, with a loving wife he was married to for over sixty years. The church was filled to the brim at his funeral, over 300 people came to show their respects. If that’s not a sign of a good man, I don’t know what is.
There were beginnings this year as well as endings. My cousin Aliza was married in April, with a beautiful ceremony and an awesome, fun-filled reception. My childhood best friend, Lindsay, was also married this year, in September.
Many women at Curves were blessed with grandchildren this year, including my boss, whose stepdaughter had twin boys the day after Easter.
I made a lot of progress on many personal levels—I started another program at MCC, made great progress in therapy and with inner revelations, and made huge strides in getting healthier and more fit. I also made my first “big” purchase (a Queen-sized bed) and moved in with my wonderful boyfriend (who is also making big strides in his own life). Even at work, I’ve gotten closer to some of the members (to the point of friending a few on Facebook), and I’m enjoying the projects I work on and what I do there in general.
And, while he is currently acting as a disappointment to many of those who voted for him, I still count Obama’s inauguration as a big plus to the year; I’ve even been joking that we used up all the good karma on January 20th.
So, this year wasn’t a total bust. I still think it sucked, though. And I can’t wait for 2010.
Next post: Resolutions, and where I want to go in the new year!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Oy to the Vey.
I haven’t updated really anywhere in a long while (unless you count Facebook, which I don't). There’s a lot going on, and it would take a long entry just to describe it all.
I have quite a few half-baked blog posts that need to be finished up, including a state-of-the-Ruth one that I’m hoping to post for the new year—either New Year’s Eve, or New Year’s Day. Plan is for that post to talk about what happened in 2009, and what I’m thinking of for 2010 (and beyond!). Since I’m all done with classes now, I have some more time to actually finish my thoughts and finally post them!
Here’s the quickest recap I can do:
[o] Finished classes, did pretty well all-around
[o] Am trying to piece together my next steps, education-wise. This is a blog post in itself, seriously, so I’ll just say this: TOO MANY GODDAMN OPTIONS.
[o] Work is going well, home life going well, health going well (besides a minor cold (yes Dad I’m taking vitamin C and drowning myself in juice)), school is done and is therefore going VERY well ~.^
[o] …ta da?
ETA: Combination thank you to those who read and comment, and apology for never responding to comments! I won't make excuses...I'll just apologize and run away ~.^
I have quite a few half-baked blog posts that need to be finished up, including a state-of-the-Ruth one that I’m hoping to post for the new year—either New Year’s Eve, or New Year’s Day. Plan is for that post to talk about what happened in 2009, and what I’m thinking of for 2010 (and beyond!). Since I’m all done with classes now, I have some more time to actually finish my thoughts and finally post them!
Here’s the quickest recap I can do:
[o] Finished classes, did pretty well all-around
[o] Am trying to piece together my next steps, education-wise. This is a blog post in itself, seriously, so I’ll just say this: TOO MANY GODDAMN OPTIONS.
[o] Work is going well, home life going well, health going well (besides a minor cold (yes Dad I’m taking vitamin C and drowning myself in juice)), school is done and is therefore going VERY well ~.^
[o] …ta da?
ETA: Combination thank you to those who read and comment, and apology for never responding to comments! I won't make excuses...I'll just apologize and run away ~.^
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