Thanks, Ishmael.

My actions do not reflect my priorities. Which in fact means that what I tell myself are my priorities are really not, but my real values are reflected by my actions. This is a very disappointing conclusion to come to. It means that I don't feel my own values are worthy or estimable. And yet I'm so used to them, they're so bound in my lifestyle, they give me such a needed sense of control, that I don't know how to shift to a lifestyle which endorses the values that I want to have, the values that I actually value.

Just thoughts.

Under the El

Vignette

My apartment is really the second floor of a thin, long house. We have a lovely picture window in the front and plenty of windows elsewhere. On autumn days of bright colors and falling leaves, when I'm at the kitchen table writing a paper or on the couch reading the newspaper, I feel like I'm sitting on my perch in a bird's nest. On snowy days of late, with my tiny Christmas tree and cup of cider, I feel like the apartment is a snowglobe (albeit a boring one, no dancing bears or anything).

I like it. I feel safe and snug. Though I also feel like a very tiny creature within a giant's plaything, like the cat's collar from Men in Black. There may be a large and curious eye peering at me right now, calling over other large eyes when I shower or stub my toe. I don't mind; maybe that means I'd be successful on a reality show. When I leave the apartment, though, I will no longer be in the giant's realm, because whatever his little microcosm container is, it only contains the second floor of this building. Now I've gotten carried away with myself.

Extreme Ellyn tackles…TECHNOLOGY!

 

Whaaaaat? I just got a new phone, and much to my surprise, it’s a SMARTPHONE. I’ve never intended to own one of these, it was just the prettiest one under $100. Next thing I know, I’m synching my Facebook account and downloading apps and good grief even TAKING PICTURES with my phone! I’m having a very hard time getting used to the touch screen and tiny buttons, but overall it’s an improvement. However I HATE that I have about a gazillion contacts because all of my Facebook friends and Gmail contacts are automatically entered and I can’t delete them without deleting the whole account. So when I want to call someone, I have several entries for one person and I don’t know which is just the regular cell number.

And on top of THAT, my lappy just decided to download a bunch of new technologies called Windows Live. So I’ve directed ALL of my email accounts to this one inbox which required looking up IMAPS and verification addresses and thingamajigs. now I just need to learn how to synch that inbox to my phone, and life will be so much simpler. Maybe. And finally, under Windows Live came Windows Live Writer, where I can synch my mediocre blog to…I’m not sure what. But I have this nifty little publisher window which seems to be exactly the same as entering a blog directly online.

I’m a little overwhelmed.

I like to think I can run circles around the average Joe in Microsoft Office, but overall I’ve been a very modest consumer of electronics. I don’t want to come to feel that I need to be connected all the time, and that I have to check my email every five minutes, and that I must be able to Twitter instantly when Becky wears leggings as pants. Kids these days are too impatient, and too distractable, and though they think they’re good at multitasking, they’re not. By kids, I mean most Americans.

Relatedly, I worry that people are losing the ability to interact with others. You can’t learn social skills from a screen. More importantly, a friend page on Facebook does not a friend make. Yes, technology has allowed many people to stay in touch or catch up with old friends, but perhaps without it we would still find close friends meaningful enough to call. If they’re not, then we can do without them.

One day I will embrace the 21st century, and that’s fine. I was born early enough to develop my worldview apart from technology. I just think at that point life will be a little more complicated than is necessary.

One hundred thingz.

Have you ever heard of the 100-things challenge? The idea is to whittle your possessions down until you only won 100 things (food not included, I'm assuming). I've often been tempted to try this because...

I don't like clutter.
I feel selfish for having unnecessary things.
I would spend less money.
I would stress out less about all the things that I "need" to get.
The things I would have would be nicer.
isn't living simply supposed to be, like, relieving?

But obviously, I've not done it. Those reasons are much less clear. Perhaps...

I'm scared I would get rid of something I needed.
I'm too attached to useless sentimental objects.
I really am just materialist and like having lots of clothes.
I like little knick-knacks that make my home pretty.
it's too difficult to define what counts as a "thing" (one sheet, or the sheet set? my iPod and case, or are they one entity?)
my bookshelf alone is over 100 things. Though I may be willing to part with my CD collection, the bookshelf is nonnegotiable.
if I have guests over I don't want to have to share the one mug I have left.

At least monthly I rummage through my belongings and take a bag or so to the thrift store, but occasionally it backfires. Just last night I was looking for a scarf to wear, and remembered that I had gotten rid of them because I didn't think I'd ever wear them. Did I still go out and have a nice time? Sure. Did I even think about wearing a scarf? Not really. Am I right now thinking to myself "damn that outfit would have been cuter with a scarf"? Yes.

Would anything change if I got rid of more stuff? Probably not. In fact, one of the biggest thoughts holding me back is that I would just go buy everything all over again. And really, is there anything wrong with that? Is it so wrong to own an extensive collection of kitchen tools and craft supplies, as long as I use them? Probably not. So I don't know why I'm so stuck on this. And I don't know why every other sentence in this post is a question. I do know that this has drained some of the writing power that should have gone to the paper I'm concurrently working on.

:)

A lot of my recent posts have been angry, and since I don't consider myself an angry person, this is an attempt to change course.

I live in Chicago. In (or at least near) a very hoppin' neighborhood with lots of well-known, popular, and delicious restaurants and shops, which I can rarely afford, but which are within range enough to provide for special occasions. My house is small, but cute, and I like it. I ride the train past Wrigley Field two days a week, and each time I get excited because it's been in magazines and movies and it's famous and I live by it.

I go to a school that people have actually heard of. I love my UPASS. I procrastinate a lot, but after this weekend I'll only have 2 papers left in the semester. Speaking of this weekend, I'm going to a Halloween party where I will see lots of good friends.

I've just started getting my own caseload at my internship, which is extremely satisfying because I'm learning that I actually do like being a social worker. The other day I called the Department of Human Services for a client and helped him answer some questions about his public assistance. It made me feel like a competent adult (or at least I can trick DHS into thinking I am). It's the same feeling I had those few times as an RA that my residents actually cared to approach me - I did something today, and it was useful, and it was good. I fit in at my agency and really like my coworkers.

 I have a job! A minimum wage job at a pizza place (which I foolishly thought I could avoid in Chicago), but a job nonetheless. And despite former experience in the food service industry with poor management and druggie staff (a la Jimmy John's), I actually really like this job. My coworkers are interesting and funny. My managers are positive and responsible. I get free pizza. And it's really, really good.

And finally, it's fall. On most days, it's beautiful outside. Even when it's not, it's cold enough to wear adorable cold weather accessories and my pleasantly toasty Thinsulate coat. There are pumpkins on every other doorstep. There is pumpkin in as much of my food as possible. Or sweet potato, or apple, etc, etc.

This was not supposed to be an update on my life, rather the point is this: I've always been waiting for the next stage of life to begin (first job, college, long-term relationship, off-campus apartment, out of my parents house, out of the midwest...), thinking that when I reach it my life will change so substantially that I'll finally be the exciting, interesting person I've always wanted to be, and I'll get a feeling of satisfaction that means I don't have to keep looking anymore. Nothing will be in the way of living my life how I'm supposed to and how I want to.

Well, there are still stages in my life that I look forward to, such as moving away from Chicago and having a full-time job, but for now, I can punch in to my job, log notes at my internship, or read a book in my living room and think "this is good".

And don't even get me started on the autism vaccine...

This is nothing revolutionary, but sometimes I think no one else has any common sense.

Today in my Individual & Family Therapy II course, we discussed social work with children. ADHD was brought up, with its problematic diagnostic system and implications for medicated kids. The presenters mentioned that teachers are often the ones to notice the issue because they spend more time with the children, whose parents usually don't notice any misbehavior. I've heard this before, usually accompanying a discussion on how this results in overdiagnosis.

So, here is what I would like to scream at the world: Did you ever think that kids are naturally rambunctious and can't concentrate on math for an hour each day, and that perhaps some teachers just can't handle 30 children at a time so when one irritates her(him) consistently and s(he) doesn't know how to deal with it, s(he) is going to blame it on the child instead of her(his) inadequate teaching skills? And that the reason parents don't notice is because they only have to deal with that one child, and one child's hyperactivity isn't so bad when not amidst 29 others? And did you know that about half of children diagnosed with ADHD grow out of it, so maybe THAT'S JUST CALLED CHILDHOOD?

Perhaps that is too harsh on teachers who haven't chosen to have overloaded classrooms, but I have a bone to pick with them, and I don't think it's entirely unjustified.

MEDICATION IS NOT AN EASY WAY OUT. You can't just sedate Johnny because you're tired of telling him not to stand on his desk. That's what kids do.

And finally, I realize that teachers can not diagnose anything, but they can significantly pressure parents to seek medication against their better judgment, especially those in lower classes who feel uninformed and that they don't have any power in the matter.

And last last lastly, it is my understanding that ADHD is a biological condition, and therefore I fully support medication when it is actually needed. But otherwise, just be a better teacher.

Home visit

These are okay.

Glee tackles religion

I'm sure no one who reads this blog watched Glee, but I need to make a point. Unfortunately, I've found myself watching the last 2 episodes on Hulu. In my defense, I really do not understand why everyone loves it so much and feel it's not nearly deserving of all the hype. But when every other Facebook status of my feed is about the latest episode, I get curious.

This week's episode began when Finn (sp?), the football playing songster, made a Grilled Cheesus - a grilled cheese with Jesus' face burned into it. Then Kurt, the gay songster, had a fight with his father, who had a heart attack a few days later.

Finn, after some successful prayers to Grilled Cheesus, feels convicted to devote his life to Jesus. He approaches the Glee Club and announces that he wants to devote the week's songs to Jesus. Everyone freaks out and thinks he's super square and gets really uncomfortable talking about Jesus (all but the black girl of course). Kurt protests, claiming religion and gays are not compatible and that he does not believe in God. Second freakout commences, except this time everyone is shocked that Kurt doesn't believe in God. How could he not? How can he know for sure? That's so sad. Let's pity him and spend the entire episode trying to convert him.

I have a major problem with this scenario and I think it is very telling about America's feelings toward religion. I may not be able to articulate this well, sorry, but I still want to say it.

I can't cite this, but I would bet the majority of White Americans identify as Christians. Many of them go to church, and many of them do not but are spiritual. But there are still vast numbers who choose to identify this way, but do not practice anything nor have any daily connection to religion. They talk about Heaven when a loved one dies, go to church on holidays (maybe), and claim that they have been blessed, but ask them the last time they prayed or talked about Jesus to someone else or and you'll see them shift uncomfortably in their seat and cast their eyes about the room.
(*Note - I'm not referring to people who celebrate Christmas yet admittedly don't believe in God, nor those who believe and choose to worship in alternative ways, or people raised as Christian who claim to have no connection to it.)

From my point of view, it's like everyone is expected to believe in God, but not too much. If you're too vocal about it, or make it too much a part of your life, you risk social outcast status. We want to feel protected and have something to turn to during hard times, but those other rules about being virtuous and giving are an inconvenience. We're Christians, but our relationship with Christ is not tangible enough to be part of our identity.  

Yes, as a Christian I should not judge others, go ahead, wag your finger at me. I'll claim instead that I'm not judging, I'm wondering WHY. This seriously doesn't make any sense to me. Why are people who supposedly believe in him so uncomfortable talking about Jesus? Why can't I say I go to church, but I also can't say I'm an atheist? And why does a stupid shit show like Glee have to perpetuate this behavior? AND WHY DOES NO ONE NOTICE? I honest to goodness truly don't care what other people believe in, but I care when claims and behaviors don't match. Rereading this just now, I guess I'm just making the age-old complaint against hypocrisy. But it's not even that I care whether people are following Biblical doctrines enough, I certainly don't. It's really the matter of comfort, of why people are so afraid to admit to any kind of real devotion, of why I get nervous about the reaction every time I tell a fellow Christian "I can't, I'm going to church".

There's really no conclusion to this, I s'pose that's the end. Not at all preaching, it was just on my mind.

The fruits of my labor

Some of my better attempts...I think. They're a little better bigger, if you care to click on them.

SET YOUR GOALS

I've been spending much of my free time on Craigslist and dejectedly wondering what to do with myself. And the strange thing about being unemployed is...I have a lot of free time. Which translates to a lot of wasted time, really. But no more! Too long I've neglected personal betterment with the excuse of having no time. Now that time abounds, I have three goals expressed on colorful notecards taped to the wall in front of my desk, which I will now relate to you.

1. Run 2-3x per week. No gym membership required, and I get to wear cute clothes. I tried this about a month ago, and after a week or so got mad runner's knee. Not knowing what it was, I got all whiny and stopped running. Lo and behold, The Beginning Runner's Handbook tells me it's one of the most common injuries and easily fixed by a knee brace. I always thought people who wore those were just douche bags who wanted to say "Hey, hey look, I'm a runner". So, after I procure one of those bad boys and an ipod armband, off into the sunset I will run.

2. Limit sugar intake to 40g/day. I guess this really doesn't take any time, but eh. Most people are supposed to get around 50g, and for most people this would probably be plenty. But anytime I've tracked my intake, it's been around 70-80g/day. Which is majorly unfair, because even a banana has 12g. Ugh. But I don't want diabetes. For real though, that much sugar is hella bad for you, and it probably accounts for me being tired and cranky a lot.

3. Take photos at least 1 hour per week. I have a bangin' camera that does not get used nearly enough. This really shouldn't be hard at all, but here's why I haven't been doing it: In Bloomington and Crystal Lake, there weren't many places to go. That is not an excuse in Chicago. I just have to do some research and find someplace new to go each week. Second, it's difficult for me to do something fun when neglected homework is nagging at me. But seriously, an hour of photos is better than an hour of Stumbleupon. And also seriously, I have time for both.

Finally, sort-of-not-really along the same lines, I want to start exploring Chicago bars. Which I guess may have to wait til I have a job, but once in a while can't hurt. So if anyone in the city's lookin' for something to do, holla at me.

There ya have it, friends. Next time you see me, I will be an extremely fit and artsy peasant. How hip.

But I'm great at APA formatting...

There are two parts to this post, both relating to my employment status (un).

First, until about a month ago, I had never been rejected from a job for which I interviewed. Not to say that I'm so outstanding that everyone wanted me. But as a high school/college student in the 'burbs or central Illinois applying to minimum wage jobs, I would say I was fairly competent, qualified, and impressive compared to some of my peers. Then all of a sudden I was a 22-year-old college graduate preparing to move to the big city, thinking "I have barista experience, surely I'll just find a bar or restaurant to hire me where I will make a fortune being server-extraordinaire". Wrong. No restaurant experience, no job. I've hardly even attempted those jobs because I know the outcome. (Sidenote, this is extremely frustrating because I know that I would be a fantastic server and I would love it, but none of these places care that the only person who can attest to this is my mom).

Instead, for the past 2 months I've been scouring Craigslist, sending my resume to unsuspecting employers, and eyeing every storefront I pass in search of the one institution in Chicago who wants a moderately-experienced but well-educated student to work an inflexible schedule of up to fifteen hours per week. I know it's out there. But seriously, I'm losing motivation. It's tiring and depressing, and I don't know how long I can keep doing it. It takes up nearly as much time as actually working, but I'm not getting paid. Yet if I want to eat more than rice, beans, and oatmeal, and if I want to watch HGTV til 1am Saturday night, and if I want to buy this pumpkin ale staring at me while I type at Whole Foods (where I've been scamming internet for a month), the search must continue.

But what's this, a crepe and coffee cafe wants to hire me but they need someone to work 20-25 hours per week? Well. This brings me to the second point, being that I'm kinda lazy. Not in the sit-on-the couch all day sense, in the "oh I can't commit to too much responsibility because I might have to get less than 9 hours of sleep and then I'll just be cranky" sense. Right now I'm taking three classes and one internship. I know people who have an additional class, 7-hour/week work study, and part-time job. How do they do it???? I'd like to be able to see friends once and a while too. Is that asking too much? Regardless, I need to start being responsible and accept that until May 2012 I will be an overworked student and minimum-wage worker. But at least I won't gawk at the $28 price tag on a resale shop dress.

Posi

From now on, I'm going to be positive. No more worrying and brooding and intentionally holding grudges. More on the topic later.

In sum...

Dear Blogspot,

Egad, it's been so long, old friend.  I apologize for not having made time for you sooner; this may be the first chance I've gotten to simply sit and catch up on mindless websurfing since being home.  Of course, I instantly thought of you (after reading about the Worst Smoothies in America and checking the status of some shipments).  What has kept me away so long, you ask?  Sit down, my dear, and I shall regale my adventures.

As you may recall, I painted my room recently.  I've been meaning to post pictures, but it still looks like a storage room.  I spent a good deal of time re-mounting shelves and pictures and bric-a-brac, but they've not all made their way home yet.  The garage sale I mentioned was decently successful, yet somehow my bank account inflated only marginally.  I'm still not sure where all that money went.  Post-sale, Thomas kindly helped me drag the leftovers to the Community Thrift Store, pick up a desk via Craigslist, and inhale large quantities of food.  It was a sweaty day to say the least. 

About a week ago I started work as a Graduate Assistant!  The first day I met Dr. Shweta Singh, whose research interests concern women and global policy, she asked my concentration and I told her I'd like to work with adoptions.  Her response: "Did you know that women in India are being paid to have babies for international adoptions?".  That's all I'll day about that.

Because of said job, however, I was in Chicago three times last week, typically up at 7 am and home between 10:30 and midnight.  This was a result of the 2 hour commute each way.  The benefit: I was walking and rushing around so much that I could pretty much eat anything I wanted and not worry about it. 

Get this, Blogspot - I saw Chinese folk perform death-defying feats on Friday night!  That's right, I saw Cirque du Shanghai at Navy Pier.  It's an offshoot of Cirque du Soleil, but I'm fairly certain a little less...something.  A little less professional maybe.  Either way, it stressed me out.  I couldn't handle the suspense, I tell you.  A girl on a man on a man on a ladder???  Three men on motorbikes in a spherical cage?!?  My blood pressure was shot.

Speaking of Chinese folk, Thomas's graduation party was Saturday, during which I politely conversed with the same people I haven't really known for the past 2 years.  Immediately afterward I went home and purchased food for my own party the next day.  Have you ever been to Joseph's Market, Blogspot?  I must say, the quality of their produce is just to die for.  But I digress.

The party went very, very well (although I was sad to hear you couldn't make it).  It was wonderful to see my friends, though it still surprises me that people will drive an hour or so just to sit around at my house. 

Guess what!  Thomas got me a Nikon D3000 for graduation!  And the lens form his mother.  I nearly cried.  I very much plan on turning this in to a serious hobby, but it would have taken me forever to finally but one myself.  I've hardly gotten to use it though, with how busy things have been. I forgot to mention, my lovely mother had ankle surgery and my sister (whom the pharmacist now knows by name) did...something to her back, so I (and my father) have been playing nurse/errand-runner.

Additionally, I started classes on Monday!  Working with Individuals and Families.  First, I would like to say that I'm pretty sure every single student in the Chicago area begins their day with a latte.  Second, I am in the vast minority as someone just out of undergrad.  That was surprising and intimidating.  Third, the class itself was extremely unintimidating.  Very basic and general.  But, I suppose, pleasantly easy. 

That evening, She+Him (headed by Zooey Deschanel) held a free concert in Millenium Park.  Now I was excited just because it sounded like something nice to do.  But when I got there, you would have thought Lady Gaga was naked on stage.  The place was overrun with hipsters.  And old people drinking wine.  And children.  I've never seen so many pairs of TOMSshoes in my life!  I mean honestly, the band isn't even that good.  It ended up being disappointingly unenjoyable.

And that brings us to yesterday.  My first day with no scheduled obligations.  I got through about half of my very large to-do list, but spent much of the time playing with my new laptop!  Purchased as a grad present courtesy of Mommy and Daddy so that I could have something light and portable to take to the city.  I love it.  Today I fiddled with my camera, and got 2 free tickets to Arlington Park when I took my sisters car in for an oil change.  How do you feel about gambling, Blogspot?

So, all in all, I'm starting to understand why most people value free time so much.  But, you know, I like feeling productive.  I'm rarely bored, at the least.  Now that I'm sitting here though, I'm not sure what to do with myself.  Hence this extensive letter.  I guess all you really need to know is that things are going well and I'm a very lucky gal. 

Well, I'm off to take a gander at the newly released Lollapalooza schedule and 'Alejandro' music video.  If you're ever at a loss for something to do at 6:00 on a Monday morning, give me a call!  I'll be looking for something to keep me awake on the train.

Yours Truly,

ellynvictoria

Ellyn the Post-Grad

My first task upon returning to my parents' house as a college graduate was to paint the room I've occupied since the summer I turned 13.  Today, after much frustration and hard labor, the task is complete.  My room is by no means perfect; there are poorly spackled bumps where huge screws used to hold shelving, annoyingly imperfect lines where paint leaked under the blue tape (a particularly strong pet peeve of mine), and a million tiny white splatters on the wood floor that I will never discover the end of.  But it's very, very pretty.  I owe endless hours to whomever invented those sliding paint edgers to go in corners and along the wall.  As a result, my coral accent wall is flawless (relatively).  I've been making excuses to enter the room so I can admire my work.  Sometimes I just stand there and look around.

Now, if all goes according to plan, I'll only be living in said room for the summer, so it really shouldn't matter whether I like the decor at this point.  But (shhhhhh don't tell) I may be trying to cope with the complete return to parental dependence.  It's a new and more mature color scheme, so I'm not exactly right back where I was 9 years ago, right?  Ummm... Okay so it sucks.  But I'm trying to focus on the positive.  Mainly, I'm just really proud of myself.  I didn't let the man at the hardware store convince me to buy the more expensive paint (an extravagance we Drathrings are staunchly opposed to).  I only had to ask for help once, when some screws proved too stubborn for my girlish muscles.  Overall, I persevered through scorching temperatures, sleeping in the basement, and the pressure to plan a garage sale and finalize grad school paperwork, to finish the job in three days!  Sign me up for the Ass-Kicking Club.

What does an amateur ass-kicker do next, you might ask?
This weekend:  Execute killer garage sale and make dollas.
This week:  Be the best Graduate Assistant Dr. Shweta Singh ever had.
Next week:  Begin Operation Master of Social Work.

Now, perhaps one day I won't have to rely on garage sales to finance an ice cream date with my BFFs. 

Items in my proverbial "bucket"

AKA, my "Bucket List".  I don't like that term, because it's only become widely used after the movie, which I have no interest in seeing.  What did they call these before the movie?  Wasn't it just "A List of Things to Do Before I Die"?  I'm fine with that.

1. Go to a pro baseball game.  Mostly for the nostalgia.
2. Host a Thanksgiving dinner.  The epitome of homemaking, a skill that by all accounts I should not want to have.  But I do.
3. Adopt a child.  I could spend hours on this.  Rather than conceiving one extra human to use up the world's resources, I can provide for one that already exists.  People often think this lacks warmth, like adopting a child is all about sustainability and efficiency.  Not so.  Think about it.  How many children out there are homeless, starving, or sick?  Or less extreme, are just living in a children's home with no family?  Most people say "Eh, that's sad, but I want a little ball of joy that looks just like me and is a manifestation of my love for my partner".  I could not possibly ignore so many children in need simply because they're not mine.
4. Hike the Appalachian Trail.  From Georgia to Maine, it takes about 6 months.  I'm not sure why from the moment I heard about this I've been set on it.  Maybe it's a sense of accomplishment.
5. Bike 50+ miles in one trip.  Again, a sense of accomplishment maybe?  Just a goal to strive for in something I enjoy.
6. Travel to...everywhere.  My top choices (in no particular order) currently are Norway, Germany, Jerusalem, and Morocco.  I think most other countries are more appealing than America.  They're more interesting and colorful, and less ignorant, and I really just like living in other cultures.

                                          ^Norway (the homeland)
7. Decorate a home...preferably mine.  Again, another feat of homemaking.  But also, I think the impression that your home gives people is important.  I don't want mine to be plain and pretty, but classy yet unique.
8. Have a rooftop or windowsill garden.  Yes, it's sustainable, but also cute.
9. Get a tattoo.  Of something meaningful, but I have no idea what.

Impulsivity strikes again

I look like a lesbian again.  Or a rich suburban mom.  Or Kate Gosselin.  The first time I looked like a lesbian being when I got a faux-hawk 2 years ago.  Here's the story.  I went to get the usual trim today, and chose Noonan's Hair'Em, where I've generally had good experiences.  I was privileged to see Dan Noonan himself, who in his mid-40s has the hair of a 20-something gay man - that is, spiked, gelled, highlighted, and all-around hip.  However, having a wife and children I assume he is not gay.  At first glance I would have thought he was just some old guy who hasn't let go of his youth...but that seems too harsh a judgment considering how extremely friendly and knowledgeable about hair he was.  He recognized immediately that he would need to repair some of the damage done by the Paul Mitchell student during my last trim, and I told him that no one's ever really gotten the angle that I want right, but at this point I'm just trying to grow it out.  He went on to tell me about the many dramatic angles that he's done, as extreme as from the crown of the head in back to below the shoulder in front.  Long story short, after discussing my history of impulsive haircuts and preference for exciting looks, I decided to go quite short in back.  I would not have done this if I did not completely trust his expertise.

So, onward.  I'm not sure if I misunderstood or just didn't realize that it would be quite so short in back, but it is.  Basically my hair is...about 3/4 of an inch long in the back, and the usual shoulder length in the front.  From the from it actually looks great, from the back I indeed look like a lesbian.  I'm not sure if it's a cute lesbian though.  I don't know, overall I'm a little nervous, but I think it will grow out nicely.  Dan did assure me that it looks "sexy" and "sharp" and that my boyfriend would "poop himself".  After letting the mild creepiness of these comments slide, I said "I hope not".

Being a Post-grad

In the past 3 days, I've applied to 5 jobs, called the Loyola Financial Aid office twice, picked out and bought paint samples, budgeted, planned, scheduled, and worried myself crazy.  Is this called being an adult?  It's funny, I thought May Term was gonna be a wonderful time to relax and do nothing, when really it's just time to catch up on everything that school prevented me from doing before.  To be fair, I still get to go back to Bloomington for two weeks of leisure time...but then I have to get all my stuff back home but not moved in so I can paint my room, plan a garage sale, and a graduation party.  You know, I actually don't think this is adulthood...I think it's transitionhood.

Everyone just cool your jets.

Hello, everyone, I'm a quitter.  I've never lasted more than 3 weeks during Lent; I just gave 2 weeks notice at Jimmy John's then quit after a week anyway; and I gave in after 4 days of a separation that was supposed to last a week.  Not to mention my abandoned tap shoes, riding crop, and xylophone. Throughout my life I've been made to feel bad about similar failures.  Not necessarily directly, but comments like "Oh well I just don't like giving up on things I start" or "Oh well I guess only you can make that decision".  Fuck you.  Yes I can make that decision, and I am completely okay with all of the above shortcomings.  Why would I stick continue something that I don't enjoy and is completely unfulfilling?  I mean I'm sorry, but apparently I missed the memo on How to Extract Life Lessons from Situations that Make Your Life Suck. 

I'm not entirely selfish, nor lazy.  In fact I firmly believe that doing one thing each day that you don't want to do builds character.  I really hate riding my bike to the bank sometimes.  I really hate making business calls.  I really hate going to the gym.  But those things are temporary, and I get through them.  Life itself shouldn't be that thing that you're constantly not wanting to do.  Or other particularly prevalent aspects of life itself, like your job and friends.

I really don't care if other people are uncomfortable "quitting" - stick with it if that's what you want.  Just don't try to convince me that your labors are noble.  As long as I don't let others down, I'm perfectly happy exercising my strengths and weaknesses.

Musings.

About half an hour ago I finished the last assignment of my undergraduate career.  Butterflies immediately swarmed my stomach.  It feels like there's this giant void in my life, but I'm not sure whether to attribute that to the lack of school or another formerly salient part of my life which is now lacking, and because of having no schoolwork I'm forced to think about.  It's odd, I've been waiting to finish this paper so that I can start doing a million other things, but now that I can, I don't want to.  I have no motivation.  Maybe that's just because I need to relax and do nothing for a while.  But, as I learned from The Outsiders, "when you haven't got anything to do, you remember things in spite of yourself".   This paragraph does not convey entirely what I mean it to.

Keep an eye out for my Etsy page.

As I sit here avoiding the first of the final three papers, this thought from Sondheim's Into the Woods nags at me:  How can you know what you want til you get what you want and you see if you like it?

Unfortunately, capitalist, workaholic America is not accommodating to such questions.  I'm considering crocheting and selling tiny amigurumi dolls for the rest of my life.

EDIT: 7 days

9 Jimmy John's shifts
2 desk shifts
3 papers due
1 Marriage & Family period
1 Neuroscience period
1 Ballet period

and I'm done.

This is all I think about.

16 days

12 Jimmy John's shifts
5 Religious Thought periods
5 Neuroscience periods
5 desk shifts
4 Ballet periods
4 Marriage and Family periods
4 papers due
2 labs
1 presentation

and I'm done.

Just me and Griswald today.

Today is Easter.  It doesn't feel like Easter because I slept through church and neither egg-decorating nor hunting nor bags of jelly beans nor chocolate bunnies are on the agenda.  It's also a very quiet and lonesome day, when I feel like I should be at a park with small children running around or eating small sandwiches at a relative's house.  Rather, I will be writing a paper supporting Freud's opinion that humans should give up religion because it's a childish coping mechanism that does more harm than good.  Ironic.  I feel obligated to say that I don't actually believe that. 

I did, however, have a lovely brunch with Thomas, Linda, and Garrett this morning, which allowed me to try out a recipe for sweet potato hash browns.  I'm always very pleased when I get to cross a recipe off the "To Make Someday" list.  Today is also nice because the apartment is very clean, and I get to spend the day taking it in before it's destroyed by the weekly chaos which will no doubt be amplified by impending finals.

Speaking of which, Freud calls...

Happy Easter, dear friends.

Thursday, April 1

Im writing a Neuroscience paper in the air conditioned library, the cool air being completely unnecessary and oppressive because the weather is fresh and beautiful today.  Im in a fairly good mood because of said weather, in addition to the almond windmill cookies I ate last night, and the cucumber tomato sandwich I had for lunch.  Funny how food is such a mood-lifter.  Anyway, is it bad that I nearly dont care how I do on this paper, as long as I finish it?  I attribute this to the common feeling among my peers with post-grad plans and I...why even try?  Will Loyola really withdraw my acceptance if I get a C in Neuroscience?  Im dangerously close to becoming carefree a little too soon.

I apologize for the lack of apostrophes.  Blogspot doesnt seem to be keen on them today.

the nutcracker? more like the slutcracker.

I'm exhausted.  I've planned every semester with the hope that I could take it easy as a second-semester senior, but Neuroscience has been my downfall.  That's not even the whole problem, though.  I'm just losing it.  I forgot about a meeting last week.  I forgot about an obligation an hour from now, and since I'm not prepared, I plan to skip it.  I had planned to have my religion paper done last Friday, and I haven't started it yet.  Which means I have two papers due this Friday.  I left the books for the first one at home.  And my hat.  I grabbed the wrong set of grad school papers that I planned to look at tonight.  Sure I forget little things all the time here and there, but today it just feels like everything.  And I've never not been on top of things before.  I don't get this behind on homework.  I'm reliable.  I'm responsible.  I do what I'm supposed to do.  I earn good references.  Though I may not always perform to the best of my abilities, I never blow anything off entirely.

The response to these concerns is often "Hey you've worked hard for four years, take a break, it's not the end of the world".  That's dumb.  Compared to most IWU students, I really don't work that hard.  No one else gets to be lazy, why should I?

Despite what this post may sound like, I wouldn't say I'm hard on myself.  I'm not an over-achieving perfectionist.  I just feel hugely unprepared and inadequate right now.  This is such brain-mush.  Sorry.

PS - So I was trying to think of a title for this, and the current one just popped into my head, and made me a lot happier.  So good.

Hotlanta, or Mildlanta?

Last Friday I woke up at 4:30 am to take a brisk walk over to Hansen, spend 11 hours on a bus, and bunk in a church in Atlanta when not volunteering during the day.  Despite its reputation, the temperature did not rise above 65 all week, and in fact was rather cold on some days.  That, and the fact that I did NOT eat at a Waffle House, are the two biggest disappointments of my week.  Otherwise it was generally better than expected.

Tourist-y wise, I saw Martin Luther King Jr's birth home and tomb, went to the Coke Museum and tasted probably 25 international products, Olympic Park, and Underground Atlanta (also a huge disappointment).  The volunteer projects we got werrrrre okay?  I'm pretty sure I only met like 3 people who actually live in Atlanta, which is a bummer since the point of the trip is to meet, connect with, and understand the community.  I was expecting to see firsthand effects of flooding and poverty and hear personal stories and actually feel like I impacted someone directly.  I was expecting it to be more like Hurricane Katrina relief.  In actuality, we did a lot of warehouse work and a bit of construction.  But even though I didn't get much from it, it still made someone's life easier.  So that's good.  I also got to plant trees, named Elmer and Prickly.

And I made friends :)  Which is always nice.  The best part was that even though I was crammed in a tiny room with 90 girls in bunk beds and had to shower in a trailer, I didn't fucking hate my life every night, which I thought I would.  Pleasant surprises. 

And a final note, Shamrock shakes in the south are NOT as good as the ones by Chicago. 

Why I shouldn't have nice things.

I have been the proud owner of a cell phone since the age of 14.  About 7 years.  In that time, I have never lost any phone for more than 10 minutes before finding it in my pants pocket, where I would have stumbled upon it eventually anyway.

Until the end of January abouts, when it fell out of my pocket in CNS.  "A very nice girl named Amy" found it and called my mom, who then emailed me so that I could contact Amy and be reunited with celly.  Happy ending.  Until about two weeks later, when I left work around 8pm, almost certainly leaving my phone on the bed before heading to the shower.  Yet when I came back, no phone was in sight (nor in sound, as I had left it on silent).  Did it fling out of my pocket behind my dresser as I undressed?  Did it never even make its way home, falling out of my pocket as I quickened the pace to avoid the shady man on my walk from Jimmy John's?  We may never know.  I suffered through a phoneless week, then bought the most delicate of go-phones that doesn't even have a front display.

So for about 2 hours I've been getting ready to go to Atlanta tomorrow.  I was downstairs tidying up in general and preparing rice (which I hear makes a good substitute for cereal with a little bit o sugar), then grabbed a few odds and ends to bring upstairs.  Put my jacket, shoes, water bottle away, turned to grab my hair dryer, comb, and phone, and...there was no phone.  W.  T.  F.  I spent a good half hour looking EVERYWHERE for it, Facebook messaging people to call me, because of course no one was on AIM, and in general going crazy and freaking out because I wouldn't have a phone in Atlanta.  And this time it was worse because I absolutely positively knew that it was somewhere in the house.

I had just resigned myself to waiting for someone to call, and sat down to write a blog entitled "Epicest Fail Ever", when what's that???  Lovely bells from my closet!  Where in my closet?  My shoe.  My fucking shoe.  My phone dropped into my shoe as I carried the armful of straggling goods upstairs.  Who loses their phone in a shoe?  This seriously just pisses me off.

This is probably way more information than anyone will ever care to know, but it really just gets to me, and I need to feel like someone will understand how unbelievably frustrating this is.

Lastly, thank you to my savior, my darling sister AnnaBanann.

springspringspringspringspring

Today was a good day.  I picked my bike up from the bike doctor (routine checkup), so it was all smooth and clean and happy after spending months in hibernation.  Rode to the local/natural foods store to buy almond milk and larabars, because I'm foodcleansing myself of unnatural ingredients today, brought on by the act of eating half a box of raisin bran crunch yesterday.  Met Thomas for a stop at Coffee Hound for mango green tea, a walk downtown, a bike ride to normal, and a used book purchase.  Then work. Meh.  But I just finished a batch of honey roasted almonds for the trail mix I'm making for ASB!  I find that on long trips during which I rely on cafeteria style meals from a nonprofit organization trying to save money, like ASB, the vegetarian option usually lacks protein.  Hence the sugarysweet almonds.

Yet, all of these lovely events are irritatingly tainted by the knowledge of everything else I  have to do.  I will have a paper due every Friday from the first week of spring break until finals.  Six total.  And the real kicker, lectures haven't progressed enough to actually start any of them.  So I just have to sit and stare at the slowly darkening cloud of impending doom.  Bummer on such a nice day.

To buy from the used book store I discovered today:

Bhagavad Gita - Krishna?   $2
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - Robert M. Pirsig   $4
The Satanic Verses - Salman Rushdie   $5
Total:   $11

I can scrounge up 11 bucks.

For now, though, I return to Neuroscience...le sigh.

WTF Kierkegaard?

Faith is precisely the paradox that the single individual as the single individual is higher than the universe, is justified before it, not as inferior to it but as superior - yet in such a way, please note, that it is the single individual who, after being subordinate as the single individual to the universal, now by means of the universal becomes the single individual who as the single individual is superior, that the single individual as the single individual stands in absolute relation to the absolute.

I still need a name for this blog...

...but I want to express my desire to watch all of this year's Academy Award nominated films.  Or at least the good ones.  So that's what I plan to do on all of the rainy days of May Term.  Weeeeee!!!