Joyfully Cherishing Random Thought

Not Intended to be a Factual Statement

2012-02-10T13:47:00.000-08:00

I just saw Steven Colbert's segment on Rep Senator Jon Kyl's faux pas where he backtracked, saying what was not intended as a factual statement was when he said 90% of what Planned Parenthood does is abortions. Actually, that figure is around 3%. And actually, this was said last April, but a bad memory and current renewed relevancy means I can laugh all over again. Ha. Yippee.

A silly statement makes light of a serious issue, however. Today, the president announced a revision to mandated contraception policies at religious institutions. Hospitals and universities affiliated with religious organizations don't have to offer contraception services to employees. Insurers must offer these as free services to women who work at these institutions. Let the games begin.

I can see why insurers are upset at the extra cost for something they don't believe in, and I see this is the uptick of the battle for or on religious freedom (imperialism?).

But my gut reaction? To these institutions: How can you look someone in the face and deny her any sort of protection? Moreover, you employ from the public, you offer services to the public, and you accept government money for those services. Insurers and their employees cover other services not everyone agrees about paying or will use (like neurological services), but line-iteming everything will intentionally or unintentionally hurt those who help you.

At first I thought that female employees who were of a certain mindset just wouldn't work at those institutions, which would gradually homogenize the population and leave out differently-minded thinkers. Homogenized thought sounds so wonderful, doesn't it? But the more I'm browsing around, the more I'm reading from women who have no idea they weren't covered until it was too late. Wouldn't you assume that you would be covered and could have a major say on when to have a family? It's 2012. I would.

Slumberless

2012-02-04T13:28:00.000-08:00

Dear Abby (and Blogosphere),

These past two weeks have not been great. I haven't been able to fall asleep or stay asleep, I've been eating sporadically and not well, and there's a lot to do that I just haven't had the concentration to do both quickly and well per lack of sleep. The mornings have been rough, which is unfortunate because my classes are at 9:00.

Do you have any tricks for staying asleep? My brain keeps having a processing party (of good and bad things) well into the night, and it just won't listen to reason when I tell my brain to knock it off.

I run in the afternoons, which helps oxygen get to my brain, and I feel terrific afterwards. Running in the morning has been my saving grace for years and especially during school to ward off seizures, but I don't have time to run the distances I want in the morning before I have to go to class. I don't think this would be much of an issue if I were sleeping well.

Signed,

Sweating for Sanity

Way To Wonderful

2012-02-01T17:00:00.001-08:00

This is a shameless steal off a friend's Facebook page, but it made me laugh so hard that I had to rob. Yeah and yippee for good English!

I should have done this during presentations when I worked as a writing tutor. I usually had a "its" versus "it's" talk at some point in presentations, but this group activity would have made things much more meaningful. Oh, if only....

A Tale of One "City"

2012-01-25T15:58:00.000-08:00

Charlottesville's school district will be $4 million in the hole this coming year. Many rather scary suggestions are being proposed to adjust this such as eliminating one elementary school or getting rid of all elementary school assistant principals. Unfortunately, they're getting them while they're young.

One of the more provocative suggestions is to change Charlottesville from Charlottesville City to the Town of Charlottesville in order to get more government funding. To my understanding of Virginia Funding 101, cities are independent of counties and therefore get a fixed allocation of funding for education. Towns, on the other hand, are contained within counties and therefore compete within their counties for a large portion of their funding.

I'm envisioning Charlottesville, as represented by an impish forest elf, dueling neighboring towns on the plains of Albemarle County. My money in that fight is on us. If only we knew what to call ourselves.

Institutional Acculturation

2012-01-20T13:03:00.000-08:00

The ability to operate institutionally... is something that has to be learnt; it does not follow automatically from the acquisition of the grammar and vocabulary of the mother tongue.

- Michael Halliday (apparently an important person)

A week ago, I was pacing my living room floor while reading my favorite scenes from Pride and Prejudice. This week, I am reading material about regression, qualitative methodology, and discourse analysis.

While I may enjoy different types of readings over others, the idea behind the quote above implies that I should have learned how to digest all types of materials because I have had so many blasted years of being institutionalized. (Yes, I know what I said.)

Is there any detriment to learning how to operate like this? By becoming institutionalized, are we forever losing some of our flavor or essence or individuality or whatever you want to call your zing?

I'm hoping someone can tell me no so I know there are some who may forage the way to personality. Lead on, but don't wait for me. I might already be hopeless, and at the end of this semester, I most certainly will be.

The Fate of the Subordinates

2012-01-14T06:31:00.000-08:00

Primatologist Carol Shively has studied macaque monkeys for 30 years, and she finds that subordinate monkeys are much more likely to have a heart attack than dominant monkeys. This is because subordinate monkeys are always on guard and have consistently higher stress levels. The higher stress leads to plaque buildup up in their arteries, slowing the blood flow to the heart. Same amount of food, same amount of exercise, different amount of stress.

Back to work on Tuesday. Enjoy your holiday weekend!

Day-zd and Confused. But Ready!

2012-01-09T09:40:00.000-08:00

A friend emailed me asking what I'm doing for the holiday weekend. I irrationally panicked. What holiday? The stores don't have streamers up, and I'm not good at remembering minor holidays, anyway. I did see Monday is the Chinese New Year, but more importantly, it's Martin Luther King Jr. day. Now I know who most deservedly has a holiday.

My source for looking up the holiday was a website that listed really minor holidays as well as the bigger ones. Apparently, most people are missing out on a lot of reasons to celebrate. For instance, yesterday was Male Watcher's Day. I completely missed that one, which is sad because that is the one day I might have gotten away with ogling. I'm also unprepared for tomorrow: Houseplant Appreciation Day. I don't even own a houseplant, much less know how to appreciate one. Can I just go give a thumbs up to a bush or a tree? Tomorrow is also Peculiar People Day, so I could cover two holidays with one move.

I may not know what or when to celebrate, but I do know the date of one looming day of "celebration." School starts next week, and I'm as ready as I can be in that I'm bored enough to want to take the plunge. I'm continuing to work on my major project, have read all my readings for the first week of classes, organized/mopped/laundered/scrubbed/decorated, read CNN obsessively, and have borrowed so many movies from the UVa collection that I now have detailed conversations with the woman behind the counter. She's bored, too, and is putting off working on her thesis until classes start. I feel you, sister. I perform better when I'm under pressure, too.

Yes, I will probably be singing a different tune once classes begin. The Saturday after classes start is National Hugging Day. Please stay close.

The Fantastic

2012-01-06T09:24:00.000-08:00

My Aunt Kathleen sent me these photos that I thought were fantastic. I sincerely hope these aren't doctored.

This collection wasn't attributed to any photographer or business that I can tell. However, I'd like to thank who compiled these. Come over, I'll make you dinner, and we can talk about the wonders this world provides.

Even if these are touched up, I love surreal photo montages in any case. See Thomas Barbey's work for some surreal pictures, some of which are in my calendar for 2012.

The world's highest chained carousel, located in Vienna, at a height of 117 meters.

Thors' Well aka "the gates of the dungeon" on cape Perpetua, Oregon. At moderate tide and strong surf, flowing water creates a fantastic landscape

Emerald Lake in the crater of an extinct volcano. Tongariro National Park - NewZealand

Restaurant on a cliff on the east coast of Zanzibar.

Depending on the tide the restaurant can be reached both on foot and by boat.

Office of Selgas Cano in Madrid

Desert with Phacelia (Scorpion Weed). Flowering once in several years.

Balloons in Cappadocia.

Dubai. The view from the skyscraper BurjKhalifa. The height of buildings is 828 m (163 floors).

And this is the view down

These trees grow in the forest near Gryfino, Poland. The cause of the curvature is unknown

The border between Belgium and the Netherlands in a cafe

Twice a year in the Gulf of Mexico rays migrate. About 10 thousand stingrays swim from the Yucatan Peninsula to Florida in the spring and back in the fall.

In the resort town of Skagen you can watch an amazing natural phenomenon. This city is the northernmost point of Denmark, where the Baltic and North Seas meet. The two opposing tides inthis place can not merge because they have different densities.

In the Chinese province of Shandong is a bridge across the Gulf of Jiaozhou. The bridge length over 36 km is calculated for eight car lanes, and is the longest sea bridge in the world.

Day and night. The monument in Kaunas, Lithuania

An unusual tunnel in California's Sequoia National Park

This statue, created by Bruno Catalano, is located in France

Family photo

The longest traffic jam in the world recorded in China. Its length is 260 kilometers

Paris computer games store. In fact, the floor is absolutely flat.

Marcus Levine - slaughtering an artist in the literal sense. He creates his paintings by nailing a white wooden panel.. At his latest series of paintings exhibited in a gallery in London, Marcus has spent more than 50 000 pieces of iron.

In the city of Buford (USA) lives just one person. He works as a janitor and as a mayor.

Autumn camouflage

Haus Rizzi - Germany.

Lena Pillars. Russia, the Lena River.

Banpo Bridge in Seoul, South Korea

Favelas of Brazil. The boundary between wealth and poverty.

Lost paradise in the Indian Ocean. Isle of Lamu.

Balcony of floor 103 in Chicago.

From the outside it looks like

View of the sunset from inside the wave.

This is a unique geological phenomenon known as Danxia landform. These phenomena can be observed in several places in China. This example is located in Zhangye, Province of Gansu. The color is the result of an accumulation for millions of years of red sandstone and other rocks.

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In northwestern Montana, USA. The water is so transparent that it seems that this is a quite shallow lake. In fact, it's very deep.

Airport in the Maldives is located on an artificial island in the middle of the Indian Ocean

Lighthouse guard in Mare, France must be one of the most courageous people on the planet!

Not everyone will have a smoke in such weather, and in such a place!

Photo of storm in Montana, USA, 2010

Skyscraper-Crescent Crescent Moon Tower (Dubai)

Heavy fog in Sydney, which enveloped the whole city

The river above the river: Magdeburg Water Bridge, Germany.

Morning Glory - kind of clouds observed in the Gulf of Carpentaria in northern Australia

Gibraltar Airport is one of the most extraordinary airports around the world

Wearying Questions

2011-12-29T19:21:00.000-08:00

What should fiction accomplish? Why should anyone read at all?

Addressing Azar Nafisi's questions she posed in Reading Lolita in Tehran made me sputter for a bit. Why read?? Then high-minded thoughts about strengthening imagination, expanding horizons, encouraging literacy, etc. rush through my system as if to sheepishly make up for any momentary hesitation.

Questions like these entertain me because they (a) seem to temporarily freeze those to whom they are posed and (b) have no one right answer. Other exasperating ones I enjoy include: What is the point of idle conversation? How do other minds work? What are the pros and cons of keeping up with the news? Why travel? Why teach? What is a meaningful education?

As my advisor would say, answering these questions would be a five-Guinness conversation.

I think it's marvelous to ask these things and to let potential answers slosh around in our heads. Plus, thinking about the more abstract questions is easier than addressing the personal ones we typically ask ourselves at this time of year. The What am I doing with my life, and is this what I want? questions are less appealing to tackle.

Just shut up and tackle them. I'm frank on this because an uncharacteristically long period of soul-searching today has me on a high. Now that I have finished figuring out the rest of my life, I will now continue pondering the abstract questions. Newly added to the list: Why do bloggers tend to think their thoughts are collected when oftentimes they are merely rambling?

Happy New Year, all!

Cookie Bake XI and Other Sugary Romps

2011-12-21T10:11:00.000-08:00

I flew to Minnesota last Wednesday, and I've been spoiled ever since. My parents and I had a mini vacation in the cities followed by the Cookie Bake. This combination of events may lead to feelings of entitlement that would put a chink in my now-flawless personality, but some things are worth the risk in order to preserve the activities that bring family together in Christmas harmony.

My mom and I went to Macy's 8th Floor, which is where a floor in a downtown Minneapolis Macy's is transformed into some kind of fantasy wonderland. This year, the theme was "A Day in the Life of an Elf." This has apparently been the theme for four years, which means a Google search leads to irate comments from parents of four year olds. But we hadn't seen it.

Minneapolis has an annual Hollidazzle parade in December, which is where all the Christmas lights in the city are thrown together to make illuminated floats carrying feel-good characters.

This was slightly disturbing, though. I kept the red-eye in for impact.

I took a picture of this guy's hat, and Aladdin rudely weaseled his way into the background.

The parade was a lot of fun, and we saw someone propose to his girlfriend after dragging her out into the street in front of Santa's float. It was really sweet, and I'm very thankful they didn't get trampled by the sleigh. It would have really ruined the occasion.

The next day, Cooke Bake! You'll see my family demands large quantities of peanut butter flowers and date pinwheels. It was yet again a wildly successful day.

I told Anna to look sad about the cookie mess. This was her best attempt. She smiles way too much to pull this off, but I suppose over-smileage is to be expected on Cookie Bake day.

No, we did not get out of our pajamas all day.

But really, as of Monday afternoon, I have been getting a lot of work done. That is 48 hours, people. Whew!

Call for Recipes

2011-12-15T11:16:00.000-08:00

Holiday in Rochester, day 1. I slept 12 hours, my fever broke, and I didn't get out of my sleeping clothes-es until after lunch. Parents' houses are magical, and it has been a good 24 hours so far. I did almost send a message to a student chirping "you ass! In your future work,..." but I caught myself in time. UVa has to have some policy against swearing at students, and there would be an undeniable paper trail with that one.

Sunday is our annual Cookie Bake, and while we have our must-do recipes, we're always open to suggestions. Let me know if you have a favorite recipe we should try. If we like it, you will receive one free Cookie Bake t-shirt complete with streaks of flour and blotches of butter! Right. But send anything you'd like along just the same.

This isn't much advance warning, so hit your family's files up soon. I'm glad to write out recipes if anyone wants them, too. I'll let you know which ones end up making the cut this year.

Santa Baby

2011-12-13T08:57:00.000-08:00

Is it too early to play Madonna's "Santa Baby" on repeat? Maybe not, but listening to the song can't be good for shrinking my materialistic side.

I leave for Minnesota tomorrow morning, which means I'm surrounded by piles of (clean) laundry to fold and a (mostly complete) pile of things I need to shove into my suitcase. Everything is so close to being done, but I just want to sit here and look at cookie recipes while listening to pretty bad celebrity covers of Christmas songs. I'm warm, have a vitamin zero water, and have donned "home" clothes complete with tacky London fleece sweater. This is my personal definition of a Santa Baby.

I just got this from a friend, though, that just shifted my mindset from inward to outward and makes the whole Santa Baby thing ridiculous by comparison (which doesn't take much). This was posted somewhere at UVa. What can we give someone today?

Unrelated Events

2011-12-05T19:48:00.000-08:00

It is finals week.

I accidently threw my toaster across the kitchen.

Neural Trade-off

2011-12-03T05:15:00.000-08:00

Should I choose vertigo or more seizures?

I went to the neurologist last Thursday to see what's causing my vertigo. After I failed a few tests, my neurologist said the most likely cause was an increase in my medication I made a week before vertigo began.

This would have seemed an of course! had August's vertigo been anywhere near an increase in meds. The best hypothesis there is that an increase in June had been building up in my system because the increase was "just enough but not quite" enough to make me revel in side effects like dizziness or sleepiness. The vertigo this time is much worse, anyway, and hasn't gone away with any methods that worked in August.

I asked for an increase in my medication in October because I was getting monthly two or three seizures that ranged from really-out-of-it-and-can't-communicate-much or bawling-in-a-corner type ones. I hear some people are seizure free, and I want that due to my greedy nature.

Now, with the October increase, I am getting maybe one a month. That is relatively great! However, the increase has led to face-plants on the bed where I'm sleeping for hours and have vertigo for hours after I wake up. This is finals season. I can't afford to not function.

I'm going to decrease my medication in a few days after I'm done with my finals, and tis the season to lower my sugar increase, alcohol level (hah!), up my physical activity, and be careful with movements in general. This is a great time to do these things: That should be easy during the Christmas season.

Vertigo has now set in because I have been awake for more than 45 minutes. It is hard to type now, so I leave you. Hey--I appreciate you all caring. It means a lot.

Enjoying Football: My Style

2011-11-26T13:21:00.001-08:00

The UVa versus Virginia Tech game is today, which means a tidal wave of orange has taken over Charlottesville. It also means that today is one of the best running days of the year.

I make a point to go run on game days. Goodness knows I have little interest in the actual game; however, I do love people watching. I start by going with the crowd toward the stadium and then end up going against the crowd for most of the run. The snatches of conversation I hear and the chants I get are the best. Today, I got a lot of variations of playful "You're going the wrong way, honey" as well as boozy-sounding chants of "10 miler! Yeah!!!" (because of the shirt I was wearing today). One guy said: "Run me. I'm drunk!" I guess he meant he wasn't going to chase after me?

Being in a crowd is a huge energizer for me because I can get my extrovert on, and we don't get lots of crowds in Charlottesville. I also didn't feel tired at all after running for miles. Except of the empty streets leading home. There, I withered and realized how far I had gone. But I listened to the crowd, smiled, and felt renewed as I turned toward home.

Florida Guarantees

2011-11-21T16:31:00.001-08:00

"We guarantee all our meat to be top quality. We do not guarantee it to be to your liking."

When this is written on a menu, leave the restaurant.

While in Florida, some friends and I went to Clark's Fish Camp, which is an experience I will never repeat. I will try most things once, but when a place offers kangaroo balls alongside fried ostrich coated with toe jam sauce (???), I draw the line. I ordered catfish, and they messed that up. The company was great; the food was horrible.

There was also the matter of a bunch of dead animals all over the place. The restaurant has the largest collection of taxidermy I'd ever seen, and you know I'm jumpy. This place made me REALLY jumpy. For example, turning around was risky because you might be in immediate peril.

Or staring at a stuffed giraffe.

Or glad you're not prey.

This was a license plate in the parking lot. Awesome.

The place is famous for its live shows where they have alligators do "tricks." You would have to be insane to be the trainer for that, but the animals are cute when they're young. I held one and tried to pretend it would grow into something pleasant.

Anyway, I did make sure to have a fruity drink to contrast the blah colors of the fried stuff. And the onion rings were good. Otherwise? I was underwhelmed and in constant fear of attack from the so-called dead members of the animal kingdom.

Raise Your Voice

2011-11-13T19:10:00.000-08:00

Actually, don't raise your voice. You'll lose credibility.

I got to talk about those types of voice associations when I presented on vocal audio preference at the AECT conference in Jacksonville. The conference was great and was much more geared toward my interests than others I've attended. More on the fun stuff later; this post is nerdy and comes with a table. If you feel impressed at any moment, don't fight the feeling...

My focus on vocal audio preferences was specifically for online teaching. I did the research on this during the summer, and the "conglomerated stuff" is intriguing. Basically, the most appealing, trusted sound is from a woman with a low voice. One of the interesting related findings is that people prefer female avatars with male voices over male-male, male-female, or female-female.

Also, style does often trump substance. The Dr. Fox experiment is a good example. A paid actor b.s.'s his way through a lecture about a complicated topic where his speech is filled with distractors and contradictions. His audience of experts in the topic rated him as highly knowledgeable, though, and never caught on. The researchers believed this was because of his warm voice and lively presenting style.

I'm bleeding into other areas that aren't all audio, but digressions can be very useful or at least very entertaining.

This chart is part of a handout I made about vocal preference. I get a particular kick about how a female breathy voice implies she's petite and high-strung. Petite is to high-strung as tall is to... laid back and fabulous, as always.

Trait	Female	Male
Slow Pace	Competent, thoughtful, somewhat lazy
Fast Pace	Incompetent, energetic, extroverted Aim for 125-225 words per minute

Low Pitch	Untruthful, not persuasive, incompetent
Fast Pitch	Untruthful, nervous, incompetent
Variety in Pitch	Extroverted, appealing, kind	Feminine, artsy, young

Throatiness	Unintelligent, lazy, uninteresting	Older, realistic, adjusted to environment
Nasality	Generally bad impressions
Breathiness	pretty, petite, high strung	Uninhibited, flighty, young

Signs of Maturity

2011-11-06T18:05:00.001-08:00

An article the other day listed the top ten signs you're ready for your 30s.

(This is hard hitting news, obviously, but it was either that or more reading about test item discrimination.)

One of the items made me laugh. You know you're ready for your 30s when you turn on the Top 40s radio station and think: "What the $(!!@ is this crap?"

Well, OMG and LOL. I'm there. I stream NPR at school and have the "I'm upper middle class or aspire to be and am into alternative, semi-rootsy music" station on at home. I think the songs on the Top 40 stations are either cute or weird/trashy.

Another determinant on the list was how often you just wanted quiet nights at home. I don't even want to pretend I want to go to a party after writing this. It's 9:20 on a Sunday fall evening. Anyone up for hot cocoa?

These are fun gauges to either make you laugh at yourself or confirm your 20ish coolness. If you're like me, just laugh. It's good medicine, and you'll need that in your old age.

Unrelated: I'm in Jacksonville, Florida, for the next few days. Anyone know of anything I absolutely need to see? Mickey doesn't make it that far north.

Beauty and the Beast

2011-11-05T06:25:00.000-07:00

First off, let it be known that I am not the extremes of either beauty nor beast. Let's just stop that line of thought right there. However, people have requested photos of the entire dress for the wedding as well as pictures of the zombie run. Who am I to deny a chance to boost my ego in the name of fulfilling the desires of others?

At least I didn't look as high in this one.

This is a zombie run, and kudos to Erika Powell (left) for making us ready to scare little children.

I didn't get to actually run the race, which is depressing. I've had vertigo the past twoish weeks that hits me about 45 minutes after I get up, which means I haven't been fully in commission until mid morning. I've learned some tricks to lessen it, but it still takes a chunk out of my day that I want. I can't run. I can't walk (although that's getting better). The two lovely women above linked arms with me and helped me to a chair so I could see everything. Thank you!

I've been to the student health center, and they told me nothing seems wrong with my inner ear but that I failed the "follow my finger" test. They said they would call my neurologist to get an appointment and that I should call too, but I didn't. The vertigo was getting better. However, I got a letter in the mail yesterday indicating I have an appointment in late November. It seems I can't really escape finding out what's wrong and potentially having more tests.

One of the reasons I didn't call was because I just want to pretend to be normal. I just want to take my drugs and that be it, which I can't do when I'm being further tested. Please just let everything ok where I don't have to worry about potentially suddenly not function or about limiting what I can do when I leave school. Ok? That doesn't seem like too much to ask. Everyone has different things and worse things to deal with; I just had a pity party about mine. Call me, we'll get together and frown for two seconds, and then get on to having a good time wherever we are.

Monday, Monday.. can't trust that day...

2011-10-27T12:22:00.000-07:00

Remember that song? It has been my theme for the past two weeks. You know--the two weeks since I haven't blogged. I will now commence with the excuses.

Two Mondays ago, I had a huge seizure. The seizure was due to stress, sensory overload about half an hour before class, hormones, and the chocolate festival. I was good about sugar that Saturday, but the combination of everything is no match for seizures.

Unfortunately, the seizure was about 20 minutes before I had to take a midterm. I couldn't read, and I couldn't write. It sucked. I tried my best to put things on the page, stayed until everyone was gone, and talked with my professor who is now one of my favorite guys on the planet. He said I could retake the test. I just retook the the thing, and the test was a lot easier once I could process the words on the page.

This past Monday, I slept on an airport floor. To save $400, I bought a ticket with a ghastly schedule. My dad was willing to drive me up to Minneapolis for a 5:30 am flight (awww!), but canceling a 28-minute flight from Rochester to Minneapolis would cost $550. I said I'd just sleep in the airport.

It actually wasn't so bad. I slept on a cushion in the observation deck, and it was freezing but at least it was somewhere dark to sleep. Another guy was there who was pretty much knocked out, and a security guard checked on me every so often. I slept on all the flights back and was physically (if not mentally) present for Monday night's class.

Enough of me whining. Let's talk festivities! The reason I went to Minnesota was to be the maid of honor in Michelle Wold's wedding. Chelle and I are not related, and now we're clearly not related now that she went ahead and changed her last name. I loved the last name thing, but I can't bemoan it too much. I like her husband.

My mom and aunt came with me because they love Chelle, and spending time with everyone was grand. Those two kept each other company, too, which is great because they at least had each other when they were frantically searching for the location of the reception. I had stupidly assumed the reception was somewhere else. They had fun with that. They had my phone because a strapless bridesmaid's dress doesn't leave room for pockets, but they survived by pouncing on anyone who might know the reception location. The two found it just in time for salad. I was proud of them.

Now, pictures!

The bride was gorgeous.

I open my eyes too widely when exposed to camera flashes in dark rooms. I almost look stoned.

I still look like my mom.

I was going to say next Monday will be better, but then I remembered it's Halloween. I'm apathetic toward Halloween, but at least it should be better than the last Mondays. Right?

A Weekend (Chocolate) Kiss

2011-10-16T17:56:00.000-07:00

Saturday was Cville's 5th annual Chocolate Festival.

Take a moment to process. Go ahead. And--oh--don't worry. I had tears in my eyes when I heard about the chocolate fest, too. That was right before I broke out into song.

I read about the festival and immediately sought out my friend who has had one too many Snickers bars stolen from her in our building's loathsome vending machine. We nearly toppled the thing trying to get at a bar that got stuck in its evil silver clutches, so I knew this was the ideal companion for the occasion.

My boyfriend asked to go and willingly got up early on a Saturday morning (is this love?), so the three of us wandered around together. The chocolate fest was at the same park as the veggie fest a few weeks ago, and no offense to vegetarians, but I was much more excited to go to this festival than the last. I'm much more passionate about fudge than flaxseed.

The festival itself wasn't big. Around 15 tables were under one large tent where local community groups trot out their wares for the sweet tooths in all of us. They actually had only one booth selling chocolate chip cookies. The rest were selling things like gift baskets for chocoholics, brownies and cupcakes of many varieties, chocolate-coated anything, or chocolate mice. The mice were honestly quite cute.

I mostly resisted temptation and ogled more than anything. However, I couldn't resist buying a small bag of fudge bites from Boy Scouts. One of the boys looked like my brother did when he was in scouts. The boy sold me the fudge, told me how he and his friends made it themselves, and then immediately went into how I should get some chocolate-coated popcorn, too. Then, he really reminded me of my brother, the perennial salesman.

The three of us then broke away from the festival to go wander the downtown mall to bask in Cville's brand of quirky. In a three-block radius, we went to a chocolate fest, a drugstore that hasn't changed since the 1960s, some sort of nouveau nature store selling both compost buckets and recycled kid toys, and the weekly farmer's market.

It was a great time. And it's true what they say: Great times become even better when you're packin' fudge.

Shifts

2011-10-11T16:46:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed when people use the term "college" versus "school"?

Often, you leave school to go to college. If you continue with formal education, then you go back to school with the occasional "grad" thrown in before the word school so you make clear you're old enough to drink.

I'd make a joke here about regressing back to childhood schooldays after graduating from college, but that's definitely not the case. It's more of a sign of a shift (toward madness?) and not caring one whit about what it's called.

I was walking back home tonight while listening to the marching band play "Under the Sea" about 10 times in a row. The memories made me smile. That is college. But now, my friends have well since gone on to new stages be they school or be they the working world. I, for one, would not go back. We are young, yes, yet we are now able to view things with a more experienced eye.

From a poem I studied in high school by Thomas Traherne entitled On Leaping Over the Moon:

I saw new Worlds beneath the Water lie,

New People; yea, another Sky

And Sun, which seen by Day

Might things more clear display.

A Different Kind of Connection

2011-10-07T15:43:00.000-07:00

This cartoon has been circulating on Facebook, and it makes me laugh and sigh at the same time. It makes me laugh because Jesus's sandals are so last season, and it makes me sigh because it speaks to some shameful truths.

One thing this cartoon shoves in my face is how I'm typically set in the check-in mentality. Lord knows it's scary to create a bond with someone; I just want to check Facebook 25 times a day to learn that someone accidently left a quarter in the dryer and that it made a funny noise.

That check-in mentality means I think I'm keeping up with people when in reality I am most definitely not. Checking Facebook and seeing your old college roommate is having her fourth child when you actually haven't talked with her in years does not mean I'm having a relationship with her at all. I can trick myself into feeling like I am. Um, I like her profile picture. Does that count?

I've let relationships slip because certain venues make it seem checking in is all that is required to feel close. That isn't right. Building quality relationships means making a significant effort to connect, and that doesn't mean lightly teasing a guy about his sandals. That kind of comment can go on Jesus's Facebook page. To build a lasting relationship means getting away from making surface comments read by a thousand of your closest friends and move toward making a deeper connection with One.

Vegan Poser

2011-09-24T14:52:00.000-07:00

Today was the 2nd Annual Charlottesville Vegetarian Festival! I hope you all were there and added to the number of us who just wanted a cheeseburger.

Of course, when you saunter up to the booths to get free samples, it's only polite to avoid discussion of your love of barbeque. So I did a 180 to hide my carnivorous self. I found it's quite easy to be overly enthusiastic about vegan pumpkin energy bars and bumper stickers screaming "Friends Don't Let Friends Eat Meat." Have you ever had soy chicken? Smother it with enough spinach and couscous, and it tastes decent. Weirdly decent.

I was with a friend who has been a vegetarian for years, but I was the one really getting into all the festival had to offer to a shameless degree. I even feigned interest in vegan booths. I get the vegetarian lifestyle, but vegan? I couldn't do it. That did not stop me from getting into a conversation with a guy telling me about the clubs I can join and how they'd love to have me. I don't look waif-like like these wispy people, but I guess I look really enthusiastic about a life without eggs.

A life without eggs? I salute you for the deprivational lifestyle. I'll salute you from the nearest Outback, if you don't mind.

God and the Universe

2011-09-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

A spiritually-minded friend and I went out last night where she shared how "putting things out into the universe" has brought her signs and people to help her reach decisions about the "thing" put out there.

I resisted the urge to tell her that the universe would throw it right back, but you know I was thinking it.

Then I started reflecting and reframing. She said that articulating her goals meant she was led to others who responded with offers to help and with advice (in her case, starting an elementary school focused on mindfulness). She also said that she started seeing this was where she was being led, and in knowing her background, it seems like everything she has done has readied her.

I wouldn't use the whole "out in the universe" thing because I shop at The Gap, but it was great to have a "this is one way God does things" reminder rephrased in a way that didn't sound so Christianese and therefore made me pay attention. I do believe what she's saying when she says that actually articulating our desires often means we're guided to what will help us. She means giving it to the universe; I mean giving it to God.

Please note: This doesn't mean automatically getting what you want, and I can't say why the blasted path is mostly invisible or why there is evil in the world. I just know someone is listening, caring, and guiding when I put anything "out there." Being reminded of that makes any time of life all the brighter.

Let the Scavenge Begin

2011-09-05T17:01:00.000-07:00

We students on our first few weeks of school, and the scavenging is clearly in full swing. In my last class, our questions to each other were:

"Do you think anyone would mind if I took these push pins?"

"Could I take that power strip out of your old office and put it in mine?"

and the ever-popular food rumor:

"Free food in the CLIC tomorrow morning!"

Last Friday, I gave gum coupons to a friend while stealing a cookie from her office. Thursday, I gave my APA manual to someone (because I only have about four), I saw someone giving baby clothes to another student, and someone "borrowed" a bookshelf and nice chairs from another office to put in her own while we were all switching offices.

I can tell you, my dears, that we are a classy and lovely bunch. Maybe not so much on the classy. Or the lovely. But this scavenging is harmless and is about supporting ourselves and each other. I, for one, have little to argue with that.

Cruising Onward and Upward

2011-08-29T16:10:00.000-07:00

This is the last week of Mom's radiation treatments! She's done September 1st, and she gets to ring a large bell the clinic has for people who finish their treatments. Ring it with all your heart, Mom. Then go get a pedicure for your cruise.

It would be grand if everyone got a cruise after finishing radiation, wouldn't it? The reason here is just as good, though. My parents are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary by going on an Alaskan cruise. We're all wishing them well and wishing we could go, too.

They have a lot to celebrate and certainly deserve the cruise. Dad's "wing" is "getting there" with physical therapy, Mom is finishing radiation, and their children continue to be perfect. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Mr. Rogers. Please tell me I wasn't the only one who loved that show.

Chile Photo Debut

2011-08-20T17:14:00.000-07:00

For those of you who aren't satisfied by my "it was wonderful" answer when asked about my trip, I have pictures posted:

Link to Pictorial Ecstasy

The Pictures & Videos link will lead you to my over 200 pictures. I sure you will carefully study each one.

It's difficult to pick stories or select just a handful of photos to share here without being glossy. The gist:

I was (and am) completely spoiled.

I stayed in a suite. (Well, Felipe's sister's room, but I had my own bathroom and everything.) Felipe's much-loved dog is adorable, and his much-loved live-in is so warm and sweet. Their opinions carry a lot of weight, which I was told after they liked me. Can you pass a test you didn't even know you took?

For the people who asked, his family is great. Felipe's parents are funny and kind, which is a stark contrast to Felipe. (Oooow!) His parents are both physics professors who had fairly flexible schedules as long as they weren't teaching, so I could see them more often than I thought I would. That's a good thing: They're really sweet people.

They wanted to show us a good time, too. Our first weekend, we went to Valpariso, which is a nearby historic port city. The second weekend, we went up the mountains and went hiking around waterfalls. They took us to an Argentine tango show and a few great restaurants as well. Did I mention I was spoiled?

Felipe spoiled me the whole time and proved to be a fantastic tour guide. We coated pre-pre downtown, pre downtown, and downtown. Everyone is moving away from downtown, so the city is becoming even more spread out than it used to be. Um, Santiago is large. The city has a (relatively clean) subway we took a few times so we could get downtown, but we mostly just parked in a garage and walked. It only rained a few times and just sprinkled on us a few times when we were outside, so the walks were beautiful.

My favorite region was Providencia, which is a neighborhood in pre downtown with tree-lined streets and the whole thing. The neighborhood has penalties enforced if residents don't maintain their properties, so it's all very Santiago cheery.

Other areas aren't so cheery. Buildings, houses, etc. in Santiago all have gates regardless of location, and those places without codes tend to have ugly gates and a lot of graffiti. I learned how to say "no me gustan las rejas" fairly quickly. I'm a snot.

The attractions and museums are centralized in downtown, and the city has some great squares among the chaos. Because many of the buildings are damaged by earthquakes and are torn down, the historic buildings were built more recently than I expected. And as we were there at the time of the education riots, we only went downtown on select days. That was fine by me. Downtown attractions like the Chilean history museum were great to see, but downtown itself is admittedly not pretty.

I got to see his life, too, which is what I wanted. We got to see a lot of his extended family and his friends, we went to his old school, and we went to his old university (where his parents work as well). Seeing his life and just sitting in a cafe reading the paper with Felipe or wandering around Santiago with Felipe were my favorite parts. There is a theme. I am very lucky.

Ok. Those are my general comments. Later, you can ask me about street entertainers, my bad luck with glass in restaurants (didn't do it), the food, Valpariso weirdness, adventures with a blown tire in the mountains, and anything else later if you would like.

A few of the many photos:

Too much mention of desserts

2011-08-18T09:57:00.000-07:00

Back and fabulous. Chile was fantastic, and I can use many more trite, bubbly words to describe it if you'd like. But seriously, I had a wonderful time. Felipe was a wonderful tour guide, and he got to see some things he hadn't or had forgotten. We also had a lot of desserts. Lovely, rich deserts in cafes. Why don't we have outside cafes where you can just sit for hours while reading and eating desserts like cake or pie?

I didn't mean for food to be the first thing mentioned because so many things are more important, but I get distracted when remembering dessert. Photos of everything else will be forthcoming once I settle in here.

And oh the settling there is to be done. How funny it is when two hours can make days seem so tangled. Say, oh, that you forgot a desperately-needed roll of quarters at the bank, got a call saying your insurance was canceled, and had major water damage in your apartment. May I go back to a cafe?

I'm still humming, though, and I believe vacations give you a cheery heart for a period after arrival. I'll deal with everything and will plunge back into my engineering pilot study project tomorrow. Until then, please think happy thoughts that my water pipes will not explode and that I will continue to be medicated. I prefer dry and high, thanks.

Frittering

2011-07-30T12:09:00.000-07:00

It is incredibly easy to "waste" a day. Get up late, read the papers, walk around multiple times a day for some form of exercise because it's 100 flipping degrees out, research half-heartedly for something for fall, and see friends. I have been blissfully pathetic for nearly two weeks.

(This is the last post about lazy that I'll write: I know I've been repetitive.)

I can make excuses about lazy, and here's the big one: I know I won't have this schedule for two whole weeks again... maybe ever? Fall will soon come full force, and I'm planning on packing both lunch and dinner for school. I'll have my pilot study and my dissertation research/study soon, and then there's the whole job search thing, which I believe is needed for me to eventually get rid of the plastic bins that serve as my end tables.

I leave for Santiago on Tuesday to continue the vacation, and I'll be gone until the 17th. Anyone have any tips about exploring Chile?

In asking that question, I feel lazy and lucky. Yet this whole time makes me more ready to tackle every beast they can throw at me this fall.

Educational Philosophers

2011-07-24T10:48:00.000-07:00

Getting around by public transportation can be amusing. I particularly enjoy city bus #7, which has given me a nearly endless slew of stories about the various characters who strike up conversations. Sure, I met my boyfriend on the 7, yet he is the delightful exception among the other kooks. The other stories typically come from guys who take advantage of the "please talk to me" sign I have stamped on my forehead.

The most recent story is about Dave, an upper 30s-ish black guy with holes in his shirt and who smelled. He sat behind me and tapped me on the shoulder:

D: Are you a grad student?

K: Yes.

D: What are you studying?

K: Education.

D: Oh, so a teacher.

K: I haven't graduated yet. Are you a student?

D: No, but in a way, I'm an educator, too. I educate those around me, and they educate me. You don't need a degree. Education is all around you.

K: Yes, education is a wonderful field. [trying to turn away from him as I say this]

D: [taps me again] Do you have a boyfriend?

K: [sighing because of the leap he just made] Yes.

D: Yeah. Uh-huh. Well...

[awkward pause until my stop, which is mercifully nearby]

I do believe you can learn something from everyone--good or bad--if you just pay attention, but his whole objective was not to discuss educational philosophy. Yet the education bit reminded me of a cartoon my grandmother gave me about my "favorite" subject, so I thought I'd share the wealth. Enjoy the Daves out there.

The July Exhalation

2011-07-19T13:21:00.000-07:00

July has proven to be as drama-free as hoped. And the people said: Amen! Mom had her radiation consult, and she's getting tattooed tomorrow so the radiologists know where to target during her treatments. She's apparently only getting four little dots for a tattoo, but I'm still hoping for a blue fire-breathing dragon. Her radiation treatments begin Thursday, and they'll go on five days a week until September 1st. My parents leave for an anniversary Alaskan cruise September 3rd. Hah.

Dad is doing well and is healing nicely. He's still doing the exercises, and his wound has healed well. I'm resisting the urge to put up the picture I took of him after surgery here... I'm sure that he looks happier now and that his hair falls in one direction.

Dad is still recovering, and Mom will be increasingly tired throughout the summer. Now, please, dear people in Rochester and the surrounding areas, bring them meals. Frequently. They probably won't accept much else.

My brother's doing well, enjoys work and his very own apartment, continues to be a good guy, etc. He got a raise for something or other, and he spent a Saturday pushing a button for some kind of race and got horribly sunburned. See how much I pay attention when we talk?

Life for me is odd. I submitted my last lingering articles/papers two days ago, so I have nothing pressing to do for two weeks and am not working. This has not happened since high school, and while I enjoy it now, I don't want this long-term. I can't just sit on my hands. Case in point: Writing this has been the longest I've sat down today. I'm getting little tasks done that I ignore during the year, so I suppose that's productivity.

I'm actually having a summer, though, which I thought about yesterday while walking home with a tennis racket in one hand and a container that had carried peach smoothies in it in the other. I've been outside so much that I now have more color than a Chilean. Well, barely. It still counts.

Thanks for the emails and calls, everyone. I hope July is a month you can exhale as well!

Passe

2011-07-12T07:52:00.000-07:00

Passe as is things are outdated, and I have collected many of these things despite my efforts to be all with-it like kids are nowadays. For instance, I actually went to the library to borrow books on Spanish grammar and on refreshing my knowledge about using Adobe products. (My internet had yet again been sketchy, and I figured I'd see what was in our library. My internet is running again, and I get service from a new company. Here's hoping.)

I'm glad I don't go off on tangents of write in a stream-of-consciousness manner. Anyway, the most recent book on Spanish grammar the library had is from the 1950s. I borrowed one from the 1920s, and I'm sure knowing how to say "I am taking a steamer to the island" will come in handy at some point.

As for Adobe products? I was expecting nothing, and I found little. Great videos on the web can help more than anything, so I wasn't actually going to borrow anything. I'm actually glad we don't have books on Adobe products. If you're thinking about Adobe, chances are you have access to a computer with web capabilities.

I'm also in the process of packing up my Walden computer and saving the presentations and files that may be useful later. A lot of these things are from years ago and aren't useful anymore, but it's hard to say goodbye to presentations and files that have so useful for students. It's completely nerdy to pout about deleting an APA Update presentation. I don't care. I still need to mourn.

I am obviously trying to prepare for my schedule to come and dinking around with outdated resources to do so. This will go well, right? If you have any recommendations, let me know. I'm not nearly as pathetic about finding resources as I sound, although many would debate that point, but I'm always happy to find new information packaged in a digestible way.

If you care to find me, I'll be the one on the steamer.

Confusingly Calm

2011-07-06T06:51:00.000-07:00

I'm back and am not working this month. This is not rubbing it in: This is a WHAT??? for me. I haven't not worked or have had a project for a month since... I was in high school.

Honestly, I'm very bad at inactivity. I'm writing a paper, I'm running again, I'm learning tennis, and I'm reading articles that will help me next fall. But not waking up thinking about how many Walden papers to do or school? It's blowing my mind. Ok, I may be rubbing it in a bit, but at least you people are getting paid.

I'm so thankful for this time for one major reason: My parents. I was able to go home for a month and help them when going through painful points in their lives. Now, they're doing relatively well. My mom hasn't started radiation yet, and my dad can raise his arm higher than he could before the surgery. It'll take time to see the effects of the surgery. He's also going back to work now, which is much sooner than he should. Dad....

I'll be working on my setting up my dissertation study next summer, and I'm going to Chile and am then starting work this August. Now? I'm still in my pajamas at 10:00 with little initiative to get dressed until I go running. I don't see this happening at any other point in my life, so I'm trying to enjoy the calm before the storm (overused cliche alert!).

Remind me of this time when I whine about having too many activities, which I'm sure will happen. Just remind me of this time. In the meantime, it's finally sunny out, and I'm outta here.

The New Normal

2011-06-28T13:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks for all of your notes with prayers and kind words. Very appreciated! My parents are adjusting to what will become normal for them in the next weeks.

My mom is back to nearly full-time work and is preparing for radiation. She has also gone back to doing her normal activities like watching way too much So You Think You Can Dance and reestablishing her place at the cool table at work.

My dad seems to have hit the hard part of the recovery process and will have a few weeks of gradual recovery with a lot of Tylenol along the way. He, too, is also creeping back to normal activities. I particularly enjoy the one involving sticking the air gun out the window to shoot at grackles.

Me? I'm going home tomorrow. My parents are doing much better, and I've been here a month. It's time to go. My life will change a bit, too. I'll make adjustments to my schedule because I no longer will structure it around Walden papers, but I will also get back to doing normal things like annoying the general populace at every opportunity.

It's been comforting to see how the normal activities steady us when life is anything but normal. Thank you for supporting my family these past weeks!

Wold Health Report

2011-06-25T14:36:00.000-07:00

My parents keep saying they're ready for a "quiet July." After a pretty active June, they definitely deserve it!

Dad went into the hospital yesterday morning and came back this morning after having a laminectomy. He had a compressed nerve between C3 and C4 in his spine, which made his right arm really weak. The procedure involves taking a little bone off the spine to give somewhere for that compressed nerve to go. Fun fun, no? The surgeon said the nerve was "ugly" when she first saw it but "fluffed up" after the procedure. We were encouraged when dad started telling jokes right when he got out of surgery. The quality of the jokes are the same as always. A-hem. Anyway, it'll be a few weeks before we know how much the procedure helped, yet the surgeon and dad said the arm feels stronger. Good to hear.

Meanwhile, Dad is here sleeping and walking around with his neck extremely straight. He has impeccable posture. Dad's looking well, is on the painkiller percocet for a few days, and will making his grand debut out of the house late this week.

While Dad was having surgery yesterday morning, Mom and I went to a cancer appointment to discuss her number that came from a test that would help her choose her treatment plan. Bottom line: She's getting radiation with aggressive hormone therapy. The number was 20 out of 50, which was higher than they thought and placed her in the very low end of the intermediate category. (Chemo is something to discuss when the number is in the intermediate category.) Getting chemo would only reduce her chance of recurrence by about 2%, though, and her doctors advised against it. She has about a 9% chance of recurrence in the next 5 years. Interestingly, all women have a 10-12% chance of getting breast cancer.

The appointment was not quite an upper, but everything looks relatively optimistic, and she's of course chipper and is more concerned about my dad than anything. She starts radiation either this next week or a week from now depending on when she goes in for her initial "let's gear up for radiation" appointment. She'll have about 6 weeks of radiation, 5 days a week. Radiation only takes about 15 minutes, but getting there and back is the annoying part.

They had a dramatic beginning of the summer, and here's hoping the rest of the time will be fairly calm. Call my parents and check on them, ok? Verge on the side of annoying.

To the Young, Fragile, and Hurt

2011-06-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

To the girl crying in the shower stall next to mine,

I wish I could do something for you right now. I heard your muffled sobs, and after checking the floor for blood, I can only assume this has to do with something more emotional. Like maybe involving those girls who rushed away from you when we all got in here and who are now giggling in the stalls across the room?

Oh sweetheart.

You'll just be embarrassed and snap at me if I talk to you, so I send prayers and love. If it helps, I used to go into school bathroom stalls and cry when people were awful to me. At least you will come out wet for a natural reason.

Ok, ok. Sorry. I know it's early to joke, and you can glare at me through the plastic partition if you want. I know it can hurt so much that you feel like you can't breathe. I want to tell you this moment is really small compared to the good things waiting for you and the good people you can meet. I want you to know, too, that mean girls will turn into mean women, and your anger will turn into annoyance and then to pity some day. You won't believe me right now, though. Me telling you these things isn't really going to help until you've calmed down and have some perspective. So... a few years, then?

You stopped crying and are just sniffing now, and I don't want to tell you anything anymore. I just want to give you a hug.

Yours,

A Kindred Spirit

A Bad Kind of Togetherness

2011-06-18T08:29:00.000-07:00

My family has always liked to take trips and do things together, which is terrific. However, some things really don't need to be done together. For instance, surgery. Two weeks ago, my mom had breast cancer surgery. This coming Friday, my dad will have back surgery.

Could you space things out a little here? We don't tend to invite drama into our family, so there's no need to start now.

But my parents are close, and so, they journey together. My mom's surgery was successful, and she's waiting on the results of a test to determine whether she'll get chemo. My dad's surgery looks like it will be a success given the surgeon is great and his problem is relatively minor. He's getting relief from a compressed nerve in his neck that affects his right arm's strength, and I haven't seen anyone happier about undergoing what seems to be a pretty major event. He'll get his strength back so he can go back to winning weight-lifting contests. My mom will be right next to him with a shirt that reads "I Saved the Ta-Tas."

All will be well with both of them. Mom has healed extremely well, and Dad is determined to heal well and to work from home. Anyone who knows him was expecting that. Yet first, he will be loopy for a few days. THAT I'm interested to see. After that, the healing process "depends." He'll be out of commission for a few weeks.

I'll be in Rochester for about two more weeks so I can help out with basic house things here and basically scold the both if they over exert themselves. I also dispense medicine, and I drive when they can't. Oooohhh.

My cousin said at least my parents will be new and improved. My dad laughed at the "new" comment, but their health will soon improve. Whew!

The Chemo Question

2011-06-11T14:44:00.000-07:00

I'll try to abridge this and avoid getting technical:

Mom got a call Monday saying a biopsy found a little bit of cancer in one of the lymph nodes doctors removed during her surgery. Yesterday, doctors laid out all the options. The essentials:

1. She's healing well, and she's pretty energetic. We spent a few hours looking for plants this afternoon. I could do with a little less energetic if it means we can skip the greenery gazing, but it's terrific if she's enthusiastic.

2. No one is taking out any more lymph nodes, and the remaining cancer is so small it could be knocked out with just radiation. She'll definitely do radiation. Mom also found out her cancer was classified as Stage 2B.

3. The cancer is feeding from the estrogen in her body, so they want to do hormone therapy that would keep that from happening. That hormone therapy means she would take a pill once each day for five years.

4. Her tissue is being tested to give her The Number about whether it's worth it to do chemo. If it's a low number, she would likely just do radiation and hormone therapy. If it's high, then chemo would be a possibility. Everyone is telling her she'll likely have a low number. The results from that test will come back in about two weeks.

5. What happens when we get The Number? Is it radiation and hormone therapy, or is it chemo then radiation and hormone therapy? The chances of the cancer not coming back if she did chemo could only shift 1%, could have no effect, or could be greater because of particular side effects of chemo. So what do we do?

6. The Number will be put into a program that gives percentages of whether the cancer would come back in 10 years if you do X based on a lot of factors. I wouldn't call the output it gives so "fun," but interesting is a good word for it. Mom has really good chances of just having radiation and hormone therapy.

7. She's fighting this. Mom has resigned herself to chemo if need be, and we'll do what we can.

8. Mom has appointments all Monday morning and then one Thursday, but we're basically waiting for The Number.

9. Lessons that she tells me every day are (a) never take estrogen because of a correlation between estrogen and cancer with Mom, my grandmother, and my mom's cousin; and (b) get mammograms. Frequently.

10. She is taking calls now, and she would love to chat. You that know her know she's just a little shy, but she'll get over that to answer the phone....

Breast News Ever

2011-06-03T18:30:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. This Friday, she had surgery and is now cancer free.

That's the news, basically, if you gloss over the shock to the family, my last-minute flight, her stream of appointments, and the 12 hours at the hospital today.

Some of the particulars are that she self-diagnosed after trying to find the source of some back pain. (She had a rib out of place.) After she went in and had many tests, she was told that she had stage 1 breast cancer, which is where cancer hasn't spread throughout the breast. She had two cancerous tumors: one was 2.5 cm, and one was directly under it that was .77 mm. They're both completely gone. The surgeon also took out three lymph nodes to test whether those were cancerous; they're not.

A nurse told me that one of the first things my mom said when she was still waking up from drug dreamland was to tell someone to make sure her daughter had had lunch. When I heard that, I knew she was fine.

The surgeon will do more tests Monday, and she has an appointment late next week with another one of her surgeons. They both gave me reports today and said everything went extremely well, which is terrific as these people are not exactly prone to exaggeration.

She goes into radiation about a month from now, but chemo doesn't seem likely at all at this point. Right now, it's just resting and healing. And I get to pick up everything heavier than a milk carton. Just call me muscles.

We're all so thankful for the Mayo team: They're incredibly professional and compassionate. My parents both work for Mayo, so it was nice to hear my dad could go to his friends in various departments, ask who is best for such-and-such, and ask them to help my mom. That sort of thing helped me with my care for epilepsy, too, and I'm grateful.

My mom's home tonight and is worn out but doing well. She's trying to do even small things already, and Lord help me if I can keep her resting for at least a week. My mom is tough. That should surprise no one who has the privilege to know her.

Optimize the Situation

2011-05-29T13:27:00.000-07:00

This week's Time magazine focused on the science of optimism, which basically describes how parts of our brains are hardwired for happiness that has us cast a rosy glow on the past, present, and future. We believe the past wasn't so bad and made us stronger. We believe our individual present situations are better than most. We also believe our futures will be cheery and bright. As Garrison Keillor would frame it, we believe we're all above average.

The warm, fuzzy feelings are due in part to a few portions in our brain that go wild when we think happy thoughts. Another reason is because the areas in our brains devoted to memory aren't just for memory: The areas could also be for thinking about the future. Like when reading many articles about the brain, I was left underwhelmed because of the imprecision of these points.

I'm optimistic that further studies will give more neurological specifics, and it was great to read how many studies have shown staying on the sunny side reaps great benefits. For instance, optimists are more likely to recover from health issues or learn how to spell amygdala on a test.

Optimists also save more, take better care of their bodies, and have lower stress levels than those who claim pessimism. When pessimists read this article, I doubt these findings would help their worldviews. Pit of despair, anyone?

The study findings are great and all, but optimists don't need them. So we have a rationale behind why we're happy. Great. Now, let's go enjoy all that has been, is, and will be.

Getting Up To Speed

2011-05-22T08:12:00.000-07:00

It's pathetic. A month ago, I ran a half marathon. Now, I'm eking out five miles with much exertion. A month ago, I was productive without goading. Now, I've been only productive with deadlines and am trying to gather the initiative to tackle summer paper projects after completing a curriculum project for Walden. Heaven help me. It's summer.

Students who write papers I'm reviewing seem to have the lackadaisical feeling, too. Too bad they're writing final papers. I read a paper yesterday equating the lyrics of Sgt. Pepper's

Lonely Hearts Club Band with the day of a mental

health counselor. Two days ago, I read a paper from someone summarizing her reaction to a researcher's opinion as "Oh no you didn't! She went there!"

Maybe this isn't the summer mindset, but I would like to think so. It's happier to talk about tone through that lens as opposed to, well, thinking people always write like that.

I can't fault them because I know my writing gets sloppy when I'm lazee or when it's summer or when it's daaytime or when its' nighttime... But I'll soon get my running and academic productivity up to speed, and it helps that I hang out with a guy who spends the bulk of his time working on his thesis in front of a computer. That gets me at least in front of a computer, at least. Now about that actual writing bit? I'll get there.

Glee Throughout the Land

2011-05-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

I have an annoying habit of repeating "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine" to well-intentioned people when I'm upset. In Kari speak, "I'm fine" means "I'm probably not fine, but give me a second for the rational side of me to process."

This past two weeks have had a lot of "I'm fine" moments when dealing with ongoing sagas and little dramas. The little situations that sparked "fine" moments that led to frustrations and seizures I now see are small now that I've had a little time to put things into perspective. And there was glee throughout the land.

No, seriously. Glee. Letting myself chill out with Glee is my own personal sign that I'm going through stress detox, and I watched two straight episodes last night. I missed a few episodes because of school, which is, um, "fine," but I celebrated all that was good and fluffy last night.

I have and will do few academic things for a few days because I'm detoxing and am super sleepy because of it. I just woke up from a nap, in fact, and I plan on trying to sleep in tomorrow. So... 6:30?

Congratulations, everyone, for finishing the year. May you now take time to bask in your own personal moments of Glee.

Choose Your Own Adventure

2011-05-05T15:45:00.000-07:00

Remember those Choose Your Own Adventure books? I loved those, and I would always cheat by holding my finger on Option A page while checking out Option B. I wanted to do everything, you see, and I wanted to do everything all at once.

Doing everything all at once in reality, though, isn't much fun. You end up digesting very little along the way, and your body pays the toll.

Mine does, anyway. These past few weeks, I've had an increasing number of things to process, and although I didn't feel stress most of the time, my body was storing it while I was also (stupidly) cocky about seizures and had more sugar/less sleep/less exercise than is good for me. This led to four seizures in four days culminating in a traumatic seizure when I was giving a presentation to my qualitative analysis class. At least I was able to say I was having a seizure, and I apparently announced to everyone I have epilepsy before hyperventilating in the hallway. Thansk to all those who helped me out and distracted me (love the game, Jake). And at least I win for most interesting presentation, right?

Because of my health and a lot of other factors, I did something I had been thinking of for about for a long time. I quit my job.

Thinking about life without Walden seems strange to me. I've worked at Walden since I was 21, so Walden is my first real "grown up" job. The school has polished me for the general public and has allowed me to travel for Walden and for myself as long as I bring my computer. I've also been able to go to DC while going to school and working around my class schedule. When things turned really bad, I was able to be flexible and just work when I could process the words on the screen. And of course, I was able to move to Charlottesville and be where I love. I've been able to do so many things at once without worrying about finances, and I'm grateful. I have been allowed to choose my own adventure in wonderful ways.

Now, I'm done. I want the Walden time for other things. I want to do things the quality way I know I can and not just get them done, and breathing room sounds nice. I also want to focus on school: I'll have different situations next semester because my advisor is retiring so I'll have three bosses instead of one, and I'm collecting dissertation data. No way in hell am I going to screw that up. There's the health thing, too. Avoiding seizures would be terrific.

I gave notice yesterday, and my boss gave me the choice of what day I wanted to leave. June 10th. I have a contract with a Walden project outside my normal hours, and that ends June 5th. Giving a month's notice feels right to me given how students schedule time with us and given how long I've been there (comparatively, ok?).

It was instant peace when I made the decision to quit a few weeks ago. There's a little panic in there because I might have to sell my teeth or something, but it's mostly peace. Mmm. I don't have to hold my fingers on multiple pages to check out my options on this one. I'm choosing my own adventure, and I feel this is the right way to go.

Little Jersey Detour

2011-05-02T06:08:00.000-07:00

So. I've been away from blogging for a bit because I was having fun in the tropics, but I finally came off my mai tai haze and am lucid enough to blog.

Well, doesn't that sound like more fun that because I've had deadlines from all angles and decided to meet them?

I have my final presentation May 9th (happy birthday to me), and then classes are done. My attentions can then turn back to mai tais. Uh-huh.....

I did take a little break and went up to Princeton this past weekend to meet my boyfriend's sister (the woman who is not me in the picture below) who came in from Madison to stay with his dad who lives in Chile but... Anyway, we were all there, and we basked in Einstein's and John Nash's glow.

We were there when the undergraduates were having their formal dances AND when there was a huge community festival, too. That means our weekend had glitter, tuxes, ice cream, marching bands playing Lady Gaga, and immensely impressive buildings. I came back totally smarter and stuff in some way. I'll figure out what that way is and let you know later.

I had fun, though, as you might be able to tell.

Pedagogy of Promise

2011-04-18T18:36:00.000-07:00

Looking Ahead to What We Can Become

Someone in one of my classes brought up the phrase pedagogy of promise, which will not stop rolling around in my head. Loosely, the phrase means to not focus on a deficit but to focus on the person you want to be or the situation you want to be in. For example, I will look ahead to not being a person who does not end sentences on prepositions no matter whom I am writing to.

The phrase is also rolling around in my head because I'm surrounded by people who have made or will soon make important decisions in their lives. To you, I send my support and love as you evolve and change your situations and therefore yourselves.

I'll stick to describing my own situation because that's nicer than describing other's personal situations and because of my narcissistic tendencies.

This past Sunday, my advisor/mentor/boss/guru announced his retirement from UVa. I expected it, yet the confirmation had me pause and decide where I wanted to be and what I wanted to do. I then scurried around in making sure I could shape my future as much as possible before someone shaped it for me.

I can't say a lot here, but I will say my department chair is fantastic. I walked into her office, she was very complimentary, and she said I could essentially chose what I wanted to do. Who gets THAT in grad school?

As my goal is to be a researcher in instructional design at a university, I chose projects that did just that. One of my projects is with the engineering school in a transnational course, and one aspect of the project will be my dissertation. The other Curry-related project is working on curriculum design, and the description is purposefully vague.

One of my concessions in going to UVa is that there wasn't an international aspect in my program that would allow me to develop as a mature professional in that area, so with these projects, I'm like, totally stoked.

I was extremely blessed the first year with my advisor. He's a wonderful guy, and frankly, he protected me when I was having seizure after seizure. I would have had to have dropped out if I worked for anyone else. This is completely a God thing.

Now, I must look ahead to what I can be, and I have a load to do. This is not a surprise. I can handle it. Ready.... go!

The Sacred Heart

2011-04-10T17:30:00.000-07:00

The Virginia Museum of Fine Arts has a Picasso exhibit going through mid-May, and if you have a chance at all, do go see it. The exhibit is really well arranged in guiding you through period to period in his work, you get to see all his mediums and the evolution of his art, and well, it's Picasso. Go for his prestige; stay to be intrigued. His art shifts from blue to rose to cube to african to realist to three-dimensional to political to anger to...

It's worth going.

I thought his best work was when his emotions at the time seemed to leap out at me when I looked at his work. This is me guessing his emotions via the handy timeline in the exhibit booklet. At any rate, it is fairly obvious this is a man with a emotional depth when you compare a realistic picture of his son in a clown outfit versus an abstract painting of a black dog eating a bird versus his three-dimensional art-de-mistress.

Me waxing about Picasso isn't going to detract from my reputation as a snob, so I'll stop in just saying I admire the man for his ability to use his work to share his heart.

Cell Shocked

2011-04-08T14:13:00.000-07:00

My phone hasn't worked for a few days this week, and I couldn't get it fixed until this afternoon. Really--I promise I wasn't being a total snob in not answering you when you called. NOW I will be a total snob in not answering when you call.

Even in 48 hours, I realized how blasted reliant I am on that thing. How do I get in contact with my friend I'm meeting for lunch? How do I get ahold of someone and tell her I have her book? What number do I give people to call me when my phone is ready if all numbers are stored in my phone? I do own an address book. It is fairly empty. People in it kept moving, so I now just have a bunch of crossed-out text and my family's addresses in there. I figure at least having them written down is a step above pathetic.

Me whining about my phone is not just a step above pathetic; it is pathetic. I don't care: How did people CONNECT with just land lines? The shiny little call-y things have made us dependent: Time or Newsweek just reported that 27% of households only use cell phones and have eschewed land lines altogether. (They don't report the size of the sample or the ages of those sampled.) I would have put that figure much higher, but then, my little circle of the world salivates at iPads and texts when sitting in the same room as the recipient.

Those who live in the world of iEverything, and of course all of us, run the risk of not storing vital information where it's easily retrieved. We don't need to memorize it, so we don't. But what if something should happen like the next iPad suddenly came out and you didn't have your phone to spread the news?

More serious things can happen, although that's hard to imagine. When I was young, I was at home alone and playing with the stove in one of my early experiments with cooking. I was panicking about something with the stove and oven over something I shouldn't have been playing with, and I wasn't sure what to do. I got on the phone and called the only number I knew by heart because my parents always made me call it: my grandmother. She got me through my trauma but was also 3 hours away and couldn't exactly come get me if something more difficult had happened.

I thought about the numbers I had memorized, and the list doesn't include anyone in Charlottesville. I would be in a world of hurt if I were truly stuck, so please don't be like me: Tell me that you have important numbers written down somewhere and the really critical ones memorized. Meanwhile, I'm typing a list, printing it out, and having copies at home, at school, in my wallet... My friends, you'll never escape me now!

Thin Mint Brownies

2011-03-31T18:13:00.000-07:00

The busiest week of the semester leaves my time devoted to homework and papers over blogging. These are the souls that time men's tries. However, I did want to get this recipe out because I know someone in Minnesota who wants to try these this weekend. When I made these, I reduced the sugar and didn't use parchment paper because I'm not a fan of using it with 9 x 13 or 9 x 9 pans. I coated the pan with margarine instead, and it worked wonderfully. Let these cool the full half-hour, too, to firm up. From The Food Librarian: Girl Scout Thin Mint Brownies 1 cup all-purpose flour, spooned and leveled 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into pieces 8 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped (I used bittersweet chocolate) 1 1/4 cups sugar 3 large eggs 1 sleeve Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies, chopped. (Okay, Thin Mints keep shrinking to keep the price at $4 a box. So, it is 3 1/2 ounces of Thin Mints or 16 cookies) 1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 9 x 9 square pan with parchment paper and butter or spray with Pam with flour (that's my method). In a small bowl, whisk flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt; set aside. 2. Place butter and semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate in a large heat-proof bowl set over (not in) a saucepan of gently simmering water. Heat, stirring occasionally, until smooth. Remove bowl from heat. Add sugar; mix to combine. Add eggs one at a time, and mix to combine. Add flour mixture; mix just until moistened (do not overmix). Fold in chopped Girl Scout Thin Mints. Transfer batter to prepared pan; smooth top. 3. Bake until a toothpick inserted in center comes out with a few moist crumbs attached, 40-50 minutes. (Be sure to check them early. The recipe says 50 minutes, but mine were done in 45). Cool in pan for 30 minutes. Using paper overhang, lift brownies out of pan; transfer to a rack to cool completely (still on paper). On a cutting board, using a dampened serrated knife, cut into squares.

All in a Day's Work

2011-03-24T14:48:00.000-07:00

My job cracks me up. I've been an online writing tutor for six years serving people who are primarily at least in their upper 30s, and my, my. The communication filters certainly do come off.

I have heard more about people's digestive/eye/brain/hip/surgery problems than I ever care to know. I sent a paper to a regular this morning who wrote me back to thank me and asked if she should revise it now considering she had oral surgery this morning. Yesterday, I had someone who said he is now a better writer than his boss, and I have a running commentary from a woman who is having problems with her toe.

What I get to look up tickles me, too. My last paper had me look up the history of PepsiCo to ensure the student wasn't plagiarizing. Yesterday, I had a personal reflection paper where I had to look up statistics about a particular country, and I found that the writer had plagiarized the information. (Plagiarizing in a personal reflection paper is particularly sad, isn't it?) And my current favorite is from yesterday: The author was talking about how the latest hits from Lady Gaga and Pink were really self-empowering and that those lyrics and lyrics from other types of music should be used in schools. She then quoted some lyrics, including some from "F***ing Perfect" from Pink. I'm sure that will be coming soon to a curriculum near you.

Many of the papers, though, are really touching. I get to read a lot of professional development plans, and I get to read reflections from students about their educational experiences and dreams. People write as immigrants hoping for better, mothers hoping for their children, and men hoping to improve their communities.

I've also been working long enough to see work from students coming in, read their reflections as they progress, and see them walk across the stage to graduate. I hug. I cry. And by them, I am greatly and deeply inspired.

Cognitively Confused

2011-03-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Lord, for keeping me humble.

Whenever I begin to get cocky, I brace myself for the ego-check that inevitably follows. That was Thursday. Thursday, I got some happy academic news that capped off a few days of "yes!!!!" Then, I went to go take a cognition test as part of an epilepsy study.

First of all, I got lost trying to find the place. This should be of no surprise to anyone. Miriam, I was right outside your house and had to call the woman giving the test. She could see me on the street and directed me like Pacman: Ok--go straight. No, turn left. Now walk straight one block... Ugh. I should use my iPhone map feature more often.

I got in the place and didn't leave for five hours. A doctor with whom I'd spoken at my last ep appointment was there to have me do the "here's how I found out my brain is weird" monologue. Then, a woman took me into this large, freezing room where I proceeded to identify pictures of birds, repeat lists of things back to her, tell her the word she defined, play with blocks to form patterns, and draw a Picasso-esque picture she had shown me from memory. I stunk at that last one, and as part of the test, I had to draw the picture over and over. In each attempt, my drawing got smaller. My hand apparently felt the shame of my lack of artistic ability.

Just when I was feeling humbled by my lack of drawing/memory skills, my favorite part came along. I had to fill in a scantron questionnaire that had 568 questions. It was disgusting. The questions repeated themselves in slightly different ways, too, to see if I'd mess up. My answers were along the lines of: No, I will not kill myself. No, I do not think people are out to stalk/poison/harm/dismember me. No, I do not hate members of my family. No, I do not feel better when I am harming myself. No, I am not depressed. No, I do not think all of humanity is going to hell.

I was antsy by this point, but I had one more 30-question test to take. I think I aced that one, because they then promptly gave me a $10 "lunch voucher" and let me go. I wonder what I would have gotten had I told them I rocked the 568-question test, too?

I left with my head spinning embarrassed about all the things I couldn't do in the tests. The researchers said not everything should be able to be answered. Do they know I'm typically a prefectionist?

After I left, I promptly headed over to a place that makes the best brownie in Cville (Baker's Palette, people). The brownie excursion I promised myself I'd do that morning for a celebratory huzzah thing. However, I waited to eat it until it wouldn't taste like humble pie.

The Power of Elvis

2011-03-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a conference in Nashville, and I can't say I'm too impressed by the city. The urban planning seemed almost nonexistent, travel was confusing, downtown was like Vegas but smaller and smokier with no casinos, and even salads were mayo-nized. I couldn't help but devour french fries, Waffle House and Cracker Barrel fare, and barbecue. Excess grease is something I've been ordered to avoid, but oh well. Those were some good eats.

Thus marks the end of my whining. All the people were great, I loved my posse, and the conference was fun. Also, I again noticed my weird attraction to Elvis statues. I have no idea why: I'm not a particular fan, and I don't even think he's cute. But of course there were Elvis statues all around Nashville, and who can resist The King? I wanted to take a picture of every statue, but I refrained and only posed with one. I quietly asked to take another picture of another Elvis statue, to which my companion wisely asked "Why?" I looked away.

This happened in Vegas awhile back, too. Apparently, what happens in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas.

Harmless irrational desires like this amuse me, and I wonder if I could ever transfer them to more useful things. Maybe if Elvis appeared in my textbooks every so often, I would finish my readings more quickly? To my friends in IT, please work on fabricating a pop-up of him. The King would be pleased.

(Almost) Nothing but Net

2011-03-04T08:04:00.000-08:00

I've been fortunate to travel to a lot of interesting places, mostly because of work. Tides are shifting, though, so now I'm going to more academic conferences than work-related trips. Both types of trips have unique benefits: (a) I get to share the idiosyncrasies of the APA manual in one and therefore help the general populace or (b) I hear and discuss interesting realities and potentials in education.

Of course, both trips have their cons. One point I don't look forward to in academic conferences, for instance, is the fakey type of networking and is expected of doc students at these things. I've been told over and over how important it is to network, to be promoted by such-and-such a person, and to be competitive about face time. But I'm not that type of competitive and have and will avoid taking advantage of others to shove my way in front of someone. I'd much rather have my work speak for itself and talk to people because they're interesting and not because I want to hand them my CV. I don't like the idea that people are thinking that, and I don't want my cheeriness and friendliness to be misinterpreted. Ugh. It's the "you're not special, I'm just friendly" thing.

Yeah, yeah. Networking is important, and networking certainly isn't the only reason people interact! I'm not trying to be holier than though about this, although it probably seems that's the case. I just hope that if I become important, networking will fall more out of people's minds; I've hated mingling for the sole purpose of being noticed. People say I'm good at networking. I'm not proud of that. I think I'm just loud, friendly, and tall.

This week, I'm traveling with a posse of IT doc students to a VIPA (Very Important People Affair). This one is in Nashville, which should be grand. I hope I get to see the place! I'll be there until Saturday. Here's hoping I get out of the conference center and thereby leave the networking atmosphere behind.

The Social Incentive to Panic

2011-02-24T15:40:00.001-08:00

This has been a relatively quiet academic week with no huge deadlines, and I've had more free time than usual. But do not tell anyone at school, ok? And for goodness sakes, don't blog about it. I'm supposed to be in a near-constant state of panic if for nothing else but to be able to fit into the social milieu.

You see, it's incredibly rude to chirp at someone under deadlines that: "Oh! I'm doing really well! I have everything in on time, and blue birds land on my shoulder as I prance home." I've been guilty of doing that on occasion (minus the blue bird bit), but saying something Pollyanna like that is just mean. It's easier to assume that people are always panicking because of deadlines and to feel out the waters before you dive into happy:

S: Hey. What's up?

M: Contemplating life in general.

S: Yeah. Things are bad, aren't they? Today, I...

M: Oh. Yeah. Ugh.

You have conversations like this because, two days later, you may well be the one staring bleary-eyed at the computer under deadlines you didn't realize you had because someone important said JUMP! It's just human kindness to commiserate in some small way by at least tuning down the chirp.

I feel pretty safe posting this on a Thursday night. Fridays generally are good days for people, and the weekends are just for study. Maybe people will forget I posted this by Monday. If not, fellow students, I will by all means panic with you on sight.

Rocking the Defiecet Model

2011-02-22T17:10:00.000-08:00

I've read that students come to school to have their deficits, their impurities, taken out of them. The person trying to do that to me must have gone to get a firehose or something, leaving me to my own devices.

Too bad, too, because I seem to have no problem showing off my general deficiencies. There's that pizza dough I made yesterday where I substituted powdered sugar for bread flour (same size and same color canisters, ok?), and there's the orange juice I poured on my cereal this morning. Remember the times I would do that twice in a row when I was younger, Dad?

Hmm.

We can all feel deficient. Please, um, say it's not just me, anyway. Yet one reason that determines whether we can laugh it off and strive for better or curl up and wail comes down to whether we know people believe in us. It's the difference between soaring and crashing.

I'm writing to specific people here. Chin up! I believe in you, and you'll make it. I know it.

V is for Vivacity

2011-02-13T14:22:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, my dearies, is Valentine's Day! All the obscene amounts of red everything and chocolate everything will be put to good use as everyone commemorates the spirit of love. Let's all have one big collective smile on our faces as we glide through tomorrow on clouds of amore.

No? Too much? Maybe. But I, for one, have always been unflinchingly happy about the day. The whole "holiday" offers a chance to display vivacity. You can also be really cheery and bubbly all day without wondering whether you're being annoying. You can think about that on the 15th.

In elementary school, you get cards with cartoons on them with horribly cheesy sayings. I should have kept them to commemorate some of the late 80s/early 90s fabulousness.

In middle school, Valentine's Day was for getting together with friends, talking about falling in love and our collective crushes, and eating chocolate. I look at that period with rose-colored glasses now, but Valentine's Day really was just a time to have something collective to giggle about. It was also an excuse to eat a lot of what was poison for our volatile 14-year-old skin. I remember my treat of choice was anything having to do with Snickers and ice cream. I've moved on since then to other treats, yet strangely, the Snickers people don't seem to have suffered without my patronage.

High school Valentine's Days were always interesting. Now that I think about it, the V-Day experience was a lot like middle school. We got together, giggled over crushes, and ate lovely V-day delectables. My group always dated here and there, but we were more of a marching-band posse good-kid group made up of both genders who went around in mini vans and station wagons. I had the mini van. We were awesome.

During college and the years thereafter, Valentine's Day was always a mix of cheerfully mocking Singles Awareness Day, awkward dating, or socialization. I liked the socialization the best: Movies, chocolate (do you see a theme to my loves here?), friends, parties, etc. February was so dreary in Minnesota and typically was in DC, but Valentine's Day gave us an excuse to add a little sparkle to the month. Here, it's obviously not Valentine's Day (unless I was REALLY craving summer and wasn't afraid to freeze to show it). But we're all in red. It works.

I really don't remember what I did last Valentine's Day. Probably study? I'm sure there was some chocolatage happening, so I must have been relatively cheery.

This year, I plan to be perky all day. Watch out, people. I'm bringing in treats for class. I'm going to wear bright colors. And I'm heading out to get chocolate cake tomorrow night with girlfriends. My boyfriend has to teach tomorrow night (sure he does....), but I get Valentine's Day breakfast instead. Not a bad way to start the day.

However you celebrate or with whomever you celebrate, please at least acknowledge the day for all the commercially-laden, love-infused wonder that it is. There are worse things than a day where you get to show people you care.

Emotion O.D.

2011-02-08T17:05:00.000-08:00

Today has been a very emotional day, and I for one am excited to come home and immediately just start twirling around and grab some warm lounging (read: burlap-sack-like) clothes. Today was also a very gendered day. I was reminded at every turn that almost the only time women can show extreme emotion is with other women, and I'm emotioned out. Seriously: I can't even sing along to U2 that's playing right now.

The reason for the O.D. on emotion is because most women match emotion for emotion, and I have done that a lot today. I can understand why some women completely detach from much emotion professionally, and that's really the way to go if you can help it. The alternative is exhausting. Today, I've hugged, cried, emphasized, gushed, laughed, and cooed with women either in responding to them or in expressing to them. You want to know why women bond together? The ability and desire to match emotion to emotion is a big part of it.

Showing acute emotion or "just getting something out there" to most men, in contrast, just doesn't work in the same way. This is not news. They want to give us advice or a sedative, and we want to give them a hug or a big whack on the head.

The differences is genders are intriguing, yeah, and studying the spectrum of emotion is fascinating. But did those differences and that spectrum have to be illustrated in one day???

Qua wah... whoa. Picture time?

2011-01-30T14:54:00.000-08:00

I officially had my first wide-eyed session of the semester this week. Why am I taking 15 credits (cajoled into it) while starting my dissertation project, continuing to collect data and write articles, and working at another job? Why am I testing my sanity? Why am I complaining when I did this to myself?

That was on Tuesday. I recovered after going to dinner where Felipe drew me random pictures of North and South America. Yes, that seriously calmed me down. Want to know the capital of Nicaragua? I've got you covered.

Now I'm back, smiling, and in the midst of figuring out what kind of research methodologies goes where and in what (qualitative, quantitative, irritated, etc.). It's actually really fun! Yes, I'm serious about that, too. After briefly becoming qua wah whoa about the looming methodological decisions to be made, I'm just flat out interested in methodology. Most of the time. Can I just sit in a corner and draw a map again?

Note: Readers will be subjected to many nerdy posts about I'm-processing-dissertation-stuff blog entries in the future. If you want to leave now, I understand. I thought your shoes were ugly, anyway.

Onto more entertaining subjects that distract me from methodology for a moment. Let's start with my brother as the subject with a focus on his hideous beard. I'm glad he works on the phone. Right now, it looks like he works in a forest.

The second picture I put in just because I'm his sister who loves to show him at his best.

I'm told Erik looks like my dad when my dad was younger. No comment.

Next, my mother with her Christmas haul, given with love and coated with layers of wrapping paper. She's going to say that we got our presents early, and she's right. But I can still tease.

My dad received gifts given with love, too:

The day after Christmas, I went on a work trip to San Diego. I donned my gear, went for a run along the docks one morning, and stopped to take pictures. I got some funny looks from other runners.

One of my favorite people came to Rochester to see me, too. Stac, you and I have the most intense red eye effects in pictures I've ever seen. We look a bit glazed when I remove the red eye. Is that glaze from us or from the touched-up picture? Hmm.

Fast forward to the return to the East Coast. A friend from grad school, Sarah, came into town, so a few of us went up to go see her and to do random touristy things. Here's the Library of Congress:

The last photo is really inspiring. I bet she would know loads about when to use what methodologies. Maybe I can escape back to DC and ask her?

Identities of Competence

2011-01-24T14:13:00.001-08:00

"When students are given opportunities to engage in critical inquiry with their peers aimed at generating knowledge, they are likely to adopt identities of competence. These identities of competence propel students into active engagement with literacy and learning."

As the first full week of the new semester has arrived, do I feel propelled? Not exactly. What happened to my propeller? Is my motor busted? I won't even go into whether I feel competent.

The identity of competence thing, though? I get it. The path to having an identity of competence starts with people believing you improve, giving you opportunity to improve, and then you believe you can improve thus propelling yourself into active engagement (uh, improvement).

This identity of competence sequence applies to many cases. For instance, the quotation above is adapted from a reading in a course about the theory, policy, and practice of teaching English language learners (ELLs). Schools see huge gaps between academic success of ELLs and between monolithic English speakers (widened by NCLB, thank you very much). While there's a huge list of factors for why this is, one thing that would help is whether people behind them believe they can improve and give them fair opportunities to do so.

I'm sitting here trying to think of whenever I was discouraged from doing something. My parents read this, so I can't touch that realm.... (Not like there was an example, anyway.) But the fact that I'm having such a hard time thinking of instances means I should have a huge identity of competence. I suppose in this case that it means I have a huge ego. Can't argue there.

Oh! I do remember one painful instance in middle school. My gymnastics teacher realized I was hopeless as a gymnast and had another girl and I sit in the corner practicing tripods for much of the class. I realized later I was horrible partly because I have an extra vertebrate that messes with my ability to balance, but that's beside the point. To this day, I'm utterly convinced I can do no more in gymnastics than a really awesome tripod. Can you imagine how great I could have been if placed on the path toward having an identity of competence?

Yeah, I would still be awful. But I would have at least been given the opportunity to learn to do more than have an amazing, stunning, and breath-taking tripod!

Some assembly required

2011-01-16T17:38:00.000-08:00

Many talented crafters of high-quality home furnishings now roam freely, uninhibited by ineptitude. However, if you are not one of these blessed creatures, you may wish to capture one of these lovely artisans. Hold them captive in your basement until their services are required. Just give them a book of wood samples to make them stop yelling.

Otherwise, your past three hours may have gone something like this: You open the box containing the cheap Target bookcase. The pieces don't slide out easily, so you tilt the box further and reach your hand in, thus pinching your hand. This will not go well. Undeterred, you carefully read over the instructions and lay out the wood then start putting the screws in the pre-made holes. With much effort, you put them all in halfway to make sure everything is lined up only to realize the pieces now have huge gaps between them that won't be solved by screwing them all in. Yours was a bad strategy. Why didn't you hold the pieces firmly together and screw them all in the first time?

Approximately 45 minutes later, you have successfully put in eight screws. Triumph! The second step is nailing in the back panel. The panel came folded up and looks like it will tear at any moment. Why didn't you just buy a completed bookcase? Anyway, your thoughts shift back to the task at hand. You need a hammer. It's not in your toolbox. You scour the apartment only to remember you lent out your hammer. Why do people never return things? Obviously, you would return a hammer promptly. Sure. Disgusted, you stomp back to your project.

Viable candidates for a hammer are slim, but you settle for the butt of the biggest tool in your toolbox. Whatever its name is. To make sure the back fits properly (because the back keeps flipping up due to it being folded plastic), you reach for your faithful friend, Scotch tape. With the four sides taped down, you set to hammering into the back and praying you don't hammer through the front of it.

Miraculously, it goes well! You move the bookcase to the kitchen, then notice large gaps between the wood and the side panels. Back to hammering in more nails. Then once more: hammer, move to kitchen, notice holes, hammer some more.

The next part is easy as you just need to push the pins into the correct holes to support the shelves. Sure, you put the pins in incorrectly for both shelves, but these are easy fixes. You just had to go back to your toolbox for a pliers to get one pin out. You are now smug about your small success.

Gazing at your final creation, you dance around and walk back into the living room. You close your toolbox with a flourish, only to have two screwdrivers and a wrench fall out onto your leg. The other side needs to be closed first so the tools won't fall out of their places...

Sheepishly, you sit down to write a blog entry that is assuredly boring to others but is therapeutic to the writer. You wish you were exaggerating the story if only to feel better about your status as a fully-functioning member of society. With a sigh and a shrug, you sleep.

Past Life Shadows

2011-01-12T12:56:00.000-08:00

And I'm back to Charlottesville! I'll post pictures of Minnesota when they're uploaded, but right now, I'm just regrouping and loving the relative heatwave that is 30-degree weather. I walked outside in a hoodie and track pants this morning and wondered why everyone was so bundled up. See what a month in Minnesota can do?

I unfortunately was traveling on a day where the Atlanta airport was pretty much closed, so I was rerouted to DC from Minneapolis and took a train to Charlottesville from there. (Thanks to Nic for securing my ticket!) By going from Rochester to Minneapolis to DC to Charlottesville, I nearly got to visit all of the cities where I've lived in the order I lived in them. Just squeeze South Dakota in there, and I'm set.

Briefly visiting these cities was great. I loved them all when I lived there, and they're still fun despite obviously still mourning my absence. But what I felt when I stopped in them was how I felt when I took a work trip right after Christmas. Being here isn't my life right now, nor do I really want it to be. And aside from the happy exception of being with family or with friends, I want to focus on my present instead of traveling through my past.

I'd feel differently if I were living there for the long haul, sure. But I can't wish to be at point A when my priorities are at point B, and I can visit with people or places the best I can with the resources I have. I'm smiling benevolently at my computer here.

I'm happy to be back, and now I want to have all of YOU out to see me. Come one, come all. I say this knowing few will take me up on it, but the offer is completely sincere. Thanks to all for making this such a great trip!

Redesign

2011-01-03T12:34:00.000-08:00

I got to see my brother for one day this Christmas, which wasn't nearly enough time to mock his newly-grown beard. I visited with a good friend for a few hours, surely not enough time to catch up adequately, and time spent with other relatives and friends was zilch because of weather and other factors.

You know? I really wish I could see everyone way more often than I do, but I'm happy to take what I can get. I chose to redesign my life a few years ago when I moved far away and decided to devote myself to academia and two part-time jobs, and there are pros and cons. I'm not special: It's just like anyone else who moves away from family or immerses herself in a demanding job. You get a different kind of payback, and your activities (and sometimes priorities) are largely redesigned. (Kirre, are you listening? You'll love what you'll do; just be warned.)

The holidays and the beginning of the year give me a taste of my life before the redesign. The environment and pace changes, I see people I rarely see, and I think it's easier for everyone to see how the choices we've made shape how our lives are now. Do we like what we've designed? What do we want to enhance or to discard? Are there any holes we want to patch?

Most beginning-of-the-year questions flow somewhere along this vein. Now, or at any point throughout the year, are great times to address them.

Fermata

2010-12-24T07:05:00.000-08:00

It's a fermata kind of season. When I was younger, one of my piano teachers taught me to say "hold me longer" when I came to a fermata. Only then was I allowed to release the key, but I always held it longer than needed. It was fun to linger on something that was the finishing touch of a great sound.

I always want this season to linger, too. Everyone is typically more cheery, more able to dwell on what's important, and more likely to spend more time with people they cherish. I want this feeling, this relatively slowed pace of life, to stay throughout the new year. I want it to replenish us and to encourage us to act better--to be better--in facing what the coming year brings. And I want us to hold this suspended feeling of hope, this fermata, longer. Much longer.

As I write this, I know I am incredibly spoiled and am very sheltered. I live in student-world where this IS a time of a slower pace and is a break from the swirling pace of the rest of the year. Relatively few can claim that, and many are far from wanting this season to dawdle. I can list many who have lost hope and who feel disconnected in one way or another. I've had those periods, too. But recognizing and remembering life's positive points, the fermata points, are ways to bring cheer to this season and into the next.

Have a blessed Christmas!

The Cookie Bake (aka The Best Tradition Ever)

2010-12-21T10:53:00.000-08:00

Ah yes: The tradition lives on! This past Friday, my cousin Anna and I embarked on the 10th-anniversary edition of the Cookie Bake. We. made. 500. cookies. It was crazy and fun and had all the enjoyment that cozy, warm, aromatic kitchens filled with loved ones could provide. Our mothers have since joined the cookie bake festivities, and, contrary to what my mother says, they are not our slaves. Not quite, anyway. Ok, maybe. But try to make me admit it.

The abridged progression of events:

The fruits of our labor:

You see I get the light eyes and therefore the red eye effect from my mother. This particular picture was hard to adjust through iPhoto without making us look like raccoons.

Anyway, we made a mere 300 cookies last year, and the difference this year was we didn't bother cutting out and decorating sugar cookies. We went for quality and quantity. There's talk of having a two-day cookies bake next year to incorporate sugar cookies. That means more Disney songs (yes, we still play them), more Jane Austen, and more laughter. The y chromosomes shudder. However, the men don't have problems consuming the finished products...

My family is supposed to have some of the 250 cookies we have to save and to eat Christmas Eve. Um... You know that there's chocolate in these and that I'm here all week, right?

Defending the Needy

2010-12-15T11:49:00.000-08:00

Time just ran a cover story shouting "Palin in Progress." Is she a candidate? Is she a commentator and pundit? Is she a celebrity talk-show host Oprah wannabe with a more grizzly political spin? Tune in for more at 9.

Whatever she is, she's her own brand and seems to be quietly shifting toward showing us her next steps. She's also quietly shifting her image. (At least, it was somewhat quiet before this article.) The amount of staff she keeps dedicated to deleting negative comments about her and managing Palin World makes me wince. I wince because: All that spin and I still can't stand her? She's incredible in the unbelievable sense of the word.

I will give her credit for some wise moves, though, and one of her best is creating a great entourage that comes to her defense. She smartly surrounds herself with a knowledgeable, loyal-to-a-fault team who will cover her gaffs and will cover up all they can that is said or is written about her that casts an unfavorable glow upon their leader. Palin hires people who have religiously defended her in the social media world; she has them keep an eye on her image so she doesn't have to waste time defending what she says.

After being momentarily jealous of this situation, I laughed at myself for not realizing we are all blessed enough to have such support even when we don't feel we do. People defend us all the time, even if we're not typically as needy of defense as Palin. We just don't have to pay people to do it.

Obama, McCain, Pelosi, or Palin: We all say and do idiotic things at times within and outside the public eye. Yet because most of us live outside of the mega-public eye, we can say those who defend us do so out of love.

We all have these angels defending us whether we know it or not. All of us, everywhere. We're very blessed.

A Nicer Way to Land

2010-12-07T05:20:00.000-08:00

When you're on a landing plane, you see three types of people.

One type of people clearly hates planes and the general population in them. You should not focus on those people; do not let them suck you into their world. The second type of people are obviously on connecting flights. These are the people who, if the plane is late, would rip off the armrest and beat you with it if you were between them and the door. If the plane is on time, these are the people with the glazed, apathetic expressions. The oh-so-bubbly people traveling for business also fall into this category.

But then, there is a third type. These people, even if comatose the entire flight, start shifting excitedly in their seats. You see them glow. You might even see them start smiling with contentment or anticipation, thus annoying the first and second types. But this third type doesn't care. This third type is thinking about the someone waiting for them: The someone making the end of their trip a nicer way to land.

It doesn't matter if that someone is waiting at the airport or is waiting hours away, really. We all glow at the thought of being supported whether we land in a plane or in a rough patch in life. We see gestures of such support as signs we're not alone. That someone is looking out for us. That someone cares.

This is the time of year where we often feel especially disconnected from all forms of the support that we crave, especially if we have had especially rough years. We feel adrift. Yet making gestures of support--even small gestures of support--can make us all feel we have a nicer way to land.

"For all involved"

2010-12-01T10:32:00.001-08:00

As evidenced by my dearth of posts, I'm in the midst of finals. How grad school snob is that first sentence?

Don't let the picture to the right fool you. I'm not that stressed because the finals for us don't typically mean tests. Instead, we have projects. And papers. And projects that lead to papers. Oh my, the excitement.

I generally enjoy writing the papers more than the projects, to no one's surprise. Yet as I'm reading over the ends of my papers I'm submitting, I see the last phrase is dishearteningly repetitive. In an effort to end on a high note, I seem to usually use the phrase "for all involved." As in: improvement for all involved, enhancing the experiences for all involved, giving free fanny packs to all involved, etc.

Is this a sign that I'm running out of steam or that my prose is just dull? It's probably a sign of a bit of both, which is sad. But I have one more presentation tonight, two mini-presentations tomorrow, one more test this week, and one more paper next week before I Have Completed The Semester. Maybe then I will work on creative ways to conclude. Until then, despite my best efforts, I will likely to continue producing repetitive reading experiences for all involved.

250

2010-11-21T09:42:00.000-08:00

This is my 250th blog entry. I feel like I should note it, but the milestone doesn't matter to me. It did raise the question in my mind, though, about why I blog. About why I keep things very basic with just text and pictures without anything more advanced even though adding these components would be easy.

I believe those answers come back to a selfish craving to keep things simple. I started this blog just for fun while I was living in Minneapolis as a light little project because I wanted stimulation: I was antsy and wanted an outlet.

I continued this blog when I moved to DC still as a light little diversion but also to keep relatives (mostly my mom) informed that I was safe, happy, and enjoying life. While everything was shifting and moving around me, it was fun to simply share pictures and thoughts about weird going-ons in my new environment.

When things crashed in the middle of grad school, I needed simplicity. While I didn't understand what was going on and was continuously going to doctors and dazed, I needed to jointly focus my energy on something uncomplicated and also assure others that I was going to be ok even though geographically isolated from family. Blogging was part of my therapy.

Then, I moved to Charlottesville. The months after I moved here were the worst parts of my life, which had absolutely nothing to do with Charlottesville and my school and everything to do with the struggle to function. I kept going to doctors who kept adjusting my medication. I kept having seizures. I became clinically depressed for four months because I was on the wrong drugs. I often couldn't read or write because the words would dance around on a page. Nights and weekends because sob sessions as I held my tears away in class, and my attempt to sleep became bouts of hazy frustration. The wonderful people around me helped tremendously; if they hadn't been there, I would have most likely have had to drop out. Selectively and simply blogging about the happy and the sad assured me and everyone that I was going to be fine as long as I kept going.

Early March became a turning point. I switched to medication that actually worked. I started sleeping again, which for some reason helps in functioning during the waking hours. Meeting and sharing with others with epilepsy was reassuring, and I started becoming myself again because I was getting my memory back. I met a man I love very deeply. It was a good month. Simply journaling through my blog was a way of documenting the change, and again, reassuring my mother that I was ok. (Hi Mom.)

It's eight months from near hell, and I'm doing wonderfully. I asked for an increase in my meds in October, which has left me pretty much seizure free with a few auras here and there. I can express myself clearly. (When I can't, it's just my normal ineptitude for conversation and not anything medical). When I blog now, it's simply documenting and sharing stories, pictures, and truly joyfully cherishing random thought.

For a few months now, I've felt ready to tackle things that are more complex. You know, like using my memory as well as writing and reading. I've felt ready to relearn things I love like piano and languages that apparently in the parts of my brain where my seizures like to form. This part of my brain, I'm told, is nearly healed from being attacked for about two years. However, as my spell checker tells me, I can't spell apparently to save my life.

I feel this blog is usually self-serving. It's downright selfish at times in giving me an area to vent and to babble. Yet I realize many read it, and I'm thankful for your thoughts and your prayers. I hope, too, that I have and can serve as an ear and a comfort for you as well.

Stop the Slew!

2010-11-14T18:32:00.000-08:00

In an effort to regain and hone some foreign language ability, I'm now listening to songs in French and Spanish to get used to the languages again. But I've quickly realized listening to songs is not the optimal way to learn a language. The words are all strungtogethersoquickly that I have a hard time distinguishing separate words. "Wait. Did he just just hold her hand, or did he just give her a cat? Ack!" One exception, however is that I can listen to romantic ballads with no problem. I am now an expert at the words heart, soul, want, and love. I'd like a few more words, though--these words won't get me far with strangers. On the other hand, using those words might help me make, uh, "friends" very quickly.

Yet ballads aside (please), the words come across as a slew of words where I can understand about half of what is being said. The other half is just quantity and not quality.

The same slewage (yes, slewage) is coming at many of us right now. For example, there's a global education seminar all day today where I'm currently debating how long I can stay because of meetings that are timed so I immediately go to online meetings and other tasks to be quickly followed by deadlines. I'm debating ignoring these tasks because I went to part of the global seminar last night to a fascinating talk and free food in the Rotunda. There's a free breakfast today to kick everything off, and I'll definitely go to that but might leave soon thereafter to pound tasks out in my office because I'd feel too guilty to stay too long. You see, too, that I'm taking 15 minutes to write a blog entry now, which is of course the best option this morning.

But just as I realized the slew of song lyrics can be daunting, I know tasks can seem so as well. Yet I know I'll eventually get what the heck these people are singing, and I know I'll eventually get everything done if I just can separate tasks in my head and realize I'm not so busy after all when everything is divided. I've see I and all the people who are realizing the late-November crush of finals/Thanksgiving/holidays/life is coming need to just compartmentalize tasks to not get overwhelmed and to conquer them. It helps to ramble in a blog. Find your own stress relief, and know we will succeed. Charge!

Various Crazy States

2010-11-07T11:44:00.000-08:00

November is the month of creeping crazy. That is, you start out on a happy sugar high from Halloween and cheery thoughts of plentiful harvests (or maybe that last bit is just me). By the end of November, you're bleary-eyed and manic from (a) preparation for holiday blitz, (b) deadlines before holiday blitz, or (c) arrival of holiday blitz that has us all nervously gnawing on pumpkin pie while pondering how to convey heartfelt love with only $5 as well as why money should play such a huge factor in the first place. Ho-ho-ho, everyone?

I love the month--honestly, I do. And one of the reasons I love this month this year in particular is because I can give a good report on my own personal "crazy" state: I upped my medication about two weeks ago, and I haven't had a seizure since, and I have one more increase to go. I hope all is stable, so please pray it is. Since the increase, I've only had one aura. (Think of it like a seizure's weaker cousin that I can often chase away with a mean scowl and heavy concentration.)

My favorite crazy state to report on, however, is Virginia. There are many groups of crazy. Hey: We're near DC, and more Republicans are coming... But specifically here, I'm referring to the people of the upper crust of central Virginia and their various idiosyncrasies.

Yesterday, I attended the Virginia Hunt Races at Montpelier, James Madison's home. James wasn't in, but I was entertained anyway by the aristocrats in attendance. This annual race draws groups who have obviously been coming for years. They have their own tents. They have their own "tailgates" complete with winebars, flower vases, and fine silver. And the garb on the jockeys was just like I imagined:

If you don't want to be up close to the action, that's ok. You can still tailgate from afar:

I particularly appreciate the beer bottle in the trunk on that one. But if a limo isn't your style, no problem. You can always follow the classic tradition of tailgating in a pickup:

And of course, there are the races themselves! The races were fun to see, especially the jumps. You do have to watch out for the large, feathery hats that women wear everywhere. But if you lean just right, you can enjoy both the hats and the horses in a single glance:

And if you commit the atrocious crime of failing to wear an excessively decorated hat, just make sure you wear tweed and a fancy watch. If you don't own an acceptable watch, wait. You may win the Rolex they were raffling off at a retail price of over $7,000. The boys at the club couldn't mock you then, eh?

And do be sure to end your wanderings at James and Dolley's house. The guided tour is disorganized, but they'll let you wander aimlessly to your heart's content:

If none is this is really your type of thing, you can always do my version. Park with the locals who hike to the races instead of near the track with the VIPs, get a hot dog while you're wandering around, and end the day drinking with a random giant panda. The rest of you obviously don't know a good time when you see one.

Hot Dogs in Misery

2010-11-01T14:06:00.000-07:00

Last year at this time, I stayed busy as a first-year doc student trying to find the best combination of medication and activities to stay seizure free. This year, I stay busy as a second-year doc student trying to find the best combination of medication and activities to stay seizure free.But oh, the difference to me. Few seizures, lots of smiles, and much more productivity. I leave my house now, and when I leave, I actually go somewhere without wandering aimlessly. Ooooh.

As opposed to last fall, I've really looked around and have genuinely enjoyed the season. One of my favorite sojourns was on Saturday to a university a cappella show. A men's group here all donned Halloween costumes for the performance. I'm sorry, but there's no way I can take a hot dog seriously, even when he's singing "Misery."

I didn't take a picture of the hot dog, unfortunately, but I've included other fall shots here for your viewing pleasure. I can't adequately express how much more I can enjoy this fall over last, but the pictures can show the happy for me:

And this weekend, I'm going to a steeplechase! Whatever the heck that is...

Blame? Nah....

2010-10-26T13:11:00.001-07:00

Obviously, I've been away from blogger. I've also been away from sunshine, smiles, happiness....

I'm very much kidding there. Things are grand yet busy, per usual. And my parents are here for almost a week! Their (fabulous) presence, school work, fellowship work, and work-work are keeping me occupied. So you see, I'm not completely blaming my parents for not writing anything--not even fluffy things I'm prone to write--here. I'm not completely blaming them. Nope....

National Pride? Que?

2010-10-15T05:31:00.000-07:00

I sat with two Chileans as we watched the last miners being lifted out of the mine that collapsed in Copiapo. They were riveted to the screen and knew all the details; one even knew the country that produced the pulley lifting them up. Granted, it was an incredible news item, and many people knew quite a bit about the collapse. The journalists had a lot of time to fill; I heard about someone's mistress and someone's nursing abilities ad nauseum. But what struck me was the pride they had in their country. They felt a pride in the actions of individual Chileans and of the country as a whole, and frankly, I'm jealous as I gauge the current climate here.

What I see is misdirected anger and separation at a whole other level than in other election years. People are so angry--often at just the general state of "things"--that politicians go up in the polls for implying they'd like to physically harm their opponents. When did that become ok?

A lot of this anger is directed at the Administration so much so that Democrats up for reelection really are just democrats if you pry it out of them. Most have declared they are not "those" Democrats. Those that didn't do enough to get us out of this mess. Those who haven't made them feel the economic somewhat misguided but oh-so-fuzzy bliss they felt in the mid-90s and the tax rate go down to nil all at once.

Look, I was promised and voted for the moon, too, and the vague "things" people howl about in my face largely haven't materialized. Maybe by "things," they mean perfection? But the Administration has taken actions where it has not taken credit such as with the stimulus money, jobs, and health care. Feel free to argue with me about all three aspects mentioned: I know the situations aren't close to perfect. But do reflect and learn about what could have happened and who really is to blame for the doldrums. Draw your own conclusions. Then, if you must yell, you can yell at and about something specific and be an informed yeller.

And please, please feel some national pride in what values we cling to in this country. We have a lot going for us, even though it's hard to see through all the smoke all the firemouths are generating. Stop yelling and start acting. We can start with one simple step. Vote.

Greek Yogurt And Other Perishables

2010-10-14T12:41:00.000-07:00

My Greek yogurt expires today. That in itself would be hardly worth noting except that it is my third Greek yogurt I've bought that has expired, unused. Not because I don't love making things with Greek yogurt: I love the stuff. But the more complex things I want to try out with it require more time or more complex ingredients than I have. But I started thinking today (while concentrating in statistics class) that--dang it--I'm going to relax and not let things that I enjoy just drift away just because of busy. Instead of letting things perish, I just need to simplify them.

For example, instead of writing a lengthy, thought-provoking blog entry (or at least an externally-processing entry), just write something trite about perishing food products on occasion. Instead of letting my piano skills die, play one or two songs a day. And instead of cleaning my apartment all the time, maybe I could just get my cleaning jollies from empting the dishwasher and then hire people to do the rest. That's completely feasible for a grad student. I just don't want to let things perish. Really now--why are you smiling?

It is midterm season both at UVa and at work, so things are hectic and fun. Things around here currently don't lend themselves to a lot of free time, but I'm going to make sure some of my fun activities don't perish right now:

I am now going to get up and simply mix my yogurt with some peanut butter to put it on my favorite bread. Then, I'll play a few songs on my keyboard and look up cleaning services. At least, I'll do the part that will make my stomach and my fingers happy. The cleaning bit? I, uh, might have to keep that happy task to myself. Some things, it seems, will never perish no matter how much you wish they would.

Do You Know Who I AM??? Most likely not.

2010-10-04T15:42:00.000-07:00

One of the great pleasures of grad school is being a doc student grunt, which is how I got to attend a Very Important People Affair (VIPA, because academia loves acronyms) this past weekend in DC. It was great fun, and I love the conversations and ideas that flowed. And every so often, I'd hear someone was the editor of a major ed journal I love, so I would smile and then think something really deep like, "oh yeah--she's the one who really liked peppers at lunch."

My happy oblivion to titles was incredibly obvious when I started speaking with a woman I began adoring last year at VIPA when we bonded over trying to find enough taxis for 40 people. We were chatting about clothes, children, and conferences. I then mentioned I really wanted to go to or to present at a major, major conference for people in my subject matter (all three of us!). I asked her if she was going.

She grinned, paused, and said: "Well, yes. I'm the chair."

The woman beside her started cracking up, and I just laughed. Whoops. Oh well.

The thing is, I don't really want to know much about titles or who the VIPs are, although I should probably know who really not to spill anything on or should know a bit of background on people to show I'm not completely removed. But I hope I can treat the doorman the same as the president of such-and-such, and it's easier to do that if I don't know patriarchs from plebeians.

You want to see some real VIPS? Here are some that are really worth elbowing through the crowd to visit:

Man, Carly. Couldn't you find anything black?

Well, it could be worse....

Ah, Tommy. We need you to set the guideline for garb here.

What can I say? I've been brainwashed by UVa. But other than a few blind spots like putting irrational importance on statues, I know that all should be treated with kindness regardless of their titles--and that titles fade away to nothing when I'm with the people who truly matter to me.

Exposed!

2010-09-28T16:49:00.000-07:00

I did something that only terrified me after the fact this weekend. I downloaded my entire music collection onto someone else’s iPod. Not only someone else’s iPod; this was my boyfriend’s iPod. Someone who may still hold onto some idea that I am in any sense cool. Well, going through my iPod collection will take care of that. The Disney? The VeggieTales? The obscene amount of Michael Buble?

I’m toast.

I only really thought this through after we downloaded the music and he had left. I was going through my music and wincing: Oh—there’s the “Bad Boy Ballads” CD. Oops—and the extremely prominent placement of everything taken from musical soundtracks, and Erica’s “Erica’s Muzak” probably requires some explanation. Honey… uh, I got all this stuff a long time ago and don’t really listen to it anymore…..

He said later, very nicely, that he was listening to some classical and was glad to have the music. I was glad for him but silently questioning what he had seen. Was this overexposure or just healthy exposure?

After I got over myself, I knew it was healthy exposure. I definitely have things on my iPod and really about myself where I should be teased by friends gently and with love (and where it would help if these friends came bearing gifts). But these kinds of exposures are how we learn about each other. I'm glad he knows about my music tastes over the past few years. And now he knows where he ranks next to Michael Buble, too, so I won't feel too guilty when I run off with Michael when he comes to town. Everyone wins.

The Important Priority of Hanging Out

2010-09-21T13:30:00.001-07:00

I hate it when it has been over a week since I've blogged, but I'm fully back into school and thus have to prioritize my time. It's busy. Hence the starting of this blog post on Tuesday and publishing Friday. Yet I am not falling behind on schoolwork and work-work, and so, I schedule. Thank you, Google Calendar, light of my life.

Most of the scheduled events are all good things, though. If they're seemingly not good things, I pretend they are and remind myself they're good for me until I semi-enjoy them. I've almost convinced myself that three semesters of statistics will be of huge benefit to me and that it will be fun to expand my mind in new ways. Almost.

I am a bit wistful, though as this whole revamp into Type-A with my schedule made me loosen my grip on something I learned this summer. I learned how to better relax for-crying-out-loud and how to not schedule everything so far in advance. I learned how to better flow with things and to be more spontaneous. These are lessons I constantly relearn, but I think I took this to a new level this summer.

The whole summer reminded me of something someone told me when I was 15. He said that I needed to "learn to hang out." Well, I've been learning that, and now I'm confident I can now hang out with the cool kids. Too bad I'm 3 years to 30, and I have no interest in hanging out with those who constantly say words like "cool."

Grad students don't hang out well during school, but I'm going to try. Armed with my Google Calendar where I can stare at the white spaces, I'm going to attempt to hang out in those very scheduled white areas. Maybe I'll sleep (although napping is something I've never been good at). Maybe I'll play tennis (although I'm really horrible at the sport). Maybe I'll pick up a "fun" book (although I read so much that maybe not...). I have all these excuses and try to structure hanging out, you see. But for the love of God and country, I'll do it. What helps is I've seen hanging out once in awhile means I'll only be more effective when I turn to my tasks. Now excuse me: I'm going to go turn to the arduous task of getting a pedicure. And I'll probably read an article for school while I do it. Hanging out is definitely something where I need more practice... I'll put it on my calendar.

Grandma

2010-09-14T14:08:00.000-07:00

My grandmother passed away a week ago Monday. She wanted to go, we knew it was coming, and all the arrangements were tailored to her requests. Of course there were tears. A lot of them. But among family, there was also a sense of peaceful content. We got to say our goodbyes.

What I would really like to constantly tell her, though, is of all the things she did and was that I treasure and that I think about all the time. When I can't sleep, I think about her hand stroking the hair of an insomniatic child and calmly reasoning, "Rest is almost as good as sleep." When I catch a glimpse of a soap opera, I remember the times we ironed, watched soap operas, and made krumkake all at once. She was very talented. When I read news magazines, comedy books, or Calvin and Hobbes cartoons, I smile over the reading sessions with her on the couch and me sprawled on the floor with sharing sessions of what we read to follow. When I attempt a quiet strength with a hint of a strong-willed, sharp-tongued style, I know I have her in me.

Most of all, I'll treasure how she loved. Our entire family, and the many she knew well, never doubted how much she loved each and every one of us. She used that love to constantly encourage the vast number of her loved ones by maintaining a level of correspondence to which I can only hope to aspire.

Grandma, we ache, but we know you're happy. Thank you for making our lives better--so much better--by being in them.

Who We Are and What We Do

2010-09-02T18:10:00.001-07:00

In teaching for work, I take a few minutes to do what I call the Who We Are and What We Do. I first describe me. Of course, I love these few minutes. Then I describe everyone I work with more generally, our writing center's functions, and what we can do for students. I could do the schpeel in my sleep; it's blissfully easy to define our functions chipperly and with flair.

If only everything were that easy to define. Sometimes, I feel surrounded by aspects of my life that plead for definition but that are difficult to really describe with any sense of satisfaction: Tell me what an instructional technologist is. Tell me what it means to have epilepsy and what happens to you when you have a seizure. And tell me--hey! Why are you running away from me?

Ack. I can gurgle out some typically half articulate stock answer to more difficult self-definition questions and just keep talking until the person seems satisfied (or bored). However, what I really want to do is ask that unfortunate questioner whether she has a few hours to spare while I wrestle to come up with a great answer. Or I want to twitch my nose a la Bewitched to have that person ask my about the weather.

I'm being flippant, and I certainly would like to discuss deep issues. Yet there are self-definition holes everyone has that can difficult to recover from if you trip into them. I'm guilty of pushing someone into one when I pressed a friend for details about what she was doing. I did that yesterday, and the person spit out a stock answer. I pressed her for specificity, and she then admitted she didn't really know the answer. She looked down. I felt like I had crossed a line. It was awkward.

Yeah. I rely on relatively vague stock answers and can crumble when pressed for more, too, but that's a horrible thing to do when dealing with areas where I really should be well versed. I'm going to change that. Not knowing answers to questions and seeking out the answers is how I'll learn, or that and I'll learn by talking to myself on my blog.

On the other hand, maybe it's best to start to define the easy terms first to build confidence for the harder definitions in our lives. For example, I just got a Sports Illustrated magazine for a Drew Wold addressed to my apartment. In no way do I want to be Drew Wold or a Sports Illustrated reader, so no self definitions needed there.

Whew! That did help. Now, and only now, do I feel like I can define every aspect of the world in which I live. Vivez!

Appreciating Pygmalion

2010-08-28T16:11:00.000-07:00

I'm back in grad school, and therefore, am basking in theories, concepts, and words that few really care about or know how to pronounce if they dwell outside our Tiny Little Box. I swear I'm going to publish something highlighting a new, complex word or at least shuffling a letter or two around of known theories so people have to cite me. Shove it, Spillane.

But, my friends, I am asking you to both learn the concept and the pronunciation of the Pygmalion effect. It's the idea that people act the way others expect them to act. It comes from the play of the same name, which was the inspiration for the later and fabulous My Fair Lady. Pygmalion is addictively fun to say. Further, the Pygmalion effect has the fortuitous bonus of being extremely true and comes with a model explaining the whole thing! This is because, of course, we don't have enough models in grad school. Yet please, please join me in the celebration of this fantastic word's existence.

After the celebration, come down from the chandelier and think. I thought of my dear friend Pygmalion while getting a pedicure recently. Stay with me. I notice a shift in the way I act in these pedicure places (aka oases of delight) because I tend to dress feminine when going to these establishments alone. I get better service. In this particular instance, however, I wore an old t-shirt and capri jeans that will be thrown out... soon. I won't describe how I didn't act like a refined lady, but let's just say I was sloppy. Even more so when the woman doing my pedicure seemed irritated and made me wince a few times while doing my nails. I just slouched in my chair where I'm usually very vocal about, well, everything. I buried myself in a book.

Then, Example B walked through the door. This large, G.I. Joe man in full military garb walked in and threw himself down in the massage chair next to me. I didn't see if he grabbed a color for his nails, no. He sank into his chair with a tired sigh but then snapped straight and looked as military as one can look in a massage chair. The woman giving him the pedicure and the man who owned the place trotted over him to welcome him and to thank him for his service. G.I. Joe nodded, smiled, and rolled up his pant legs with incredible evenly-sized folds. I was impressed by the precision considering our environment.

I stopped thinking about the Pygmalion effect at this point when I noticed the tv in front of us had us watching Dr. Oz's special on how to have better sex. With "scientific" illustrations. G.I. Joe blushed and looked around for anything but the tv in front of him. I went back to appreciating my book as well as to appreciating the Pygmalion effect. But I mostly appreciated my book.

Distance

2010-08-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

Living so far away from family has downsides. I'm feeling one very acutely right now as my family is hurting, and I'm definitely feelings the pangs caused by geographical distance. If I had still been in Minneapolis, I would have seen everyone by now. If I hadn't gone to DC initially, I would have seen and visited with everyone much more than I do.

I typically don't mind the distance not because my family isn't wonderful but because phone calls, letters, and airplanes make the distance seem fairly small. But what about being there to physically help everyone when needed? How can I show love through action while I'm here? I write and call and listen. These things are valuable, but you see my options are limited. I'm stunted.

I love where I've been, where I'm at, and what I'm doing. Yet there's a hurt, and I wish I could help in all ways possible.

O Canada! You're Regaining One of the Best

2010-08-19T17:57:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, you just click with people. Melody sat next to me at church one day, we started talking, and we quickly declared each other awesome. Our friend Bobby came up to introduce us two minutes later; we just looked at him as if he were introducing siblings.

But, ah, Mel. You're leaving for Canada to return to your loves: family, friends, a man, and the cold. I'll miss being sarcastic-bordering-on-snarky with you. I'll miss teaching preschool and meeting in random places near Pentagon and Crystal City with you. I'll also miss your witty comments, and I'll definitely for sure totally miss being an word snot with you. Sigh.

You may point out that I left DC first, yet tis no matter. You're leaving now, thus depriving me of a great friend living only a few hours away as well as having a central, free place to stay in DC. Let us not quibble over technicalities regarding who left first while I'm mourning.

I am thrilled for you, my friend, as you are venturing to a place you've wished to go for so long. This move is good for you, and I'll try to remember that as I weep. Meanwhile, I'll remain living in the lovely, metropolitan Eastern Seaboard while you trek to colder, foreign, unwieldy terrain. Not like I'm trying to make you stay or anything.

But I'm happy for you, Mel, as Canada is where you belong. I'll call. I'll write. And I have full confidence you're going where you need to be.