New Look Around Here

I've been messing around with my blog template and layout and all that. Obviously.

So, excuse the mess for now. It kind of like when I'm painting. When I'm done, it will look much better. But in the middle, not so much.

10 in '10, or What I Learned in 2010

What a year. I'm almost as glad to see it be done as I was 2009. And that's saying something.

In 2010, I learned lots of things. However, just like my Mom used to tell me, life's lessons tend to run in the same theme until a person successfully works through them. I'm hoping that I passed the test(s) this time.

In 2010:

1. I learned that sometimes it IS about the destination. The journey, nifty as it may be, is not necessarily the focus.


2. I learned that sometimes a situation deteriorates to the point where it's time to "not be nice" (from Roadhouse, one of Mom's favorite movies), and that when that time comes, it's best to stand my ground and not go along to get along anymore.


3. I learned that sometimes letting go, no matter how hard it is, is the kindest thing to do.


4. I learned that it's OK to ask for and receive help, that I don't have to try and hold it together on my own.


5. I learned that it won't kill me to try new things...and that I may end up liking them.


6. I learned that it's about progress, not perfection, and that having a "B and Done" attitude can be OK. Hard, but OK.


7. I learned that friends can make (almost) any awful situation bearable. Mostly.


8. I learned that coming back to a normal life is way harder than I thought it would be...but I'm getting there a day at a time.


9. I learned that when there's no more "have-to" reading to do, trying to remember how to read for fun (and staying awake long enough to do so) can be a tricky business.


10. I learned that all my creativity did not, in fact, completely desert me; it only went dormant for awhile.

Most of all, I learned that I can get through anything with a little (lot of) help from my family and friends, which is a pretty good thing to learn.

I'm Coming Home...

This is just one of those songs that capture much of what I'm going through mentally right now.

I graduated in May 2010, but had yet to really come back to normal life even as late as October, when I went to see the doctor for my annual exam. I'd been having extreme anxiety attacks and knew I needed some help. I couldn't sit still anymore and would just go and go until I basically fell asleep in a chair at night. My sleep patterns have been all messed up for years because of school, so I didn't think it was abnormal.

After asking me lots of questions and listening to my answers, she said what I had was fixable, and that all those times I'd had the heartburn during school--yeah, that was anxiety. She put me on Zoloft (well, the generic equivalent of) for a 3-month time-span just to "take the edge off", after which we'd re-evaluate where I was. Although I know it's not for everyone, I'd taken it before (after I had the Kid), so I knew I'd be OK. I can feel my creativity coming back, and I'm definitely feeling more like myself again every day.

I'm coming home.

Finally.

Sammy Cat

Today I had to do one of the hardest things a person has to do: I had to take my sweet Sammy Cat in and have her euthanized. If it's true that pets & their people are alike, there's no doubt that Sammy was definitely my girl. Bad-tempered and cranky, intolerant of stupidity, and with a love of Cheerios and impromptu naps, we were very much in tune.

She was somewhere between 19 & 20 years old, and had a very good life, complete with catnip on demand, and lots of good places to nap.

We got her from a lady Steve worked with in February of 1997, and for almost 14 years, she was my second in command. Her other family gave her up because they said that she was the reason their toddler broke his arm when he fell down the stairs going after her. My guess is that she'd had enough of the kid, and was trying to go find somewhere to hide out. Either way, I'm glad she came into our lives.
At first, she didn't like Steve at all. Perhaps the dad in her other family wasn't very nice to her. In any case, Steve finally won her over by "sharing" (read: having to give her) his chicken, shrimp, hamburger, steak, ice cream, milk, and basically whatever he was eating. I just gave her lots of treats and catnip...and I shared my Cheerios with her every morning.

Samantha Cat was not a lap cat by any stretch of the imagination; affection was to be given on her terms, and on her terms only. Sammy had no problem sleeping on my pillow (she got most of it) at night, nor did she have any problem taking over the majority of our bed. She had a rather extensive and exhausting nap schedule to maintain on a daily basis, and could be found occupying any chair that someone had momentarily vacated. She was under no illusion that we were here for any other purpose than to serve her, and if we fell down on the job, she would be very vocal in her reminders.

Sammy was one of the most beautiful cats I've ever had; her fur had so many shades of brown, I called her my "Spice Cat". Her eyes were outlined with white, her pink nose with black. She had 4 white feet that were quick as lightning when she was smacking someone (she was a lefty for sure), and one of her legs was a pretty shade of orange.

She was also one of the fiercest girls I've had. She would defend her people against all comers, even against big scary dogs. Sammy was also pretty smart. She knew how to open doors (not completely closed ones), knew where the treats were hidden, and knew where people needed to be at any given time during the day. She would sleep behind me on the floor as I did homework for the past 7 years, and would herd me up to bed when she thought I'd stayed up too long. She knew how to tell time quite well--dinnertime is at 5 sharp. If we were late, she would tell us so. Loudly.

This past month has been hard on all of us. She fell off a table (we think) and hurt her hip/leg that had already been giving her trouble. She was basically confined to the living room, where we would bring her dish and water to her. Last week she started talking to us in a different voice, so I knew our time with her was almost up.

Once the shot was given this afternoon, she went quickly and peacefully.

I'm going to miss that fuzzy girl more than words can say. I'm just so glad that I got to be her person for almost 14 years.

So, for all of you who have pets, give them extra love and treats today, and be happy that they are part of your lives and you are their people.

Walking the Walk

Today was just one of those odd days. Heck, this week has been one of those weeks, and it's only Tuesday (soon to be Wednesday).

So, here's the deal. A week and a half ago, I went to Target to get some things to continue working on the various home projects I have going. I got some more paint tray liners so I could maybe use one for primer, one for color, and have one to spare. Target has a 3-pack for about $2.75ish, so I get one...or so I thought.

Later in the week, when I was cleaning up my staging area, I noticed that I had inadvertently gotten 2 3-packs because they were stuck together. I checked my receipt, and saw that I'd only paid for one. Damn.

I went to a different Target earlier this week to return something else, and asked whether I needed to bring the extra 3-pack in, or if I could just pay for them. The cashier looked at me like I was nuts and told me that she didn't know, but that I should probably go back to the Target I'd gotten them from. Really? Well, OK.

Tonight I took the 2 3-packs plus my receipt to yet a different Target and explained what had happened. The nice lady looked at me, perplexed. I offered to pay for the extra set, considering I'd had them for a week, but it ended up that since I didn't actually want them, I could just give them back. As she was taking the one 3-pack to put into the returns cart, she looked at me oddly and said (kind of like I was a big dummy), "You know, most people wouldn't have even bothered to bring these back. Um, thanks for being honest."

Uh.

I never know what to think about this kind of thing.

It was a mistake on both my and the original cashier's parts--mine for not being careful enough to make sure I had only one, and then not checking my receipt right away, and the cashier's for not making sure to ring up both. But two wrongs don't necessarily make a right, kind of like the saying goes.

Also, my kid was with me. What kind of example am I setting if I say, "Wooo! Their mistake!! I get to keep this for free!!!"? Is there some kind of dollar limit at which this becomes OK? (No) Am I that odd for returning it and offering to pay? (Apparently) Would I do it this way again? (Absolutely) Is this the kind of action that she'll remember and emulate herself? (More than likely)

The whole thing made me think about personal values and the moral grey area in a way I haven't for awhile, not in a meaningful way, anyhow. It was the right thing to do, though, and even as odd as the Target employee (and my husband, and a family friend) thought I was for doing it, I'm glad I did.

Laissez les Bons Temps Rouler

Photo from: GOOD, New Orleans Issue Submissions:

Six-Word Motto for New Orleans

You know how some places call to you, even if you’ve never been there (at least not in this lifetime)? New Orleans is one of those places for me. To be specific, pre-Katrina New Orleans.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not romanticizing the place, nor do I think that New Orleans is only about Mardi Gras, loud raucous streets, good times, and tourists. I know that there were, and are, plenty of problems that are glossed over, and there’s a side of the place that not many get to see.

Even so, there’s just something about the place that whispered to my soul, and sometimes I wish I would have listened and heeded the call.

In the spring of 2005, as I was graduating with my Associates degree, I was contemplating where to transfer for my Baccalaureate degree, and ultimately my Masters degree. I was being recruited by a few Minnesota colleges and universities, and being offered some pretty sweet deals. There were a couple of out-of-state universities who were sending me information too, which was a surprise, considering I'd never contacted them. One out-of-state place was Tulane University, which offered me what amounted to almost a complete full ride. The catch, of course, was that we’d have to relocate to New Orleans.

At the time, Steve was working from home, so he could have gone anywhere, just so long as there was an internet connection and phone lines. We seriously discussed moving later in the summer so that I could go to Tulane, but in the end decided against it because it would be too far from his family, with whom he is very close.

It turned out to be a very good choice.

Today marks the 5-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina making landfall in Louisiana, Mississippi, and all along the Gulf Coast. If we had moved, we would have been there for about 2 weeks prior to that. Judging by how not-smoothly our previous moves have been, everything would still have been in chaos, and mostly in boxes. We would have lost most everything. I look at the news footage from then and my heart just aches. I can’t even begin to get my head around what those who rode out the storm went through. I was very alarmed at the ferocity of the storm when my family was caught in the edge of a tornado this summer, and all I had to worry about was whether or not the car was going to flip over. Compared to those who were there when the full force of Katrina hit, we got off easy.

So much was lost: lives, houses, belongings, faith, and some of that intangible essence which made New Orleans just one of those special places. Although some rebuilding has taken place with more to come, I know that it won’t ever be the same.

Yet, sometimes when I stop and listen, I can still hear her siren song calling me.

A Thing a Day, or 365 Less Things

I just read about this today over at the Unclutterer blog that I read a couple times a week. There's also a forum for people to post what they've gotten rid of. I also found a really cool blog written by someone who's doing the challenge, over at the 365 Less Things blog. Every day a picture is taken of the item being tossed/donated/sold/given away.

This challenge is something I can get behind. Most people who really know me, know that I have a low (VERY low) tolerance for stuff (stuff being defined as "clutter, visual or otherwise") and periodically go on tossing binges. One of the good things about doing the hallway storage closet is that I went through Every. Single. Box. that was already in there, and did a super quick sort.

I also took boxes out of the master bedroom closet, and went through them before putting things in the storage closet. Now, this first pass was mainly to see what was there, since some of (alright, MOST of) said boxes hadn't been opened since either I brought them home from my mom's house, or since we moved twice the year we built the new house. I can tell which boxes that I personally packed because there's not much wasted space (a skill learned by necessity because I moved so much between the ages of 18-23). Some of them, however, were most defintely NOT packed by me because there's like 3 items in the box. In some ways it was kind of like Christmas, "Oh! That's what happened to _____." In others it was a "And I kept this why again? And moved it twice (or more)?"

I'm going to give it more thought, but I'm seriously considering combining my 101 in 1001 item #101 "Do a 365 day photo challenge" with this and taking pictures of things I'm getting rid of. It'd defintely be a win-win.

This Old Storage Closet

At this point I'm tempted to just toss everything back in said closet, shut the door, call it good and move on to the next project.


I got the wall bracings up just fine. Mostly. Except where I just missed the wall studs, which apparently aren't as straight as they could be. That whole measuring thing? Didn't work out so well. I mean, if the stud is X inches from the corner in one place, one would think it'd be the same all the way down the wall, right? Not so much. Meaning we ended up moving a couple of the leveling braces over a few inches. So we had to drill new holes, whereupon I promptly broke a drill bit because I hit something (no I don't know what). At which point I seriously considered throwing the drill at the wall because that would definitely have helped.

But wait! There's more!

And did I mention that the closet walls aren't perfectly square? Uh, yeah.

Hold up. I finally figured out what this reminds me of. That book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Except this would be the "If You Give Lisa Some Power Tools and Enough Time" version.

I think I need a new hobby.

Getting Things Done

Nah, I don't mean the "Getting Things Done" David Allen style, although I do like that way of thinking. Sort of.

No, I mean doing the right thing by speaking up...even when I didn't really want to.

So, this class I'm taking. The one I didn't WANT to take, but have to if I want my accredited degree sometime this year. It's called 'Organization of Information' and is one of the 4 beginning core classes that UW-M inflicts upon all its beginning MLIS/SOIS students. Notice I said BEGINNING. Uh, yeah.

I've been at this MLIS thing for 3 years now. I'm NOT a beginner, not by any stretch. I'm not an expert (yet...wait 'til I get that piece of paper) either, especially not in anything remotely to do with ORGANIZATION.

But because I've been at this for so freaking long, I'm also not as apt to go along to get along. Well, alright, it's not like I ever really have anyway...BUT. I can (and have) just put my head down & do the work, and count down the days until I can be done. Even when the professor OBVIOUSLY got dropped on his/her head once too often as a kid. Even when I KNOW that "this is how it works in the real library world" is just plain wrong. Even when every fiber of my being is thinking, "It's not too late to become an accountant like your momma wanted you to become...".

But not this time.

See, in this class, the one I'm (as well as a good number of St Kate's expats) being tortured with, it was supposed to be a "special edition" for us because we've already taken cataloging (one of St Kate's 4 core classes). Apparently, special=the professor can ignore us because she's busy with conferences. Apparently, special=the professor can grade an exercise and take points off for things that she never specified. Apparently, special=no matter how many posts we do in the forum, there is no further discussion about said exercise, and how we did exactly what the instructions say to do, using the exact model given, with the exact elements present in the lecture. This class has definitely made my top 3 "Worst Classes EVER" list. And that's saying something.

I first asked (sort of nicely) in the forums, "So, what is it you want here?" No answer. "Helloooo?" No answer. To be fair, I did get one from the grad assistant, "Uh, sorry, but I can't help you. I'm not the final authority in this class." After being ignored, I decided to escalate to the next level.

I write a nice e-mail, send it, and wait. And get, "Uh, sorry, but I can't help you. Good luck, though!" back. He even thoughtfully cc'd the professor WITH MY ORIGINAL E-MAIL STILL ATTACHED in the interests of "transparency." I heartily wish I'dve told him, "Dude, if I wanted "transparency", I'd buy some tape"...alas, I did not. This same guy had done the same thing to a classmate of mine (cc'd the professor w/HER original e-mail still attached), who then had a panic attack, because let's face it. We were soooo screwed. Our chances of actually PASSING the class were slim and none, and Slim just caught the last train to Georgia.

And with that, I had nothing to lose. What's the worst that could happen? I'd have to re-take the class? I'd have to transfer back to St Kate's & wait another year to graduate? Pssshhht. Whatever. I remember my Mom telling me a line from one of her favorite movies, "Road House." It's when Patrick Swayze is brought in to be a cooler at the Double Deuce. "Be nice. Be nice until it's time to not be nice."

It was time to be nice.


So, I figured out the hierarchy in the program, figured my best bet would be to just go to the top and work my way down, and fired off an e-mail to the Dean. Who answered me back...and wanted to set up a time to call me and talk to me. Huh. Well, now.

He called, we talked, I laid out our grievances thus far. He said, "Well, she's our best professor for this, and we've never had any complaints." I shot back, "Maybe that's because most people who take this class are just starting their program and don't know the difference. We aren't, and we do." I did say that things have been getting better, and he thanked me for my fairness and added that he really hadn't known what to expect from me--would I yell? Would I rant and rave? I could, if that's what he wanted, but I figured that it would be counter-productive.

My favorite part was when he said, "Tell me what you want to have happen. Tell me what you would like her to do." Mentally, I'm all like, "Dude, first off, I took Management as one of my core classes, so I know what you're doing here. Secondly, I'm a MOM. Do you REALLY think I'm that dense? Third, ahahahahahahahaha...OK." Anyway, we got things worked out for the most part. Hopefully things will be better.

If not, then it's time to not be nice.

Words to Live By

Yeah, we all have them. You know, words that are so deeply embedded into our being that we don't always know where they came from, but still manage to affect much of what we do...or don't do.

I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks, ever since I got my first B+ in grad school...and only the second in this round of college. At first I was ticked because I (thought) that I'd done a good job participating and designing my final project. Then, I was really ticked when I figured out my total points and realized that I'd missed an A- by 1 point. One. Freaking. Point.

Then my friend, Chris, who seems to be my Jiminy Cricket sometimes, reminded me that 1) I was now done with the class, 2) I'd passed, and 3) I really wasn't on board with the "B and done" philosophy that I claimed to espouse.

And you know, once again, he's right.

Why can't I just be happy with the whole "B and done" mentality? It'd make my life (and those suffering through grad school with me) sooooo much easier. I wouldn't have to live life fueled by long nights and lots of Diet Coke. I might even be able to stop taking Prilosec a month at a time. I might even be able to live a semi-normal life. Such a concept...

Well, as I've been thinking about it, I finally figured out some of why I can't just let it go. Why that intensity seems almost hard-wired into my very essence sometimes. Why it's so damn hard to let go of the almost crippling perfectionism. It all comes down to words spoken so often to me as I was growing up.

Most people know that I was (am) an only child. (It was by choice that my parents only had one.) There were plenty of times that I wished they'd reconsidered and had more, especially when I got into trouble (frequently) and not ever being able to say, "It wasn't me! I didn't do it. It was _______", 'cause, yeah...that didn't fly. I know how many people think, "Yeah, whatever. Quit your whining, because you probably got everything you asked for." Mmmmm, I'd like to go on record as saying, "I wish." What they don't think about is that by being an only child, there wasn't anyone else to deflect the parental focus, and nowhere to hide. It wasn't so much that Mom & Dad expected perfection, because I don't think they did (which is good, because they sure didn't get it), rather they expected excellence. All the time.

I still remember when my Dad read the book In Search of Excellence. His favorite quote became, "If you don’t have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over?" And, yes, if I didn't do it right, I did it over. Which sucked. I'm pretty quick on the uptake, so I learned to do things right the first time, because I damn sure didn't want to do them over. And over. And over.

My Mom's favorite quote, on the other hand, was "Argue for your limitations, and sure enough they're yours." Anytime I'd say, "I can't" I'd hear it. Anytime I'd say something like, "I'm too dumb" or "I'll never understand this" or whatever, I'd hear it. Now, this could be a good thing, sure. But it didn't leave a whole lot of room for failure.

Other things I heard: Stay focused. Work hard. Never give up. You can cry and carry on later, but for now, you just gotta put your head down and get the job done. You give it your best, and then a little more. If you don't like how something is, change it--don't just stand there and bitch about it. Don't do things half-assed; either do them right or don't do them at all.

They all come down to one thing: Failure is not an option.

I think a person's favorite quotes speaks volumes about their core personality. Sometimes, the quotes mirror the inner, often unspoken dialogue s/he has internalized. They also illuminate not only what the person strives for, but also the instances in which they fall short.

For instance, some of mine are:

"Holiness is in right action, and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves" -Hospitaler, 1185 AD

“When you’ve faced that moment and given everything you have, you let yourself realize that . . . your success or failure is not ultimately based on whether you triumphed, but in how you faced up to the challenge.”—Rich Wallace

It is not upon thee to finish the work; Neither art thou free to abstain from it.
-Talmud

"The question isn’t who is going to let me; It’s who is going to stop me." -Ayn Rand

"I'm not interested in preserving the status quo; I want to overthrow it."
-Niccolo Machiavelli


But I'm also trying to incorporate "Progress, not perfection"; "B and Done"; and the whole idea of The Cult of Done. I keep tripping up on my own perfectionism, but I'll keep at it. 'Cause I damn sure don't want to do it over.

Speaking of Opportunities...

Most weekday nights, since last fall, there are 5 people doing homework in this house. Me, the Kid, and 3 young gentlemen. The young men are sons of family friends whose parents asked if we could tutor them to help bring up their grades as a couple of them were failing classes, and one was on the brink (2 are brothers, the other is their friend). Unhesitatingly, we said yes. We started off with just the 2 brothers, and added the 3rd guy midway through the second quarter.

When the guys first started coming over, it was obvious that they were only here because they HAD to be here. If given their choice, they'dve stayed home for sure (and I can't blame them). But as time has gone on, the change in both themselves and their grades has been nothing short of awesome. It could be our insistence on high standards--they were happy with D's, but I told them that anything less than a C is unacceptable. It could be that they just needed somebody to care who isn't their parents. Either way, it's working. Nobody got below a C- this term, and 1 almost made the B Honor Roll. For the first time EVER. [edited to update: the younger brother ended up getting 2 D's...but we'll let him live. For now.]

A couple of nights ago, the 2 older ones were talking about their futures. They're both juniors this year, and thought that because their GPA's were so messed up from an assortment of low and/or failing grades that they didn't have a whole lot of options. It was interesting listening to them talk about it all. One wants to go into the Army after high school, the other doesn't know what he wants, but is pretty sure he doesn't want to go into the military. I told them both that their GPA's are high enough to get them into a community college, and if they did well enough, they could transfer to a university after. Right now, though, that's beyond their ken.

As I was turning that conversation over in my head later that night, I realized that I really am lucky to have this second chance at a college education. It's not so much that I'll be a 'real' librarian, no, it's more that by having a degree, so many more doors are open for me. When I was younger, my mom told me that it's every generation's wish and duty to push the next generation just a bit further than where the family was now. She was the first person in her family to graduate from college. For me, then, it was never a question of "if you're going to college", it was a "when you go to college". And the same goes for my daughter. She's really smart and will have colleges and universities (and probably the military) actively trying to recruit her. Her opportunities, at this point, are vast. And, it doesn't hurt that she's looking at going into environmental engineering either.

So, yeah. I hate homework, always have, probably always will. But, man almighty am I glad for what I'll get out of it all--a nice diploma at the end. No guarantees, true, but a whole lot of opportunities.

Ten Things I Like About Grad School

Since my friend Chris recently asked if I'd ever said anything positive about Grad School, I've been thinking about it all. And here's what I came up with.

Ten Things I Like About Grad School

1. It's made me a better librarian: When I started grad school, I really was just marking time until I got the piece of paper that said that I was qualified to do what I’d been doing for many years—be a librarian. I did just fine before, yes. After going through the MLIS program at both St Kate’s and UW-M, I can honestly say that I’ve become a better librarian. Sadly, most of the head librarians in the library system for which I work do not have MLIS degrees, and neither do most of the people who work at headquarters. But, I’m glad I will have mine.

2. I learned something from every class: Every single class I’ve taken has taught me something, even the really awful ones. I have tremendously enjoyed the ones that I find useful, such as any based around books (Reader’s Advisory, Literature for Children, YA Lit, and Multicultural Literature) and technology based ones (Library 2.0, Internet Fundamentals). I even liked the Early Books and Manuscripts class, even though it was an 8 am class in the winter.
The classes that I didn’t like, well, I learned things from them too. I learned that my innate mistrust and dislike of group projects can be tempered if I’m with a good group. I learned that I don’t want to be in management. Ever. I learned that I have no future in doing research proposals, nor do I particularly care.

3. I can conquer any mountain, 15 weeks at a time: The start of every term, although I’m apprehensive, I’m also normally intrigued as to how a class can go. Sometimes, though, by the middle of the term, it’s all I can do to keep going. But, each time I’ve made it. So far, anyway. It’s all about persistence and the refusal to give in, give up, and go home.

4. Improvement in my time management skills: Yeah, going to college, having a family, trying to have a normal life…there’s only so many hours in the day. I have used lists, calendars, post-its, and basically anything I can to map out what’s due when. Mostly that’s how I operate when I’m in school. One step at a time. On one of my Facebook status updates I once wrote, “School is like a crucible. It burns away all the unnecessary things in my life. Including, apparently, my sanity.” And really, that’s pretty much it. I have figured out what and who I need to make me happy. The rest is just gravy (Or frosting. I don’t like gravy very much).

5. Rise in self-confidence: I know there are some who would say perhaps I have a bit too MUCH self-confidence, and that’s cool. But, this experience has made me realize that I really am smart, and that is very good.
When I was in high school, I was one of the “smart kids”. Thing is, I always saw myself as one of the “dumber of the smart kids”. Some of it was that I didn’t want to work hard (which made my Mom froth at the mouth—it was great), and some of it was that I was scared that someone would figure out that I really didn’t know what the hell I was doing and would kick me out of the group. My teachers and friends saw something in me that I couldn’t see, and God Bless Them All, they tried so hard to make me work up to my potential. But, they couldn’t drown out my inner voice that said, “You’re not good enough, Give it up.” It wasn’t until I got back into college (which I hadn’t finished the first time around, but that’s another story for another day) and did really well that I believed it.

6. Most classes are at night: I’m a night owl. I wasn’t when I was little, but that’s because my parents enforced early bedtimes (which sucked in the summer). Once I hit high school though, and had to stay up later to get homework done, I found that I think better at night. When I went back to college when I was 33, I went to school in the morning, worked in the afternoon, and did homework after the rest of the family went to bed. When I started grad school, most of the classes were at night. The ones that weren’t were at the god-awful time of 8am (I had a 1.5 hour commute. Those mornings were not pretty.), but I tried not to take very many of those. After all these years, once I am able to go back to civilian life, I’m just hoping I can re-set my sleep schedule to a more normal one.

7. It taught me that things don’t have to be perfect, they just have to be done: Ah, yes, The Cult of Done. The “B and Done” mindset. I’m a perfectionist. And inflexible. And the two don’t go well together. If I can just get started on something, then I’m usually fine. It’s the getting started that gets me every time, because I don’t think I’m ready to write the paper, do the research, project, whatever. So, I end up writing something at the last minute, and turning it in all the while kicking myself for the crappy work (and then when I get a “Great job!” from the professor, I think, “Yeah, but how much awesomer would that have been if I’d done a better job?!?!?”). The flip side is when I turn something in early: I spend the time thinking about all the things I should’ve added, done, said. Wait. I do that either way…

But the “Cult of Done” and “B and Done” mentality at least frees me to just DO IT. And you know what? I still do OK. And, it’s DONE.

8. It’s reminded me that “sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together”: I won’t lie. I was 3 steps beyond being angry when we learned that no, St Kate’s was not going to get the hoped for accreditation and I’d have to transfer to UW-M and lose AN ENTIRE YEAR of credits. Oh, no. I was incandescent with rage. Are you KIDDING ME? WHY? Why does this kind of thing always happen to me (really, no lie)? At the orientation, I left no doubt in anyone’s mind who was present in that room that I WAS NOT AMUSED (and that I didn’t care about their stupid “matrix” either) that I had to take a whole year over, plus take competency exams.
But, at the end of this all, I’ve gotten to take some classes that either weren’t offered at St Kate’s, or I hadn’t been able to fit into my schedule before. And, I’ll walk out with a real MLIS that will be accepted everywhere.

9. My world has exponentially grown: Have I ever told you all why exactly I decided to become a librarian (for real, with a real MLIS)? No? Well, pull up a chair, because it’s a good story.
It’s not like I ever stood a chance to become something different, not really. When my Mom was pregnant with me, my Dad used to call me “Jerome” (who is the patron saint of Librarians). Mom said she didn’t know where in the world he came up with that because as far as she knew, neither of them knew a Jerome. Also, my mom worked in a book store, and my maternal grandmother had singlehandedly run her town’s library for many years. Genetics or Fate? Either way…
So, I used to get to read for fun, right? Well, one day, I ran out of books that I wanted to read. I started reading through the library I frequented. Seriously. I started at the A’s and just kept going. I was at about the P’s when I mentioned something about it to a friend, who was having the same problem. She said her library was selling Page-a-Day Book calendars for $5 and that she’d get us each one. We planned to read every book…which did not last long. But, there were some gems in that calendar. I started going to the library in the town I lived in, hoping to find some of the books (the library was not online at that point). The librarian asked me if I wanted to be on the library board, so I said, “Sure, why not?” After a couple of months, she said that it appeared that I knew my way around a library and asked if I wanted to be a substitute and work at the library once or twice a month. “Sure, why not?” It was fun, and as time went on, I got more and more hours and became a regular employee.
The assistant director of the library system came to the library to help when we were getting everything barcoded for the imminent jump to the new automated system; for whatever reason, she took an interest in me, and from that point on became my unofficial mentor. She “strongly suggested” that I go through the Minnesota Voluntary Certification program for library workers (and by that I mean whenever a workshop was coming up, she’d send the flyer to the library addressed to me specifically. Yes, I went. And finished the program.) At one point, she flat out told me to go back to school. She said that to be a head librarian in the system, I’d need at least a 2 year degree. At that point I hadn’t thought about being a head librarian, but went along with it. Once I was done with my 2 year associates, I decided to keep going and get the MLIS, because that way I could work anywhere as a librarian. And so I’ve endured almost 8 years of school so I could get this degree. The End.

Also, the things that I've learned have led me to really cool discoveries. I have such a huge to-be-read list that I joke that I can never die. There's so much that I want to learn about now. It's a far cry from having to read through the library because I can't find anything good to read. I've met some really awesome online friends that I wouldn't have had I not taken classes like Library 2.0 (or done the 23 Things on a Stick) and had to use Twitter/Facebook/other social media.

10. The camaraderie and the friendships: I hope to always remember that first day in Intro to Libraries (one of the 8am classes) when Professor Cathcart said, “I want you to take the time to introduce yourselves to each other. You are going to be colleagues, and maybe friends.” At the time, I was still an undergrad at St Kate’s, and felt out of my depth because everyone else was already done with their undergrad degrees. I am fairly reserved when I first meet people (yes, really), so this was 2 steps beyond painful for me. I remember thinking, “But I don’t CARE about these people. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be friends with any of them. And none of them are going to work out where I do.”
Funny how that works out though. In fact, it was my first 2 classes that I took that term (the intro class & Intro to Reference) that I found my people.
Seriously, who would have thought I’d become friends with Chris (who DID sleep through that 8am Intro class plenty of mornings, but is always the logical one of the 2 of us), Kay (who was a ‘let’s sit on the dark side of the room’ partner in crime), Lindsay (the voice of reason…and hilariously funny on Twitter), Beth (Back row of Reference, represent), Christie, Cary (who once he saw the light, moved to the back row in Reference class—long live Twins games on the laptop), Janelle, Katy (“Why is it I always get the mean looks for something you did?” “Because I know when to duck and look like I’m paying complete attention”), Stan, and all the rest.
I have been so lucky to go through grad school with these people. Really. I don’t think I’dve made it without them. Would I have gotten to know them in my “normal” life? Probably not. Is my life immeasurably richer for them? Damn straight.

So, thank you, Chris, for calling me out on my bad attitude about school. Honestly, getting to go back to college, and then getting to go to grad school was an opportunity that not many people have, and for which I am so thankful. It's good to remember why.

Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant

Hail, Caesar, those who are about to die salute you.

I know, dramatic much? Yes. Maybe. No.

Normally, at the start of every term, I'm filled with a renewed sense of purpose, and am ready to go. This time, not so much. Perhaps it's because I still haven't recovered mentally from Fall Term 2009. Perhaps it's because last year at the start of Winter term I felt like this, but knew (or at least thought) that the end was in sight. I really don't know.

I'm taking 2 JTerm classes. One professor, bless her, has decided to spread the work out over 3 weeks. This is not to say it'll be easy, though. This is the same professor that I took the Multicultural Literature class from last term. At least this time I know what she expects/demands, and what some of her quirks are. And, for whatever reason, the literature classes have always been my "for fun" ones, so that's also a plus here.

The other professor, bless her heart*, has decided to compact what would be a 3 week class into one week--well, 5 days. The staggering amount of reading, plus the assignments seem overwhelming to me right now. On the one hand, it's great that it'll be over by Saturday the 9th and I'll be able to really focus on the other class. On the other hand, O.M.G. tilt tilt overload. (*the difference between my use of "bless her" and "bless her heart" lies in the odd upbringing I had. Although I lived in the North, much of my family on either side had come up from the South a couple of generations before. 'Bless her heart' is just a Southern way of saying, "I don't agree with what she's doing, but I'm too polite to tell her so because otherwise my Momma will smack me upside the head")

So, anyhow, I will not die from homework or school. However, in some ways, that's exactly what I do. I have to refocus my attention and time toward something I'd rather not be doing (especially since I was SO CLOSE to being free at last after May 2009) and have to ignore anything that's not exploding, bleeding, or otherwise immediately in need of my attention.

I've wondered it before, and I'm definitely wondering it now: is there such a thing as PTSD as witnessed in college students? Or is it just me, in my never-ending quest for perfection? When I turned in my last paper on 21 December, I was drained mentally, physically, and emotionally. I just couldn't seem to transistion back to "normal" life over Christmas break. I felt caught inbetween worlds, and it was so odd. It's like I'd been pushing pushing pushing for so long, and once the term was over, all of a sudden, there was nothing. I knew I couldn't fully relax because the new term would be starting so soon, and started to wonder if perhaps I shouldn't have taken the 2 JTerm classes, and just picked 2 3credit classes for spring term. I don't know if there's ever been a study on how students are directly after a term, but I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one who feels like this. It makes it hard to recharge for the next go-round when I'm still keyed up from the last one.

Ah, but this time...this time will be the last, the Good Lord willing and the creeks don't rise. One can hope.

Winter Break 2009

I just had to overhaul my blog. Sometime between 18 November and the first part of December, something went all wonky with my layout and formatting. I'm guessing the Universe was just telling me it was time to change it up a bit. So I did.

I just got done with one of the worst school terms since I started school the Fall of 2003. Seriously. Maybe it was because I took 4 graduate level classes, or maybe it was the whole distance learning thing. Either way, I was constantly doing homework. Did I have a life outside of school? Yes, but it was hard to notice. Luckily for me, I decided to do a bigger version of my normal calendar:



This setup worked really well for keeping all my assignment due dates straight. Too bad I didn't think of it until this last term, because it sure would've come in handy for other semesters. The good news is that I only have a couple more classes left.

For JTerm (or Winter IM term, or whatever the heck UW-M calls it), I'm taking 2 classes: The History of African American Literature for Children, taught by the professor from whom I took Multicultural Literature Fall 2009; and something about Current Issues: Freedom of Speech. Each are for 1 month, and are worth 1 credit each. Apparently, according to some UW-M classmates, taking 2 JTerm classes is tantamount to signing up for a month of hell. Well, considering I just finished 4 months of hell, I'm pretty sure I'll do just fine. If not, well, I can take comfort in the fact that it'll be done by 25 January.

For Spring term, I'm taking another 1 credit class, GLBTQ Literature for YA from the same professor I had for YA Lit this Fall 2009 term. I'm also taking the last of the stupid UW-M core classes, the 511 one. The one where I got transfer credit for the 711 upper division class, but not the lower one (511) which is a prereq for the higher one. I know. Don't ask. It's very aggravating. The good (?) news is that UW-M put all St Kate's expats in the same class, and the professor will come meet with us, and then design a special class just for us. Yay. My first reaction was, "Well, that's just great. Now we won't have to cover the same stuff" but now I'm thinking that easy is sometimes good too.

Yes, I know. "But didn't you just have 2 more classes to take? Why in the world are you taking 4 then?" I really wanted to take the GLBTQ lit class, and thought the History of African American lit would be interesting--so I had to throw in that other 1 credit one to make up the difference. I could have taken geneaology, but I didn't.

I'm also taking the competency test this spring. Then I can graduate in May. Finally. I'm sort of grateful to have gotten to take interesting classes this year, but I'm more frustrated that I've had to take 3 out of 4 of the UW-M core classes too.

I just have to remember that it's almost over FOR REAL this time, and soon I will be free. (Free at last, free at last. Good God Almighty, free at last...)

"I ain't finished playin' jest yet"

I love the show "Survivor". I've watched it since the first season, and never tire of watching how people interact. When I started back to college in the fall of 2003, I was drawn to the parallels between it and my academic life. Those people, every dang time, would start the game fresh, clean, full of hope, and full of energy; that's how I started each term. As the season went on, they became tired, run-down, dirtier, and cynical; that was pretty much me in the middle of the term (the house was dirtier, not me). By the end, they were just doing everything they could to make it through another day; by the end of the term, that's how I am--what's due next is the only thing that I can focus on. The season finale always coincided with the start of my finals weeks, and it seemed poetic, almost, how the journeys, trials, and travails were ending at roughly the same time. I can't explain how Survivor has sometimes been my inspiration as I've gone through a particularly rough term. It's not like I was stranded out in the middle of nowhere, having to do the gross food challenges. But sometimes, in the middle of a particularly long assignment, I do feel like I'm stranded.

This season, Russell may well be one of the best villains to ever play the game. But I like his style. And this is one of the tribal councils that I will try and remember. No matter what the odds, no matter how bad it's looking for the home team, there's always a way. And sometimes the best part is finding it within myself to stand up and say, "I ain't finished playin' jes yet."

I'd like to be done now, please

You know, I've been in school (again) since Fall Term 2003, with only a few breaks. And I'm tired. Tired of staying up late trying to finish an assignment, tired of having to make sure I get everything done, tired of sitting in front of this computer screen typing endless papers...just plain tired. At this point, though, I've come too far to stop, so onward I go.

This term is particularly bad because I'm taking 4 classes. I know, right? 4 graduate level classes. At the same time. 2 is considered 'normal', 3 a full load. And I'm taking 4. The good news is that I'll only need 2 more after this term. The bad news is I probably won't get to graduate until December 2010 anyhow, 'cause that's just how UW-M rolls.

My original goal (jokingly, I might add), was to finish my own academic career before the Kid started her PSEO classes. But, no. I'll be finishing as she's starting. In some ways, I feel bad because I've been going to school since she was in the 4th grade (she's a 10th grader now).

So, that's what I've been doing since August. And that's why I probably won't get my 101 Things in 1001 Days list even close to finished before time runs out in June. Ah, but the journey has been life-changing too, so there's that.