Very Forgettable

I may have just embarrassed myself. I asked one of my favorite musicians in the world for an autograph. See, she also happens to be a local musician, which means she does cool little events where you actually have the chance to go up to her afterwards and embarrass yourself like I did tonight. She was very nice about it, but I think both of us would have been better off if I had just written her some fanmail.

I am comforting myself by remembering that I am pretty forgettable on the surface. Which is not to say that I am not interesting or memorable or worthwhile once you get to know me. But lets face it, I blend in to the background, and I like it that way. I have worked hard to make sure that is the case. And this is exactly why, so that when I do things that are a little bit fan-girlish, a little bit embarrassing, a little bit awkward, people forget it was me. So when they tell the story later, I become "just some girl", which also means that if I meet them again I have the chance to make a new first impression.

I like my system.

I hope it works the way I think it does.

Bummer

I just bummed myself out by reading some Occupy Wall Street stuff. I blame Lemony Snicket. Until now I had managed to be aware that it was happening, but not give it much thought. Then I saw this. And I thought, well yes, that all makes perfect sense, maybe I understand this better than I thought I did. Turns out, yes I understand the frustrations, I understand the WHY of the protest. What I don't understand is what they want the next step to be. If by some miracle someone did come out of the building and say "You know what? You all have a point. How can we make this right?" What would those protesters do? Who would speak for them? and what would they say?

Thats the part that makes me sad. I know our economy is in the shitter, I know that I am luckier than many, I know that I am coming through this largely unscathed. I know that I am lucky to live in a state that believes in affordable healthcare for everyone, so I am able to see a doctor once a week, and whenever I need to. The state of the union right now (that is: not-united, eating itself alive) bums me out. But what bums me out even more is the helplessness of it all. That even as these people are standing on the streets, pouring their hearts out, they are not doing much more than I am. They are spending more energy, and maybe sometime soon that energy will get noticed, it sure has a better chance of getting noticed than me mulling it over silently. But what then? It seems like once its noticed me and the protesters have the same plan - stare blankly.

It reminds me of watching a toddler throwing a tantrum. Its painful to watch someone in distress. And I know that this is the only way they know how to communicate that distress. But because I don't know what would cure that distress, or rather how to procure the cure for their distress, all I can do is watch and empathize. I hope a doctor walks by soon and either fixes it or tells me how to fix it.

I saw a petition online to forgive all student debt, the idea being that with all that extra money all those people could go out and stimulate the economy, and you know, not get evicted. I like this plan, a bail-out for students (of all kinds) who will then go out there and work hard and all that.

But what about the people (like me) who are in school now, what happens to our debt? I suppose it would also be forgiven, but at that point why issue loans at all? Why not just make tuition a government problem? Why not just give everyone scholarships? I like this plan too. I had a professor from Senegal who could never quite wrap his head around the whole student loan thing. He couldn't understand why we (as a people) thought it was a good idea to spend money we didn't have, in order to learn. He didn't understand how the government allowed this to go on. He said that in his country everything was paid for, because the president knew that without an educated populace his country would never get off the ground. I agree, but I am a linguist, not an economist, or a policy maker. So, until I am able to do something more concrete about it, I just agree. And that bums me out.

Fear

I slept poorly last night. I spent yesterday doing homework, (mostly studying Hindi) and watching The Wire on my study breaks. I also cooked and knit a bit, but my brain was most occupied alternately by how to conjugate hindi adjectives and the requirements for being a drug dealer in the projects. Its not the drug deals, the junkies or the violence of the Wire (all 4 episodes that I have seen) that gets me; its the apathy of the cops, the desperation and hard-heartedness of the people in the projects. But the worst part for me, was seeing the one or two characters who cared one way or the other. Those were the characters that stuck in my head and made me think about the show long after I had turned away from the screen.

Apparently this is a bad combination for my brain. I kept waking up in a panic, dreaming that I was failing at school and my classmates had to carry me academically. The worst part was that they resented me for it, they were not glad to help, and they didn't care that I was grateful for the assistance.

Because its October and because I am a fan of Neil Gaiman, I have been thinking about what kind of scary books to get people in my life for All Hallows Read. The thing is, what scares me might not scare you. The things that keep me awake at night, namely the soft heartedness of people in hard hearted situations, might not keep you awake at night. And the things that might scare the pants off of you, are things I might be able to live with (although I doubt it, I'm pretty sensitive). Which makes buying scary things hard. So I have decided that instead of going with things that are scary, I will go with things that are traditionally Halloween-y. World War Z for my brother who out of the blue last week announced he was the best at Zombie survival skills, I truly had no idea. Enders Game for my dad, who has always loved sci fi, and because I just really want an excuse to give him this book. And I think I will use this as an opportunity to introduce my best friend to my favorite author, Neil Gaiman, who writes about strange things, but not always scary things.

To round out this fairly unorganized blog post are a few antidotes to unpleasant and scary things. First off, Madison the 5 year old make up guru, watching her is almost as calming as meditation. There is nothing quite like the focus and competency of small children to calm the nerves. Secondly red pandas playing in the snow which are always good for a smile, especially the last little dude, and finally an oldy but goody: marcel the shell, who won't fight unless provoked.

Thinking and Feeling (and Crying)

The other day this brought me to tears a bit. I'm not sure what exactly it was about it that broke through all my carefully constructed walls. Maybe it was just a chance of timing, maybe I was ready to start crying, maybe I was too tired to not cry anymore, maybe it was the sheer selflessness of it, the beauty and the work that had to go into each project. The anonymity of it is something I recognize too. Sometimes you just want to make something pretty for people who will appreciate it, people who need it, and you just want to get out of the way so they can just appreciate the gift without having to appreciate you too. Sometimes its about the work more than its about the ego.

The leak that those sculptures sprung in me has been dripping for days now. I seem to be ready to weep at every bit of art I see, every tune I hear, every poem I read, every bit of fiction I read, every tv show I see. Truly it seems if someone created it, took it from Idea to reality for the sheer joy of making something that way, it has brought me to tears.

I have been trying to plug that hole with proper posture and some really good, smart hip hop. Even though hip hop is creative and (at least doomtree) seems to be made from a place of love, a place of "I can't help it, I have to make this". It somehow occupies my mind in a way that doesn't leave me weak. I am no less impressed by it than I am by the book sculptures, but it seems to strengthen me, rather than weaken me. It reinforces the idea that I am able to face anything with grace and poise, that I don't have to backdown to see the beauty in things.

I think the creative part of me is trying not to be quelled by the analytical part of me which is taking center stage as I get back into school. Doomtree (and other hip hop artists like them) are a good balance of the two, they seem to make being analytic creative and beautiful.

A Sudden Forest

For the first time in 13 years of therapy I got half way through my appointment and had nothing to talk about! No issues on the horizon, no big stressful situations, no big emotional breakthroughs, nothing. So my therapist pulled out a chart that I have seen before. On one axis there is time/recovery and on the other axis there is symptom use. At the beginning of the chart you see symptom use rise and then plateau, (there is a section at the beginning of the plateau marked "denial"). After the plateau there is a drop in symptom use, but its not a smooth decline, there are plenty of ups and downs of varying degrees, eventually the symptom use line goes back to zero and a little further down the chart there is a point labeled "Recovery" and a little further down the chart there is a point marked "able to discontinue therapy". Today I got to do something I never thought I would be able to do. When my therapist asked me where I thought I was on the chart I got to point to the word Recovery. This is not to say that I never have eating disordered thoughts, but I am finally to the point where those thoughts look genuinely ridiculous to me.

I thought maybe recovery would feel like arriving somewhere. But it doesn't. I kind of feel like i am suddenly realizing i am in the heart of the forest. I was certainly aware that i was heading into a forest, i could see it off on the horizon and as i got closer the trees got thicker, but now i am suddenly actually in the forest. Like the forest caught up to me when I wasn't paying attention. But the forest wasn't my destination, and recovery isn't my final destination either. Now that I am here, I can go on to all the other things I want to do.

This Pot of Gold is Disappointing

I've got nothing going on and its kind of freaking me out. I don't remember the last time my life was so calm and so boring. I suppose it might have been this way last summer, but I don't remember. I suppose thats the thing about times like this, they aren't very memorable.

Since September I have been dealing with one thing or another pretty much continuously. And now, for the first time, I find myself without an illness of some kind, no job and not much homework (I'm still working on my incomplete from Spring semester).

I thought this was what I was waiting for. But I suppose free time is a little bit like chasing the gold at the end of a rainbow, its hard to find, and when you get there it doesn't look anything like you thought it would. I thought I would get to knit whatever I wanted (including finishing up the afghan for my aunt), but I find myself with an injured wrist, so thats not happening. I thought I would get a chance to play all those hours of video games I had been putting off while I was in school, but now that it comes down to it, it seems I can't be bothered. I thought I would finally get to read something for fun, so I started The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but I'm having a hard time seeing what all the fuss was about. I'm half way through and not all that invested. I thought I would be making a skirt a day now that I have the time, but I haven't touched my sewing machine yet.

I guess my point is, because there is nothing going on in my life, there isn't much to write about, and I am giving myself over to it. So if things seem a little quiet from my corner, don't worry, I'm just relaxing.

All This Stuff

Hello world of Blog. Its Sunday night and I find myself dealing with an unwanted guest. Edie has decided that she needs to step into my life today, which has of course left me wondering what I was doing so wrong that she felt the need to pop up and help me out. This is what I have come up with:

It would be lovely if it were a simple solution like "i did this thing today" or "tomorrow i have to do that thing" but in reality I think it started a while ago. If I'm honest with myself (and I like to think I am) I think it started a few weeks ago. Not that Edie has been here that long, just that that is when things started building up, laying the ground work for her appearance. Its not even that anything major happened a few weeks ago. Just that my May term class was ending, and I was coming home again after a few weeks of staying at Crickhollow while work was done on my house. The May term class was a little more stressful than I had anticipated, or maybe it was just as stressful as I had anticipated but I wasn't as strong as I had hoped. I'm really not sure. Either way, it was taxing.

I was really hoping my May term class would end when the class ended. Instead I am STILL working on my final project for that class. And on top of that I have started meeting with my phonology professor to work on finishing the Incomplete I took this spring. Turns out I still hate phonology. Even when I understand it, even when it makes sense to me, I hate it. Even just looking at the data for a problem-set kicks my anxiety into gear. When I walk away from it, even when I have solved a problem well, I feel dragged out, worn out, empty and sad. Even just writing about it bums me out. I know there is a point to it. I know there are people who put this study to good use. I, however, don't give a shit. I think this is what bums me out, that I have to do it even though it means nothing to me. I have to put a lot of mental energy into it, and I don't get anything back, not even the satisfaction of solving a puzzle.

On with the list: My mother. It seems she is always on the list of reasons Edie pops up, this time is no exception. I made a skirt, a beautiful skirt that I am very proud of, and I emailed my mum about it because she is the one who taught me to sew and our shared love of all things crafty and hand made is one of the last things we have in common. And, since I am being totally honest: I wanted her to be proud of me. I probably wanted her to see that I don't need her, I wanted to show her the personal touch I had put on the skill she had given me. I wanted to show her myself through a lens she could understand, since I can't show her much of myself anymore. I didn't hear from her for a while. I was starting to wonder if she was mad at me for the beautiful thing I had made, if she was jealous, or somehow else crying about it. (I know it sounds crazy, it is, she is) Finally she got back to me, she left me a voicemail saying she couldn't open the photos I had sent her on her phone, that she had been visiting my grandparents and that my grandma had had some kind of medical emergency the night before. She didn't elaborate, didn't bother to give me anymore details than that, and admonished me for not visiting them enough. So instead of the pride and praise I had been looking for, I got guilt and worry. Awesome. (the lesson here is don't do things because you want a particular response, don't expect much from people, especially the crazy ones)

Next up: the renovations. I hate renovations. I stayed at Crickhollow for a few weeks, which was alright, I love the Crick very much. But its not mine. I don't live there. I was/am so glad to be back to my bed and my room and my cat and my stuff. I'm so glad to be here in fact that even when I knew there was going to be some potentially noisy stuff going on in the morning I opted to tough it out. But if I had known there would actually be more loud mornings than not I would have grudgingly packed up my shit again and headed back to St. Paul. I did not know this though, so I was left with a few good nights sleep, and mostly a bunch of shitty nights sleep. I don't do well without sleep.

So I'm back to Crick for a few days starting tomorrow, and then my aunt and uncle are in town, I adore them, but it means another week of not sleeping in my bed, also a week of being social. I'm really tired of being social. I feel like I haven't had a moment to myself for weeks. Which is sort of true, but partly just because a lot of the time I do have to myself is full of school and other shit I don't want to have floating around my head. What I really want is a goddamned summer vacation! I want some time to lay around and play videogames and knit whatever the hell I want and design and make skirts and read all the books I haven't had time for.

So all of those things combined make a sort of perfect storm for Edie to step in. I'm feeling boxed in and like I need to rebel somehow, so here she comes, giving me a way to rebel, to express myself and my frustrations. The trouble is, I'm the only one who gets hurt by this rebellion. She wants me to slow down, she wants me to take some time for myself. She wants me to stick to my guns and tell people I don't want to do things when I don't want to do them. She wants me to ask for what I need. And she is right. Which is why I am at home writing this tonight rather than out at a movie with a friend of mine like I had planned. But there are some things that I can't have, even if I ask for them. For example, I can't not finish phonology. I can't make the carpet guys come at 4:30pm and work until midnight or however long it takes them to finish. There are always going to be things I don't want to do, but have to do anyway. Edie and I need to work out some kind of plan for when this is the case. Not to worry, I'm back at the Emily Program again after a month long break. I'm so glad to be back I can barely stand it. And it looks like its just in the nick of time too!

If I won the lottery tomorrow.

If I won the lottery tomorrow, you know what I would do? Well first I would listen to the old This American Life podcast on what to do when you win the lottery, THEN I would buy the property next to the one I live on now, I would build myself a small, sturdy and loving house. It would have a lovely deep warm bathtub (and a really big efficient water heater, a room just for making art of all kinds, a beautiful kitchen of just the right size and shape, a dining room, an office, two bedrooms and a library. I would find some way to have a sound system that ran through the entire house that could hook up to my iTunes, and could also be accessed remotely, so no matter what room I was in I could change the song and volume. It would have all kinds of cool architectural features in it. There would definitely be some nooks and at least one secret passageway. I don't need a lot of space, but I want the space I do have to be interesting, comfortable and useful.

Once my land was paid for and my house was designed and built, I would put a new bathroom in my parents house, they deserve better than what they have now. I would then buy myself a smart phone, because really, its time for me to catch up with the rest of society. I would also buy myself every available season of Community, and Oceans 11 and Amelie. I would probably buy myself a kindle too, which is not to say I would give up on books. I just want to be able to bring a million books with me wherever I go without having to actually drag a suitcase with me.

When I was done buying myself all these little toys I would settle into my new house and start taking one or two classes at a time, rather than a full 14 credits every semester. That way I would stand a chance at actually enjoying school and retaining more of the information I learn. While I was relaxing my way through school I would make skirts and knit a million things, write lots of letters, make some books and cards and generally spend my time being creative.

I'm sure somewhere along the line I would hire a fabulous accountant/financial advisor, who would find ways for me to invest some of my money so I could live off of it for a long time. I'm also sure some would go into some savings account somewhere. If I were really really rich, I would pay off the debt of the Hindu Temple in town and I would donate a ton of money to the Emily Program Foundation.

This daydream might be a little selfish, but I think selfishness is safe in a daydream, don't you? Isn't that what daydreams are for?

Just Show Up

I went to temple the other day (I like temple, its peaceful there, especially with little kids running around or even with little kids crying). Anyway, the first Saturday of every month there is a Abhisheka for Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge, (she also is given credit for language and music, so obviously she is one of my favorites). I like to go to the ceremonies for her, because I love her. but I don't really understand what is going on, or what is being said, the chants and prayers are all in sanskrit. As I was sitting the other day with a hand ful of other devotees I had a moment when I wondered what I was doing. What good it was doing me or Saraswati for me to be there but not understand what was going on. I didn't come up with any answer better than "to show willing". That sometimes you have to give, even when you don't understand the gift you are giving or why the receiver wants/needs it. Sometimes its enough just to show up.

I was reminded of this again while reading the Jay Z biography for class. There is a section about obama and the inauguration. Anytime anyone talks about that campaign I get a little choked up. It was just so hopeful and felt so true and genuine, it felt like the way politics are supposed to be. Anyway, there is a photo in the book of the inauguration crowd stretching back for miles, packed in tight. It made me cry (of course) but it also reminded me of my time at temple. There is no way those people could see Obama, they were essentially watching it on television sets, outside, in the cold. But it was important that they be there, they weren't there for themselves, necessarily (although I'm sure there is something to be said for being able to say you were there), but to bear witness. To show willing, to show that it was important, that he was important, that they all believed in the cause enough to show up. Because sometimes thats the important part, just showing up.

Please Don't Take this Away From Me, But Help Me See It From A New Perspective

I miss my meteorology class. I miss my classmates, I miss my professors, I miss my TA, I miss the subject matter. I miss having people to talk to, people I looked forward to seeing, people who cared what I had to say. I miss hearing about, and caring about their lives. I miss the way I learned in that class. I miss the way I could learn something inside and out, I miss how concrete it was. I miss knowing facts. I miss the lack of opinion. I miss the way everything I learned was directly relevant to my life, no matter where in the word I was or will be. I miss talking about the weather. I miss the way I knew for sure what I was talking about, I miss feeling smart. and not smart like "I'm smarter than you are", but like "hey look, my brain must work because I didn't understand this before and now I do."

This class I'm in now is the exact opposite of my meteorology class. Where I thought I would love this class because its about something I find interesting (poetry and hip hop), I am hating it. Where I thought I would hate my meteorology class because it was about something I thought I wasn't interested in (hard science), I loved it. Where I forged unexpected connections with my classmates and professors in my meteorology class, I am left stranded and alone in this poetry class.

I thought this class would be an opportunity to learn more about myself and language and poetry and society and culture. But what I'm finding is that I'm not learning much of anything. It is confirming some of what I already thought, but not telling me why I was right or wrong. All in all its making me resentful. I resent the teacher for not having anything more interesting to show me, for not digging deeper, for not having a deeper overarching theme to the class. I don't think he's lazy, but somehow the topic seems played out already, and there are no signs of us digging any deeper into it. I resent my fellow classmates for not holding up their part of the discussion. I resent them for not looking deeper, for not being open to new ways to look at the same old thing. I resent them for not speaking up, not telling me what they think about it. I resent both their ignorance, and their arrogance, as both are holding me back from exploring the matter at hand.

I'm not trying to say I am a model student and that everyone should do as I do. But the way it stands now, I feel like I could be teaching myself everything I have learned so far. Somehow rather than having discussions in class, I feel like everyone is just trying to get their opinion heard, they just want to convince everyone else that the way they see it is the best way to see it. And my god that is boring, because at that point, its becomes less about what they are actually saying and the fact that THEY are the ones saying it. It becomes more about them than about the ideas they are trying to share, which means if you try to engage them in debate about it, they argue, rather than discuss. Rather than trying to explain, they try to tell. Everyone makes things so personal, but instead of bringing us closer together, it is driving us all apart, like magnetic fields, like everyone has to defend their individuality, like shifting your opinion would somehow make you weak.

The worst part about this class, is the way it makes me feel about myself when I'm there: "If these people aren't able to accept themselves, they probably won't be able to accept me, so I had better keep my mouth shut and my head down." Thats no way to learn.

So I guess the only thing to do is shift what I am trying to learn. Instead of trying to learn something new about the connection of hip hop and poetry I am going to try to learn how to navigate this minefield of egos and stay true to myself. I am going to learn how to sit in class for 4 hours every day for a few weeks. I am going to learn how to listen to and talk to people who are not that interested in what I have to say. I'm going to learn how to be in a very draining social situation and not get completely worn out by it. I'm going to learn to leave what I don't need behind, and take only what I do need.

What I Did Over My Summer Vacation

I hate it when blogs start with "its been a while, but here is why I haven't written..." so I'm not going to bother trying to catch you up on what has been happening in my life since I last got around to writing. That being said, how can I possibly tell you what is going on without telling you what has been going on? So here goes. School ended for the semester, and because I took an Incomplete in one of my classes finals were not nearly as grueling as midterms were. Maybe its because everything went so smoothly that I decided to sign up for a May-term class (at the U of M we have May-term instead of J-term, but its pretty much the same thing, a quick 3 week intense class). This has left me with a few weeks of summer vacation before I jump back into class tomorrow. In those few weeks I have done some stuff I wasn't planning on, and not done lots of the stuff I had planned on doing. Which, if you ask me, is the point of vacation.

I finished reading World War Z by Max Brooks. Its a book about the zombie apocalypse, but really its about the way different cultures around the planet dealt with the crisis. If you like zombies you might be disappointed by this book (the zombie information was seemingly accurate, but all in all they played a very small role), but if you like sociology you might be happily surprised, as I was. The book is written from the other side of the disaster. The human race has (narrowly) survived the invasion and after 10 years of getting their feet back on the ground a report is commissioned to sum it all up. The book is what had to be left out of the official report, as these interviews are focused much more on personal stories than on cold hard facts. Through all these stories you start to get a picture of how people survived, how people are equipped (or not) to survive without the structure of society we all have come to depend on (for better or for worse), which gives us a chance to look at how our society has formed us, our opinions of the world, and our opinions of ourselves. Do we think we have the skills we need to survive in the wild? Do we expect someone else to take care of it for us? Do we band together, or try to go it alone? Do we flee, or fight? Anyway, the point is: it was a surprisingly lovely book (lovely and zombie are not words I generally think to put in the same paragraph). It was thought provoking, and well written. I highly recommend it.

I did not start reading any of the books that are in my 'to read when school is out and I have time' pile. I haven't worked on the afghan for my aunt, which was supposed to be done almost a year ago. I haven't listened to all the tunes that I have been saving for 'when I'm out of school and have the brain space to actually take them in'. I haven't played through Portal and Portal 2, which was all I could think about for the last two weeks of school. (To be fair, I have played most of the way through Portal). I haven't cleaned the house (I did clean the bathroom, but the rest of the house is under construction, or full of furniture from the part that is under construction and where is the fun in cleaning that?)

But for all the things I haven't done, there are things I have done too. I have started listening to Home at the End of the World by Michael Cunningham. A nice surprise to find in my iTunes library. I have learned to sew and made a few skirts already with plans to make a million more. I have cooked myself some delicious chicken curry. I have started going to Temple. I have started doing yoga again. In short I have spent this week coming back to myself. I have started enjoying the space in my head again. Thats what vacation is for right?

The Illusion of Control

I register for fall classes tomorrow, and I cannot for the life of me bring myself to care about what I take. This seems counter productive since what classes I take will basically decide how my life will go for several long months. But heres the thing: no matter how much I look at class descriptions and coursework and all that, I am likely to be surprised in the fall. Take this semester for example, I thought for sure my meteorology class would be my least favorite thing in the world, I was thinking of it as my 'just get through this' class. It has turned out to be my favorite class, by far.

So I guess it seems silly for me to worry too much about what I take. The most important factors for me, are when the class is (if its a 10:00 am class I will probably fail it) and how many people are in the class (200 is too many). And even the number of people in the class can turn out to be completely unimportant, my meteorology class has nearly 100 people, which on paper looks like too many, but the way the class is taught makes it work for me. Ideally I would base my enrollment on my impressions of the professors, but that isn't an option, so its a crapshoot. and you shouldn't get attached to the outcome of a crapshoot.

Everything is ok! You have 2 weeks left.

I have two weeks left of school. Just two weeks, and so of course, i am spacing out, reading novels (that have nothing to do with school) playing video games, planning to play video games, knitting pretty things. Basically anything but school work. And its not that I don't have anything to do. I have plenty to do. But my mind is over it. My mind is already on vacation. My mind has packed up and gone home. And I have no inclination to call it back again.

I stumbled-upon a game on Friday, Its called jig-saw-doku and its basically sudoku with little tiles with little colored numbers on them. I think I like it partly because it eats up 10-15 minutes per game, which is just short enough that its easy to get sucked into the "just one more game" mindset, but long enough that even just one game can fully reset your mind from whatever you had been stuck on. I also like it though because when you ask for a hint it says "everything is ok! you have # tiles left" I just love being told that EVERYTHING IS OK! It is so reassuring. Never mind if you are stressed out, everything is ok. Most of the time that is all we need to hear right? That everything is going to be fine. Most of the time the people telling us this don't know if its going to be ok or not, but we believe them. We take them at their word.

I take this game at its word.

Everything is ok.

(I realize this is kind of a light post, everything else in my life just seems to big and heavy to fit in a blogpost right now.)

I'm supposed to be in class...sort of

I'm supposed to be in class. But I'm not. I'm worn the fuck out. For the last few weeks Edie has been nibbling away at my meals. She has been taking such small bites that it has been easy for me to ignore them. I have been able to rationalize it and pretend it isn't happening. But it is. And today, it caught up with me. If you give her an inch, she will take a mile, and I didn't have a mile to give.

I made it through my first class alright. And I made it through most of lab by the skin of my teeth. I had to walk down the street to get lunch and as I walked I felt myself leaning on my bones. Never a good sign.

You know how sometimes the universe comes to your aid when you need it? smoothing the way and making things easier for you? Well, sometimes it does this in an unexpected way. Sometimes it throws obstacles at you to get you to go the other way. Today felt like one of those days. I made it to the restaurant (barely) and it was packed with people. I have never seen it so busy. When I am at the end of the end of my rope all I want is to be alone, or as alone as possible; So being in a small room packed to capacity with the music blaring wasn't ideal. After ordering I was forced to stand around waiting for my food. I desperately needed to sit, but there wasn't a single open seat, so I stood until a seat opened up and when I finally sat down a big crowd of very big loud men came in. Not good. I was just trying to make it out without freaking out, and once I did I realized there was no way I was going to make it to class tonight. It was just out of the question. Thank you Universe for forcing me to take a night off.

I sat outside and ate a bit, I was that hungry that I couldn't make it the 4 blocks back to school without eating something. I'm now sitting in the STSS building (my home base at school) on the floor eating and writing this. According to the University I should be in class. But according to reality I should be exactly where I am. Taking care of myself.

Minnesota: my abusive boyfriend

I love the sky in minnesota in the spring. In fact, there isn't much I don't love about minnesota in the spring. My relationship with this great state is a bit like a relationship with an abusive boyfriend. For 5 or 6 months out of the year I get beat up, worn down, dragged out, pushed to my limits with the snow, the ice, the wind and the darkness. And just when I am ready to leave for good, it changes. I am in heaven for 3 or 4 months with the most beautiful green you have ever seen on the ground and in the trees, the beauty of the rivers and lakes and all the lovely wildlife that live in them, and of course the skies. And I think, well, this isn't so bad, in fact this was totally worth all that other shit. and before I know it we slide into late summer where things are alright, better than winter, but not as nice as spring. The heat starts to get oppressive and the green starts to fade a bit, and I know its just a matter of time until I am back to freezing again.

In the winter I think of the scorching heat and humidity of the summer months, and during the summer I think of the freezing winters. But in spring, this is when I am able to be most present and actually enjoy myself in this crazy dance I do with my home state every year.

(ps. Yes, I'm writing about the weather because the rest of my life is shifting around a bit and its too scary to look too closely at it just now. But also, the weather in Minnesota is pretty cool.)

Wait... Where am I going?

I've been asking people in my life lately what they would do if someone gave them a million dollars and told them there was more where that came from and that they would never have to work again. The answers weren't surprising. They were variations on "what I already do for fun". I couldn't find an answer for myself, though. I have had a job that was "what I do for fun" and it was a living hell. I can't think of many jobs that I would go back to just for fun. The closest I could come up with was that I would go to school, but only part time so I could have time to actually learn and absorb all the information instead of feeling so rushed that I am only getting a passing glance at it (which is mostly how it feels now). I would spend the rest of my time making pretty things, just because I can. I guess what that says about me is that I like to learn for learnings sake. I like work, but I don't like being crushed by it. I like balance.

Here's a little secret. When I look into my future, I see myself coming home from a hard, but satisfying day of work. I see myself petting my cat, making myself a quiet (and nutritious) dinner. I see myself take a hot bath, and write in my journal. I see a good book and a cup of tea. But what I do all day is a mystery. If I had to guess? If, today, I had to tell someone where I wanted to be in 10 years it would be at Gallaudet University, in the library.

I like to help people. I prefer to communicate using Sign Language. I have a great respect for books and the people who take care of them and keep track of them. Why wouldn't I try to become a librarian at the worlds only Deaf University?

Well ok, that answers that I guess.

Now to find some courage.

Too Much Writing Means Not Much Posting...I Guess

I didn't post on Sunday like I normally do because I spent all day writing this essay and frankly I was really done writing. That night I dreamed that I got a job at the yarn shop I used to work at (that tipped my life upside down, and not in a very pleasant way). I'm really glad I don't work there anymore, seeing it in my dream was bad enough. Anyway, enjoy my little paper on Knitting.

Startitis. It’s not a made-up disease; it’s a knitter’s ailment. No one quite knows what causes it. Some knitters get it on pay day, some get it on vacation, some get it when their lives are overwhelming, and some seem to get it completely at random.

Startitis is the overwhelming desire to start a new knitting project regardless of the number of projects currently on the needles. I, personally, tend to get it when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I know it seems counterintuitive to think that starting something new would make life less overwhelming, but it’s not just the starting, it’s having the end in sight, right from the beginning. And of course there is something about making a pretty thing out of nothing, or nearly nothing, that is just good for the soul. Making pretty things can pull you out of seemingly any rut you have gotten yourself into. Starting a new knitting project can make everything seem better.

Knitting in and of itself can be very therapeutic. The repetitive motion that it requires can help people work through trauma and stress. Studies have shown that knitting has a similar effect on the brain as repeating a mantra or prayer. But the real story lies deeper than that. It’s the act of creation that is important.

When you start a knitting project, you start with yarn and needles and sometimes a pattern. You have these three simple ingredients and with nothing but your wits and your skill you create something beautiful, hopeful, inspiring, practical, whimsical, new. This is the most simple and powerful magic.

Starting a project starts well before the yarn and needles are in your hands. First you have to decide what you will make. There are different ways to go about this. Sometimes there is a particular technique you want to use, for example you might be craving your cable needle, or you might feel the need to work with two colors, or maybe you just want something simple that requires almost no technique whatsoever. Other times you might really want to make a particular item. Even in the dog days of summer you might get a sudden craving to make a hat, or a pair of mittens. Sometimes it can feel like it’s not entirely up to you, sometimes it feels as though the project is picking you, rather than the other way around.

Last year I found myself making hat after hat. It had nothing to do with need (even in Minnesota a person can only use so many hats) and there wasn’t anyone in particular in my life who needed hats. I just needed to make hats. I think there are several explanations for this. First of all, hats are small, they are manageable projects, the end is in sight from the moment you begin. Second of all, the structure of a hat is, to me, very predictable, and when your life is feeling unpredictable it’s nice to have something constant in it. Third of all, and maybe most importantly, they afford a simple avenue for self-expression and creativity.

One of the great things about hats is that they can range from simple (as a new knitter my second project was a hat) to very complicated, requiring charts and graphs and unusual techniques. There are lots of decisions to be made before you even start a hat. What kind of brim would you like? (Ribbed? Rolled? Earflaps?) What kind of pattern would you like on the body of the hat itself? (Cables? Stripes? Fairisle? No pattern at all?) What kind of crown would you like? (pointed or flat?) What color(s)? How warm would you like it to be? (is it a summer hat? Or a winter hat?)

Despite the variety in hats, the underlying structure tends to be predictable. Generally you start at the brim and work your way up, eventually decreasing for the crown. This lends a sense of stability and familiarity, but leaves room for self-expression.

Self-expression is key for growth and self-discovery. There is no doubt that art can be very therapeutic, but sometimes making art can seem overwhelming to me, too much freedom. I get lost on the paper, my thoughts won’t come together, and I am left sitting with a crayon in my hand and a blank sheet of paper wondering where to even begin. With a knitting project I know where to begin; it’s a familiar path.

One of the nice things about hats as knitting projects is that they are manageable. They are a small enough project that I can think it through, start to finish all at once. When your life is in transition, when you are leaving your old life behind, and moving forward, into a new future which is open ended and unknown and maybe not as meticulously planned out as you are accustomed to, it’s nice to have something predictable and small, something you can see the beginning, middle and end of. When things seem unmanageable in my life (like they did so often last year) having something manageable, like a knitting project, is infinitely comforting.

Starting to Feel the Stress

Its midterms (two)week(s) here at the U of M. Between now and two weeks from now I have 3 papers due, a take home final to finish, and a test. Then I have a blissful week off, where all I have to do is a ton of reading that I am letting slide in order to get the rest of this crap done.

This week the stress of all this finally hit me. I declared a full on snow day on Monday (since the University thought we could all brave the snow after noon). I ditched group on Tuesday morning because I was too tired to think about driving to St. Paul and I went home early, skipping out of my Tuesday night class. I was overwhelmed. I came home in desperate need of a pep-talk, which I got from my lovely step mom and dad, who reassured me that we are all at the ends of our ropes, that everyone here is done with winter, even if its not done with us yet. And then I went on with my week, I went to all of my classes on Wednesday and on Thursday I went to class and then studied for a few hours before heading out to the opening of an art show called "Art and Eating Disorders: Building Community Awareness". It was put on by the Emily Program Foundation and featured art by clients from the Emily Program. It was a lovely event, but it was a small room full of people (not something my introverted self loved). And when I was done there (I stayed just long enough to say hello to a few friends I hadn't seen in a while and check out the art) I went to a concert. A friends band was in town from Scotland and I felt like I owed it to her and to myself to see some good music. By Friday I was exhausted again but I stayed at school until 9:30, just me and the cleaning crew, to attempt to catch up from all the time I had taken off the day before. I spent a few hours on Saturday and again today studying and trying to shape up some of these papers.

So here I sit, exhausted, feeling like I have barely made a dent in this huge pile of projects, and I am asking myself if I can do it. I am having serious doubts about my ability to get everything done that needs to get done. Its not that there aren't enough hours in the day, its that my brain can only work for so many of them. I only have so much time to think and figure before it just gives up on me. I keep pushing myself though, I reach the point where I think I ought to be done, and then I work for another ten minutes. I take a break, I come back and do it all again. I am working at full tilt. Still, I'm falling behind and the work I am managing to do is subpar.

I am exhausted. I just want someone to swoop in and make it all better. But I know from years of experience that that will never happen. Still, I'm not too worried. I know that I am smarter than I think I am and stronger than I feel. I know that at the end of the day I am doing my best, and that no matter what any professor says, my best is good enough.

Lonely on Sundays

Its Sunday night, so of course, I am lonely. I don't know why its just Sunday nights that this feeling comes over me. I suppose other people feel it on Friday nights, or Saturday nights, when all of their friends are out on dates or at parties or whatever. But me, introverted me, I get it on Sunday nights, when everyone is home, in bed early, preparing for the week. Maybe feeling lonely is my way of preparing for the week ahead.

All I know is that most Sunday nights I want to curl up with a good book and a cup of hot tea, or a few good episodes of West Wing. I have discovered over the last year or so that West Wing is what I want when I am lonely. I think its because the show is filled with witty people who are part of a team, they share something. I don't feel that anymore in my life. I very rarely walk out of a room and feel like I just shared something important with people I care about. I used to feel that way about group at the Emily Program, but lately I don't feel it even then. Its not that group has stopped being helpful, its still just as helpful as ever, just in a different way. Group is not where I am doing my growing right now. Group has become a place for maintaining, which is good. But it doesn't leave me feeling energized and connected like it used to.

The problem now is that the place where I am doing all my growing (namely school) is the place I don't feel connected, or energized most of the time. Most of the time school makes me feel exhausted and like I don't quite belong. It makes me feel like I must be missing something, like everyone seems to know something that I don't.

and of course...

Its winter. Still and always winter. We are in the midst of another blizzard, our second this season. As much as I would like to say I am a hardy Minnesotan and that we can handle anything, that doesn't mean it isn't trying, it doesn't mean that winter doesn't start to seem long and dark and oppressive after a few months. We had a lovely thaw this week, we even saw temperatures in the fifties, which was a much needed break. It was so nice to be able to walk to class without a jacket and without freezing. It was so nice to be able to feel all of my fingers and toes and to feel some fresh air on my skin and walk with my face upturned to the sky. It made all the difference in the world. Which makes this blizzard a double slap in the face. This is month 4 of snow banks 4 feet high. Its too much. Tonight I feel the weight of each of these snowflakes.

But for all that, tonight is just another one of those winter nights that we Minnesotans endure. Its one of the things that makes us hardy and strong.

...right?

These girls terrify me

When I was in high school there was a group of guys we called the 'white hats' they were called this because they all wore white baseball caps with various (and seemingly random) colleges on them. They all pretty much looked the same, and acted the same. My friends and I mostly took as little notice of them as we did of ants, they were only annoying when they were around, but even then you couldn't tell one from the other. They were fairly harmless I think, just kind of stupid and self involved.

I'm discovering now, that in college there is a female version of those boys. I don't know what to call them, but I know them when I see them and for some reason they drive me nuts! There is one here now, where I am studying and I can't help but watch her, she is fascinatingly boring. She reminds me of a girl I had class with last semester who also drove me to distraction for no apparent reason.

They all wear their hair in the purposefully-messy style. It involves 'throwing' your hair into a ponytail at the top of your head, then putting an elastic headband around your head so that the inch or so around your face looks smooth and out of the way, but everything after that looks bumpy and tousled. It drives me nuts! so much effort to look like you didn't put any effort into it at all. I think there are about 2 girls in the world who's hair really looks like that when she just tosses it up into a ponytail before leaving the house after an all-nighter. And I'm willing to bet that these girls saw that girl and thought "man, she even looks good when she doesn't have time to get all done up" then they started going out of their way to prove that they too could look good "with no effort", too. Its not just the way they do their hair, they put makeup on, again in that practiced-careless way, too.

And the expressions on their faces, its like looking at a mask, there is no joy apparent, there is no shame, just judgement, as though they have the right to just stare out at you. They look both bored and judgmental, haughty as though they don't care what you think of them, all the while they are carefully calculating what you are doing, constantly judging themselves and you to be better or worse.

I wonder who they think they are dressing down (as opposed to dressing up) for. Who are they trying to impress? who are they trying to snare? Do they really want the guys who want someone who looks just like everyone else? and why would they want that? who's life are they trying to live?

The overall effect is one that makes me mistrust them. They seem dangerous. Maybe thats why I can't look away.

You still breathing? Ok then, you're fine.

Not much to say this week. Not that nothing happened, I just don't have much to say about it.

I got a new computer, the weather warmed up, life seems much easier.

I feel like maybe I should have something to say about my week, but the truth is, I'm relaxed and content right now. I got a good start on a paper thats due this week, I have a plan for both of my papers that are due in a few weeks, I'm not worried about the quiz that I have coming up on Friday. I think I did alright on the test I had last week, the house is clean, its pay day, I have a warm cat on my lap. What could I possibly find to be worried about?

Don't answer that. I know there are a million things I could be worried about, but right now, I'm not, and I don't want to be. I have a few more hours left in this day of rest that I worked so hard for. I'm going to watch a little west wing, and after that I may or may not do a little reading for school.

I have been thinking about why this Sunday seems so much less stressful than last Sunday did. I decided the difference lies in the way I handled the things that were causing me stress this week. Last week I felt stuck and helpless. This week I got up and changed the things that were bothering me.

This point was really driven home for me on Thursday in Phonology class. Going to class on Thursday I was feeling overwhelmed and confused. I spent the first half of class trying not to cry and reminding myself to breathe. I felt like my professor was speaking another language and I was the only one who didn't understand it. Then he made my anxiety even worse by saying we were moving on to 'Feature Theory' and that this is where things got tricky and that if we could all just hang on through 'Feature Theory' we would be set. I'm not going to lie, I had a moment of despair, but I didn't get lost in it, and when he actually started getting into this mighty and terrifying Feature Theory I started to realize that this makes more sense to me than anything we had been doing all semester, and it became apparent why that was. We had moved on from sound-algebra to sound-geometry. Suddenly I saw the point to Phonology and I felt my feet on the ground again. I went from being overwhelmed to the point of tears, to feeling confident enough to volunteer to go up to the board...in front of the whole class!

I remembered a story my cousin told me about a yoga teacher he had had who would walk around class during particularly challenging poses and ask how people were doing. My cousin said it sounded like this: "How're you doing? oh, it burns? yeah? you still breathing? ok then, you're fine" I kept repeating variations on this theme in my head "oh yeah? you're uncomfortable? you still breathing? ok then, you're fine" "what's that? you're starting to feel overwhelmed? you still breathing? ok, then, you're alright" and sure enough, I was fine.

This week I just kept breathing, and before I knew it the disquieting, uncomfortable, stressful parts had passed, I had moved through them with some semblance of grace and things felt easier.

...plus it got above 32 degrees for the first time in over a month (and its going to stay that way all week!)

3 compliments in 3 minutes

This was a long week for me. It was mostly filled with goodness, but still, long is long. It was like the universe came together to make sure my week seemed longer than it was, but not quite long enough to make me give up anything.

First of all, there was the first paper I have had to write in 8 years. The paper itself was only 2 pages, but it felt like 20. Trying to remember what a hypothesis was supposed to look like and then how to sound smarter than I felt (or as my cousin Zach put it 'you just have to make it sound cool'. Best paper writing advice ever, by the way.) took a lot out of me. Not to mention it was due the day after my busiest day. (I know, I should have started it before the day before it was due, and I did, kind of. I mean, I had worked through the problem part of it, mostly...kind of)

Speaking of Wednesday, also known as 'Rachael's-crazy-busy-day', I accidentally called my professor 'Buddy', which embarrassed me to no end, but he apparently liked it. This is my Meteorology class, which I was expecting to hate. I'm not a big science person, or maybe I should say I haven't had the best luck with science classes. My experience has been that science classes existed solely to take interesting things, like how the universe works, and make them so boring you would rather eat rusty nails than have to listen to one more minute of it. But this class has turned out to be fantastic! This is the class of 100 that feels like 7, with the 3 professors from Wisconsin. Wednesday is lab day and between class and lab we have 15 minutes, which is just long enough to chat with my table mates a little and get sort of relaxed and out of the learning mood. So when my professor came over to give us our assignment, my mind was still in casual conversation mode and I instinctively said 'whats up buddy' before realizing that that could be completely inappropriate. He chuckled a little and moved on. I was mortally embarrassed and when he came back later to explain something to us he said 'ok, buddies, I want to show you something' and I apologized profusely, but he brushed it off and said it was fine.

Fast forward to Friday, back in class, I am worn out from paper writing (and all the stress that comes with it) and the lecture is ultra depressing. We were talking about global warming and climate change and the news was not good. My professor even stopped in the middle of the lecture to say 'man, i'm just being a Debbie Downer today aren't I?' needless to say by the end of it I was really feeling done with class and just wanted to get out of there. We had one last activity before we were free though, in our groups we were given a statement that someone in the general public might say about global warming such as 'its too big of a problem for me to do anything about' and we were supposed to come up with arguments against it. I was tired and easily confused at that point and found myself listening to my table-mates discussing it and feeling very grateful that this was a group project and that I could ride their coattails on this one (something I rarely think, let alone do). But of course, the universe had different plans.

Our professor wanted to hear from just a few groups before we left and he turned to our table and said 'I want to hear from my favorite group, c'mon Rachael'. Remember when I said I was excited for our professors to learn our names? I stand by that, but I was a little less excited about it at that moment. I gave a short (and completely bullshitted) answer to the class at large while I turned BRIGHT red (turning bright red was the most embarrassing part). After I had said whatever I said (I honestly don't have any idea what came out of my mouth) the two cute guys at the table who I have a crush on (yes, I have a half-crush on both of these guys simultaneously) both complimented me, saying I had said it very well. So there it was, three compliments in 3 minutes.

Some people might have been overjoyed by this. I was not. It is a little known fact that I don't like getting compliments. In fact, it makes me really uncomfortable. I have just recently developed the ability to not be openly angry and somewhat hostile to those who give me compliments. So I took my over-complimented self on a walk and while I walked I thought about what these compliments might mean, both for me and for the people who gave them.

These particular compliments felt uncomfortable because they were genuine. My professor called our table his favorite and then called on me by name, not because I sucked up to him, or because I told him what I thought he wanted to hear, or because we all did outstanding work, but because I was accidentally myself. He caught me off guard and I showed him a version of myself that was natural and pretty true. My classmates complimented me because I did a good job, not because I was pretty, or because I had agreed with them, but again, because I was myself. This scares me. No, this terrifies me.

What if people start liking me for who I really am?

Introverted Adventures at University

So I started back at school full time last week, (well, technically two weeks ago, but last week was the first full full week). The last time I was in school was 7 years ago and it was a completely different can of worms. It was a small Tech school and I was the youngest person in my program. Now I find myself at the second largest University in America, and I am one of the oldest people in my classes. I'm not THE oldest in all of them, but I am in some of them. And I'm not trying to say I'm old or anything, in fact, until going back to school I didn't feel old at all (ok, maybe I felt a little bit old when my baby sister graduated from High School). But now I sit in a group with kids in their early twenties and I think 'was I ever so young and naive?' Mostly I'm grateful for all the growing up I've done, I'm grateful to be who I am. I am grateful to be a 29 year old who finally has an idea of what she wants, I'm grateful to be so far along in my recovery that I can actually learn, I'm grateful to know myself well enough to know (or at least have a pretty good idea of) what works for me. I'm glad I don't feel like a freak for not liking classes with 200 kids in them.

Still, as much as it helps to know that being an introvert isn't going to kill me, and that I don't have to try to be like everyone else, or change my learning style to fit everyone elses (and its helpful to know that about half of my class secretly agrees with me), I can't help but notice how extroverted my school is. Its as though it has extroversion as part of founding tenets. I imagine a school founded and run by introverts would never even imagine offering a class to 200 students at a time. The good news about my giant class is that it only meets once a week, I only have to sit in a room full of 200 kids 13 more times.

I also have a class of about 100. I wondered for a moment why that class didn't make me as anxious, was it because my threshold for crowds was more than 100 but less than 200? I don't think so. There may be 100 kids in the classroom, but we are all sitting at tables with about a half dozen other students, and on the first day we were encouraged to get to know the people we were sitting with as they would be the group we would be working with for the rest of the semester. That immediately brought the class from feeling like a rather overwhelming 100 students to a much more manageable 7 students. One of the things I strongly dislike about being in such big classes is the feeling that I am just one in a crowd, that the professors don't actually care about me, that I am in no way shape or form special or unique, that it wouldn't matter to them if I never showed up at all. And part of what I hate about that feeling is that if it doesn't matter to them if i show up or not, it probably doesn't matter to them if I am actually learning anything or not.

At the end of this week I was exhausted. I didn't realize it until today, Sunday, when I finally had a chance to breathe. There is a fabulous Trad Irish musician in town playing a house concert tonight and as much as I want to go, I am too tired and lonely to be in a crowd of people. I have a whole week of being in crowds ahead of me, I need to rest up. This is the only part of being an introvert that I really dislike; when there is an event that I actually want to attend, but don't have the energy for, due to using my precious social energy all week on things like sitting in class, and walking down crowded sidewalks.

I do, however, feel very very blessed to finally have a best friend who gets it, who knows I want to go, but just can't. I am glad to have someone to whom I can say 'i'm too lonely to be around people right now', who understands it, who doesn't need me to explain (because lets face it, when you try to explain that to an extrovert they look at you like you are insane or just making excuses). I extra-love my best friend because he is going to record the concert for me. Which means that I will eventually get to listen to the music without all the hassle of the crowd of people I am acquainted with, but don't want to talk to. The sound quality might not be as pristine as it will be live, but I will actually be able to enjoy what I hear, whereas if I dragged myself out of the house tonight the whole thing would feel like a chore.

Knowing myself is a wonderful thing.