Keeping Up

I am only posting because the month is nearly over, and all of last year I posted at least once per month, and I would be unnecessarily upset with myself if I broke that off now.

It is not that I do not have anything about which to write: I do! But I do not have time. Ever. I might get to have a full night's sleep again after the summer quarter is over. Perhaps. But right now, the semester is only just begun (we are currently in the middle of the third week, and only the second week of clinic, so the first barely counted, really) and I am running on empty. I do not know if I can keep this up.

I talked about this feeling with one of my clinical supervisors today. Some people do not like her, but she is one of my favorites because she is blunt. If she thinks you have said something stupid, she will let you know, and that is good for me sometimes. I could not handle it if everyone was that way, but having her tends to be beneficial. I was talking about how I did not know if I could make it another year. She told me to stop thinking about it like that.

"Say, 'I can make it through the end of February'," she said to me. I sighed.
"I can make it through the end of next week...I think," I replied.
She gave me a look. "I can make it through tomorrow," I said decisively.

There are lots of things I want to write about, to tell you about. At the top of my list is some half-formed thoughts about life lessons learned from children's literature, specifically Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. But she shall have to wait, because I have already spent more time that I have available on this post.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

It is good that I love my job.

I had a hellish day yesterday. It seems that every time I think that things are evening out and looking up, everything crashes down again. I do not want to post all the details, but essentially I got pulled out by two professors during lunch and told that I am unteachable, have anger and confrontation issues, and that I will not make it in the professional world. Needless to say, it was a lovely conversation full of fluffy bunnies and rainbows and butterflies. And lots of tears and stuttering, too, but that is usually a given with me. So it destroyed pretty much my entire day.

And then I had to go to work at five thirty.

I was not looking forward to it. After my lunchtime discussion I nearly called in and told them I was sick. But I went.

And, wonder of wonders, it made me feel better. Because I love my job. I love the store itself, I love being surrounded by books, I love the music, I love my coworkers and managers, I love (most of) our customers, I love that I get fifty percent off items in the cafe (hot cocoa for a dollar and thirty cents? yes, please!), I even love straightening up at the end of the night.

I realized again last night how grateful I am not not be at Albertson's anymore. It would have destroyed me to have had to go work in the deli last night. I probably would not have made it through. But being at Barnes and Noble gave me energy and some happiness where I had none.

Praise God for small reliefs such as that.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

As Insanity Plateaus

Just a quick update, tonight. Life keeps on going, as it is wont to do. I have settled into what seems to be a good routine. I am finally used to my class/clinic schedule (half-way through the semester), and getting a decent amount of sleep. I love clinic so much, which is encouraging as that is what I plan to be doing for the majority of the rest of my life. I wish I could talk more about clinic, but HIPPA forbids it, so I shall refrain.

I also love my job. It has been a long time since I have been able to say that, and it feels wonderful to be able to do so. For I while I said I loved Albertson's, but that was more of a reaction against ICT than affection for the job itself, and I was really fairly miserable there. But Barnes and Noble! I still get giddy when I think about it. Sometimes I will be there, at night, straightening books on the shelf, and just start giggling, uncontrollable happiness welling up inside of me. It has been a long time since I really enjoyed what I am doing, and it feels nice to have that again.

Acclimating to my schedule also means I now have a tiny bit more free time than I have in the past few weeks. I get to go see Where the Wild Things Are with Glennda tomorrow, and I am incredibly excited about it. It was a defining book of my childhood, and I have only heard good things about it so far. Also, spending time with Glennda is the best part of being in Spokane, so tomorrow evening is doubly lovely for that reason.

I am looking ahead more and more, trying to figure out where my life is headed, where I am going to end up, even just for my hospital internship. I will be applying at hospitals in the Seattle area and the LA area. I think I would be happy in either place - I just do not want to be stuck here. It is still a while out, but planning is a good thing.

I had a good talk with a dear friend last week about healing. It is a difficult thing. I think I will write more on that, later.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

"The Lazy Bloggers Post Generator"

Goodness Gracious I just had a cup of tea and realized I haven't updated this since Paris Hilton was in jail... You wouldn't believe that my hands were chopped off and I was waiting for bionic ones. I prostrate myself in sorrow and beg thy forgiveness..

I'm flat out with sleeping my way to the top, learning to speak Japanese, just generally being a terrible burden to my local police, my day starts with the dawn patrol from sun-up to dusk. I'm beyond drunk most of the time. I need some perspective.

I hope you're having a good life if one more person emails me to ask why I haven't posted today I'll start posting pictures of toe fungus, or fecal murals. You have my word! Unless of course the pool with the cocktail bar is heated!.

All right, hopefully the absurdity of that, combined with the atrocious grammar and rampant punctuation errors, as well as the flagrant use of contractions, made you realize that I did not actually write that. And...none of it is true, except for the "I just had a cup of tea" part. In fact, I also had two delicious chocolate-chocolate-chip cookies. The bit above was courtesy of The Lazy Bloggers Post Generator, which actually takes longer than some of my posts do to write. But it was amusing, and that is what is important to me. Take a look, be amused.

Working at the deli continues to be better than answering phones for Sprint. I hope that I can get out of there soon, though. I keep checking back at Barnes and Noble - they tell me they are going to have some openings soon. Working in a bookstore is pretty much my dream part-time-while-in-school job. In fact, I was thinking about this earlier, and I think that if I were not on a career path that I am very excited about and know I will love, I would not mind working in a bookstore long-term. I love bookstores. I love books. I love people who love books. So hopefully that will work out.

My parents are going over to Seattle this weekend, for my cousin's wedding on Saturday. It will be nice to have a good stretch of alone time. I was worried that my dad would decide to not go, but everything is moving forward as planned, and they are leaving at six or seven tomorrow morning. I am tired of living with my parents, but it really is the best option for me right now, financially. It is allowing me to save some money, and I hope that that will result in my being able to pay of my student loans more quickly after I am out of school. Of course, that all depends on my not going insane from living with them. My sanity is ever up in the air, so we shall see how that goes. Time alone will be very good.

There is more, but not for tonight.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Itsy-Bitsy Pieces of My Life

Esmeralda is shedding, which always frightens me a bit. I have a rough spot on my neck from scratching it while I had a cold last week, and wondered this morning if I were due to shed, as well. When I was at the optometrist's office today, there was a girl in the waiting room named Esmeralda, and it startled me when they called her. I jerked my head up, and ended up making very awkward eye-contact with her for a few seconds. This was the first time in my life, in all my many years of eye exams, that the assistant was able to perform the glaucoma test on the first try. I hate that test. The blue light coming toward my eye and pressing against it, even though the drops numb the nerve endings so I can not feel it, terrifies me. I was quite pleased with myself for making it through this time. Being there made me keep thinking about Blindness, which I finished reading last week. An excellent book, perhaps the best I have read in a long time. I was fascinated by the author's use of punctuation, which did as much for the pace of the book as the plot itself did. I miss reading a lot. I used to read several books per week, and now it takes me a week to read one. But I am trying to continue reading new books, rather than becoming one who only reads books she has read before. My other new book that I finished recently was If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, which I liked decidedly less. But it seemed to me that part of the author's intent was that the reader should feel the unease I felt at it, so that was somewhat consoling. Next is The Master and Margarita, which my sister has wanted me to read for several years. I had no time or energy to do so during school, but I plan to pick it up starting tomorrow. The trouble I find with reading a lot is, of course, that which so many discover they have. That is, I do not lack time, but I do not feel like reading during that time which I have. I am working eight hours a day, and while I am not working I would like to be mindless. Television is more attractive for that reason, although I dislike television in general. I do not want to lose that mind which was cultivated so carefully over the past four years. My job is horrid at times. We are still in training, having just entered the second week. The hours are awful, and it is a noxious environment to be in. But I have hope that things will improve after training is through, when I am actually in a small, colorless box answering and selling phones. Hard to imagine that that would be a step up, is it not? My soul aches, here. I had thought that I was doing so well, finally getting used to being here again, but tonight after work, my soul started hurting for California again. For my friends, for the places and people I love so much. Oh, how I dislike change, when it is change away from what is good. But I can see ahead. This is not the end. This horrid position is a means to an end, and I will not be there forever. All my applications to graduate school are in, and now I have only to wait. Some say that is the hardest part, but I think it is much easier than agonizing over essays. It is out of my hands; there is a certain ease that comes from that, a sigh of relief. I hope to get into Fullerton. I hope to move back, to finally live with Adria, to study and relax with friends once more. I have few friends here. I hope when I return I will still have many friends there. I am so awful at staying in touch, I fear I may be losing people. My main problem is that I never know what to say. So I say nothing, and they do the same, and we fall away in our respective silences. The underlying issue here is that it is not the conversation that I miss, but the silent presence. I miss most those with whom I can sit quietly, or walk quietly. I miss those with whom there is that quiet understanding that silence is okay, and the silence of not being in contact is so very different than the silence of two people sitting and reading, knowing that the other is there if something does need to be said. I miss that so very much. That is all I can write for now, not because there are no other small pieces of my life I can think of about which to write, but rather because that last bit can not very well lead into any of them.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Post-Script Edit: In re-reading this, I realized the ambiguity of one of my sentences. In the sentence I miss reading a lot, a lot should not be taken as the amount that I miss, (eg, reading. I miss it a lot) but the amount of reading I miss (eg, reading lots of books. I miss that).

Comfy clothes?

I like clothing. It interests me. And so, as might be expected, I was very happy at the homerathon this past weekend, when Joi, Dr. Reynolds, and I discovered a very important theme of clothing and appearances running through the Illiad and the Odyssey. As is usual after the homerathon, I do not really remember most of what was said. But...it was important and interesting!

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After four homerathons, I have learned to come very prepared. After having spent my first, freshman year, cold, hungry, and in pain, I now bring a change of warmer clothing, a good amount of food, and drugs (among other things such as a sun-hat and cough-drops). It is a testament to the weather lately that I did not have to change into my warmer clothes (jeans and a t-shirt and a sweatshirt) until about two in the morning. When I did emerge from the bathroom after changing, the girl waiting said, "oo! comfy clothes!" This puzzled and somewhat amused me. To me, these were the sadly necessary, non-comfy clothes. My idea of 'comfy clothes' includes the sun-dress out of which I had just changed. Jeans are not comfortable. They do not allow for movement. They are not twirly, and do not blow in the wind. Long skirts/sundresses are all of these. And they are also pretty! If jeans were comfortable, I would have worn them in the first place. Why dress up for a homerathon?

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I do not believe, and never have believed, that there is a single way in which all people should dress. I have never been an advocate for all girls wearing dresses and skirts. I do believe that people should wear what is comfortable to them (within reasonable limits, without scandal to those around them, of course). I feel most myself, most comfortable, in dresses and skirts. I understand that this is not true for many women, and that is fine.

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That night, we talked a lot about proper clothes for different times, and what clothes say about a person or situation. But I think we forgot to even think about comfort, and what that says. I think that while we were right in thinking that what a person wears influences them (I do not recall what led to this, or how to rightly explain this idea), but we also forgot to talk about how what a person wears reveals them. If all people wore what they found comfortable, you would likely be able to tell much about a person. It is an interesting thought, anyway. I shall likely think more on it.

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Blessings on your travels,

Emily

Mixed Emotions on Two Subjects

It snowed yesterday, with more in the forecast. Probably warming up to mid-sixties by the weekend, though! On one hand, I'm happy, since I missed the best winter that we have had in goodness knows how long. (well, the weathermen and statisticians probably know, but that is beside the point.) On the other hand, however, it is June, and there really should not be snow in June.

I visited my library yesterday - the one in which I grew up, learned to read, learned to love reading, checked out so many books at a time I could barely carry them all, &c. This summer they started an adult summer reading program. I have not been in a summer reading program in a really long time. Even a 'goodness knows how long' time, with no caveat this time, since my librarian (Wilma, whom I love and who was the one who got me into reading and encouraged me and gave me more books than I could carry) said they do not have records of past years. The deal is that if you read three books between June first and August thirty-first, you get a two-for-one entrance coupon to the Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture. Which is pretty great, really. So Wilma got me to sign up. Here is my mixed emotions on the subject:
On the one hand (let us say, my left hand), I feel sort of silly signing up for it. I read anyway. I read lots and lots and lots. I sort of feel like this type of program is to encourage those who do not usually read to read a bit. On the other (right) hand, I feel somewhat slighted. See, my first book on the list will be Crime and Punishment - I am currently about one hundred pages from the end. The next one will be Nicholas and Alexandra - again, about eight hundred pages. Most people, I am sure, will be reading short books with little content for the same prize. And, on top of that, I will be finishing all in June, as I am flying back to California on July second. I hope that I will finish in time to actually use the coupon to the museum.
I like reading.

Getting Dangerous

So, I still have not read the final Harry Potter book. Have not even started it, actually. And that is getting dangerous for me. It seems like everywhere I go, people are talking about it or writing about it or referencing it. Spoilers abound! I have had to be so careful just to avoid hearing or reading things. Because, you see, it is not that I do not care or am particularly waiting to read it until later. I used to be fanatic about reading a new one the second it was released - spending five or so hours on the couch, not moving until I was done with it.

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But we must also remember that the first of these books came out nearly ten years ago. I was eleven, the same age as our heroes were in the first book. Now I am in college, and honestly, occasionally have better things to do than read a seven-hundred page novel (however amazing) in one setting. Mostly, the better thing that I have to do is read a(n amazing) one-thousand twenty-one page poem for my Faerie Qveene class in the fall.

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But be that as it may, I really do need to get a hold of a copy of Harry Potter VII before I hear too much more about it. One can not cover one's ears and hum for very long, nor can one avoid reading other people's blogs forever. One part of me is sad that the series has come to an end, but another part of me is happy about it. I expected the end to come three years ago. It has been too long coming, and I will read it soon.

Just...please do not spoil it for me!

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Blessings on your travels,

Emily

On the Subject of Hair (Part two of two)

I really like my hair. I never understood (nor do I now) why girls with curly hair want to straighten it. This was especially so in junior high, when the perm was such a phenomena. People would ask me if I ever straightened my hair, or would say that I ought to. But I simply responded, quite rationally, if I may say so myself, that people paid a lot of money to get hair like mine, so why should I ruin it?

It is not that I have never wanted straight hair, or that I think everyone should want curly hair. I actually look good with straight hair. But I look good with curly hair as well. There have been times that I claimed to want beautiful straight hair, like that of my sister. But that was more an "I am so sick of having to brush out all of these knots" sort of wanting. A desire for less work, rather than for the look. I wouldn't get rid of my hair for the world. Maybe for a lot of money. But it would have to be a whole lot. And tax free.

I like my hair a lot more now than I did in junior high and high school, and even early college. You see, for my last birthday, my wonderful sister gave me a book about curly hair. It happens to be called Curly Girl and it is wonderful. A transcript of an online interview with the author can be found here. She advocates an incredibly unorthodox treatment of hair, which I will not reproduce here. But I will say that if you have curly hair and are sick of it being so much work, let me know and you can borrow the book. I have been following its instructions since last September, and my hair has never looked or felt better. I do still have to vigorously fight the dreadful locks, but one must persevere to win the prize.
Blessings on your travels,
Emily