When this blog first began, it was going to be a way for me to write about the transition from a life of adjuncting to graduate school and my move up North. Well, life happens and things change, so this blog is now a reflection of those changes.
I don't like this blog.
I think one of the reasons I'm not very happy with it is because I started out with a set agenda, "This is what my blog will say. This is the purpose it will serve." I tried to model it around other academic-like blogs and tried to really put my 'academic' perspective on things. I tried to hard to be witty, to comment on things I thought I should comment on because they were academic-ish and to make this a place that was going to be intellectual.
Well, when you set out with an agenda it becomes difficult to make it always fit. Or at least for me, because I have a tendency to not want change or to not flow and be like water (Bruce Lee- what was that quote he used...).
So, inevitably, the blog's role had to change because I changed, but my mind was still fighting for this to be an 'academic' space not mommy/preggo central, or a place to complain and whine, or a place to post random snipits of my life. I think that's why here lately I've been avoiding it and not wanting to post. I don't want to post because I don't like what this blog has become, me. And I'm not always very happy with myself. Usually, I'm never very happy with myself. I am my worst enemy and critic. And I know most people would argue the same, but its different for me. I come from a family where my father is a perfectionist and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I am too. So, when this blog didn't turn into a hot trobbing place to discuss rhetorical analysis, or teaching, I became soured.
The other part of the problem is that I also have a tendency to compare myself with others. Big time. What is Sally Joe's blog about? What does Petey have to say about comp theory? Whats the hot topic at Four C's? How does Coco Joe tell a story? Blog's serve many purposes and it does give you a bit of space to focus on your self (for better or for worse) and when you read how things are grrrrrrrrrrreat for others and their moving and shaking and doing er-thing you wanted to, if you have a perfectionist personality and compare yourself with others, inevitably you began to doubt yourself and feel like a failure. That's just the way it is, for me.
So, a month or so ago, I really started hating my blog. I felt like I wasn't focused, committed to the purpose of why I started one in the first place (to record thoughts/emotions about transition). I also think that not having an audience was affecting me also. Most folks don't blog just for themselves, for some it might be that this is trully a journal, a private space, but I find that hard to believe. If you are posting on the net, you have to realize there is a chance someone will read what you have to say, and I think most bloggers want that. That's why you ask questions in your post, that's why you have a comment section, or a blog role. Because you seek a community. Well, I don't really have one, or rather I should say I feel like I'm on the outskirst of lots of different communities: mother to be, former adjunct, former phd to be, stay at home mom to be, full time 9-to-fiver, wife, writer-wanna-be. In some of these communities I fit perfectly, while in others I don't really feel like I belong. And much of that is my own fault, or rather my own perception.
So, with all that said. I'd like to announce that this blog is going-bye-bye. I'm changing. I am allowing myself to change and not feel like I have to stay with this form. I'm going to be like water. (Where the hell is that Bruce Lee quote!?)
Monday, March 20, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
Top 10 Reasons why I love living in the South
1. Southern style sweet iced tea. (You ain't had tea until you've had it down here, its ice-box cold as my granny would say, and syrupy sweet)
2. Warm winter days. (This past weekend I've been able to sun myself because its been in the 80s)
3. Random small talk. (People, most of the time, talk to you like they've known you for years and are always ready to offer advice)
4. Food. (Mac and cheese made with REAL cheese and milk, fried everything, mashed potatoes, and the fact that we can serve gravy with every meal)
5. Sweet iced tea.
6-10. Sweet iced tea.
Ok, so I couldn't get to 10, but these do sum up rather nicely how I feel. I usually always have something negative to say about living down here, but this weekend I was trying real hard like to come up with some of the good points to being where I am.
I guess I could add family down there too.....
It would be easier for me to find reasons why I disliked it down here, but I won't even go there. Not while I'm sipping on my sweet tea.
2. Warm winter days. (This past weekend I've been able to sun myself because its been in the 80s)
3. Random small talk. (People, most of the time, talk to you like they've known you for years and are always ready to offer advice)
4. Food. (Mac and cheese made with REAL cheese and milk, fried everything, mashed potatoes, and the fact that we can serve gravy with every meal)
5. Sweet iced tea.
6-10. Sweet iced tea.
Ok, so I couldn't get to 10, but these do sum up rather nicely how I feel. I usually always have something negative to say about living down here, but this weekend I was trying real hard like to come up with some of the good points to being where I am.
I guess I could add family down there too.....
It would be easier for me to find reasons why I disliked it down here, but I won't even go there. Not while I'm sipping on my sweet tea.
Friday, March 10, 2006
So much...
The past couple of weeks have been nothing but constant activity. I've felt like I was on some sick ride that just wouldn't stop. Like when you go to those cheap carnivals and you know that the people running the rides are murders and stuff, just using the carnival get up as a way to travel from town to town, but anyways...I digress.
The activity started when I stayed home from work one day last week, I was not feeling well and my ankles were swollen. The only real remedy anyone could offer was for me to keep off my feet. So, I thought I'd have a relaxing day at home. WRONG. I settled in to take a nap when the dogs began barking like there were cats on parade in the house. They could smell the smoke. An arson investigator knocked on my door and told me to come out of my building. Apparently, someone had tried to set fire to the building in the basement. Yes, fire. Flames. Fumes. Smoke. Fire. In. My. Building. Where. I. Lay. Sleeping.
I of course had a panic attack and immediatley began the ever-so-dangerous what-if-game: What if I hadn't gotten up? What if my floors would have burned? What if this had of happened when I wasn't at home and the dogs couldn't have gotten out? What if this happened once the baby was born? What if there is a crazy pyromaniac in the neighborhood?
Once H came home, which felt like it took forever, but was actually only 10 or 15 minutes after I'd been asked to come out of the apartment, I just melted. We decided instantly that come hell or high water we were moving out.
Now enters next chaos, where are we gonna live? We've got 8 weeks until the baby comes and only 12 weeks in a lease.
No, that's not all of it. The next day I return to work, trying to catch up and get a phone call from my cousin. My grandma has been taken to the hospital. She's blacked out while driving and they don't know whats wrong with her. I panick again. Rushing out of the buildign and to the hospital I start the what-if-game again: What if she's not conscious? What if she had a stroke? What if she can't see forever? What if she isn't breathing on her own? What if I can't get to the hospital in time?
I make it to the hospital about 30 minutes later to find her wide-awake in the ER. Smiling and reassuring me she's just fine. The doctors say that want to keep her for observation, but they can't figure out what made her black out the way she did. She stays over night, more tests, more blood more, more waiting. And the next day I go back to the hospital to visit her and she's been told that they've found two suspicious spots on her scans. They can't say for sure what it is, but they do say the dirtiest word-cancer. They have to say it, or at least thats what they tell us, they have to warn us. It will be 5 days before we know for sure. She is in the hospital all weekend and dreads every moment of it, we all do. Our granny is the most active person I know and its hard to see her sit in a hospital bed, even harder to see her not know whats coming next. Finally, there is relief when the biopsy results come back and she's released, no cancer.
Now, a cooling down moment, I'm feeling better for us. But then, alas, the ride is not over, no, the carnival man has decided I should go yet another round. At my doctor's visit this week he announces that he thinks I have hypertension and that I could possibly be induced. Induced. In other words, a scheduled deliveray. My blood platelle count is also low, possibly another sign that I have hypertension or it could be thats my norm. More tests to come. I heard these words and yet again started the what-if-game: What if the induction doesn't take? What if it means I have to stay in bed and can't move around and do my yoga? What if I bleed and can't stop? What if the baby doesn't respond well to the induction? What if my uterus explodes? What if I can't take the pain? What if something happens to the baby?
The doctor reassures me that the baby is just fine and that there is still a chance I could go into labor on my own and not have to worry about any of this. I also learn that platelles dip a bit when you are pregnant and that if mine were severly low, they'd have but me on bedrest. Relax, everyone says, you are in good hands.
What if....to me, these are two of the most dangerous words in the English language when put togther. They can rip your brain and heart apart in seconds. Moving from one emotion to another was hard for me, but I think even harder because of the pregnancy. But there is something I realized through each of these events. I've got to let go of the what-if-game. I don't have any control over any of the above situations. All I can do is let God take care of us. Really, not to sound preachy here, but thats what I'm learning. As much as I'd like to think I'm in control of everything, I am not. I repeat: I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. I feel like I should write that 100x over.
So now, whats on my agenda:
Let it go.
Let it go.
Let it go.
The activity started when I stayed home from work one day last week, I was not feeling well and my ankles were swollen. The only real remedy anyone could offer was for me to keep off my feet. So, I thought I'd have a relaxing day at home. WRONG. I settled in to take a nap when the dogs began barking like there were cats on parade in the house. They could smell the smoke. An arson investigator knocked on my door and told me to come out of my building. Apparently, someone had tried to set fire to the building in the basement. Yes, fire. Flames. Fumes. Smoke. Fire. In. My. Building. Where. I. Lay. Sleeping.
I of course had a panic attack and immediatley began the ever-so-dangerous what-if-game: What if I hadn't gotten up? What if my floors would have burned? What if this had of happened when I wasn't at home and the dogs couldn't have gotten out? What if this happened once the baby was born? What if there is a crazy pyromaniac in the neighborhood?
Once H came home, which felt like it took forever, but was actually only 10 or 15 minutes after I'd been asked to come out of the apartment, I just melted. We decided instantly that come hell or high water we were moving out.
Now enters next chaos, where are we gonna live? We've got 8 weeks until the baby comes and only 12 weeks in a lease.
No, that's not all of it. The next day I return to work, trying to catch up and get a phone call from my cousin. My grandma has been taken to the hospital. She's blacked out while driving and they don't know whats wrong with her. I panick again. Rushing out of the buildign and to the hospital I start the what-if-game again: What if she's not conscious? What if she had a stroke? What if she can't see forever? What if she isn't breathing on her own? What if I can't get to the hospital in time?
I make it to the hospital about 30 minutes later to find her wide-awake in the ER. Smiling and reassuring me she's just fine. The doctors say that want to keep her for observation, but they can't figure out what made her black out the way she did. She stays over night, more tests, more blood more, more waiting. And the next day I go back to the hospital to visit her and she's been told that they've found two suspicious spots on her scans. They can't say for sure what it is, but they do say the dirtiest word-cancer. They have to say it, or at least thats what they tell us, they have to warn us. It will be 5 days before we know for sure. She is in the hospital all weekend and dreads every moment of it, we all do. Our granny is the most active person I know and its hard to see her sit in a hospital bed, even harder to see her not know whats coming next. Finally, there is relief when the biopsy results come back and she's released, no cancer.
Now, a cooling down moment, I'm feeling better for us. But then, alas, the ride is not over, no, the carnival man has decided I should go yet another round. At my doctor's visit this week he announces that he thinks I have hypertension and that I could possibly be induced. Induced. In other words, a scheduled deliveray. My blood platelle count is also low, possibly another sign that I have hypertension or it could be thats my norm. More tests to come. I heard these words and yet again started the what-if-game: What if the induction doesn't take? What if it means I have to stay in bed and can't move around and do my yoga? What if I bleed and can't stop? What if the baby doesn't respond well to the induction? What if my uterus explodes? What if I can't take the pain? What if something happens to the baby?
The doctor reassures me that the baby is just fine and that there is still a chance I could go into labor on my own and not have to worry about any of this. I also learn that platelles dip a bit when you are pregnant and that if mine were severly low, they'd have but me on bedrest. Relax, everyone says, you are in good hands.
What if....to me, these are two of the most dangerous words in the English language when put togther. They can rip your brain and heart apart in seconds. Moving from one emotion to another was hard for me, but I think even harder because of the pregnancy. But there is something I realized through each of these events. I've got to let go of the what-if-game. I don't have any control over any of the above situations. All I can do is let God take care of us. Really, not to sound preachy here, but thats what I'm learning. As much as I'd like to think I'm in control of everything, I am not. I repeat: I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. I feel like I should write that 100x over.
So now, whats on my agenda:
Let it go.
Let it go.
Let it go.
Friday, March 3, 2006
Week 32=8 months?
8 months. I just figured out on Tuesday that I am now entering my 8th month. How did I just figure this out? Well, with so much going on, it seems like time has just slipped through my fingers.
I don't feel horrible, but I am slowing down and feeling tired again like I did during the first trimester. My ankles swell a bit, and I waddle when I walk and need help getting myself up and down. My heartburn had subsided, but has now returned and wakes me up with a burning fire during the night.
But...I only have about 81/2 weeks to go until my daughter makes her grand arrival. And I'm sure it shall be grand. I'm doing yoga twice a week now and H and I attend birth classes every Friday evening. Its just hard to believe that this is almost over. Just when I was getting used to it, lol.
But what we have to come is even more spectacular I'm sure of. H sings and talks to her now, and she does thump and move in response to her father's voice. Sometimes I tap my belly and she taps back, we haven't started teaching her any intricate drumming rhythms or anything, but I'm pretty sure she's well on her way to being the SMARTEST KID in the WORLD.
I don't feel horrible, but I am slowing down and feeling tired again like I did during the first trimester. My ankles swell a bit, and I waddle when I walk and need help getting myself up and down. My heartburn had subsided, but has now returned and wakes me up with a burning fire during the night.
But...I only have about 81/2 weeks to go until my daughter makes her grand arrival. And I'm sure it shall be grand. I'm doing yoga twice a week now and H and I attend birth classes every Friday evening. Its just hard to believe that this is almost over. Just when I was getting used to it, lol.
But what we have to come is even more spectacular I'm sure of. H sings and talks to her now, and she does thump and move in response to her father's voice. Sometimes I tap my belly and she taps back, we haven't started teaching her any intricate drumming rhythms or anything, but I'm pretty sure she's well on her way to being the SMARTEST KID in the WORLD.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
100
This is my 100th post. I've had this blog since June of 2005 so its still relatively young and I am very much a newbie. That should be evident, I don't know html, don't have any pics, nor have I quite figured out how to do the blogroll. But on this 100th posting I wanted to reflect on why I started this blog in the first place. Initially, I cited my goals as the following:
i am startin this blog for many reasons:*i've been meaning to start
documenting my transition from adjunct life to grad school phd life*i want to
have an 'outside' writing environment, separate from my journaling*i want a
place to write where i can connect to others in the Blog-0-sphere
atmosphereWell, I don't know how much I've kept those goals. I really can't document my transition from adjunct-dom to phd-om because I'm not going anywhere. But this has been a place for me to document my travels from adjunct-dom to full time work to pregnancy to...who knows whats to come. This has become an outside writing environment, I tend to only journal at most once or twice a week now privatley. And as far as this being a place for me to connect to other bloggers, I guess I still feel pretty isolated. That isolation comes from myself in some respects, I have a few blogs that I do post comments on and occassionlay those folks visit me. But I've also got tons of blogs that I read and never write a comment on because I feel like the little kid on the blogging playground with the fake keds. Come on, you know what I'm talking about. The fake keds your mama would get you from Kmart, they looked like the real keds, they just didn't have the keds written on the back.
I guess I need to break out of my blogging shell. I'm always embarressed by my writing though. That could be why I hate to look back over my thesis or anything I did in school. Why am I so embarressed to see it? I dread the thought of trying to ever publish anything because I lack confidence in my words. No, not in my words but in the way I use my words.
So, I don't know how my goals have held up. At least I did have something.
Now, my goals for the next 100 posts:
-Continue to be honest about tracking my feelings.
-Spend at least once a week posting about something good. Even if I have to look real hard out of my evil little eyes.
-Just be.
*****
At lunch today, my bro gave me a really cool quote from a song (I'll have to look that up later), from Mos Def.
"how you got high expectations, with no patience?"
Taping that one to my head.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
And everbody sing...'Swing Down Sweet Chariot, and Let me Ride'
P Funk
That's the only thing that makes me feel somewhat like moving and feeling good. This morning, for like 2 minutes I forgot about everything, MIL's cancer, baby worries, money worries, dirty apartments, crap work, and I felt really good. It happened as I was walking into work, the sun hit my back and it warmed me up so much that I forgot it was winter, the wind blew and for a split second it felt like how it does on an early Spring morning.
Then I kept walking in and realized that was just a small reprieve.
I don't know. There is so much on my mind, I don't even know where or how to start. I feel sad, worried, and tired. MIL starts her chemo this week and I'm scared. I don't quite know what to say, so I tend to bumble:
Me: We can fix you soup.
Me: I can sweep your hallway.
Me: You want a silk or cotton scarf?
Its just scary because you hear the word chemo and of course you get the worse possible images in your head. I am trying to visualize it as something else though, not as your body breaking down and you feeling sick, but as your body trying to rid itself of the sickness and start anew. Fresh. Rebirth.
The way it looks now, her chemo should end about a month after the baby is born. That will be a real time to celebrate.
That's the only thing that makes me feel somewhat like moving and feeling good. This morning, for like 2 minutes I forgot about everything, MIL's cancer, baby worries, money worries, dirty apartments, crap work, and I felt really good. It happened as I was walking into work, the sun hit my back and it warmed me up so much that I forgot it was winter, the wind blew and for a split second it felt like how it does on an early Spring morning.
Then I kept walking in and realized that was just a small reprieve.
I don't know. There is so much on my mind, I don't even know where or how to start. I feel sad, worried, and tired. MIL starts her chemo this week and I'm scared. I don't quite know what to say, so I tend to bumble:
Me: We can fix you soup.
Me: I can sweep your hallway.
Me: You want a silk or cotton scarf?
Its just scary because you hear the word chemo and of course you get the worse possible images in your head. I am trying to visualize it as something else though, not as your body breaking down and you feeling sick, but as your body trying to rid itself of the sickness and start anew. Fresh. Rebirth.
The way it looks now, her chemo should end about a month after the baby is born. That will be a real time to celebrate.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Happy Love Day
***Warning, the following contains a very random memory that attacked my brain on the way back from lunch today***
When I was about 13 or 14, the summer before I started high school, every day during the week my cousins, brother, aunt, and I would go to the playground. The walk from my grandma's house to the playground was an interesting one. It took us about 15 minutes because at the time my cousins and brother were young, the youngest being 4 and the oldest 7 or 8. We had to walk through a housing project known as Ruffin Road. The name about sums up the area. It was pretty rough, the ditches were usually filled with empty beer bottles and trash, condoms, torn clothes, and discarded toys. Weird combination.
But we trudged away anyway, mostly because there wasn't much else to do. We had one car, a small Buick, and there were 7 of us. You do the math on that one. We could've taken the bus downtown, but with all those kids it was hard. So, we went to the playground.
We would leave home around 10:00 AM, any later and you'd run the chance of drug dealers and prostitutes being in the way, plus it would get hot and we'd want to be back in before noon to put the kids down for naps.
Once there, we all had a routine. My brother and cousin played with the other boys there, my aunt and I would take turns pushing the girls on the swings or catching them on the sliding board. After everyone was settled into their activity, I did what I loved the most at that time, I played basketball. And I played hard. Against myself and against any boy who was willing to play me. I had no idea, until a few years ago when we were all reminiscing about these days, that it was such a big deal for my cousins. They had a girl playing basketball. On a public court. In the middle of the projects.
The only thing that would break my playing and the playing of everyone else at the playground was lunch. Free lunch got served anywhere from 11:30-11:45. The city provided free lunch for kids at the local playgrounds. It was never good, but for some reason we were all addicted to getting it. Most of the time it was just a sandwich, juice, and honey bun. Really nutricious, gotta keep those poor kids growing strong you know. But what I remembered today when this thought came dancing in my head was how much we all shared. Everyone would sit in the shadiest part of the playground and spread out their feast. A breeze blowing, we'd eat the edible parts of the sandwich, gulp down the juice and devour the honeybuns. The days they had donoughts were the best. There were some kids who would try to take more than one lunch (the rule was one lunch per kid and you couldn't take it off the playground). They'd sneak the food in their pants or on their bikes. For them, it was probably the only meal they would get that day. We would take whatever we didn't eat and trade or give it away to one another. Why the city had a lock down on food- crap food, is beyond me.
Some days, they gave us popsicles.
We only went to the playground that one summer. My mom said she had bad feelings about us being there, and sure enough, months later a kid was shot on that court. But what I remember are the hot summer days, the heat rising from the court, and lunch.
When I was about 13 or 14, the summer before I started high school, every day during the week my cousins, brother, aunt, and I would go to the playground. The walk from my grandma's house to the playground was an interesting one. It took us about 15 minutes because at the time my cousins and brother were young, the youngest being 4 and the oldest 7 or 8. We had to walk through a housing project known as Ruffin Road. The name about sums up the area. It was pretty rough, the ditches were usually filled with empty beer bottles and trash, condoms, torn clothes, and discarded toys. Weird combination.
But we trudged away anyway, mostly because there wasn't much else to do. We had one car, a small Buick, and there were 7 of us. You do the math on that one. We could've taken the bus downtown, but with all those kids it was hard. So, we went to the playground.
We would leave home around 10:00 AM, any later and you'd run the chance of drug dealers and prostitutes being in the way, plus it would get hot and we'd want to be back in before noon to put the kids down for naps.
Once there, we all had a routine. My brother and cousin played with the other boys there, my aunt and I would take turns pushing the girls on the swings or catching them on the sliding board. After everyone was settled into their activity, I did what I loved the most at that time, I played basketball. And I played hard. Against myself and against any boy who was willing to play me. I had no idea, until a few years ago when we were all reminiscing about these days, that it was such a big deal for my cousins. They had a girl playing basketball. On a public court. In the middle of the projects.
The only thing that would break my playing and the playing of everyone else at the playground was lunch. Free lunch got served anywhere from 11:30-11:45. The city provided free lunch for kids at the local playgrounds. It was never good, but for some reason we were all addicted to getting it. Most of the time it was just a sandwich, juice, and honey bun. Really nutricious, gotta keep those poor kids growing strong you know. But what I remembered today when this thought came dancing in my head was how much we all shared. Everyone would sit in the shadiest part of the playground and spread out their feast. A breeze blowing, we'd eat the edible parts of the sandwich, gulp down the juice and devour the honeybuns. The days they had donoughts were the best. There were some kids who would try to take more than one lunch (the rule was one lunch per kid and you couldn't take it off the playground). They'd sneak the food in their pants or on their bikes. For them, it was probably the only meal they would get that day. We would take whatever we didn't eat and trade or give it away to one another. Why the city had a lock down on food- crap food, is beyond me.
Some days, they gave us popsicles.
We only went to the playground that one summer. My mom said she had bad feelings about us being there, and sure enough, months later a kid was shot on that court. But what I remember are the hot summer days, the heat rising from the court, and lunch.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Reasons Why Blogs Hurt Me
1. I came to the library today with the intention of working on RESEARCH not reading BLOGS.
2. Blogs come in colors that are much more fun to look at than journals.
3. Blogs are funny, laughing too hard hurts my ribs, and makes the baby punch my lungs.
4. Blogs make me question myself, being pregnant with raging hormones, its not good to read about how the rest of the world is making strides and progress while you can hardly roll yourself out of the bed (feelings of Gregor surface).
5. If I could stop blogging and reading blogs I could get home quicker, eat two huge veggie burgers w/ cheese and onions and relish, drink a ginger ale, watch TV and take a nap.
2. Blogs come in colors that are much more fun to look at than journals.
3. Blogs are funny, laughing too hard hurts my ribs, and makes the baby punch my lungs.
4. Blogs make me question myself, being pregnant with raging hormones, its not good to read about how the rest of the world is making strides and progress while you can hardly roll yourself out of the bed (feelings of Gregor surface).
5. If I could stop blogging and reading blogs I could get home quicker, eat two huge veggie burgers w/ cheese and onions and relish, drink a ginger ale, watch TV and take a nap.
Thursday, February 9, 2006
Things I am Thinking About...
*Pizza
*Going Home
*Public Education Policy
*Teaching
*Labor
*Cleaning my House
*Poverty
*Going Home
*Public Education Policy
*Teaching
*Labor
*Cleaning my House
*Poverty
Sunday, February 5, 2006
28 Week Update II: Cucumber fights back
ite thThis weekend I discovered a delightful thing. As I was stretching out to take a post breakfast nap on Saturday, I looked down and could see my stomach move out in two different spots. Cucumber must have been flexing and practicing her gymnastics routine. So, I gently touched the spot where I'd just seen movembet, and she moved again! I reached to the other side of my belly and said her name, "__________," and touched again, she responded.
This was the best weekend I've had in a long time, despite the constipation, heartburn, and leg cramps.
I really do love being pregnant. Its moments like that one that make you realize just how special and amazing this entire event is.
This was the best weekend I've had in a long time, despite the constipation, heartburn, and leg cramps.
I really do love being pregnant. Its moments like that one that make you realize just how special and amazing this entire event is.
Thursday, February 2, 2006
Does this border on the obsessive?
This morning, I put DH out of the car at his shuttle stop and I kept on driving to work. On my way I saw a student, nothing new there. She had her bookbag on her back and was buttoned up tight to brave the cold. And out of no where I just got insanely jealous. I wanted so badly to park my car, get a bookbag and go to a class. Any class, French, Math, Bio, a Chem lab, Western World lit, it didn't matter. I just want school.
So, it got me to thinking (and no, I'm not about to go into a lamentation about not being able to go start a PhD in the fall) am I addicted to school? And if so, is that bad? Are all addictions bad? At first I would say no, but then when I think about it a bit more I wonder, does an addiction mean you border on the obsessive? How would you know if you were addicted to school? What would you look for?
I do have the need to smell books, I can think of worse things to smell.
I do find myself looking at course schedules to find just one more class to take.
I love shopping for school supplies. I love picking notebooks out.
And, I can't imagine myself not being in a classroom, either as a student or teacher.
I had a neighbor tell me once that the only reason I wanted to go to school was so that I didn't have to grow up, because as long as you are in school you can avoid 'adult' responsibilities. She also felt that I thought too highly of the academia and accused me of having Ivory Tower Syndrome. Now, two problems with this:
1. Being in school, at least for me at both the u-grad and grad level NEVER meant avoiding adult responsibilities. I worked the entire time because in my house, the rule was such that when you turned 18 you were on your own as far as school went. My folks paid for me to go to private school k-12 and figured that I should be able to handle what came next. So, I worked and took out loans. Both of those activities were very 'adult'. I had to learn about promissary notes, loan payments, consolidations, and at times had to debate whether or not I could afford an extra semester. I also worked 2-3 jobs at a time as an undergraduate student just to be able to maintain. And, I had no car. I depended on rides and had to schedule classes around that. I walked to work in between classes.
As a grad student, the responsibilities of course grew. In my program I didn't receive an stipend/TAship for grad work. So, I had to again make the decision as to whether or not it would be work$h it in the end. Taking out more loans and working (at times full-time) was difficult. The total of all my loans could buy me this to ride in or half of this to live on. You have to be very adult about making decisions regarding that much money.
The nature of graduate work (even at the MA level) also requires an adult attitude. I had to read, research, and write, on my own for much of the time. I had a wonderful advisor, but it was still up to me to actually do the work.
2. I don't have Ivory Tower Syndrome. First off, I'm not in any Ivory Tower. I'm in a building made of bricks and mortar, and technically as an adjunct I don't really have a building/office space of my own if you want to get into the spatial dynamics of the situation. I could go even a step further and discuss that issue: not having an office, or limited space, what does that say about how my work is valued? I lugged everything around in an old leather bag. But, I digress. The work I do and see myself doing in every way touches the world outside of academia. My research interests have me looking at issues of language politics and who gets to say what where, and how they say it, and how the message is received, and how this shapes our attitudes about culture/race/class. Why is this important? Well, in a world of sound-bites, you better hope that your 20 second relief gets cut and edited in just the right way.
I also see that we still talk about valuing language and writing but do we really? And what kind of value$ are we willing to put down? Many of our students (k-12) in poor urban environments still lack the ability to communicate effectively so that they can become active participants in circles outside of their communities. Who's responsible for this? Who's gonna teach them? How are we gonna teach? What approaches work best? I should also add that lots of our non-native speakers get more programs/funding than our natives speakers who could still be looked at as not holding enough English speaking skills to be effective communicators. That's not to say I'm against funding ESL research/work because that's another area I've been strongly committed to for much of my working life.
No, no, no. I don't plan to be locked in an office with books and coffee. Real academic work is not that easy. Working with language and writing and people means that your gonna get dirty. And I want to lather myself in the mud.
So, it got me to thinking (and no, I'm not about to go into a lamentation about not being able to go start a PhD in the fall) am I addicted to school? And if so, is that bad? Are all addictions bad? At first I would say no, but then when I think about it a bit more I wonder, does an addiction mean you border on the obsessive? How would you know if you were addicted to school? What would you look for?
I do have the need to smell books, I can think of worse things to smell.
I do find myself looking at course schedules to find just one more class to take.
I love shopping for school supplies. I love picking notebooks out.
And, I can't imagine myself not being in a classroom, either as a student or teacher.
I had a neighbor tell me once that the only reason I wanted to go to school was so that I didn't have to grow up, because as long as you are in school you can avoid 'adult' responsibilities. She also felt that I thought too highly of the academia and accused me of having Ivory Tower Syndrome. Now, two problems with this:
1. Being in school, at least for me at both the u-grad and grad level NEVER meant avoiding adult responsibilities. I worked the entire time because in my house, the rule was such that when you turned 18 you were on your own as far as school went. My folks paid for me to go to private school k-12 and figured that I should be able to handle what came next. So, I worked and took out loans. Both of those activities were very 'adult'. I had to learn about promissary notes, loan payments, consolidations, and at times had to debate whether or not I could afford an extra semester. I also worked 2-3 jobs at a time as an undergraduate student just to be able to maintain. And, I had no car. I depended on rides and had to schedule classes around that. I walked to work in between classes.
As a grad student, the responsibilities of course grew. In my program I didn't receive an stipend/TAship for grad work. So, I had to again make the decision as to whether or not it would be work$h it in the end. Taking out more loans and working (at times full-time) was difficult. The total of all my loans could buy me this to ride in or half of this to live on. You have to be very adult about making decisions regarding that much money.
The nature of graduate work (even at the MA level) also requires an adult attitude. I had to read, research, and write, on my own for much of the time. I had a wonderful advisor, but it was still up to me to actually do the work.
2. I don't have Ivory Tower Syndrome. First off, I'm not in any Ivory Tower. I'm in a building made of bricks and mortar, and technically as an adjunct I don't really have a building/office space of my own if you want to get into the spatial dynamics of the situation. I could go even a step further and discuss that issue: not having an office, or limited space, what does that say about how my work is valued? I lugged everything around in an old leather bag. But, I digress. The work I do and see myself doing in every way touches the world outside of academia. My research interests have me looking at issues of language politics and who gets to say what where, and how they say it, and how the message is received, and how this shapes our attitudes about culture/race/class. Why is this important? Well, in a world of sound-bites, you better hope that your 20 second relief gets cut and edited in just the right way.
I also see that we still talk about valuing language and writing but do we really? And what kind of value$ are we willing to put down? Many of our students (k-12) in poor urban environments still lack the ability to communicate effectively so that they can become active participants in circles outside of their communities. Who's responsible for this? Who's gonna teach them? How are we gonna teach? What approaches work best? I should also add that lots of our non-native speakers get more programs/funding than our natives speakers who could still be looked at as not holding enough English speaking skills to be effective communicators. That's not to say I'm against funding ESL research/work because that's another area I've been strongly committed to for much of my working life.
No, no, no. I don't plan to be locked in an office with books and coffee. Real academic work is not that easy. Working with language and writing and people means that your gonna get dirty. And I want to lather myself in the mud.
Wednesday, February 1, 2006
28 Weeks
I am entering into my 7th month of pregnancy.
Pregnancy. Month 7.
7 months, 2 more to go.
28 Weeks.
28 out of 40.
No matter how I say it, I can't believe it. My stomach is round and taught. What used to be my belly button is now a puckered navel. I have my dark birth line dividing my belly. I actually think my posture has improved, because of the weight of my stomach and breasts, I try to walk upright more. My hair has gotten longer, the hormones have blessed me with this. The rest of me hasn't changed that much, though its hard to see my feet and legs sometimes. I like how I look.
I'm utterly amazed at what my body has been able to do. And I didn't have anything to do with it. Jokes on me. I have no control over how much I would grow, when the baby moves, how I move, how often I have to go to the bathroom, or how often I can't go. I had not an ounce of control over any of these matters and yet everything still happens.
The baby now moves and shifts from side to side and I can feel arms and legs poke me in various places. In yoga class, there are certain positions she doesn't like (and I can't blame her). Downward facing dog gives me heartburn, but she seems to be comfortable with it. Any pose that requires me to sit or lay down still is not a favorite for her, she moves and kicks until you can actually see my stomach and shirt move.
I really don't know where the past 7 months have gone. Well, for 2 out of the 7 I didn't even realize I was preggers, so that leaves me with 5, and 2 more to enjoy.
Pregnancy. Month 7.
7 months, 2 more to go.
28 Weeks.
28 out of 40.
No matter how I say it, I can't believe it. My stomach is round and taught. What used to be my belly button is now a puckered navel. I have my dark birth line dividing my belly. I actually think my posture has improved, because of the weight of my stomach and breasts, I try to walk upright more. My hair has gotten longer, the hormones have blessed me with this. The rest of me hasn't changed that much, though its hard to see my feet and legs sometimes. I like how I look.
I'm utterly amazed at what my body has been able to do. And I didn't have anything to do with it. Jokes on me. I have no control over how much I would grow, when the baby moves, how I move, how often I have to go to the bathroom, or how often I can't go. I had not an ounce of control over any of these matters and yet everything still happens.
The baby now moves and shifts from side to side and I can feel arms and legs poke me in various places. In yoga class, there are certain positions she doesn't like (and I can't blame her). Downward facing dog gives me heartburn, but she seems to be comfortable with it. Any pose that requires me to sit or lay down still is not a favorite for her, she moves and kicks until you can actually see my stomach and shirt move.
I really don't know where the past 7 months have gone. Well, for 2 out of the 7 I didn't even realize I was preggers, so that leaves me with 5, and 2 more to enjoy.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Taking Advice from a lil bit of er-where
Last night I was talking to my grandma who told me that the moon had been through a changing phase, and this, she declared was the reason why so many people had been struggling. We've had several deaths (close relatives and friends of the family), along with financial problems, and the nasty ole black cloud that seems to have taken residence above our heads. So when I read Tree's post about giving unsolicited advice because so many friends and family seemed to be going through rough times, I felt like maybe my granny's theory had something going to it. It does seem like for so many people I know, there have been lots of hardships and obstacles here recently.
I have to thank Tree. I don't even know if there was anything directly related to me on that page, but little does Tree know, I was able to find meaning in many of the statements. I keep saying it, and its true, and I know I keep saying it because I'm still trying to force myself to believe it; there is so little we can actual control. What we have to learn to do is to be resilient. No, scratch that too. What I have to learn, is to be resilient. I think that's what separates me from being able to reach my goals. When something goes wrong, or doesn't go the way I planned, or just something unexpected happens, I spend so much time mulling over it and being angry/hurt/confused/let down/bruised, that I loose precious time. Time that I need to spend in finding another way, another solution.
This weekend, my dad and I exchanged our normal pleasantness after church. He asked how I was, and I said, "I can't complain." He said, "Oh really?" I responded, "Well, I guess I could, but it wouldn't do much good." Then he says, "No, the problem is the word you used. Complaining rarely gets results. You gotta think and be creative."
Creativity. I lack that. But again, I'm working on it.
I'm going to dedicate my next yoga practice to putting out positive vibes in the world for everyone-because it seems like we all need it.
I have to thank Tree. I don't even know if there was anything directly related to me on that page, but little does Tree know, I was able to find meaning in many of the statements. I keep saying it, and its true, and I know I keep saying it because I'm still trying to force myself to believe it; there is so little we can actual control. What we have to learn to do is to be resilient. No, scratch that too. What I have to learn, is to be resilient. I think that's what separates me from being able to reach my goals. When something goes wrong, or doesn't go the way I planned, or just something unexpected happens, I spend so much time mulling over it and being angry/hurt/confused/let down/bruised, that I loose precious time. Time that I need to spend in finding another way, another solution.
This weekend, my dad and I exchanged our normal pleasantness after church. He asked how I was, and I said, "I can't complain." He said, "Oh really?" I responded, "Well, I guess I could, but it wouldn't do much good." Then he says, "No, the problem is the word you used. Complaining rarely gets results. You gotta think and be creative."
Creativity. I lack that. But again, I'm working on it.
I'm going to dedicate my next yoga practice to putting out positive vibes in the world for everyone-because it seems like we all need it.
Monday, January 30, 2006
...don't wanna be no where but here....
The title comes from a Mos Def song... don't know why but here lately I've had the most random songs in my head, for no apparent reason.
This weekend was weird, it seemed like it was gonna start okie, but then after a series of icky events on Thursday, then an upset tummy that caused me to go to the doctor on Friday (baby is fine, just had a touch of the old stomach bug), and the fact that I could not sleep well at all because of horrific heartburn, it was just kinda nay-pooh. I didn't accomplish much of anything, did get to spend time with my family which was nice, but did nothing around the house, no writing, no reading, just griping (both verbally and physically- my belly).
Sunday, H and I were able to finally figure some things out, or so we hope. I'm actually not even gonna say we figured anything out, from now on I'm gonna call any plans for the future sketching. Sketching is different from actually drawing plans. When you draw plans, it sounds like you use a hard pencil with thick lead, if you erase anything, the picture gets smudges or smears all over it. Sketching is just a bunch of light lines, its the way you hope your picture will look, but you realize that between the time you conceptulize it in your head, get it to paper, and then show it to others, there are some lines that might have to change. So anyways, we sketched what we'd like to do once Cucumber is born, and while I wasn't immediatley pleased, lets just say its far better than having to think about day cares or babysitters, or any body we don't know or don't trust taking care of her. My family is all gonna pitch in and try to help, so that I can work outside the house (!) after she is born and so we won't end up living in a cardboard box. I've got some other sketches that I need to make, but it made me feel like I could stop holding my breathe for a little while, just knowing that there will be plenty of folks around who want to take care of her, and who want to help take care of us.
I'm hoping for a much more productive week than I've had the past couple of weeks. I also realized (with the help of H) that I spend far too much time lamenting and complaining about things that I have NO control over. And therefore, what happens is that I waste time and energy on those things and don't dedicate myself to the things that I can control.
Now, how do I get myself to remember that?
This weekend was weird, it seemed like it was gonna start okie, but then after a series of icky events on Thursday, then an upset tummy that caused me to go to the doctor on Friday (baby is fine, just had a touch of the old stomach bug), and the fact that I could not sleep well at all because of horrific heartburn, it was just kinda nay-pooh. I didn't accomplish much of anything, did get to spend time with my family which was nice, but did nothing around the house, no writing, no reading, just griping (both verbally and physically- my belly).
Sunday, H and I were able to finally figure some things out, or so we hope. I'm actually not even gonna say we figured anything out, from now on I'm gonna call any plans for the future sketching. Sketching is different from actually drawing plans. When you draw plans, it sounds like you use a hard pencil with thick lead, if you erase anything, the picture gets smudges or smears all over it. Sketching is just a bunch of light lines, its the way you hope your picture will look, but you realize that between the time you conceptulize it in your head, get it to paper, and then show it to others, there are some lines that might have to change. So anyways, we sketched what we'd like to do once Cucumber is born, and while I wasn't immediatley pleased, lets just say its far better than having to think about day cares or babysitters, or any body we don't know or don't trust taking care of her. My family is all gonna pitch in and try to help, so that I can work outside the house (!) after she is born and so we won't end up living in a cardboard box. I've got some other sketches that I need to make, but it made me feel like I could stop holding my breathe for a little while, just knowing that there will be plenty of folks around who want to take care of her, and who want to help take care of us.
I'm hoping for a much more productive week than I've had the past couple of weeks. I also realized (with the help of H) that I spend far too much time lamenting and complaining about things that I have NO control over. And therefore, what happens is that I waste time and energy on those things and don't dedicate myself to the things that I can control.
Now, how do I get myself to remember that?
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Not a complaint, but can I share a fear?
I first learned about blogs because the PhD program I was due to start at was big on blogging. Well, it wasn't like they were just all about blogs, but lots of the students and faculty members were into this, so I started reading their blogs which of course leads you to other blogs, and before you know it, your addicted to a good 10 that you have to read each day.
Well, for a while, after I realized I wasn't going to be able to go to school in the fall because of the baby and my MIL's cancer, I just stopped reading the academic-related blogs because it was difficult. It was hard for me to read about rhetorical theory, research projects, seminar papers, books, classes, teaching, conferences, etc, because for so long that has been what I thought I was going to be about, and to have my life turn around so suddenly, it took some time for me to actually work through things. And I must admit, I'm still working through. No, I don't regret the baby and I don't have ill feelings towards MIL, but most of all I was just mad at myself. Angry because I know that life throws twists and turns, why was it so difficult for me to learn to be more resilliant? I used to pride myself on always having a plan B, C, D, and E. Never just one. But I slacked, I got comfortable, and God threw me a curve ball. Again, the lesson or theme for today seems to be 'thinking outside of myself,' but now I don't have a complaint to spew, but a fear.
I started reading academic-related blogs again today and I'm fearful. Not jealous. Not angry. Not anything else, just fearful. Why? Because I feel like I'm so out of the game, not around scholars, not in school, not studying to be a scholar, not writing, not reading (well, nothing that amounts to much), and just not using my head and thinking, or trying to take things to the next level. I'm afraid I won't be able to do it again. Afraid I may have lost it. Now days, once I finish working my 8 hours, I do what most folks do, the folks I'd sworn I'd never be like, I go home, get food and park it in front of the TV. By 10, I'm ready for a shower, more TV and then the bed. Then I get up and do it all over again. On the weekends, its grocery store, cleaning, church, then hit repeat. Last year at this time I was teaching, working on a grant-funded research project, and was just about to get my acceptance into Grad school.
I don't want to be too hard on myself (thats a first!) because hey, I am pregnant and it is harder to move around, I'm more tired and tend to get irritated very easily, but I just wonder, is there any way I can get back into that groove? Maybe the problem is that I'm a different kind of peg now and I can no longer fit into that groove, I'm trying to force myself into something I am not. But then what kind of peg am I, and how can I create a groove that will fit me?
I do want to go to school, I do want a PhD, I do want to write, I do want to research, and overall, I do want to teach. Those things help to complete me, they are just who I am. But now, there is another part of me as well, this part that is going to be a mother, and this part that has had to act in more of a supportive role than before while we've been dealing with MIL's illness.
How can I expect myself to be able to do all those things and keep a family in balance? My family will always come first, but its my use of time and my thinking that will have to change.
I'm afriad I'm not who I thought I was, or who I thought I was going to be. And maybe the problem is that I was holding on to one set image of myself and now that image is whats going to have to change? But how do hold myself up to it? How do you write when you feel out of it? Okie, lets cut the bull-shit as my dad would say, how do you kick yourself in the ass?
As Moe Greene said, " I gotta business to run. I gotta kick asses sometimes to make it run right."
Damn Moe, now how can I do that?
Well, for a while, after I realized I wasn't going to be able to go to school in the fall because of the baby and my MIL's cancer, I just stopped reading the academic-related blogs because it was difficult. It was hard for me to read about rhetorical theory, research projects, seminar papers, books, classes, teaching, conferences, etc, because for so long that has been what I thought I was going to be about, and to have my life turn around so suddenly, it took some time for me to actually work through things. And I must admit, I'm still working through. No, I don't regret the baby and I don't have ill feelings towards MIL, but most of all I was just mad at myself. Angry because I know that life throws twists and turns, why was it so difficult for me to learn to be more resilliant? I used to pride myself on always having a plan B, C, D, and E. Never just one. But I slacked, I got comfortable, and God threw me a curve ball. Again, the lesson or theme for today seems to be 'thinking outside of myself,' but now I don't have a complaint to spew, but a fear.
I started reading academic-related blogs again today and I'm fearful. Not jealous. Not angry. Not anything else, just fearful. Why? Because I feel like I'm so out of the game, not around scholars, not in school, not studying to be a scholar, not writing, not reading (well, nothing that amounts to much), and just not using my head and thinking, or trying to take things to the next level. I'm afraid I won't be able to do it again. Afraid I may have lost it. Now days, once I finish working my 8 hours, I do what most folks do, the folks I'd sworn I'd never be like, I go home, get food and park it in front of the TV. By 10, I'm ready for a shower, more TV and then the bed. Then I get up and do it all over again. On the weekends, its grocery store, cleaning, church, then hit repeat. Last year at this time I was teaching, working on a grant-funded research project, and was just about to get my acceptance into Grad school.
I don't want to be too hard on myself (thats a first!) because hey, I am pregnant and it is harder to move around, I'm more tired and tend to get irritated very easily, but I just wonder, is there any way I can get back into that groove? Maybe the problem is that I'm a different kind of peg now and I can no longer fit into that groove, I'm trying to force myself into something I am not. But then what kind of peg am I, and how can I create a groove that will fit me?
I do want to go to school, I do want a PhD, I do want to write, I do want to research, and overall, I do want to teach. Those things help to complete me, they are just who I am. But now, there is another part of me as well, this part that is going to be a mother, and this part that has had to act in more of a supportive role than before while we've been dealing with MIL's illness.
How can I expect myself to be able to do all those things and keep a family in balance? My family will always come first, but its my use of time and my thinking that will have to change.
I'm afriad I'm not who I thought I was, or who I thought I was going to be. And maybe the problem is that I was holding on to one set image of myself and now that image is whats going to have to change? But how do hold myself up to it? How do you write when you feel out of it? Okie, lets cut the bull-shit as my dad would say, how do you kick yourself in the ass?
As Moe Greene said, " I gotta business to run. I gotta kick asses sometimes to make it run right."
Damn Moe, now how can I do that?
True
For about 20 of my 27 years, I've totally thought my dad was insane. Crazy. A monster. Paranoid. But the oddest thing started happening about 2 or 3 years ago, I realized that he was none of those things, I realized he was right.
Its weird though, how our perceptions of people can change. Kenneth Burke talked about terministic screens and I liken this to his theory. We move through life and experience things (events, people, language, images) and we try to make sense of them as best we can, but as we continue to move and note changes, our perceptions and understandings change and we try our best to make meaning.
I think (or rather I hope) that I'm learning that one of the best ways to make meaning is to allow the meaning to make itself. I tend to over-analyze almost everything and I think that's just the rhetorician in me. At times, we can't allow ourselves to do that, sometimes it takes the letting go in order to discover the meaning.
One thing my dad has always taught us is to keep our enemies close (yes, that is in relation to the Godfather), but there is truth in that statement. I've learned, and most often the hard way, that if you don't keep a close watch on those around you, you end up being hurt. I think some of these life lessons will become increasingly more important now that I'm preparing myself to be a mom, I want to pass along wisdom to my daughter.
Just minus the paranoia.
Its weird though, how our perceptions of people can change. Kenneth Burke talked about terministic screens and I liken this to his theory. We move through life and experience things (events, people, language, images) and we try to make sense of them as best we can, but as we continue to move and note changes, our perceptions and understandings change and we try our best to make meaning.
I think (or rather I hope) that I'm learning that one of the best ways to make meaning is to allow the meaning to make itself. I tend to over-analyze almost everything and I think that's just the rhetorician in me. At times, we can't allow ourselves to do that, sometimes it takes the letting go in order to discover the meaning.
One thing my dad has always taught us is to keep our enemies close (yes, that is in relation to the Godfather), but there is truth in that statement. I've learned, and most often the hard way, that if you don't keep a close watch on those around you, you end up being hurt. I think some of these life lessons will become increasingly more important now that I'm preparing myself to be a mom, I want to pass along wisdom to my daughter.
Just minus the paranoia.
No Complaints allowed
Being pregnant has taught me one clear thing about myself: at times I'm a very self-centered/focused individual. Now, this does not have to be a bad thing, it can in fact aid in one's own protection. My dad once pointed to our front door and told me, "Once you leave this house, on any given day, there are numerous people out there who are out to get you." Whenever he said that (which was often) I would always envision someone in a long trench coat, a Fedora, and dark shades standing on the corner trying to lure me into a dark alley. But as I got older, I understood a bit more about what he meant and I think I did develop a real 'tough girl' attitude, so much so, that at times it bordered or being both paranoid and selfish.
Sharing my body for six months now with someone I know, but don't know, has taught me to let go of some of myself and allow someone else to delegate and be in control. The larger Cucumber gets, the more I'm aware that I can't control everything about myself. Getting up 3-4x during the night, having to take vitamins the size of my pinky finger, drinking milk, eating (gasp) meat, (and enjoying it, gasp), having to sleep on one side, not being able to just run or jump up in the mornings. These are just small things that I've noticed, but they prepare you for something that is much larger than yourself.
In our yoga practices we are always encouraged to dedicate our practice to something that is much larger than ourselves, to take us outside of 'us/me' and to join with 'we/you' its something that I have to try to remember daily.
Sharing my body for six months now with someone I know, but don't know, has taught me to let go of some of myself and allow someone else to delegate and be in control. The larger Cucumber gets, the more I'm aware that I can't control everything about myself. Getting up 3-4x during the night, having to take vitamins the size of my pinky finger, drinking milk, eating (gasp) meat, (and enjoying it, gasp), having to sleep on one side, not being able to just run or jump up in the mornings. These are just small things that I've noticed, but they prepare you for something that is much larger than yourself.
In our yoga practices we are always encouraged to dedicate our practice to something that is much larger than ourselves, to take us outside of 'us/me' and to join with 'we/you' its something that I have to try to remember daily.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Cucumber Speaks, I Listen
I know I've said this a gazzillion times before here, but I am just so in awe of the fact that every day, the baby's movements are stronger and more pronounced. I can't tell the difference between arms and legs, but I can definitely tell the difference between her head and appendages. At some points, especially at night, when I roll over in bed, I can tell she doesn't like it because I've interrupted her position. Her head will move firmly over my bladder or my rib cage. I love that she reacts!
Last night, the dogs were barking and being extra woofy, and she would actually start kicking when they started to bark. The baby books have said that at this point her senses are becoming more and more acute, so she can probably hear some sounds. As I write this now, she is pounding away at my sides.
Lovely.
Last night, the dogs were barking and being extra woofy, and she would actually start kicking when they started to bark. The baby books have said that at this point her senses are becoming more and more acute, so she can probably hear some sounds. As I write this now, she is pounding away at my sides.
Lovely.
Emancipation
My brother and I were both having a rough day yesterday and so as we lamented about our lives, I think we came to a new revelation for the both of us.
Sometimes you got to get really down before you can really get up.
News Flash***I know that most people would say, "Duh, who doesn't know this!" or as my family likes to say, "Quit complaining and do something already!" or as my Dear husband says, "You are just figuring this out, and you are how old?"
Well yes, I am just figuring it out, and I am 27 years old. Thank you very much. But for almost the past year I've been on a roller coaster ride, school, work, family, illness, moving, not moving, pregnancy, the list goes on. This morning as I rolled myself off the side of the bed and felt extremely tired, even though I'd gone to bed early, I started thinking about all the things that I've experienced this past year, not just physically from the pregnancy, but emotionally as well. And its no wonder I feel tired. Not only is my body working around the clock to sustain my life and the baby's; but my head has been working around the clock as well, to try as hard as it possibly can to make sense out of everything that has happened. And it can't. I don't know everything has been woven together to meet at this point. But it has, and even though I don't understand why, and even though I'm broke, and afraid, and scared, and anxious. I'm also starting to feel excited and happy. Out of all of this chaos, I want to emancipate myself from the anxiousness that used to rule my life, from my dire need to feel important to outside people, from my thinking that if I don't have a house, 2.5 kids and a SUV I'm not making it. Because the truth is, I have thought that way, in the past.
All bull shit aside, as much as I once thought I knew myself and had it together, I didn't have a clue. It takes changes and movement to really learn who you are and where you are going.
At some points, and I think this blog reflects some of those moments, I've felt so low and crestfallen, and I'm sure to have many more days like that too, but I also want to feel new again.
Me again.
Sometimes you got to get really down before you can really get up.
News Flash***I know that most people would say, "Duh, who doesn't know this!" or as my family likes to say, "Quit complaining and do something already!" or as my Dear husband says, "You are just figuring this out, and you are how old?"
Well yes, I am just figuring it out, and I am 27 years old. Thank you very much. But for almost the past year I've been on a roller coaster ride, school, work, family, illness, moving, not moving, pregnancy, the list goes on. This morning as I rolled myself off the side of the bed and felt extremely tired, even though I'd gone to bed early, I started thinking about all the things that I've experienced this past year, not just physically from the pregnancy, but emotionally as well. And its no wonder I feel tired. Not only is my body working around the clock to sustain my life and the baby's; but my head has been working around the clock as well, to try as hard as it possibly can to make sense out of everything that has happened. And it can't. I don't know everything has been woven together to meet at this point. But it has, and even though I don't understand why, and even though I'm broke, and afraid, and scared, and anxious. I'm also starting to feel excited and happy. Out of all of this chaos, I want to emancipate myself from the anxiousness that used to rule my life, from my dire need to feel important to outside people, from my thinking that if I don't have a house, 2.5 kids and a SUV I'm not making it. Because the truth is, I have thought that way, in the past.
All bull shit aside, as much as I once thought I knew myself and had it together, I didn't have a clue. It takes changes and movement to really learn who you are and where you are going.
At some points, and I think this blog reflects some of those moments, I've felt so low and crestfallen, and I'm sure to have many more days like that too, but I also want to feel new again.
Me again.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
I blog because
i don't have anything to say. To anybody at anytime.
How do you know when you need to switch gears? How do you know when no matter how hard you try, something is not worth it, or not necessarily not worth it, but just not for you?
I gave my official notice of not going back to school in the Fall and it was much harder than I expected. Initially, I felt relieved. Finaly, I'd wrestled with everythign and a decision had been made. Then I felt hopeful, I'll send the email, but something else will work out. Then I felt despair, the email has been sent, the pen lifted on that chapter and its gone.
Trying to reapply again for the future feels like it just can't happen. There would be tests to take, apps to redo, references to try and solidify again, and the need to write or do something. At this point, the most academic thing I've done in the past year has been to read academic related blogs by real academics.
I'm just tired. I don't want to think of myself as a quitter, but I've got a baby on the way and maybe I just need to reshape/rethink my focus, because this shish ain't working.
I don't feel like writing when I get home, I'm not forced to write at work, but my work is not creative in nature and I just feel zapped and fried by the time I get home. Once I'm home, all I want to do really is to crawl in my bed and read (non-academic minded books mind you) or watch TV. I've watched more TV in the past six months than I have in the past six years.
My mind is mushy. And I don't think its just the hormones.
.......
How do you know when you need to switch gears? How do you know when no matter how hard you try, something is not worth it, or not necessarily not worth it, but just not for you?
I gave my official notice of not going back to school in the Fall and it was much harder than I expected. Initially, I felt relieved. Finaly, I'd wrestled with everythign and a decision had been made. Then I felt hopeful, I'll send the email, but something else will work out. Then I felt despair, the email has been sent, the pen lifted on that chapter and its gone.
Trying to reapply again for the future feels like it just can't happen. There would be tests to take, apps to redo, references to try and solidify again, and the need to write or do something. At this point, the most academic thing I've done in the past year has been to read academic related blogs by real academics.
I'm just tired. I don't want to think of myself as a quitter, but I've got a baby on the way and maybe I just need to reshape/rethink my focus, because this shish ain't working.
I don't feel like writing when I get home, I'm not forced to write at work, but my work is not creative in nature and I just feel zapped and fried by the time I get home. Once I'm home, all I want to do really is to crawl in my bed and read (non-academic minded books mind you) or watch TV. I've watched more TV in the past six months than I have in the past six years.
My mind is mushy. And I don't think its just the hormones.
.......
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
baldhfsdfoiusfdhsfsoijfs Week 24/25 Update
The title of my post describes exactly how I feel. I've got so much going on this week, and heck the next 3 months, I don't even know where to begin anymore.
Most of what I need to do now, involves prepping for the little one who is due to arrive in three super-short months, February doesn't even give me a full 30-31 days! My doctor's visit this past week revealed that my stomach is growing and growing and growing. She is moving more and more each day and in really weird positions that sometimes cut off my breathing. But the best part of it, is knowing that there is a tiny little person in there. The worse part, just the waiting and worrying. I am a worrier by nature, but now not only do I have myself to worry about, but also this brand new person! I worry about whether or not she'll have all her fingers/toes/eyes/ears/nose, whether she'll enjoy school, will she like to read, will she want to date at age 12, how will I keep the bad people away from her, and the good folks close? She's not even here yet and I panick.
I do try my best to control this panick though, because I don't want to pass along any of these feelings of angst to her. For now, the womb is a small, safe, warm environment. She'll have enough to deal with when she bursts into this world. Did I say burst?
We haven't started talking about what kind of birth we want. That seems to be the hot topic amongst many pregnancy groups, What kind of birth do you want? Uh, one that is pain free and leaves me ready to go to Disney the next day? What kind of birth do you want?
Many folks in my prenatal yoga class have done it before with no pain meds and say that yoga and breathing was all that they needed. Then, there is the medicated bunch who say that there was no way they could have gotten through it withough meds and lots of meds. I don't know where I fall with this yet. I have never been one to run to medicine or pain killers, for years I sufferred with menstral cramps that would knock me out for a full 8-10 hours. But I've never had to face the prospect of hurting for so long and then needed to have the energy to push out a living creature. I guess I've still got some time to decide on that one...
I want to up my yoga but can't find another class right now that fits into my schedule, though I just might have to create time, I feel like the more I get up and move around the better off I'll be. I just can't believe that time has gone this quickly already.
My stomach is not ultra huge, but I do have problems reaching my legs now to shave. So there, too much info for you!
***Note, I say 24/25 because the way I count my weeks (per the doctor) actually means that I begin a new week in the middle of a 'regular' week***
Most of what I need to do now, involves prepping for the little one who is due to arrive in three super-short months, February doesn't even give me a full 30-31 days! My doctor's visit this past week revealed that my stomach is growing and growing and growing. She is moving more and more each day and in really weird positions that sometimes cut off my breathing. But the best part of it, is knowing that there is a tiny little person in there. The worse part, just the waiting and worrying. I am a worrier by nature, but now not only do I have myself to worry about, but also this brand new person! I worry about whether or not she'll have all her fingers/toes/eyes/ears/nose, whether she'll enjoy school, will she like to read, will she want to date at age 12, how will I keep the bad people away from her, and the good folks close? She's not even here yet and I panick.
I do try my best to control this panick though, because I don't want to pass along any of these feelings of angst to her. For now, the womb is a small, safe, warm environment. She'll have enough to deal with when she bursts into this world. Did I say burst?
We haven't started talking about what kind of birth we want. That seems to be the hot topic amongst many pregnancy groups, What kind of birth do you want? Uh, one that is pain free and leaves me ready to go to Disney the next day? What kind of birth do you want?
Many folks in my prenatal yoga class have done it before with no pain meds and say that yoga and breathing was all that they needed. Then, there is the medicated bunch who say that there was no way they could have gotten through it withough meds and lots of meds. I don't know where I fall with this yet. I have never been one to run to medicine or pain killers, for years I sufferred with menstral cramps that would knock me out for a full 8-10 hours. But I've never had to face the prospect of hurting for so long and then needed to have the energy to push out a living creature. I guess I've still got some time to decide on that one...
I want to up my yoga but can't find another class right now that fits into my schedule, though I just might have to create time, I feel like the more I get up and move around the better off I'll be. I just can't believe that time has gone this quickly already.
My stomach is not ultra huge, but I do have problems reaching my legs now to shave. So there, too much info for you!
***Note, I say 24/25 because the way I count my weeks (per the doctor) actually means that I begin a new week in the middle of a 'regular' week***
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Ah...another task completed!
Okie, so another of my weekly tasks was to:
4. Create a list of writing projects.
And here they are:
1. Write about things that people have said to me that I don't want to forget:
-the time someone told me I was pretty, for a Black girl
-the time someone told me they were shocked that I was so smart
-the time I got called an Oreo
-the time my dad almost through my stero out the window
2. Write about rhetoric in pop culture
-My Good Times paper that never was finished
3. Continue w/ thesis writing
4. Create a list of writing projects.
And here they are:
1. Write about things that people have said to me that I don't want to forget:
-the time someone told me I was pretty, for a Black girl
-the time someone told me they were shocked that I was so smart
-the time I got called an Oreo
-the time my dad almost through my stero out the window
2. Write about rhetoric in pop culture
-My Good Times paper that never was finished
3. Continue w/ thesis writing
A running list of Music I will need to Deliver Cucumber
So, after reading a scary post about how deathly birthing/pregnancy are, I've decided to try to soften it up a bit for me by working on a list of music that I'd like to take with me. I've heard other mothers say that they planned to do all this stuff while in labor, but it never happened because well, they were in labor. I am going to try though.
Marron 5: This Love
James Brown: Paid the Cost
Dave Matthews Band: Crash, #34
Johnny Cash: Ring of Fire (To be played when the baby is 'crowning')
SWV: Weak in the Knees
Mos Def: Umi Says
50 Cent: Its your Birthday
Snoop Dog: What's My Name
Mary J Blige: My Life
Jill Scott: Thinking About You
(Artisit ?): Get Down on It
Annie Lenox: Sweet Dreams are Made of These
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: Last Dance
TBC
Marron 5: This Love
James Brown: Paid the Cost
Dave Matthews Band: Crash, #34
Johnny Cash: Ring of Fire (To be played when the baby is 'crowning')
SWV: Weak in the Knees
Mos Def: Umi Says
50 Cent: Its your Birthday
Snoop Dog: What's My Name
Mary J Blige: My Life
Jill Scott: Thinking About You
(Artisit ?): Get Down on It
Annie Lenox: Sweet Dreams are Made of These
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: Last Dance
TBC
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Happy to Report
I am happy to report, that as of today, I have accomplished one of my goals for the week:
Number 7:
7. Determine whether or not I want to take a class this semester.
I have determined that I do NOT want to take an academic class this semester, instead I will increase my yoga!
Ah, its nice to feel accomplished.
Number 7:
7. Determine whether or not I want to take a class this semester.
I have determined that I do NOT want to take an academic class this semester, instead I will increase my yoga!
Ah, its nice to feel accomplished.
Monday, January 9, 2006
Sometimes Isn't Always
Sometimes I don't feel like going to bedI don't feel like getting right up, sometimes.
Sometimes I don't feel like wearing my shoes
But sometimes isn't always
Sometimes I don't feel like combing my hairI don't feel like washing my face, sometimes
Sometimes I don't feel like saying "okay."
But sometimes isn't always
Sometimes I do feel like going to bedI do feel like washing my face, sometimes
Sometimes I do feel like saying okayBut sometimes isn't always
InstrumentalSometimes I don't feel like sometimes I doI feel like I don't like to feel, sometimes
Sometimes I don't and sometimes I do
But sometimes isn't always
Sometimes Isn’t
Sometimes Isn’t
Sometimes isn't always
Isn't always
Isn't always
(from Mister Roger's Neighborhood)
This is an exact mirror on my feelings right now. Some days I'm okie, and other days I'm not and feel like I'm just sinking.
Some days I want so badly to still go to school,
Some days I think I can stick around here and try a little harder.
Some days I miss writing,
Some days I think if I really missed it, I'd do it regardless of being in school or not.
Some days I feel like I'm on top of the world,
Some days I feel like I'm lost in the universe.
Some days I am strong and ready,
Some days I am weak and waiting,
Some days I trick myself,
Some days I'm honest,
Some days I miss my old self, so bad, and I just want to cry,
Some days I wonder if this is who I've always been.
Some days its all I can do not to cry,
Some days I laugh until my sides hurt and the baby kicks for me to stop, or continue.
Some days I want to pack and leave, and prepare,
Some days I want to move in with my parents.
But, sometimes isn't always, right?
Sometimes I don't feel like wearing my shoes
But sometimes isn't always
Sometimes I don't feel like combing my hairI don't feel like washing my face, sometimes
Sometimes I don't feel like saying "okay."
But sometimes isn't always
Sometimes I do feel like going to bedI do feel like washing my face, sometimes
Sometimes I do feel like saying okayBut sometimes isn't always
InstrumentalSometimes I don't feel like sometimes I doI feel like I don't like to feel, sometimes
Sometimes I don't and sometimes I do
But sometimes isn't always
Sometimes Isn’t
Sometimes Isn’t
Sometimes isn't always
Isn't always
Isn't always
(from Mister Roger's Neighborhood)
This is an exact mirror on my feelings right now. Some days I'm okie, and other days I'm not and feel like I'm just sinking.
Some days I want so badly to still go to school,
Some days I think I can stick around here and try a little harder.
Some days I miss writing,
Some days I think if I really missed it, I'd do it regardless of being in school or not.
Some days I feel like I'm on top of the world,
Some days I feel like I'm lost in the universe.
Some days I am strong and ready,
Some days I am weak and waiting,
Some days I trick myself,
Some days I'm honest,
Some days I miss my old self, so bad, and I just want to cry,
Some days I wonder if this is who I've always been.
Some days its all I can do not to cry,
Some days I laugh until my sides hurt and the baby kicks for me to stop, or continue.
Some days I want to pack and leave, and prepare,
Some days I want to move in with my parents.
But, sometimes isn't always, right?
Sunday, January 8, 2006
My goals for the week
I feel a need to post these in a public space so that maybe, just maybe, someone will hold me accountable.
1. Go to work everyday.
2. Go to bed at a decent hour so that I don't feel like a train ran over me in the morning.
3. Practice one yoga move each day.
4. Create a list of writing projects.
5. Create a house inventory of things we have/need to get before Cucumber.
6. Start to look at room organization.
7. Determine whether or not I want to take a class this semester.
1. Go to work everyday.
2. Go to bed at a decent hour so that I don't feel like a train ran over me in the morning.
3. Practice one yoga move each day.
4. Create a list of writing projects.
5. Create a house inventory of things we have/need to get before Cucumber.
6. Start to look at room organization.
7. Determine whether or not I want to take a class this semester.
"You are your father's daughter."
I am my father's daughter. My mom reminds me of that whenever I get loud, argue, accuse someone of being "out to get me," or act overly paranoid. How can it be that the one person I feared and ran from for well over ten years, is the one person I see now as an ally, sometimes the only ally I have outside of H.
Maybe its because of his attitude (harsh, loud, conservative, theatrical, humorous) that now I really want to throw caution to the wind and do what I want to do. I don't mean that in a selfish way, naw, shit, maybe I do. Why is it that when you try to think of other people and what they want, or suggest, things seem to be so much more complicated. But, if you think only of yourself, while you might be happy you risk so many others being unhappy, either as a direct result of your actions, or an indirect result.
The past six months have changed me as a person, but my core remains the same. That seems contradictory, and I'm not even sure what I mean by that statement exactly. I just know that the same things I wanted six months ago are the same things I want right now, maybe even more so. Being pregnant, I know that I have to think of this person, this little girl who is inside of me. Everything I do directly affects her, what I eat, when I sleep, exercise, even showering (she does not like when the shower water hits my belly, she hits back). But the other decisions and choices I have to make affect her too, and I wonder just what it is I'm doing, and if its too late to change. And if I change, will those decisions really be any better for her.
I'm just tired.
Maybe its because of his attitude (harsh, loud, conservative, theatrical, humorous) that now I really want to throw caution to the wind and do what I want to do. I don't mean that in a selfish way, naw, shit, maybe I do. Why is it that when you try to think of other people and what they want, or suggest, things seem to be so much more complicated. But, if you think only of yourself, while you might be happy you risk so many others being unhappy, either as a direct result of your actions, or an indirect result.
The past six months have changed me as a person, but my core remains the same. That seems contradictory, and I'm not even sure what I mean by that statement exactly. I just know that the same things I wanted six months ago are the same things I want right now, maybe even more so. Being pregnant, I know that I have to think of this person, this little girl who is inside of me. Everything I do directly affects her, what I eat, when I sleep, exercise, even showering (she does not like when the shower water hits my belly, she hits back). But the other decisions and choices I have to make affect her too, and I wonder just what it is I'm doing, and if its too late to change. And if I change, will those decisions really be any better for her.
I'm just tired.
Friday, January 6, 2006
help me
I want a ham (or) turkey sandwhich with mustard on white bread.
And an RC cola.
What is happening to me?
And an RC cola.
What is happening to me?
Wednesday, January 4, 2006
Everybody wants to rule the world...
I can't believe its 2006. This is the year of the Cucumber, ready or not she will be here in four short months. Its like I knew all along that in one way or another she'd have to come out, but now I'm nervous and not ready! I'm just at a point now, (week 23) where my energy has picked up, I feel pretty good and I'm getting used to my new body. My favorite part of the day is when I lay down on the sofa and she kicks and kicks and kicks and kicks until I get up and walk around. This kid likes movement, already so much like her mama.
We had a quiet holiday and it was nice. Christmas was good, New Year's o.k. with H's mom in the hospital we spent the later part of the holiday break we spent much of our time looking after her. She is home and recoperating now.
Over the break I spent some time watching TV and listening to music, no shocker there I'm sure, but I listened to some oldies and I'm amazed at the memories that came back to me, of course because I'm suffering from pregnancy brain I can't remember all of the songs, but here are a few:
Natalie Merchant and 10,000 Maniacs Because the Night
Tears for Fears Everybody Wants to Rule the World
George Michaels Careless Whispers
There is much to say about these three songs, but for now I must be happy that I've at least listed these here so hopefully I won't forget to come back and talk about them.
We had a quiet holiday and it was nice. Christmas was good, New Year's o.k. with H's mom in the hospital we spent the later part of the holiday break we spent much of our time looking after her. She is home and recoperating now.
Over the break I spent some time watching TV and listening to music, no shocker there I'm sure, but I listened to some oldies and I'm amazed at the memories that came back to me, of course because I'm suffering from pregnancy brain I can't remember all of the songs, but here are a few:
Natalie Merchant and 10,000 Maniacs Because the Night
Tears for Fears Everybody Wants to Rule the World
George Michaels Careless Whispers
There is much to say about these three songs, but for now I must be happy that I've at least listed these here so hopefully I won't forget to come back and talk about them.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Rethinking: away
I'm thinking back over what I wrote. And noticing how I sound.
Angry, still. Sad. Pessimistic. Maybe a bit hopeful?
I still got a long ways to go, with everything.
I want to learn from all of this. Being pregnant has taught me so much, and opened my eyes to so much, some times whether I wanted to or not. But one thing I'm thinking al0t about is what is really important to me. This baby, my family, my work. But yet I have so much fear, and it feels like so little faith at times.
I'm too tired to think anymore right now and Cucumber has settled to kick me on just one side, which means I need to go to bed.
Maybe not thinking is the key to this one.
Angry, still. Sad. Pessimistic. Maybe a bit hopeful?
I still got a long ways to go, with everything.
I want to learn from all of this. Being pregnant has taught me so much, and opened my eyes to so much, some times whether I wanted to or not. But one thing I'm thinking al0t about is what is really important to me. This baby, my family, my work. But yet I have so much fear, and it feels like so little faith at times.
I'm too tired to think anymore right now and Cucumber has settled to kick me on just one side, which means I need to go to bed.
Maybe not thinking is the key to this one.
away.
Christmas has come and gone. The days after always seemed kinda sad to me as a kid, all that excitement and then poof, its gone. My family was never really big with doing anything for New Year's. We'd stay up until midnight watching TV, but that was about it. A few times I'd stay with my cousin at my grandma's house. She'd let us buy all the junk food we wanted and stay up and watch cable. That was a big deal coming from a house where junk food equaled stale twinkies and we had no cable until 1999.
This year, we really didn't do any gift exchanges, all the money is being saved for the baby now. We did go to church with my dad and H's mom, which was nice. The past couple of days its also been nice just to operate on my own schedule. Eat when I want, sleep when I want, move when I want. Everyone keeps reminding us to enjoy this now, because once she gets here, its all over.
Tonight I've decided to start clearing out our extra bedroom. We don't really plan to have a true nursery for her, she'll stay in our room for quite some time. But this spare room is used as a junky office right now, and I want to try to utilize all the space we have in the apartment. I cleared out a file drawer and started looking through old papers from classes I taught during the Spring.
Spring 05 I was teaching composition and literature courses and eagerly awaiting to here about my PhD application at the place I applied. I was very different then, for lots of reasons. Some good, some bad. In just a matter of months, I'm in awe at how quickly things can change. And, at how I have so little control over any of it. Six months ago, I was looking for a full time job so that my husband could finish his Masters full time, work part time, and save up enough for our move because of my acceptance into a PhD program. I felt like I could do anything, and that I had it all worked out.
I got a full time job, and within in a month of that, found out I was pregnant. I still felt like I was on course, could finish working the job, husband could finish degree, hey the baby would even be at his graduation. About two months after that, my husband's mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. We started to think about whether or not we really could move so far with this diagnosis. Granted, the move was still 6-8 months away, but I had to let the school know for sure whether or not I was coming. The doctors couldn't tell us anything other than that she would need chemo after the surgery, and with the surgery not happening until late December, the chemo would not start until the end/beginning of February and we didn't know how long it would last. With the baby due in April and the move scheduled for June, I knew it couldn't be done. I told them I wasn't coming.
So much of the angst and anger I felt initially came from selfishness, I wanted my plan to work because I had created it and I liked it. Nuff said. Then I became angry because I started to feel stuck. Stuck in this city where I've been all my life. Stuck in a job I dread going to every day. Stuck with so few opportunities to actually do what I love, teach and write and research. I just got angry. And then I got sad. So sad, there would be days when I'd have tears in my eyes as I worked. Days when I would cry and half the time not even really understand why. Looking back on it, I know that some of the time this was probably my hormones, but it also comes from this disorder I have. The constant need to be in control and the feeling that I can think myself out or into anything. H says its comes from school, the idea that I can read a book and think or mull over something and come up with an answer in no time flat. I agree, I am so addicted to school and reading that in some ways it probably does affect me socially, but for so long, its just been all that I know.
And now, I know that I don't know. I'm not sure that I'm okie with that, but I've come to that realization. There are just some things I don't know the answer to, and no amount of reading or thinking on my part is gonna give me an answer. If you had told me a year ago, that I'd be pregnant, a full-time secretary, not going back to school anytime soon, and going through the illness of a family member all at the same time, I' d have frozen. And in some ways I have frozen. I have days where I don't quite know what to do, what move to make, and its like I just find myself going through the motions. But I have to believe. I have to believe that all of this is happening at this very moment for a reason.
And I can't ask why, or I can ask but it might not be revealed.
Tonite there are so many different parts of me that feel so far away; my writing self, my teaching self, my worry self, my planning self, my just-make-do or half-ass self. Some of those selves I miss, some of them I don't. This pregnancy has taught me to honor myself and not be half-ass with anything. I want to do my best because I want to set a good example for my daughter. But I miss the teaching and writing selves. I'm not able to dedicate myself to those things right now, there are too many other things I have to tend to. I don't miss the worry self, not at all. As weird as it may seem, this pregnancy has provided me with a calmness I never felt before. It gives me reason to stop and feel. Not only to feel what's going on inside of me, but what's going on around me as well.
That other person I was months ago, just feels so far away from me right now. I want part of her to come back, but I don't know if she will, or if she should.
This year, we really didn't do any gift exchanges, all the money is being saved for the baby now. We did go to church with my dad and H's mom, which was nice. The past couple of days its also been nice just to operate on my own schedule. Eat when I want, sleep when I want, move when I want. Everyone keeps reminding us to enjoy this now, because once she gets here, its all over.
Tonight I've decided to start clearing out our extra bedroom. We don't really plan to have a true nursery for her, she'll stay in our room for quite some time. But this spare room is used as a junky office right now, and I want to try to utilize all the space we have in the apartment. I cleared out a file drawer and started looking through old papers from classes I taught during the Spring.
Spring 05 I was teaching composition and literature courses and eagerly awaiting to here about my PhD application at the place I applied. I was very different then, for lots of reasons. Some good, some bad. In just a matter of months, I'm in awe at how quickly things can change. And, at how I have so little control over any of it. Six months ago, I was looking for a full time job so that my husband could finish his Masters full time, work part time, and save up enough for our move because of my acceptance into a PhD program. I felt like I could do anything, and that I had it all worked out.
I got a full time job, and within in a month of that, found out I was pregnant. I still felt like I was on course, could finish working the job, husband could finish degree, hey the baby would even be at his graduation. About two months after that, my husband's mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. We started to think about whether or not we really could move so far with this diagnosis. Granted, the move was still 6-8 months away, but I had to let the school know for sure whether or not I was coming. The doctors couldn't tell us anything other than that she would need chemo after the surgery, and with the surgery not happening until late December, the chemo would not start until the end/beginning of February and we didn't know how long it would last. With the baby due in April and the move scheduled for June, I knew it couldn't be done. I told them I wasn't coming.
So much of the angst and anger I felt initially came from selfishness, I wanted my plan to work because I had created it and I liked it. Nuff said. Then I became angry because I started to feel stuck. Stuck in this city where I've been all my life. Stuck in a job I dread going to every day. Stuck with so few opportunities to actually do what I love, teach and write and research. I just got angry. And then I got sad. So sad, there would be days when I'd have tears in my eyes as I worked. Days when I would cry and half the time not even really understand why. Looking back on it, I know that some of the time this was probably my hormones, but it also comes from this disorder I have. The constant need to be in control and the feeling that I can think myself out or into anything. H says its comes from school, the idea that I can read a book and think or mull over something and come up with an answer in no time flat. I agree, I am so addicted to school and reading that in some ways it probably does affect me socially, but for so long, its just been all that I know.
And now, I know that I don't know. I'm not sure that I'm okie with that, but I've come to that realization. There are just some things I don't know the answer to, and no amount of reading or thinking on my part is gonna give me an answer. If you had told me a year ago, that I'd be pregnant, a full-time secretary, not going back to school anytime soon, and going through the illness of a family member all at the same time, I' d have frozen. And in some ways I have frozen. I have days where I don't quite know what to do, what move to make, and its like I just find myself going through the motions. But I have to believe. I have to believe that all of this is happening at this very moment for a reason.
And I can't ask why, or I can ask but it might not be revealed.
Tonite there are so many different parts of me that feel so far away; my writing self, my teaching self, my worry self, my planning self, my just-make-do or half-ass self. Some of those selves I miss, some of them I don't. This pregnancy has taught me to honor myself and not be half-ass with anything. I want to do my best because I want to set a good example for my daughter. But I miss the teaching and writing selves. I'm not able to dedicate myself to those things right now, there are too many other things I have to tend to. I don't miss the worry self, not at all. As weird as it may seem, this pregnancy has provided me with a calmness I never felt before. It gives me reason to stop and feel. Not only to feel what's going on inside of me, but what's going on around me as well.
That other person I was months ago, just feels so far away from me right now. I want part of her to come back, but I don't know if she will, or if she should.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Due Dates don't mean Much
I forgot to mention in the past post about the ultrasound, apparently there is more confusion on my due date. Now I've heard the following:
April 16
April 26
April 29
May 2
Anybody got any ideas?
April 16
April 26
April 29
May 2
Anybody got any ideas?
...and the Saga shall begin... (Week 20/21?)
So, last Friday (12/16/05) was the big day, we had our 5 month/ 20 week prenatal visit with complete ultrasound. Amazing. (I've got to find another word to use, but I'm finding that there are very few words that can really describe this process.)
The doctor did the ultrasound with H standing just behind him, the room was dark and there is a small monitor that shows the pictures, everything is in black in white. The first thing we saw was the head, the doctor measured and we are happy to report that all is normal, then the spine, a long white snake-looking thing, with tiny vertebrae, gorgeous. Then the abdomen, where we saw a tiny beautiful heart, beating away. We saw the chest cavity, stomach, liver, and all of the other organs that the doctor looks for. Then, baby began to get antsy and wanted to show us what the purpose of this visit was really all about, cartwheels! As soon as the doctor would press down with the wand to get a good close look, flip, and we'd see the butt. Legs stretched, arms moved, hands pushed, lets hope baby is this eager when its time for delivery.
The doctor asked us if we wanted to know if we were having a boy or girl, we'd agreed before that we wanted to know, but we just didn't want to share the name with anyone. So, doc zoomed in to focus between the legs, and what did we find? An umbilical cord! The cord was planted nicely were genitals should be! He waited and looked a bit more, and sure enough, it looks like a girl. A gorgeous, sassy, smart, girl. We are thrilled!
After we left the hospital we started to discuss all the cool things we want her to do: soccer, yoga, tai ji, kung fu, Yale, Oxford, Rhodes Scholar, guitar player, and of course, just be happy. Then we started to think about when she'd break curfew, want to date, tell us that she wanted to wear tight clothes and not want to go to school, I nearly balled.
How is it possible to love such a little person who kicks me in my gutt every hour, nestles her head in my rib cage (or feet, I can't tell), gives me the worse gas I've ever had in my life, keeps me awake at night with horrible leg cramps, and makes me cry for no apparent reason? I don't know, but this is all so amazing.
The doctor did the ultrasound with H standing just behind him, the room was dark and there is a small monitor that shows the pictures, everything is in black in white. The first thing we saw was the head, the doctor measured and we are happy to report that all is normal, then the spine, a long white snake-looking thing, with tiny vertebrae, gorgeous. Then the abdomen, where we saw a tiny beautiful heart, beating away. We saw the chest cavity, stomach, liver, and all of the other organs that the doctor looks for. Then, baby began to get antsy and wanted to show us what the purpose of this visit was really all about, cartwheels! As soon as the doctor would press down with the wand to get a good close look, flip, and we'd see the butt. Legs stretched, arms moved, hands pushed, lets hope baby is this eager when its time for delivery.
The doctor asked us if we wanted to know if we were having a boy or girl, we'd agreed before that we wanted to know, but we just didn't want to share the name with anyone. So, doc zoomed in to focus between the legs, and what did we find? An umbilical cord! The cord was planted nicely were genitals should be! He waited and looked a bit more, and sure enough, it looks like a girl. A gorgeous, sassy, smart, girl. We are thrilled!
After we left the hospital we started to discuss all the cool things we want her to do: soccer, yoga, tai ji, kung fu, Yale, Oxford, Rhodes Scholar, guitar player, and of course, just be happy. Then we started to think about when she'd break curfew, want to date, tell us that she wanted to wear tight clothes and not want to go to school, I nearly balled.
How is it possible to love such a little person who kicks me in my gutt every hour, nestles her head in my rib cage (or feet, I can't tell), gives me the worse gas I've ever had in my life, keeps me awake at night with horrible leg cramps, and makes me cry for no apparent reason? I don't know, but this is all so amazing.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
I'm a hatah baby, I just want ya to know...
I am learning so much about myself, but its a son-of-a-gun that it takes hard/difficult/challenging times in order for me to do this learning. I always want to do it the easy way, like, can't I read a book or take a class on it, or something?
I've had a most difficult time readjusting myself to the fact that everything and everybody does not work on my schedule. I know, I know, this lesson will be best learned when the baby gets here and begins to rule the roost with an Iron fist. I don't know where this need to control and plan comes from in me, but its something that I battle constantly.
I think that is one of the reasons I'm afraid of labor, because I know that I won't be in control- not the I that I'm so accustomed to. The I that will be in control will be a primordial I, my body, that will instinctively know what to do (or so I've been told). But how do I know that I can trust that I? A few weeks ago, I wrote about how my dad said that I lack grounding, or how the only things I've ever really been grounded in are my husband and my education. That is so true. How do I ground myself in both I and I?
I've had a most difficult time readjusting myself to the fact that everything and everybody does not work on my schedule. I know, I know, this lesson will be best learned when the baby gets here and begins to rule the roost with an Iron fist. I don't know where this need to control and plan comes from in me, but its something that I battle constantly.
I think that is one of the reasons I'm afraid of labor, because I know that I won't be in control- not the I that I'm so accustomed to. The I that will be in control will be a primordial I, my body, that will instinctively know what to do (or so I've been told). But how do I know that I can trust that I? A few weeks ago, I wrote about how my dad said that I lack grounding, or how the only things I've ever really been grounded in are my husband and my education. That is so true. How do I ground myself in both I and I?
Wednesday, December 7, 2005
Rumble in Me Tummy-Week 20
The sweetest bestest thing about this week is that Cucumber moves enough now so that I can feel it. I can't really describe the feeling, but its so sweet. It's like a miniture rumble or temble in my tummy ever so often.
Certain foods and drinks seem to cause the rumble even more: orange juice, pasta w/ veggies, and pancakes. This kid likes to eat already.
The pinched nerve doesn't hurt quite as bad, but I've been tired lately and I think its because the baby is going through another growth spurt.
Next week is our 21 week visit and we shall determine if said Cuke is a boy or girl (and pray that all is growing according to plan), either way we have a majorly cool name....stay tuned!
Certain foods and drinks seem to cause the rumble even more: orange juice, pasta w/ veggies, and pancakes. This kid likes to eat already.
The pinched nerve doesn't hurt quite as bad, but I've been tired lately and I think its because the baby is going through another growth spurt.
Next week is our 21 week visit and we shall determine if said Cuke is a boy or girl (and pray that all is growing according to plan), either way we have a majorly cool name....stay tuned!
Sunday, December 4, 2005
GradeSchool Grammars...
I went to small Catholic schools all my life, until College. And I do mean small. The school I went to for grades K-3 actually closed down because of low enrollment, then I switched to another for 4-8, but that school had 0 funds. Most of the kids were there on some form of scholarship or the nuns and Church helped to pay their way. That school actually closed down a year ago because they were so in the hole, as far as funding goes. Then my first year of high school I went to a very small Catholic prep school. Total enrollment, grades 9-12:60. Yup. They closed down too. I finally finished up high school for grades 10-12 at a larger (156 grades 9-12) all girls school. Needles to say, I've had some pretty interesting experiences.
My elementary schools were both made up primarily of lower-middle class folks. The first one, was really diverse in terms of color, but the second was all black with the exception of 3-5 white kids who were there. Some of my fondest memories from both those schools had nothing to do with the kids, I really didn't have any friends. But the libraries were amazing for me.
At the first school, we'll call it Divine Mother K-8, there was a huge library that took up most of the second floor. In the early days of the school, there was money and funding, but as the neighborhood broke down and people starting moving to the suburbs and sending their kids to school out there, the school changed too. But this library was amazing. I remember the checker-boxed floor, it was always cold. There were radiators that heated the building, but anyone who has had the experience of a radiator heated building/house/apartment knows that you are only warm if you are within two feet of the thing. In the summer, the library was hot, with an old air conditioner trying its best to push cool air out into the large room. There were book shelves that lined all of the walls. In the center there was a large old colorful carpet and rocking chair. The chair was were the librarian would sit to read to us. She was the stereotypical librarian, short, chunky, thick hair cut short but still out of control, and glasses so thick you could barely see her eyes.
We went to the library as a class once a week, but were able to go more often if we wanted. I adored reading. I mean adored. My grandmother taught me to read when I was about 3 years old and it was like starting a fire in a woods full of dry brush. The most exciting thing about trips to the library was the independence you felt. As a kid there are very few choices you get to make for yourself, but in this place, this space, I was allowed to choose any book I wanted. I read everything from astronomy to mysteries to history. I loved learning about space and I really enjoyed Hellen Keller's biography and the Nancy Drew series. When that school closed down at the end of my 3rd grade year, the librarian told me that I'd read the equivalent to all the books on two of the largest walls.
At my next school the library was much smaller. About the size of a large master bedroom, the walls were full of books and in the center of the room there were about 2 or 3 computers. That school, we'll call St. Augustine's sufferred greatly when it came to finding ways to gain money. There were rarely new books, and many of the ones we had were so old. By the time I graduated, four years, I'd read every book in that library, including the ones for the younger kids because I would read to them in their classrooms. By this time I'd also discovered book stores and the thrift store. My mom and I would go to the Goodwill on the weekends and for five bucks I could load up. Thats where I discovered Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird and S.E. Hinton's That was Then, This is Now. I also read your typical pre-teen girly books, the Sweet Valley Twins series and the Babysitter Club books, but I always came back to the more serious ones, the ones that would make me cry or shiver because I could feel what the characters were going through.
In high school I was fortunate to have great English teachers, so while we read the traditional Chaucer, Shakespeare, Hemingway, we were also introduced to really good contemporary writers as well (Sherri Reynolds and Jane Smiley to name a few). My favorite book from high school would have to be Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. I think it was the layers, the way Conrad was able to have his character move deep into the Congo and not only change the scenery, but the way the character was seeing and how we as readers saw him. It was also my first introduction to African history. Or I guess, questioning the history I was being taught and read about.
In college I of course became an English major, but my reading was actually stifled during that time period. There were more choices, a larger library, the ability to check out as many books as I wanted, but there wasn't that same sense of freedom that I felt back in 3rd grade. I no longer felt like I could wander into the science section, or history. I stayed in the literature section and read only what my teachers told me, or what I thought I was supposed to read.
Here lately though, I've been reading like a 3rd grader again. When I wonder around in the book store I try to hit all the sections, not just fiction or Oprah's choices. We should all read like 3rd graders.
My elementary schools were both made up primarily of lower-middle class folks. The first one, was really diverse in terms of color, but the second was all black with the exception of 3-5 white kids who were there. Some of my fondest memories from both those schools had nothing to do with the kids, I really didn't have any friends. But the libraries were amazing for me.
At the first school, we'll call it Divine Mother K-8, there was a huge library that took up most of the second floor. In the early days of the school, there was money and funding, but as the neighborhood broke down and people starting moving to the suburbs and sending their kids to school out there, the school changed too. But this library was amazing. I remember the checker-boxed floor, it was always cold. There were radiators that heated the building, but anyone who has had the experience of a radiator heated building/house/apartment knows that you are only warm if you are within two feet of the thing. In the summer, the library was hot, with an old air conditioner trying its best to push cool air out into the large room. There were book shelves that lined all of the walls. In the center there was a large old colorful carpet and rocking chair. The chair was were the librarian would sit to read to us. She was the stereotypical librarian, short, chunky, thick hair cut short but still out of control, and glasses so thick you could barely see her eyes.
We went to the library as a class once a week, but were able to go more often if we wanted. I adored reading. I mean adored. My grandmother taught me to read when I was about 3 years old and it was like starting a fire in a woods full of dry brush. The most exciting thing about trips to the library was the independence you felt. As a kid there are very few choices you get to make for yourself, but in this place, this space, I was allowed to choose any book I wanted. I read everything from astronomy to mysteries to history. I loved learning about space and I really enjoyed Hellen Keller's biography and the Nancy Drew series. When that school closed down at the end of my 3rd grade year, the librarian told me that I'd read the equivalent to all the books on two of the largest walls.
At my next school the library was much smaller. About the size of a large master bedroom, the walls were full of books and in the center of the room there were about 2 or 3 computers. That school, we'll call St. Augustine's sufferred greatly when it came to finding ways to gain money. There were rarely new books, and many of the ones we had were so old. By the time I graduated, four years, I'd read every book in that library, including the ones for the younger kids because I would read to them in their classrooms. By this time I'd also discovered book stores and the thrift store. My mom and I would go to the Goodwill on the weekends and for five bucks I could load up. Thats where I discovered Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird and S.E. Hinton's That was Then, This is Now. I also read your typical pre-teen girly books, the Sweet Valley Twins series and the Babysitter Club books, but I always came back to the more serious ones, the ones that would make me cry or shiver because I could feel what the characters were going through.
In high school I was fortunate to have great English teachers, so while we read the traditional Chaucer, Shakespeare, Hemingway, we were also introduced to really good contemporary writers as well (Sherri Reynolds and Jane Smiley to name a few). My favorite book from high school would have to be Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. I think it was the layers, the way Conrad was able to have his character move deep into the Congo and not only change the scenery, but the way the character was seeing and how we as readers saw him. It was also my first introduction to African history. Or I guess, questioning the history I was being taught and read about.
In college I of course became an English major, but my reading was actually stifled during that time period. There were more choices, a larger library, the ability to check out as many books as I wanted, but there wasn't that same sense of freedom that I felt back in 3rd grade. I no longer felt like I could wander into the science section, or history. I stayed in the literature section and read only what my teachers told me, or what I thought I was supposed to read.
Here lately though, I've been reading like a 3rd grader again. When I wonder around in the book store I try to hit all the sections, not just fiction or Oprah's choices. We should all read like 3rd graders.
Saturday, December 3, 2005
growing too fast
This week I have had more growing pains than I expected. My back, stomach, ribs, and pieces that I didn't even know exisisted on my body have been stretched, and from what I can tell will continue to stretch for the next 41/2 months. Wow.
I even went to the drs b/cs of all this stretching, but apparently its all normal. I noticed today after my yoga class that I felt much better, the stretching and positions I forced my body into really helped to work out some of those kinks. The stress I've been under since Thanksgiving also probably hasn't really helped anything either.
But, its almost time for Christmas break, a nice few weeks off, and in a couple of weeks I get to find out if Cucumber is a boy or girl, hopefully not both.
Until then, I'm dealing with the stretching, gas, and quickening movements and just trying to keep it all together as best I can.
***
Cucumber seems to really like my left side for flips and movement more than any other side. Cool.
I even went to the drs b/cs of all this stretching, but apparently its all normal. I noticed today after my yoga class that I felt much better, the stretching and positions I forced my body into really helped to work out some of those kinks. The stress I've been under since Thanksgiving also probably hasn't really helped anything either.
But, its almost time for Christmas break, a nice few weeks off, and in a couple of weeks I get to find out if Cucumber is a boy or girl, hopefully not both.
Until then, I'm dealing with the stretching, gas, and quickening movements and just trying to keep it all together as best I can.
***
Cucumber seems to really like my left side for flips and movement more than any other side. Cool.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
How Amazing...Week 19
It does not seem like it should be week 19 yet, I feel like it was just Saturday morning and I woke up knowing that I needed to take a pregnancy test. That could not have been 3 and a half months ago.
That day my life changed, and it was so weird, so odd. I'd been feeling moody and grumpy, but attributed it to my period starting, PMS. But the period never came. One Saturday morning I woke up after the weirdest dream* and just knew that I needed to take a pregnancy test. I had one, because I'd had a moment or two before where for a minute I thought I might be, but wasn't. So, I got up, went into the bathroom and peed the stick. Within two minutes there were two lines. Two lines.
H was stretched out asleep on the living room floor, and I immediately woke him up. I didn't shout or yell, it was just a hushed, "H, I think I'm pregnant." He was groggy, but got up and stumbled into the bathroom with me. I had to get a second opinion on the pink lines. After we both decided it was pink, we then decided we needed to go to Target and get at least 2 or 3 more tests, just to verify.
I think what shocked me the most about the entire thing was just the fact that I felt no different physically. I was my same self, just with PMS symptoms, but other than that just fine. That lasted for about two weeks only, then the morning sickness began to settle in.
Now, I'm 19 weeks along and feeling pretty darn preggo. My body is changing right before my eyes, its so weird when I look at myself now, because its like my face, but the body is just weird, different, bigger.
An interesting aside:
My mom and H were talking before Thanksgiving about how 'well' they thought I was handling the pregnancy. Both seemed to be relatively shocked, due to the fact that I had not panicked a great deal and was handling things like doctor visits, getting blood drawn, and the prospects of labor pretty well. They then went on to discuss my weight gain. I've put on a total of 10 pounds. They both agreed most of the weight has gone to my boobs.
That I'm sure, was a weird conversations. Husbands and mother-in-laws should not discuss wives/daughters boobs.
That day my life changed, and it was so weird, so odd. I'd been feeling moody and grumpy, but attributed it to my period starting, PMS. But the period never came. One Saturday morning I woke up after the weirdest dream* and just knew that I needed to take a pregnancy test. I had one, because I'd had a moment or two before where for a minute I thought I might be, but wasn't. So, I got up, went into the bathroom and peed the stick. Within two minutes there were two lines. Two lines.
H was stretched out asleep on the living room floor, and I immediately woke him up. I didn't shout or yell, it was just a hushed, "H, I think I'm pregnant." He was groggy, but got up and stumbled into the bathroom with me. I had to get a second opinion on the pink lines. After we both decided it was pink, we then decided we needed to go to Target and get at least 2 or 3 more tests, just to verify.
I think what shocked me the most about the entire thing was just the fact that I felt no different physically. I was my same self, just with PMS symptoms, but other than that just fine. That lasted for about two weeks only, then the morning sickness began to settle in.
Now, I'm 19 weeks along and feeling pretty darn preggo. My body is changing right before my eyes, its so weird when I look at myself now, because its like my face, but the body is just weird, different, bigger.
An interesting aside:
My mom and H were talking before Thanksgiving about how 'well' they thought I was handling the pregnancy. Both seemed to be relatively shocked, due to the fact that I had not panicked a great deal and was handling things like doctor visits, getting blood drawn, and the prospects of labor pretty well. They then went on to discuss my weight gain. I've put on a total of 10 pounds. They both agreed most of the weight has gone to my boobs.
That I'm sure, was a weird conversations. Husbands and mother-in-laws should not discuss wives/daughters boobs.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
hard times
I'm having a hard day. Yesterday was a bit scary. I kept feeling this weird tingly sensation under my right boob. I'd noticed it over the weekend, but couldn't tell if it was really something or just me and my crazy ole head. But yesterday I noticed it again when I was at work typing. So I called the doctor and they were able to get me in right away. Strangely enough, I wasn't nearly as worried as I thought I would be, I was only slightly-panicked. The nurse got the baby's heartbeat again, took my urine, blood pressure and had me to sit on the table to go over my symptoms and wait for the docotor. Dr. came in and felt around, poked and prodded only to tell me that because of my growth spurt (tummy, boobs, etc) and my posture, I'm probably cutting off blood to a nerve in that area, nothing to worry about he says. I just have to constantly remind myself to sit up straight. That is hard.
Its also difficult because I'm having to sleep on my left side now. Or my right, but the left is better they say b/cs this is a way for the baby to get more blood and nutrients from the placenta. Prior to the pregnancy I was totally a tummy-back sleeper. Sometimes I wake up and catch myself and panic because I've flipped over on my back. So what I've done now is to put lots of pillows around me on either side, makes it almost impossible for me to turn over without kinda waking myself up a bit to readjust and get the pillows right, which makes me think twice about sleeping on my back/tummy and gets me to sleep on my side. However, as a result of this new side-sleeping endeavor my side aches and feels all crampy.
Okie- so I feel guilty for so much complaining, lets try to balance this out.
Good: Baby is healthy.
Bad: I hate work.
Good: Work allows me monies to save for un BeBe.
Bad: My left side feels like a lumpy old tree.
Good: The Baby got plenty of fluids and nutriets last night while I was sleeping.
Bad: I hate doctors and yesterday panicked when I began to think about going into the hospital for birth.
Good: If I can continue with yoga and keeping myself fit, then I might not have a bad labor.
Bad: Labor is meant to be work intensive.
Good: You get a baby out of it.
I'm trying!
Its also difficult because I'm having to sleep on my left side now. Or my right, but the left is better they say b/cs this is a way for the baby to get more blood and nutrients from the placenta. Prior to the pregnancy I was totally a tummy-back sleeper. Sometimes I wake up and catch myself and panic because I've flipped over on my back. So what I've done now is to put lots of pillows around me on either side, makes it almost impossible for me to turn over without kinda waking myself up a bit to readjust and get the pillows right, which makes me think twice about sleeping on my back/tummy and gets me to sleep on my side. However, as a result of this new side-sleeping endeavor my side aches and feels all crampy.
Okie- so I feel guilty for so much complaining, lets try to balance this out.
Good: Baby is healthy.
Bad: I hate work.
Good: Work allows me monies to save for un BeBe.
Bad: My left side feels like a lumpy old tree.
Good: The Baby got plenty of fluids and nutriets last night while I was sleeping.
Bad: I hate doctors and yesterday panicked when I began to think about going into the hospital for birth.
Good: If I can continue with yoga and keeping myself fit, then I might not have a bad labor.
Bad: Labor is meant to be work intensive.
Good: You get a baby out of it.
I'm trying!
Saturday, November 26, 2005
quickening
For the past couple of weeks I've felt like there is a loose marble or actually, lemon, rolling around in the bottom of my gut. My guess, and what the books are telling me, is that this is Cucumber. Sometimes I feel it more than others, usually after I've had a meal (especially something heavy, pasta, big salad, dessert). Its such a weird feeling. I can't really describe it, but its like what a ball looks like in water. How do you describe a feeling with what something looks like? I dunno, but thats the best I can come up with. It makes me feel so amazing. Amazing. My word for this entire process. But right now I just felt it a couple of seconds ago, its just a flash. The doctor says I won't feel anything hard and fast for at least another 2-3 weeks, but this is pretty darn cute.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Freedom
I've included a new little ticker countdown, this one is a countdown to freedom.
I'm learning something that my dad has been trying to tell me for the past four months. Once you find out you are pregnant, your life does change. Whether you want it to or not. I'm having to deal with some things that a year ago I would have totally walked away from just because I could, just because it was me, and I would have found another way to get by. But now, because I'm a parent-to-be, its different. Sacrafices start early, but when I think of Cucumber, this is a small price to pay.
So, I'm chugging along right now- up hill, sometimes sliding back, but trying to move like the little engine that could- not because it wants to, but because it has no choice.
I'm learning something that my dad has been trying to tell me for the past four months. Once you find out you are pregnant, your life does change. Whether you want it to or not. I'm having to deal with some things that a year ago I would have totally walked away from just because I could, just because it was me, and I would have found another way to get by. But now, because I'm a parent-to-be, its different. Sacrafices start early, but when I think of Cucumber, this is a small price to pay.
So, I'm chugging along right now- up hill, sometimes sliding back, but trying to move like the little engine that could- not because it wants to, but because it has no choice.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Week 17 Doctor Visit
So- my doctors visit went well today, thus far. The nurse had a hard time at first finding Cucumber's heart beat, but apparently that is because Cucumber likes to evade the Doppler mic. I guess no future MC in my belly.
I've gained a total of 9.5 lbs and my blood pressure was actual normal- gasp, normal, there is no way this pregnancy could actually turn me into a normal person, or could it?
We also had more blood work today to check for genetic disorders, which I pray turns out all good. The next visit is in 3 weeks and we get the mega ultra-sound done, to determine how Cucumber is developing and growing, and if Cucumber is a boy or girl!
Can I get an oh-yahy? Lil' John style please.....
I've gained a total of 9.5 lbs and my blood pressure was actual normal- gasp, normal, there is no way this pregnancy could actually turn me into a normal person, or could it?
We also had more blood work today to check for genetic disorders, which I pray turns out all good. The next visit is in 3 weeks and we get the mega ultra-sound done, to determine how Cucumber is developing and growing, and if Cucumber is a boy or girl!
Can I get an oh-yahy? Lil' John style please.....
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Waffle House of Faith
Reading back over a previous post and comment I can't help but to laugh. Lets just say I've been down many a path when it comes to this, or to keep with the waffle pun, I've tried lots of different toppings on my waffle, there was the regular waffle with just butter and syrup, the sprinkling of sugar, and then the chocolat. Mmm, okie not sure where I was going with that one, but hey, I'm trying to be creative.
I was brought up in a house where my mother converted to Catholocism in the early 1970s when she married my dad. She had been raised Baptist, but felt that it would be good for the family to be 'one thing'. This is truly ironic, because it didn't turn out that way at all. My dad is a strict Roman Catholic, a pre-Vatican II baby. My early memories of going to church involve us leaving our house on Sunday evenings to atttend the 5:15 mass. For some reason I only remember going when it was cold, winter or fall, I don't know what we did in the summers. But it was cold, and always dark . The church, at the time, didn't have the same bright lights that it now has, there where tall candle like light fixtures that hung from the ceilings and cast shadows on the alter and down the isles, but it was never bright and cheerful. We would always sit in the same place. The church has a cross shape, with the altar at the head and wings of seats along the side. We always sat in front of the St. Joseph statue, the patron saint of families. The church was drafty, its a huge cathedral and actually gorgeous, despite the morbid picture I'm probably painting. I would sit in between my mom and dad and squirm around in the pew. There was singing, but not the clapping, swaying singing in my grandma's church, this singing was sharp and nasal-like, I remember wanting to know the words, but never quite figuring it out.
My mom would want me to sit up straight and listen, but it was hard for me to sit against the hard pews. My dad would tell her to not worry and let me sleep if I wanted to. At communion time, I'd either walk up with one of them, or stay in the pew. Wanting so badly to partake of the bread and wine, but still having no real idea what it was all about.
At home, I'd often pretend to be a priest. I would take my mom's silver plates out of the curio and put toasted bread on them, the host. Then I'd take a wine glass and get grape juice, the blood. I would pray over the bread and juice and then proceed to give myself communion over and over again until it was all gone.
Most Catholic kids take their first communion around 7 or 8. I didn't do mine until I was at least 10 or 11, I'm not sure why. I did it with my cousin, who was about 8 or 9. I don't know why my parents waited. But its funny because a couple of years ago my cousin laughed as she told me she remembered that when we went through the classes, I questioned everything. I don't remember that at all.
In high school I wanted to be different so to make myself seem like the 'minority' in a Catholic School I would just tell everyone I was Baptist. I wnet to church with my grandma and mom on the weekends (note here, my mom stopped going to Catholic church after I was about 8 or 9, though my bro and I were both Baptised there and had our first communions). I also enjoyed Vacation Bible school, there just seemed to be more fun involved and more kids my age at the Baptist Church. Spiritually, I don't think I was really growing, but my social life sure was.
Skip ahead a few more years, and in college I some how became a religous studies major. I took classes on Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, and the philosophy of Eastern and Western Philosophy. My mom says thats when the trouble started because I began to question everything. I'd always gone to Catholic Schools and we were taught about other religions, so I wasn't ignorant about them, but I became increasingly more curious about other faiths, much to the dismay of my mother and grandmother. But what always confused me, was the fact that my mom converted to a sect of Christianity because she thought it would be 'easy' for the family, and it didn't really stick, she always felt more at home in her old church. What was so different from my questioning and learning about other faiths?
I don't think my faith has waffled- I have always maintained a belief in God, but the system or systems is what gets me sometimes.
At one point, I totally knew where I was going with this, but after eating 6 slices of Pizza Hut pizza, I'm too far gone.
I was brought up in a house where my mother converted to Catholocism in the early 1970s when she married my dad. She had been raised Baptist, but felt that it would be good for the family to be 'one thing'. This is truly ironic, because it didn't turn out that way at all. My dad is a strict Roman Catholic, a pre-Vatican II baby. My early memories of going to church involve us leaving our house on Sunday evenings to atttend the 5:15 mass. For some reason I only remember going when it was cold, winter or fall, I don't know what we did in the summers. But it was cold, and always dark . The church, at the time, didn't have the same bright lights that it now has, there where tall candle like light fixtures that hung from the ceilings and cast shadows on the alter and down the isles, but it was never bright and cheerful. We would always sit in the same place. The church has a cross shape, with the altar at the head and wings of seats along the side. We always sat in front of the St. Joseph statue, the patron saint of families. The church was drafty, its a huge cathedral and actually gorgeous, despite the morbid picture I'm probably painting. I would sit in between my mom and dad and squirm around in the pew. There was singing, but not the clapping, swaying singing in my grandma's church, this singing was sharp and nasal-like, I remember wanting to know the words, but never quite figuring it out.
My mom would want me to sit up straight and listen, but it was hard for me to sit against the hard pews. My dad would tell her to not worry and let me sleep if I wanted to. At communion time, I'd either walk up with one of them, or stay in the pew. Wanting so badly to partake of the bread and wine, but still having no real idea what it was all about.
At home, I'd often pretend to be a priest. I would take my mom's silver plates out of the curio and put toasted bread on them, the host. Then I'd take a wine glass and get grape juice, the blood. I would pray over the bread and juice and then proceed to give myself communion over and over again until it was all gone.
Most Catholic kids take their first communion around 7 or 8. I didn't do mine until I was at least 10 or 11, I'm not sure why. I did it with my cousin, who was about 8 or 9. I don't know why my parents waited. But its funny because a couple of years ago my cousin laughed as she told me she remembered that when we went through the classes, I questioned everything. I don't remember that at all.
In high school I wanted to be different so to make myself seem like the 'minority' in a Catholic School I would just tell everyone I was Baptist. I wnet to church with my grandma and mom on the weekends (note here, my mom stopped going to Catholic church after I was about 8 or 9, though my bro and I were both Baptised there and had our first communions). I also enjoyed Vacation Bible school, there just seemed to be more fun involved and more kids my age at the Baptist Church. Spiritually, I don't think I was really growing, but my social life sure was.
Skip ahead a few more years, and in college I some how became a religous studies major. I took classes on Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, and the philosophy of Eastern and Western Philosophy. My mom says thats when the trouble started because I began to question everything. I'd always gone to Catholic Schools and we were taught about other religions, so I wasn't ignorant about them, but I became increasingly more curious about other faiths, much to the dismay of my mother and grandmother. But what always confused me, was the fact that my mom converted to a sect of Christianity because she thought it would be 'easy' for the family, and it didn't really stick, she always felt more at home in her old church. What was so different from my questioning and learning about other faiths?
I don't think my faith has waffled- I have always maintained a belief in God, but the system or systems is what gets me sometimes.
At one point, I totally knew where I was going with this, but after eating 6 slices of Pizza Hut pizza, I'm too far gone.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Pregnancy Week 17
Well-this is week 17 and seeing as how i've been trying to start (we'll I've started two), so start and keep a pregnancy journal, I decided maybe I'd use the blog as a combo deal.
So- here are my updates and thoughts for this week:
Cucumber, as we call said baby, really has been good this week. As if Cucumber could be bad invitro. If you look at me from the front you really can't see any difference, but from the side, there is a pouch. And oh boy, if I'm naked. Yeah, its kinda scary.
At night, for the past 2-3 weeks, I've had cramps in my legs at night that often cause me to cry out in pain. Then when H doesn't respond, I scream louder. Yes, I am a drama queen. I scream partly becuase of the pain and partly because I'm angry that he gets to sleep soundly and I feel like pooh-pot.
Eating, about normal, I've not gotten that sick feeling anymore, except when I get really hungry, so its like I can't let myself get hungry, so I try to eat as much as I can. Doritos, cookies, tofu, and yes french fries and subs.
I have felt random tingles the past couple of weeks, and I think its the fluids and Cucumber moving around, it feels weird, like a ball rolling in water. But cool, very cool.
I'm going to try and update this weekly and as soon as I get a digital camera, I'll take pics too. Wow! A big brown belly, I know you all can't wait to see that one!
I'm going to go back and post date-some comments because I want to try to do this right, not half-ass like many of my endeavors. So, I'll admit to that now, I'm not trying to cheat.
So- here are my updates and thoughts for this week:
Cucumber, as we call said baby, really has been good this week. As if Cucumber could be bad invitro. If you look at me from the front you really can't see any difference, but from the side, there is a pouch. And oh boy, if I'm naked. Yeah, its kinda scary.
At night, for the past 2-3 weeks, I've had cramps in my legs at night that often cause me to cry out in pain. Then when H doesn't respond, I scream louder. Yes, I am a drama queen. I scream partly becuase of the pain and partly because I'm angry that he gets to sleep soundly and I feel like pooh-pot.
Eating, about normal, I've not gotten that sick feeling anymore, except when I get really hungry, so its like I can't let myself get hungry, so I try to eat as much as I can. Doritos, cookies, tofu, and yes french fries and subs.
I have felt random tingles the past couple of weeks, and I think its the fluids and Cucumber moving around, it feels weird, like a ball rolling in water. But cool, very cool.
I'm going to try and update this weekly and as soon as I get a digital camera, I'll take pics too. Wow! A big brown belly, I know you all can't wait to see that one!
I'm going to go back and post date-some comments because I want to try to do this right, not half-ass like many of my endeavors. So, I'll admit to that now, I'm not trying to cheat.
lil-bit-o-this-lil-bit-o-that
Well this week I got hit with a curve ball. Several. One big one and several small ones. I sincerely believe that when we make plans, God laughs. A good hearty laugh, and I don't mean that in a sarcastic way at all. But this has been one of the most difficult things that I've had to learn, and I am still learning this. I am not in control. Do you read that Ilnizzzah? You are NOT in control. Yes, you can decide whether or not to eat pizza or a sub for lunch, but there are many things you can not decide.
That can be o.k.
It will be o.k.
I've learned this week that I have to step back sometimes and let God decide what is going to happen because the more you hold tight to what you thought you wanted or what you want to do, the more you close your fist on your plans, the more you don't allow for anything else to enter into them. See, I have this tendency to decide something and the REFUSE to let go of it. No matter what, I just don't let go. Well, it just so happens that this continues to happen to me, oh so very often. First with one thing, then another. But I think I'm getting it now. As I look back on my life, so much of what has happened to me, so many of the people I've met, the work I've done, has just kinda fallen into place. There are so many awesome things that have happened to me and I could have never in a zillion years planned them. So who did?
That would be, HE.
And this time, I'm going to turn over the reigns early, cause I'm at a point where I don't know what's going on and where I'm supposed to be. I just know that there has to be a plan, somewhere, a path and I'm going to trust that light will shine and show me the way.
That can be o.k.
It will be o.k.
I've learned this week that I have to step back sometimes and let God decide what is going to happen because the more you hold tight to what you thought you wanted or what you want to do, the more you close your fist on your plans, the more you don't allow for anything else to enter into them. See, I have this tendency to decide something and the REFUSE to let go of it. No matter what, I just don't let go. Well, it just so happens that this continues to happen to me, oh so very often. First with one thing, then another. But I think I'm getting it now. As I look back on my life, so much of what has happened to me, so many of the people I've met, the work I've done, has just kinda fallen into place. There are so many awesome things that have happened to me and I could have never in a zillion years planned them. So who did?
That would be, HE.
And this time, I'm going to turn over the reigns early, cause I'm at a point where I don't know what's going on and where I'm supposed to be. I just know that there has to be a plan, somewhere, a path and I'm going to trust that light will shine and show me the way.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Commitment
Had an interesting conversation with my dad two nights ago. I'm amazed because growing up, I never thought he really knew or understood me. We were discussing my fears about becoming a mother, my dislike of work, and my fear of never returning to school*.
Well, he told me that I had no faith and that I'm not grounded. Then he recounted and said that actually there were two things I was grounded in, my husband and my education. He was so dead-on with that it wasn't funnny.
With everythign else I'm a waffle, just not certain about much of anything. I don't know what has caused me to be this way, but its just so true. I love my husband more than life itself and I love education as well. Through my husband I see goodness, with education I see liberation.
Now, this is not to say that I don't believe in anything outside of myself, husband, and education. I would like to say I'm a person of faith (just not sure which one). I find truth and beauty in so many different paths that its so difficult for me to find one that makes me say, this is it! My mother has told me that this is what I get for immersing myself in academia-learning a little bit about everything and questioning/doubting-but istn't that a part of finding faith? Didn't St. Augustine do this? Aristotle? Isn't this how you find out what you really believe?
I guess that I'm also thinking about this now because of the pregnancy and because my family wonders which holidays to buy Cucumber presents for. I've assured them that they should go ahead and buy for all. Except Kawanaza.
I'm such an ass.
*Note, I'm not gonna start a PhD in the Fall of 06 at the moment. Details to follow at a later date.
Well, he told me that I had no faith and that I'm not grounded. Then he recounted and said that actually there were two things I was grounded in, my husband and my education. He was so dead-on with that it wasn't funnny.
With everythign else I'm a waffle, just not certain about much of anything. I don't know what has caused me to be this way, but its just so true. I love my husband more than life itself and I love education as well. Through my husband I see goodness, with education I see liberation.
Now, this is not to say that I don't believe in anything outside of myself, husband, and education. I would like to say I'm a person of faith (just not sure which one). I find truth and beauty in so many different paths that its so difficult for me to find one that makes me say, this is it! My mother has told me that this is what I get for immersing myself in academia-learning a little bit about everything and questioning/doubting-but istn't that a part of finding faith? Didn't St. Augustine do this? Aristotle? Isn't this how you find out what you really believe?
I guess that I'm also thinking about this now because of the pregnancy and because my family wonders which holidays to buy Cucumber presents for. I've assured them that they should go ahead and buy for all. Except Kawanaza.
I'm such an ass.
*Note, I'm not gonna start a PhD in the Fall of 06 at the moment. Details to follow at a later date.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Things you may not have known....
I am tired today. So tired, that I'm almost at that point where just about everything seems funny, except for the fact that I am battling serious indigestion. I should probably admit to the fact that not all of this can be blamed on Cucumber*, I did in fact have Kofta Curry for lunch. My taste for food has changed drastically over the last few months, foods that I normally love, I can't stand. Most of what I eat (and enjoy) has to be filled with tomatoes, cumin, tahini, vinegar, or any combination of sharp serious spices.
Interesting huh?
*Cucumer=baby, because we don't know the gender just yet, so we settled on Cucumber.
Interesting huh?
*Cucumer=baby, because we don't know the gender just yet, so we settled on Cucumber.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Dadspeak
For years my brother and I swore our dad spoke a different language. We call it dadspeak. Some of what he says his totally inaudible-this happens when he gets really excited or worked up-and some of what he says is just a unique mixture of words and phrases that mean something to him and often nothing to the rest of us because we can't translate.
Up until a couple of years ago, I never bothered to even attempt a translation, I've translated Italian, Spanish, and some dialects of English, but never dadspeak. Then I decided I wanted to start telling stories, or writing stories, no scratch that telling stories and then hoping I'd start to write them somewhere, someday, about my dad. So, I started keeping notes about things he'd say. This weekend was priceless, got some good material:
Dadspeak: "If you gon' be holy, be holy, if you gon' be sin-boli, be sin-boli."
Translation: "You can't serve two gods."
Dadspeak: "Prepare for War in a time of Peace."
Translation: "You have to anticipate that at any given moment, the entire world is out to get you. Be paranoid, be very paranoid, and always plan accordingly.
Up until a couple of years ago, I never bothered to even attempt a translation, I've translated Italian, Spanish, and some dialects of English, but never dadspeak. Then I decided I wanted to start telling stories, or writing stories, no scratch that telling stories and then hoping I'd start to write them somewhere, someday, about my dad. So, I started keeping notes about things he'd say. This weekend was priceless, got some good material:
Dadspeak: "If you gon' be holy, be holy, if you gon' be sin-boli, be sin-boli."
Translation: "You can't serve two gods."
Dadspeak: "Prepare for War in a time of Peace."
Translation: "You have to anticipate that at any given moment, the entire world is out to get you. Be paranoid, be very paranoid, and always plan accordingly.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Random Memories
Sade, Smooth Operator
This song came out in 1985, I was 7 years old and I remember riding in my dad's blue pick up and hearing this song. It was a Saturday evening. He was humming, quietly for once, and we were on our way to the Lotus Garden, a small Chinese restuarant on the other side of town from us. I knew his order by heart, beef and broccoli, shrimp fried rice for me and my mom, an orange, and fortuune cookies for me.
I sat on the passenger side and there was no radio installed in the truck. He would either play his music from a tape recorder, or a bike radio. Now, bike radios look like this but they used to look like this. The radio would be propped up somewhere in the truck, usually on the seat in the middle. I remember listening to this song, and riding along Broad Street and seeing the Sauer's lights. At that time I felt like the city was so big, so bright. It probably took only about twenty minutes to get to the Lotus Garden from our house, but it felt like a long ride, like when you crossed over the bridge it was a different world. Everything is different at night though, usually falling into one of two extremes: really good or really bad. Chinese food, listening to Sade, and riding in that old blue truck was good, really good.
***
Mos Def, Respiration
Now, DH (then my boyfriend) lived in that city, on that side of the city right on Broad, less than two blocks from Lotus Garden. And its different now, because the city that I thought was so big and bright now just looks dirty and tight. I feel boxed in, walking the streets I've walked for years, but no longer discovering anythign new or exciting about it.
Instead, what I discover is that people pee on the side of the Subway restuarant, its easy to shut down a city block when you think that floor polish smells like gas, people kill themselves and others in the middle of this street, and men with no legs sit and watch. Those nights were bad, but like Mos says, "You can feel the city breathing, chest heaving."And its true, on those nights the city fought for air, to try to catch its breathe, but there were nights where breathing did come easy.
At the Subway, we find owners who wash their hands, knives, and sandwhich board before they make our sandwhiches and make sure that we don't get no pork on our forks. We find old men who watch out and make sure don't no funny business go on in the buildings, and we also find each other. We are strong because we have to live in this city and we have to watch one another because we are still breathing.
This song came out in 1985, I was 7 years old and I remember riding in my dad's blue pick up and hearing this song. It was a Saturday evening. He was humming, quietly for once, and we were on our way to the Lotus Garden, a small Chinese restuarant on the other side of town from us. I knew his order by heart, beef and broccoli, shrimp fried rice for me and my mom, an orange, and fortuune cookies for me.
I sat on the passenger side and there was no radio installed in the truck. He would either play his music from a tape recorder, or a bike radio. Now, bike radios look like this but they used to look like this. The radio would be propped up somewhere in the truck, usually on the seat in the middle. I remember listening to this song, and riding along Broad Street and seeing the Sauer's lights. At that time I felt like the city was so big, so bright. It probably took only about twenty minutes to get to the Lotus Garden from our house, but it felt like a long ride, like when you crossed over the bridge it was a different world. Everything is different at night though, usually falling into one of two extremes: really good or really bad. Chinese food, listening to Sade, and riding in that old blue truck was good, really good.
***
Mos Def, Respiration
Now, DH (then my boyfriend) lived in that city, on that side of the city right on Broad, less than two blocks from Lotus Garden. And its different now, because the city that I thought was so big and bright now just looks dirty and tight. I feel boxed in, walking the streets I've walked for years, but no longer discovering anythign new or exciting about it.
Instead, what I discover is that people pee on the side of the Subway restuarant, its easy to shut down a city block when you think that floor polish smells like gas, people kill themselves and others in the middle of this street, and men with no legs sit and watch. Those nights were bad, but like Mos says, "You can feel the city breathing, chest heaving."And its true, on those nights the city fought for air, to try to catch its breathe, but there were nights where breathing did come easy.
At the Subway, we find owners who wash their hands, knives, and sandwhich board before they make our sandwhiches and make sure that we don't get no pork on our forks. We find old men who watch out and make sure don't no funny business go on in the buildings, and we also find each other. We are strong because we have to live in this city and we have to watch one another because we are still breathing.
Er-thing is all messy
-in my apartment
-on my desk
-in my head
So, we are moving this week, a temporary six-month move we hope, to a larger first floor apartment to make room for my growing stomach and whats inside. But, the problem is we are trying to move while both working full time jobs, DH going to grad school full time and myself teaching one course. Why-pray-tell are we doing this to ourselves? Everything has been so crazy in the apartment the last couple of days its not been funny. I mean there is stuff er-where. We've been boxing books (most of what we own) and storing some at my mom and dad's house. We've sworn to ourselves that we will only take two boxes of books with us to the new apartment. Two! This is out of a good Twenty! Just two! I've been hiding some randomly in my boxes of clothes. he.he.he.
I'm just trying my best to focus on taking care of myself and the baby. Its hard because I'm just so accostomed to living a fast-paced, stressed out life.
I'm just concerned....and I don't feel like I even have the time to stop and evaluate.
-on my desk
-in my head
So, we are moving this week, a temporary six-month move we hope, to a larger first floor apartment to make room for my growing stomach and whats inside. But, the problem is we are trying to move while both working full time jobs, DH going to grad school full time and myself teaching one course. Why-pray-tell are we doing this to ourselves? Everything has been so crazy in the apartment the last couple of days its not been funny. I mean there is stuff er-where. We've been boxing books (most of what we own) and storing some at my mom and dad's house. We've sworn to ourselves that we will only take two boxes of books with us to the new apartment. Two! This is out of a good Twenty! Just two! I've been hiding some randomly in my boxes of clothes. he.he.he.
I'm just trying my best to focus on taking care of myself and the baby. Its hard because I'm just so accostomed to living a fast-paced, stressed out life.
I'm just concerned....and I don't feel like I even have the time to stop and evaluate.
Monday, November 7, 2005
Wednesday, November 2, 2005
i have decided:
i dont want to feel like gregor anymore.
any suggestions for the following prblems?:
1-still feeling worried about managing a baby and a phd
2- still worried about moving miles y miles away
3-hating the work i do
4- tired and don't feel like i can catch up with the housework, workwork, schoolwork, and movig prepwork.
5-having a hard time making one decision and sticking w/ it,
but i do know this much is true, idont want to eel like a bug anymore.
any suggestions for the following prblems?:
1-still feeling worried about managing a baby and a phd
2- still worried about moving miles y miles away
3-hating the work i do
4- tired and don't feel like i can catch up with the housework, workwork, schoolwork, and movig prepwork.
5-having a hard time making one decision and sticking w/ it,
but i do know this much is true, idont want to eel like a bug anymore.
bugs of lore
um, so, i'm back to feeling like a roach again. i don't know what did it to me, but i got up this morning after a night w/ leg cramps and poor sleep, and just felt like a roach. i did not want to go to work, once i did i got there late and was not pleased w/ myself (nor was anyone else). i know from experience and adivice from other bloggers such as dooce that you have to be careful what you say, so i won't say anything more than the fact is i feel like a roach again.
there is just so much going on right now, that whenever i feel like i have moments of clarity, and they are really rare, but i do have moments where i feel like i know what i'm doing and how i'm going to do it. but then i have days like this where i doubt myself to all hel and all i want to do isbe at home, except i dont even feel comfortable at home now because its dirty and messy and i dont have the energy or time to clean and paint and rearrange the way i'd like to. so, like gregor, i sit and feel like i'm rotting with an apple in my back.
i think the thing that gets me the most about kafka's metamorphosis is just the fact that gregor keeps trying to move, he is freaked out by himself at first, but then he keeps trying to get himself up to go to work, he's like on auto-pilot, or is he? does he maybe just want to keep up with his routine because that is all that he knows, he doesn't know anything else and at a time where you become something you weren't, it stands to reason that you would want nothing more than to hold on to some routine, some string that is normal. but no,not quite because we are also told that gregor has held on to this job because of his parents, because of someone else,
"If I didn't hold back for my parents' sake, I'd have quit ages ago. I would've gone to the boss and told him just what I think from the bottom of my heart. He would've fallen right off his desk! How weird it is to sit up at that desk and talk down to the employee from way up there."
so he didn't like the job in the first place, but feels like he hastokeep on because of his folks, but what happens, what apprecition does he get, after all, he ends up being confined to his room and treated horribly by has family. why does this change occur? why does he put himself through this?
why do i still feel like a roach?
there is just so much going on right now, that whenever i feel like i have moments of clarity, and they are really rare, but i do have moments where i feel like i know what i'm doing and how i'm going to do it. but then i have days like this where i doubt myself to all hel and all i want to do isbe at home, except i dont even feel comfortable at home now because its dirty and messy and i dont have the energy or time to clean and paint and rearrange the way i'd like to. so, like gregor, i sit and feel like i'm rotting with an apple in my back.
i think the thing that gets me the most about kafka's metamorphosis is just the fact that gregor keeps trying to move, he is freaked out by himself at first, but then he keeps trying to get himself up to go to work, he's like on auto-pilot, or is he? does he maybe just want to keep up with his routine because that is all that he knows, he doesn't know anything else and at a time where you become something you weren't, it stands to reason that you would want nothing more than to hold on to some routine, some string that is normal. but no,not quite because we are also told that gregor has held on to this job because of his parents, because of someone else,
"If I didn't hold back for my parents' sake, I'd have quit ages ago. I would've gone to the boss and told him just what I think from the bottom of my heart. He would've fallen right off his desk! How weird it is to sit up at that desk and talk down to the employee from way up there."
so he didn't like the job in the first place, but feels like he hastokeep on because of his folks, but what happens, what apprecition does he get, after all, he ends up being confined to his room and treated horribly by has family. why does this change occur? why does he put himself through this?
why do i still feel like a roach?
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
November 1
I don't even really have the time to write- there is so much going on right and now and so much I do actually want to blog about, but there is no time right now! So here is a list, my way of trying to remember and hoping I'll come backto them:
- homes
- dad stories
- work and what work is and is not
Must remember to write!
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