Spring?

Today I woke up to the sunshine spilling through the attic window in Jacob's parent's house. It felt comforting and nurturing. Like a warm hug the instant you open your eyes. For me, it's like a shot of Prozac into my veins. It invites a smile and a sigh.

My hope is that this means spring is on its way. I try not to anticipate these things too much, because I know that my hopes will get dashed the second my energy rises and I get excited about the prospect of flowers blooming, sun shining, and birds chirping. But, I think... yes, I'm pretty sure, that spring is coming.

So, here's to sun-filled mornings that draw you outside to enjoy what the Earth provides for us. Here's to new, fresh foods at the farmer's market. Here's to taking runs outside at the crack of dawn. Here's to smiles and happiness. Here's to the smell of earth and new life, to twitterpation and new love. Here's to spring!

Not procrastinating

Well, I've done it. I've actually done it.

The "it" here is, obviously, working on my Thesis. I'm now the happy recipient of 4 interviews with my participants! To be more specific, I have 2 interviews with 4 people each. Let's call it about... maybe 7-8 hours of data? In my book, not a bad start at all. Certainly something to start writing the rest of my Thesis with. Le sigh...

It feels pretty darn good to get that part of the work out of the way. The funny thing that happened while I was listening to the heart-warming and heart-wrenching stories these people told me was, Whoa... I could really do this. Like, I could listen to these kinds of stories all my life. They are not only intellectually stimulating (because, we all know how much my brain gets off to narratives of madness) but also emotionally and spiritually satisfying, too. The stories people tell are so alive. I listened as they took shape, changed, and morphed again into something rich and something to make sense of. You see, we understand ourselves by the stories we tell. Think about telling someone about who you are... You tell a story. Stories organize our existences. They make sense of senseless situations. They imbibe meaning into experiences so that we have a sense of who we are, where we've been, and what forms our identities.

In short, these interviews and these stories have opened me up to a new world of understanding. I'm re-invigorated to do this paper, not just because it's interesting material, but because I want to share these stories with others. They are impactful. They question the way our mental health system works. They reveal the travesties that occur from child sexual, verbal, physical, and emotional abuse. It challenges the way we typically think about treating people that suffer from severe psychological problems. It's stuff that people need to know.

So, my lapse of procrastination has turned out to be quite a treat. A success. But, stay tuned, because as soon as break ends, I'm sure I'll be back to my old tricks... making the bed 10 times over to pass the time, organizing the spice rack alphabetically. The usual. Perhaps less than often than I typically do, because I've got stories to tell.

Annoyed

Ok. I'm officially annoyed. No, wait. I'm pissed. With my students. I presume none of them read this blog (we're not facebook friends or anything), so I will write with impunity.

When we were undergrads did we wait until the VERY last minute to read the requirements for an assignment, get very confused, then email the instructor with stupid questions? Did we have selective attention during class and actually tune OUT the important information that would make said stupid questions irrelevant? Oh yeah. That's right. We paid attention. We, for the most part, at least started assignments earlier than 4 hours before it was due to be sure we were good to go. So, why, God, why have I been cursed this semester?

Now, the thought did cross my mind that I was not clear about the assignment when I talked about it numerous times in class or in my posted, on-line instructions or on my assignment sheet... But then I hear my own thoughts buzzing around in my head and think: Nope. No, I've been perfectly clear. Many times I've been perfectly clear. This is bolstered by a number of drafts my good, sweet, angels of students have written me a week before the due date. These papers, folks, were lovely. No confused questions attached with the drafts. No annoying clarifications. Just well-written papers handed in by rubric-following students. I love them.

On the other hand, I am started to get fairly miffed by the handful of students that think that last-minute scrambling to write an important paper and then emailing me at the last minute will go unnoticed by me. It's not. I see you! I know you've been putting this off even though you've known about it for... um, I don't know... 6 weeks! WTF! Grrrrrrrrrrr. I growl at you, students.

Annoyed. I'm officially annoyed. I have about 12 hours to deflate, relax and greet my little students tomorrow morning. Of course, I can't treat my little annoyances any differently than my little angels, so I really have to just calm down and let the air out of my tires. I mean, I never really pulled this stuff in college, but I'm sure I had plenty of friends who did. They're not stupid people, I know. They don't do this on purpose to tick me off, I know. But I suppose I'll never fail to be surprised with what some of my students will think they can get away with.

All I have to say is that if even one of my students comes crying to me on the last day of class about their grade, I'm gonna scream!