Posts Tagged ‘academia’

Done

April 30, 2018

I mean.

The paper, that is.

It’s done.

It is done!

IT’S DONE!!

OH MY FUCKING GOD!

IT’S DONE.

My last paper of the semester is done and sent in.

30 pages.

10,062 words.

That makes it the longest paper I have written in graduate school, apt that it is the last one I am writing for my program degree.

My God.

All I have to do for the next weekend of classes is show up.

I have no homework.

I have finished it all.

I didn’t have to finish it today.

But.

I absolutely had to finish it today.

I have a full week and not much wiggle room between work and clients at my internship.

Plus trying to figure out supervision.

Which, I think I may have figured out, I contacted my group supervisor and asked if there was any way I could meet with her after the normal group meets on Saturday.

That means I will miss the closing class ceremony, but that’s not a requirement of the course load, it’s just something the cohort is doing as a sort of ending ceremony.

Which is fine.

I don’t actually mind missing that.

I do mind missing the class time.

I would rather be in class and participate that way.

And I also sent out another request to the Wednesday supervisor to please let me know if an opening comes up, so if there’s a cancellation or a missing person I can take their spot.

I would like to do the ceremony with the cohort, I think it will be a nice way to close out the experience, though if truth be told I think it’s a bit on the woo woo side of town.

However, I don’t have an issue with it.

I am going to have my own little ceremony, my own party, and I will get to be with my people.

People who have seen me through this very long and arduous road of academia.

My God.

I mean.

I had stacks of books and readers on the floor of my kitchen today.

I was amazed at the amount of reading I have done.

And the stacks of books and readers was about a 1/4 of what I have read and digested.

A lot of articles were on-line, especially this last semester.

And I sold back a lot, the majority of my books.

I had to integrate 10 different sources into my paper from readers, articles, lectures, books, that I have read, and I pulled a bunch of them out of the closet today where I keep the books and readers I couldn’t sell back, and I did a quick dive in to see what there was to see.

There was so much.

So much.

I was really taken by how much was there that I have read, every semester, the accumulation of knowledge in my head, the reading, the writing, the integration of all the work.

I really have done a lot of work.

Not just on this paper, which yes, I did a lot of work on this paper, but overall.

The amount of showing up, reading, and writing.

The amount of internal processing and external.

The year and a half of practicum work and supervision.

The two-week long intensives that I attended.

All the things I didn’t do because I was doing homework.

And the conflict in my cohort, the privilege that I got to speak out against, the learning how to hold that conflict, address it, heal it and move on.

The work is no joke.

I’m grateful for it though.

I have learned so much.

About myself.

About others.

The paper I wrote today had four parts to it and each part had a series of sections, about four to six parts, sometimes eight that had to be addressed.

It made me really break apart and break down what I have studied, what I have learned.

And it showed me that I have learned more than I thought.

I have a great capacity for knowledge.

For this I am grateful.

I also am grateful that I am, that I have chosen to be, in a career that will continue to push me, continue to require that I learn more.

My career is always going to have me expanding my knowledge base and learning more.

It’s exciting.

Although.

I am also grateful that I can take a little break now.

The weight of that paper has been lifted off my shoulders.

It still doesn’t feel real yet, but it’s really done.

I have submitted it and that means that there is nothing left to do.

Oh.

Ha.

I have to lead a guided meditation on Friday for ten minutes.

Heh.

I think I can do that.

Sit down, close your eyes, breathe.

Done.

It’s a beautiful thing being done.

I’m just going to sit here for a moment and enjoy the lack of nothing to do.

It’s rather extraordinary.

Blonde Ambition

January 24, 2016

Or.

As my fabulous colorist told me today.

“Bronde.”

I can’t really go as blonde as I want.

No platinum for me.

Not if I actually want to have hair that won’t fall off my head.

“If I took it platinum it wouldn’t look right with your skin tone,” she added, “and all the elastic in your hair would be gone, it won’t be curly, it would break and be frizzy.”

I trust the woman.

She’s been coloring hair since she was 18.

She’s currently 37.

So something like 19 years of doing this kind of work.

She probably knows better than I do.

Although I wanted it more blonde, it’s pretty damn blonde.

IMG_8435

It feels pretty fabulous.

And rather glamourous.

I’m not sure what it will look like or do once the blow out fades.

Which will happen as soon as I take a shower, it will go curly, so one day of fabulous straight hair.

I have never taken the time to learn how to blow out my own hair, I just don’t have it in me to devote that much time to it.

However.

Once in a while, it is nice to let a professional do your hair for you.

And I was really happy about it.

Best color I believe I have ever gotten and a great cut, stylist recommended by my colorist, who specializes in curly hair.

She gave me a great cut.

For those who are curious I went to Harper Paige.

Lizbeth Jones did my color.

“I put some ash in it and a little caramel, and gave you bigger chunks around your face,” she told me as she was rinsing.

I have no clue what she did.

But it did immediately prompt a desire to go lipstick shopping.

Of course the one I found at Sephora was out of stock.

IMG_8354

Damn it.

I almost pocketed the sample.

But I know better.

I also did not spend a lot of time in Sephora.

One lipgloss, one of the their brand, and out the door for $12.

I spent more on my cut and color than I have ever spent on my hair before.

I have it.

I just won’t be buying anything else this month.

I used my clothing allowance and my book allowance with a little borrowed from my cafe allowance to cover all my bases.

It’s nice to know exactly how much money I have and can allocate.

Nothing goes on a credit card.

All cash or my debit card.

I left a nice fat tip too.

Because that’s what you do.

I mean.

20%

It’s my hair for fucks sake.

And she did a great job on it.

I’m hella happy.

IMG_8453

Can’t you tell?

I just had a friend drop over for tea and he was pretty stoked for it, although he expressed, 1. Go more blonde!

And 2. Holy shit! You went blonde.

He also said I looked great and had lost weight.

I love my friends.

I don’t get to see them very often.

I am busy.

Although I did find myself with odd pockets of down time today and that always throws me for a bit of a loop.

“What are you doing tonight?” My cutter asked me as she finished blowing out my hair.

“I mean, you have to go out with this hair!”

Ceci Coon was the woman who cut my hair.

FYI.

She fluffed my hair, “really, the color is amazing.”

I have to agree.

But.

I did not have going out plans.

I had going to the Inner Sunset and doing the deal plans.

That was about it.

I did do some walking about Union Square, but no shopping, as I said, the wad has been blown.

That being said, however, Lizbeth did assure me that it wouldn’t grow out funky and that I actually wouldn’t need to come back for about three months.

Which is twice the time I thought I would be coming in.

Actually, the way the receptionist who booked me told me, I thought I was going to be coming in sooner to do another layer of the color.

But, Lizbeth was firm about not destroying my hair.

I am actually happily surprised by the amount of length that Ceci was able to keep.

So.

I’m “bronde.”

And I like it.

It’s fun to do something a little out there.

Though, truth be told, I felt like a rich bitch in the salon, all blonde highlights and blow outs.

I felt fancy.

It’s fun to be fancy once in a while.

I didn’t have to tell anyone that the boy most likely to be seeing my hair and going gaga over it will be the five year old I nanny who’s favorite color is gold.

I get to be fancy for me.

I am pleased by the compliments I have received, however.

I ran into an acquaintance crossing the street as I was headed for a late lunch after the appointment.

“OMG! I didn’t recognize you as a blonde!”

She gave me a huge hug, “you look amazing, how’s school?”

We chatted and caught up then parted and went our ways.

I had an appointment to check in with my person and I took care of that, ate some lunch, made my way to the Inner Sunset, killed a little time, bought a pot of lip balm, got a manicure and went and met with my fellows at 7th and Irving.

I was not expecting a “late” (it’s not even 11p.m. right now) drive by tea session with my friend.

I realize how important it is to have friends that do that.

Text me and check in and commiserate.

He’s in school too.

And also.

Congratulate.

It’s a big deal for both of us to be in academia land again.

And while I have moments when I feel rather overwhelmed by it all, the papers, the reading, the processing, the learning, the work, the work, the work.

I have mostly a vast amount of gratitude that I get to do the work.

“I never knew you wanted to go blonde,” my friend said, a little incredulously.

Yup.

I never knew I wanted to be a therapist when I grew up.

But there it is.

Things change.

And today.

They changed too.

Color me.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

Oh.

And.

Bronde.

 

 

First World Problems

September 10, 2015

That’s a reflection paper I will be writing tomorrow.

I thought, briefly about writing it tonight, but I don’t have it in me.

First world problem–having job that is at times exhausting.

Keeping up with the boys can sometimes wear me out and on top of them wearing me out, I successfully wore myself out before I even got started today.

The free-floating anxiety I experienced today as I get ready to head into my first weekend of classes was enough to give me a stomach ache this morning that I really thought was going to make me throw up.

I realized that there was not much to do about it but try to spend some time organizing where and what and when I will be in class.

I made some outreach texts and e-mails and figured out a few things.

First, that I was not the only person who was a little adrift in the process.

Second, that there would be a master list posted on every floor of the school for all classes, so if I should fuck it up and show up naked, oops, sorry that’s a nightmare from high school.

Aside.

Mr. Bohage passed.

I had an old friend from high school reach out to me and let me know that my favorite history teacher at DeForest High School (home of the Fighting Norskie–I shit you not) had passed at the age of 79.

I’m not sure what he passed from, but it brought a sigh of sadness to my day and also a kiss of gratitude, he was a great teacher and I admired the hell out of him.

I like to think he liked me too.

There were a couple of us in that class that I think he liked, not as pets, but rather as respected intellects and occasionally as students of life with a little bit of wit to us.

Ryan, Henry Hall, Ted, myself, a few of us that seemed to get his droll sense of humor and also to command a little respect from the man who instilled in me a sense of their being something beyond the halls and rooms of that high school.

I will remember you with fondness and much gratitude, Mister Bohage, may you rest in peace and finally forgive yourself for having voted for Nixon.

End aside.

This current going back to graduate school does feel a little like high school, but also a little like nothing I have done in some time and it feels overwhelming and makes me want to hide underneath the covers.

I know that being a person who shows up is the biggest thing, so I am going to show up, prepared, unprepared, ok with whatever happens and just know that I am doing the thing and that one day at a time, one step at a time, one moment at a time, I’m ok.

My dear friend who graduated from a nursing program a few years back reminded me that I was going to be ok and that I only had to focus on today.

I intrinsically know this, but sometimes I have to hear it said out loud.

I must have someone to speak the crazy to and get it out of my head.

I know that all I had to do today, really, was show up for my job and show up for my commitment this evening.

The rest of it would sort itself out and that focusing on the “problem” was not the solution.

So.

I made some calls.

I left some messages.

I scheduled myself some time to meet with my ladies.

And I confirmed my work schedule.

Which has changed drastically and I am trying to get into the swing of.

I’m now working 1p.m.-8p.m.

This makes things easier and weird all at the same time.

I am going to have to change-up all my doing the deal places and spaces.

Except for Wednesday night, I have a commitment and I wanted to keep it and it felt important to tell the mom that today, so on Wednesdays I will go in at 12:30p.m. and get done by 7:30p.m. so that I can make it from the Mission to the Outer Sunset by 8:30p.m. to do the deal and cover the commitment I picked up.

I won’t be making a lot of other things that I have been used to getting to and going to.

I’m not sure where exactly I am going to land during the week.

I suspect I’ll be seeing a certain group of folks at the spot on 7th and Irving at 11 o’clock in the morning before heading into work.

More will be revealed, I am certain of it.

Just like I know that the only thing to rely on is change, change is always happening and I can’t even get into a comfortable rut to settle myself with.

No rut for me.

I get to keep moving, like a shark, sink or swim.

I choose to swim.

I will rise up through the sea green sea, the emerald light, the blue sapphire kiss of water, and I will fly, transcendent into the warm light.

It helps that I got a friendly little message today right in the middle of the afternoon as I was getting the ducks in a row at the house.

I spent the first part of my day organizing and shopping and cooking for the family, then the boys come home from school and it’s on.

But on in such a delirious sweet way.

“I’m going to marry you!” The eldest said to me tonight as the mom took over for me, then he kissed my hand and held it to his cheek.

“Snuggle me, kiss me, hug me,” the youngest said to me earlier when he got out of pre-school.

Yes sir.

I could perhaps use those same words with a certain fellow I know.

I was making the boys their dinner–I usually prep it in advance so that I can just set their meal in front of them at dinner time and not have to make it on the fly, when I got the message.

It was a nice banter.

I felt uplifted.

I felt sexy.

And I felt sweet.

And desired.

That helped the day.

Thanks God.

I needed the pick me up.

And as I look at all the open tabs on top of my computer–all the login ins and class room locations and the syllabus for that class and this class and the other, the financial aid disbursement notification, the academics page, and the incoming e-mail from a TA in regards to a question I had for a paper that is due on Friday before I hit class, I will pause with gratitude that I have a little nugget of delicious thoughts to distract me once in a while from the academia exploding all around me.

Plus I’m listening to The Orb and that puts me in an excellent space.

All is good.

Grateful for these challenges.

Grateful for this growth.

Grateful to be on someone’s mind.

It’s the little things.

Like a lost earring in an RV.

A small reminder of time completely removed from the daily grind of my life.

A kiss of magic in the day.

A token of the yet to come.


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