Three minutes

On Tuesday evening, I went to the library to take advantage of their high speed internet, and also just to get out of my place for awhile.  I like to go there and enjoy feeling like I’m in the world there.  I watched a little girl dance in the aisles.  I listened to a guy who kept answering his cell phone and trying to have nearly silent conversations (which always started with, “Well, I’m at the library…”).

In the middle of my time there, a guy who seemed to be about 40 came into the library carrying a folder of information and a bag.  He looked distressed.  He sat down at the far end of the table that I was sitting at, and I smiled at him (trying to express both sympathy and friendliness).  I then noticed that the folder he was carrying had a title on it that said “Where to Turn Now.”  He then bowed his head, folded his hands near his lips, and began speaking very softly.  I couldn’t hear what he said, but it seemed that he was deep in prayer.  He stayed that way for at least a minute.

My mind spun as I wondered what had happened to him.  Had he lost his job, lost his wife, found out he had a horrible illness?  Should I say something to him?  If so, what do I say?  Do you need someone to talk to?  Do you need help?  I want to help.

Pretty soon, he lifted his head, looked my way (I smiled again, again trying to express both sympathy and friendliness…), and he left.  His entire presence there lasted about three minutes, but I’ve thought of him so often this week and said my own prayers that he’s OK.  Dear God, please watch over this man and help him know where to turn now.

 

Packing grad school away

One of my tasks for this weekend was to put all my graduate school stuff away.  I had two three-foot tall piles of stuff — file totes, books, papers, and folders.  Notes from class.  Conference packets and nametags.  Orientation schedules.  Student health insurance information.  It was all there.  Once I recycled a lot of the general info and some of the papers (that I didn’t think I’d ever need again), I got everything except the books down to the one file tote (pictured above) with file folders labeled with words like My Research and My Papers.  I took one of my teaching file totes out of the closet and put the school one in its place.  And that’s done.  A wild and crazy, growing, rollercoastery year all packed away.

More than one person (mostly my teaching colleagues) has asked if I’ll transfer to another doctoral program.  I was so taken off guard by the question!  In all the months that I thought about leaving, it never occurred to me to transfer.  Transfer.  Transfer?  Hmm.

Some of my reasons for leaving were specific to the program that I was in, but some were more general reasons that would hold true anywhere.  At this point, I doubt that I’ll ever go into another doctoral program, but if I transferred my credits toward a second Master’s, I would be able to finish quickly, and that’s something I think about.

At this point, though, I just shrug my shoulders.  People ask about my long term plans, and I say I want to teach.  I haven’t thought much beyond that or beyond this fall.  I deliberately took a somewhat lighter teaching load this fall in order to have space in my life to nurture my other passions — to dance, to read plays, to play piano — and I look forward to saying “yes” to some opportunities that come along to express myself in those ways.  I look forward to having more time for friends and for laughter.

This fall is all about putting life back into my life, and when I’m filled back up to the brim, I’ll figure out what’s next.  And whatever it is, I plan to enjoy the journey.

Go forth and assert

Four years ago, I took a 2-day assertiveness course through the professional development program at work.  It was great timing, as I was finishing my first year of teaching and feeling really drained, in part because I tended to let my students be the boss.  (You need to take an exam early/late/at midnight on Saturday?  Why sure, I can accommodate that!  Ugh!)  (Much to my students’ chagrin, they weren’t the bosses after I took that class!)

The course was just what I needed in a lot of ways, primarily because it gave permission to take care of yourself.  Not in a selfish way at all, but in a way that protects your well-being and energy and values.

The instructor shared an example that hit home with a lot of us.  She said… Suppose you have been working long hours and are feeling worn down, and you decide to take a Wednesday night off.  You plan to unplug from the world, take a long bath, read a book, whatever helps you recharge.  That evening, you get a call from a friend who says, “I totally forgot that I had to bake cookies for little Susie’s dance recital tomorrow, and I’m in a bind to get them all done.  Can you help?”  The instructor then stopped to get our thoughts on this scenario.  We all agreed we’ve been in that situation before (not the same details, but basically the same scenario).  We also all agreed that we, and probably most people, would feel compelled to help and many of us said we wouldn’t feel like we had a choice.  The instructor said that that’s where the assertiveness comes in, realizing that there are options here.

She said, “Realize, first of all, that this is not an emergency.  Cookies are not an emergency.  Nobody is going to die or even be harmed if the cookies don’t get made.  Second, realize that someone else’s lack of planning or forgetfulness is not your responsibility.”  Aha!  We loved that!  She continued, “Everyone has the right to refuse any request, even reasonable requests.”  She repeated that statement several times and had us all say that outloud.  We all breathed a huge sigh of relief!  She said there isn’t a right answer to the above scenario, but that it’s so important for each person to realize their choice in the matter.  If you say you’ll help, then do it and accept that you made that conscious choice (that is, don’t complain about it!).  If you refuse, just hope your friend is a big enough person to honor your right to take care of yourself.  A good friend will, and they will often be more respectful of your time and space and values too.

It’s been four years since that course, and I still remember all these details, and it comes to mind often when I have to make a decision related to someone else’s requests or plans.  When I’m stuck, I think, “Oh, but Miss Jackie said…”  And she’s right.  The important thing is to realize that you have a choice.

What to do, what to do?

So, I’m pretty sure that I found this guy online.  What do I do now?  Is it too much to e-mail him and say,

Hey, I haven’t seen you for almost 11 years, but if you’re free, I’d like to marry you?

*giggles*

On an only semi-related note (really), I had this…umm, preminition?…one day that I’d be married by the end of summer 2010.  Which seemed an odd timeline given circumstances, but to each preminition their own, right?

OK, back to real life.  We are very busy with square roots today!  Totally radical. 

Go forth in boldness

I’m very big on having goals — not so much New Years resolutions as just an ongoing push toward being more who I want to be when I grow up, I guess.  I cannot become that person all in a day (or even in a year, really), so I think about what’s the next best step.  And as this new year begins, I think I’d like to be more bold.

I mentioned this to someone today, and he had a lot of questions.  Where would the boldness take me — that can only lead to trouble, he seemed to say! – and what does boldness look like anyway?  To me, I think of it as just being ten percent more likely to speak my mind or to put myself out there.  I’m not talking about being offensively bold!  I’m not talking about taking huge risks.  I’m just talking about raising a question at a research talk or extending an invitation or initiating a conversation with a stranger.  At school, I have endless opportunities to be bold in a thousand different settings.  I do notice the opportunities all the time but rarely take advantage of them, but this year, at least some of the time, I’d like to make a different choice.

Some thoughts about 2008

Last year, I did a five-day blog extravaganza of all the Best Things about the year 2007.  It certainly went down as one of the best years of my adult life and set into motion a lot of the good things about this year.

2008 was more of a year of extremes — some great highs (grad school, dancing!), but some significant lows too (leaving two jobs that I adored, lots and lots of health woes).  I learned things about myself this year (that I can be a grad student and enjoy it) and about other people (that people are infinitely more understanding than I ever imagine they will be).  A big part of this year for me is that I am completely in awe of all the new people and new experiences in my life.  And so, two of the best parts of this year for me are… 

(1)  I made a couple of friends this year who are the kinds of friends who dig deeper, who don’t let me gloss over things, who somehow can read into my expressions or read between lines of e-mails to know when I’m having a hard time.  They are on the front lines, cheering me on and ready to listen to me when I need to talk…and I’ve had amazing conversations with each of them.  I am blessed beyond words with their friendships.

~ and ~

(2)  My life improved in a totally unexpected way this year with my dance class, where I stepped into a world of pure fun and reconnected with my love of dance and of performance.  It was a total escape for me, like stepping off the city street into Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory!  There was such a lightness and joy to the whole experience of the class.  Nobody there knew anything about me, nobody had any expectations.  People just saw my long legs and boundless enthusiasm!  It is a gift to be somewhere where the impressions and expectations are so pure and uncomplicated.

Friday Firsts: First Time I Felt Grown Up (if ever!)

I think we all probably have times when we’re quite young where we felt we were so grown up, and now as adults, we wonder: (a) what were we thinking? and (b) why were we in such a hurry to be grown up anyway?  I remember feeling, probably at age 12, that there was little difference between me and an adult.  And now, at age 35, I know how ridiculous that was.

But, the point at which I really and truly felt grown up was when I realized that other people unquestioningly assumed that I was grown and capable of making decisions and participating in transactions that any grown up would.  And that was when I moved out on my own.  For me, that was at age 30 because my health problems delayed that milestone for many years beyond normal.

So, at age 30, I had finished up school (for the time being) and was ready to work full-time, and I knew I’d have an income that was sufficient to cover basic independent living expenses.  I did research about apartments, made appointments to see them, and went by myself to meet with the apartment managers or leasing agents.  And they treated me, without question, like I knew what I was doing, knew what to look for, and had the authority and maturity to make this decision.  They didn’t suggest that I needed anyone else to help or to sign papers.  After I decided on a place and put down the deposit, I called the phone company and the power/gas company to turn on utilities.  They treated me like an adult too, asking for dates and other information and not asking to speak to my Mommy!  *laughs*

Thus, feeling grown up for me was when I realized that the rest of the world was automatically “processing” me as an adult and not a child.  That was a huge deal to me, and thankfully by then, I had all the other skills and responsibility that one needs in order to live up to the title of adult, so I gratefully accepted the status and have loved it…and am sometimes actually still in awe of the whole thing.

Talkers and The Quiet Ones

In one of my classes, there is a great divide between the Talkers and the Non-Talkers.  The class is about equally split between the two (though some people go back and forth).  As one might guess given my natural tendency toward wallflowerness, I am among the non-talkers, though I do manage to get some kind of comment in during every class now, even if it’s only a few words.  This has become a real issue in that class though, and we’ve all had to give our individual comments to the prof about it and we spent an incredibly awkward 30 minutes in class discussing this one day (though the non-talkers contributed little — not surprising, but how silly is that given the problem we were trying to fix!).

Because this has been such an issue, I’ve had a lot of individual conversations with people (where I talked!!!) about being more reserved or quiet.  Earlier in my adulthood, I was much more quiet than I am now, and I remember being with people who were really talkative, and they’d talk and talk and talk, and then look at me and say, “Gosh, you’re SO quiet!”  And I’d think, “Seriously??!!  Do you not see how you contributed to that?”  The number one way to get a quiet person to stay quiet is by talking a lot!  In situations where I don’t know people well, I’m not inclined to talk over people or interrupt people or try to get my words in.  I just let them talk.  And when someone I know finally said to me, “How do I get you to talk more?”, I said, “By being quiet.”  Easy as that.  I’m not going to jump into a wild or loud or argumentative conversation.  But if there is open space for me to enter more on my terms, I’ll do it.  No problem.  And once I get to know people more and establish some sort of rapport with them, I’ll ramble on, almost like I do in writing.  *grin*

Yesterday, on my way home from school, I was sitting near two young women on the bus.  I would guess they were either late high school or early college age.  One of them was very bubbly and was talking about some boy who she likes from her church.  She got out her camera to share photos.  She was very high energy and talkative and smiley.  At some point, she looked at her friend (who was clearly more quiet) and said, “I’ve been talking this whole time.  Tell me what’s going on in your life.”  And there were several moments of silence.  Her friend finally said, “Well…there is one situation…it’s kind of a long story though.”  The first girl said in such an endearing tone, “Oh, that’s OK.  Please…”  And their conversation went from the super bubbly conversation to a much more serious and quiet one, but it was amazing to see how they both adjusted and how much the first girl affirmed her friend and just let her speak at her own pace.  That is exactly how two people with polar opposite communication styles can interact.  I was really amazed that that happened so naturally with such young women.  Kudos to both of them for giving each other the space to be who they are.

35

They say it’s my birthday!

Gosh, it seems like just yesterday that I was 34.  *giggles*

Unglued

When I was watching “Something’s Gotta Give” for about the 20th time the other evening, I was thinking about the fact that my favorite part of that movie is when Diane Keaton comes totally unglued after she sees Jack Nicholson at a restaurant with a young woman.  (Side note: There’s one moment in that that Diane Keaton improvised on one take, and it is brilliant and raw and was thankfully left in the final cut of the movie.)  And it occurred to me that my favorite parts of a lot of movies or TV shows are when people come totally unglued!  My favorite moment of any West Wing episode was the part when the President yells at God in the National Cathedral.  Two of my all-time favorite episodes of Everwood are (1) when Amy comes unglued about her comatose boyfriend and (2) when Dr. Brown comes unglued and begs God to get his joy back.  It’s not that I enjoy watching people come unglued, but I guess there’s some part of me that appreciates the outward expression of extremely internal ungluedness and hurt and that the people are able to have their say and heal because of it.