Tuesday Transitions

I managed to exercise today for about a half hour, but then I wrecked any minuscule benefit by having a fast food dinner. I thought about going somewhere that serves real vegetables instead of something fried, but I couldn't justify spending 10 dollars or more on a meal that would only be marginally better. Overall, I think that I am making some small changes in the right directions, but I've got a ways to go. Plainly stated, I am sick of hamburgers.

I spent most of the early evening in the MAC lab at school finishing up some homework that is due on Thursday. Using Adobe's Photoshop and Indesign, I laid out nine photos of vases that we took the week before. I then printed it out on the fancy professional printer that probably costs a couple of thousand dollars. Hardly anything when you think about the print industry as a whole, but way, way, way more than I could afford.

I have to say that my photography is getting a little better. I've discovered that I have a shutter finger made of heavy marble, so when I click the shutter button, I jostle the camera just a little bit which, of course, makes the image blurry. That, and the fact that I couldn't get the internal sensors to focus on the part of the vase I wanted, made today's assignment really hard. We were also supposed to adjust the images using "levels" to approximate with the camera what we actually saw with our eyes. You can't imagine how fussy a process that is; and, the patience I had for overcoming teeny changes in tones in the original photographs that were slightly out of focus to begin with drained away quickly. Still, I know my way around the camera a lot better than I did three weeks ago.

By the way, the picture above is not one of the recent ones from class. I really haven't had much time to play around with the scanner or any other digital imaging programs on my laptop. Maybe I can do something on one of these weekends, but right now I feel a little drained of creative energy. My confidence in my artistic capabilities is waning somewhat.

Registering for Classes

There are about 40 people trying to get into a photography class in which there is only room for 20 students. And, I am one of the unlucky half that is not registered. The instructor spent most of this first class assuring everyone that if forty people truly want to take the class, he will be able to open up a second section. Then, he went on to explain how everyone will need to buy a new camera that will cost upwards of 300 dollars, or for the students enrolled in the visual communications program: 600 dollars. He further delineated all the tick-tacky accessories that one will need in addition to all of that. I could tell a wave of uneasiness swept through my fellow students. The consequence of his lecture on costs mean that several students will drop out, so there isn't likely to be a second class after all. And that may mean that despite the pleasant talk of everyone being able to get into the class, everyone probably won't. Personally, I think my chances of being able to get in are pretty good because I spoke with the instructor back in the beginning of December, but I won't know for sure until next week.

Once I got on campus today, which was about noon, I was expecting to stay well into the evening. The computer lab is normally open until 9:00 p.m., and I had some computer homework I needed to finish on one of the Macs. After all, even though I have been lucky in being able to afford most of these school expenses, I am still not rich enough to afford the $1500 it would take to buy an adequate Mac and the necessary software. I can get by using the computers at school. Or so I thought. After a dinner off campus, I was surprised to discover that the computer lab was closed because the work-study student who runs the labs in the evening did not show up. Disappointed, I waited around for a bit before accepting the fact that my homework is going to be late tomorrow.

It worked out in the end because, once I was home, I spent the rest of the evening cleaning out my room. Too many books, a messy cat, and a few piles of dirty clothes were starting to take over, and it was getting rather difficult to maneuver without stepping on something. The biggest accomplishment of the day, however, was not cleaning things up, but the fact that I called in a refill for my medication. It's not good to run out of the stuff because one can build up a resistance to it, or even become immune to it (so I have been told), and if that happens, it does me no good.

I also spent part of the day thinking about life back in the apartment and city back where (and when) I was attending graduate school. These beginning design courses can be so mind numbingly boring sometimes because concepts that are easily grasped are bluntly and repetitively hammered home, apparently in order to ensure that the beginning college students get it. Nothing like the free form discussions of theory in the small graduate courses I attended just a year and half ago. Yes, those classes were pretentious sometimes, and yes, some of the graduate students could be completely clueless or slightly snobbish, but the information was always interesting and challenging, and above all--the assignments were more self-directed which is something I enjoyed. That is: when I had the ability to do those assignments. My mood has been a little low lately, but I have to remember the days when it was struggle to get out of bed.

Clearing of Vision

The cord on my power supply for my laptop is internally weak, so I have to adjust the cord "just so" in order for the computer to get power. It takes a delicate hand, much like balancing a quarter on its edge. The battery I use for it is the original, at least over three years old, which means that it doesn't hold charge for very long. It is not anything that is terribly bothersome, only disappointing in that I may have to purchase yet another power supply, a power supply that will be the fourth one for this computer. Money used to come more easily, but now it seems harder to hold on to than normal.

On Monday, school begins again. I've signed up for three classes, one of which is digital photography. I'm looking forward to that class because I would like my photographs to be more artistic, more compositionally sound--if that makes sense. My mood has been somewhat below normal in that I am still grappling with the consequences of losing the previous graduate school opportunity, fighting to remember to take my pills on a regular schedule. The solution to the second part of that problem is to program my cell phone alarm to go off every day at the same time, a reminder to take my medicine.

The solution to the first part of that problem--my low mood--is quite a bit harder to resolve because everything I think about, every consideration I have, even the solutions to my mood problem, has an extra film of negativity on it, a cold and sticky layer that effortlessly coats my thoughts. Sometimes that film is slight, and sometimes heavy. And, honestly, I see it and counter it every time I can. But it all takes added effort, an extra step that is hard to take. And it must be nearly impossible for anyone to understand how sticky and cold this mood can be unless they themselves have felt it for some time and become comfortable with its presence.

In college, I often studied people and the culture of the nineteenth century, and just as often, one would read about the lives of notable people during that period--how they failed to achieve something important to them and could never come back to that, how that failure became a central part of their lives even as they lived beyond that moment of failure and established new lives afterwards. Those lives lived after failure, to some degree, have a feeling of superfluousness to them. In a sense, they are second lives, additional lives that exist side by side to the life before.

I think about these people often and compare myself to them. The classic story is about the unhappy child of an educated, well-to-do family that, try as he might, can never become the lawyer or doctor he aspires to be. Of course, the individuals one reads about manages through their special genius to succeed in other ways. They are extraordinary, so their lives are deemed worthy enough to be written down and preserved. But for every one extraordinary person who succeeds, there must be an army of the ordinary, the merely mediocre, who don't, or can achieve what they aspire to be. And these lives are not written down. They fade in history and evaporate.

I worry that I won't meet the demands of my ambitions: the ability to pay my debts, to comfortably earn a living or collect a savings ample enough to provide for friends and family, that I won't ever feel completely self-possessed, secure, and moderately happy. Perhaps these things are too much to ask for, a little too selfish or even the wrong thing altogether. But then again, perhaps not. Honestly, I don't really know, so I spend a lot of time thinking about it, going back and forth until I am tired out from my own internal questioning and just want to lose myself in a mindless television program or a handful of junk food. Tonight, that program is Star Trek. I'll be going to bed as soon as it's over, which is in about fifteen minutes.

My plans for the future seem somewhat simple: practice my art as best I can on a regular basis, try to do my best in school and finish as quickly as I can, develop better self-discipline which includes eating better foods and exercising regularly, and live life a day at time until I can develop a complicated new plan for the future that is not so deeply rooted in the previous plan of graduate school.

Days of Change

Taking an inventory of my trajectory through life, it would be accurate to say that where I am right now is precisely not what I thought I might be doing at this point. I feel like a messy closet overfilled with out-of-date clothing with a tumble of brown shoes spilling out the bottom. As an earnest and naive youth, I had been planning a little arc through the changes that I was working for and expected to occur. Really, "planned" conveys something too deliberate--it was more of my actively "supposing" where I might be because I also pessimistically and unconscious believed in fate, a type of monolithic stone golem. I accepted it as a reality, but I also tried to ally myself to it in order to lull it into going my way.

But I am not sure if pure randomness, my own mistakes, or a combination of several things, but something happened, and something did happen, to where what I thought and what occurred became like alienated lovers, intense longing between the two that cannot be realized with simple companionship. And the stupidity of this process, this living with what you want but can't have, is something that I know happens to nearly everyone. You can be warned again and again everyone goes through this process, but until it happens you can't really believe it, not really. It's an evolutionary denial rooted in the soil of self.

So, in the larger sense of "right now," I would be comleting my PhD thesis and in my third year of teaching freshman composition, if things had gone my way. I can even picture the afternoon classroom filled with nervous students, roughly half eager to learn the material, the other half already bored. In the larger building across campus is an office desk filled with drab books, "texts" in this official world of theory, books maybe only twenty people have ever read. In ratty folder or notebook are loose-leaf papers filled with half written research paragraphs filled with awkward sentences auditioning for the final work. On this detached and unreal stage of academia, I would be actively perfecting the role of professor. And, as pretentious and arrogant as that world can be, as shaped by cultural expectations as much as actual job requirements, I miss it.

Instead, I have nearly no money and am trying build up my life to a place where I can hang a wholly new, but similarly complex, set of expectations of a future life actively supposed. I am blessed to have a family and a support system left to help me start over as I know many don't. In a parallel universe, with the same circumstances but the absence of family, I would be living on the street, or a tent in the woods, perhaps near the edges of an urban shelter. And I am learning how to be healthier, a difficult process of trying build a meager but actively practiced wisdom. But it is a difficult process, a process that I hope will put me back on the rails of a stable life that is a bit more protected from the random chances and my own mistakes.

Pointless Ads with Silver Linings

It looks like some kind of jerk is putting comment spam in my blog. I hate that. And of course, they have hidden the spam in one of the posts made during the past three years, so in order to delete it, I need to sort through all my previous posts to find it first. Thank goodness I have my blog set to e-mail me with any comments people make, otherwise I would have never known about it. I just wish the e-mail would have had an indication which post received the spam so I could delete it. Maybe, I will try to moderate comments from here on out, but I would hate to do that because I don't want to make it any more difficult for people to comment anonymously. I don't mind anonymity; I don't mind negative comments; I do mind pointless advertising, which to my way of thinking, is much like vandalism.

The silver lining of searching through my blog posts to find repugnant spam is re-discovering how interesting and creative some of my previous posts are. Much of what I have written I had forgotten about. I found that I used to include many more hyperlinks than I do now: I may return to that again. I also used to set off blocks of quoted text to illustrate things that I was talking about. If I am going to do more of that, I am going to need to review some basic HTML tags. Like the blockquote tag, duh!

But most intriguing to me is noticing how my writing voice may have changed. Obviously, when I was in graduate school reading article after article, book after book, a more creative and advanced writing style was easier to create. That sort of voice came naturally. Now, nearly a year after things really began to fall apart in grad school, my blog has drifted into a more bland direction, mostly as a result of my personal problems and corresponding loss of motivation. The bloom is off the rose.

But maybe this just means that my blog, as a little writing project, has matured into something else, something that it was going to be anyway. I could improve it by writing more often and practicing more. Although my life has been significantly changing direction too, so it would make sense that my blog would change as well. One thing that is worth noting is that I started this blog while in college full-time, and for the most part, that has changed. Technically, I am still in college, but it is not like it was; it never can be.

Checking In Again

The end of school is fast approaching for the year. Finals are on Monday, and I think I am going to do very well and get A's in all my courses. Unlike the graduate school fiasco, I am getting the work done. Of course, the work is intellectually less challenging, and I find that is something that I miss (but just a little). And what the work lacks in the intellectual challenge, it makes up with it's demands on creativity. Once I really get my feel around the software programs--Photoshop, InDesign, Illustrator--I think I will really be able to do something striking.

Getting work done outside of school has been a bit more of a challenge, but I am doing my best. Of course, I haven't really been able to do anything with my comic. Not only is it hard to figure out what to do next with the story-lines, finding the time and the motivation to do it, even a bad one that wouldn't require much effort, has been waning. But, part of me still wants to keep going with it, so I will.

In many ways, I feel (on a personal life assessment level) like I am back where I was when I first embarked on the whole college path ten years ago. My life is about the same, and it is hard to tell if I am making any progress with it. Yes, it is true I have learned many important life lessons. And yes, I have had some experiences that some people in this world never will have. Still, there is an emptiness of everyday life that grinds with a whisper on the edges of my consciousness. I am not sure it will help, but I am going to try and discipline myself to achieve some goals: eating better, exercising regularly, balancing work, school, and relaxing in healthy amounts. The improvement in health should assist with mood.

Grueling

Today was a rather grueling day. I spent about ten hours at school working on projects and assignments. I am still not done with them, but I managed to finish at least three and start on a fourth. I pretty much stayed in the computer lab until they closed it at 9:00 p.m.

The biggest challenge of the day was trying to reproduce a Rolex ad from a high-end magazine; this assignment involved my photographing a watch, adjusting it in photoshop, laying out all the graphic elements, choosing the right type to get it to match EXACTLY, and laying out the text correctly. I never knew that adjusting all of the various minutiae of type was so onerous, but it overwhelmingly is. Even though the only physical exertion invloved moving a computer mouse around, I felt like I had been pulled through a knothole backwards when I was done. People who enjoy this kind of adjustment of type are odd people indeed.

I took an hour dinner break around 5:00 p.m. I figured I could best relax browsing books at Borders. I couldn't afford to buy anything, even a measly cup of coffee, but I did enjoy looking. I'd rather buy used books anyway seeing as how all the worthwhile books can be had for much, much cheaper elsewhere. Speaking of worthwhile books, I did see a book of contemporary poetry that I thought I would enjoy. And as I was in the poetry section, I looked through a couple of Emily Dickinson poems. Her portrait on one of the bookcovers was striking because of her extreme skinniness and slightly odd appearance. However, as I was standing there reading, I was struck how most successful poets seem to be reaching for something beyond themselves and more substantial than the various superficial masks that their contemporary culture can offer them. I also briefly read a few poems by Lorca, Neruda, and Elizabeth Bishop.

The drive back home was uneventful. A few bites of some leftover Chinese food and a couple of mindless television programs capped off the day. Now, it is time for bed. I'm not going to work quite as hard tomorrow, but I still have a lot on my proverbial plate.

Checking in Again

It is an hour past midnight, and I should be asleep already, but I felt I needed to post something. It looks like I am averaging about two or three posts a months, and in that regard, it looks like I am a little behind for the month of November. There hasn't been much of note lately that is worth a blog entry, but maybe that's a good thing seeing as the last few posts have been me focusing on what has been lost. The lack of things to talk about might force a little creativity.

I suppose I could mention some of the things that I have been working on lately. For example, in school, I am developing my skills in Adobe Illustrator, especially how to use the pen tool. The instructor says that the pen tool is the most powerful tool in the program and that he never uses the pencil tool. It's admittedly tricky to figure out, but I think I am getting the hang of it. Of course, this has necessitated my spending more and more time in the computer lab. Tonight, there was a bit of wind and rain storm (minor one), and the lights were off in half of the town. This meant that some of the street lights were also off. It made for slow going when I was driving home. It's always odd to see familiar places which are normally lighted in total darkness.

Frankly, that's most of what has been the focus of my attention for the last three weeks: doing well at school. One thing today that has consumed some thought is the dream I had the night before. I was searching through a series of elaborately furnished rooms for Emily Dickinson. Even when it had been pointed out to me by some faceless presence that she had been dead for a very long time, I continued to look for her ignoring the obvious. The fact that she had been dead made it seem more important that I find her. And, I actually did find her. I turned around and she was just there. She didn't say anything, but as I felt so relieved at finding her, I gave her a hug. I know dreams usually have some kind of an emotional logic, an unconscious reason of sorts, but this one has me completely stumped. It was something I occasionally thought about in between classes, eating lunch, or while driving home.

In any event, I will try to post something a bit more frequently than twice a month. That is still my goal. Whether or not I manage to achieve that goal is another thing entirely, but it is a goal nonetheless. Until then.

Consequences of Grad School

I've been doing a lot of thinking about my life in graduate school, especially as it seems that several months after having left I have returned to square one, square one in this case being community college. In fact, this happens to be the very same community college where I began my crawl upwards out of the dreary clutches of a medieval-like factory job that threatened squeeze the spirit and vitality out of my life and my outlook on it. However, as grateful as I am for that first community college experience ten years ago, I am almost equally ambivalent about my current one. Really, I think I want to predict the future. I would like nothing more than the ability to know, for a certainty, that the work I am putting in now at school will have some kind of payoff. The graduate school payoff I was looking for didn't happen, and I am still struggling emotionally with the consequences of it.

Throughout my life, I have had a tendency to be depressed. I could try to hide it, but everyone in my life already knows about it. Especially during some tumultuous teenage years, I was apt to take to bed and try to sleep away most of my problems. Mostly overcoming that to a degree once the pressures of high school eased, I was relatively unafflicted by extreme emotional lows for a few years. I had a job and was able to put myself through college, eventually earning an undergraduate degree. But, the depression returned with a vengeance during graduate school (some of the reasons for that are still a bit unclear, and some of the others are known but will remain unspoken). In any event, the returning depression made it difficult to keep up with my work. I could attend classes, keep up with discussions, and even read all of abstruse--and sometimes boring--materials, but when it came to writing papers, two things were happening.

First, I was telling myself (with outside encouragement from various professors) that every paper had to be absolutely perfect. My goal was to write near-genius essays of remarkable criticism that would exceed everyone's expectations and have the potential to be published in top academic journals. Well, okay, maybe just the mid-level ones. Anyway, it was not entirely unreasonable to have this thought as the professors would occasionally remark how this or that past graduate student managed to do just that. Unfortunately, in my mind, I built up the task of writing papers to such a monolithic impossibility that no-one, not even the professors, could possibly do it in the time allotted. Ten weeks to write perfection? I think not.

Second, my emotional resources were simply drained all away. On the worst days, I would spend hours, maybe even half a day, marshalling the courage to get out of bed and go to class. It was a chore to eat a simple dinner every day, let alone spend hours in the library doing research. Why? Partially, it was because I was afraid of what my professors thought, what I would say to them, or how I would simultaneously work with other graduate students to get what I needed, but excel far beyond them in what I imagined to be the constant evaluating eyes of the professors. On my best days, I would simply worry about how I was going to get the mounting backlog of work done. I could even allow myself a slight, if naive, optimism.

During the last couple of months, I was starting to come out of the darker corners of depression. I was getting better--and I felt I was actually making real progress in my academic life, not merely wishing that I was making progress and somehow convincing myself of it--but by then it was too late. The damage was done. It was hurtful to leave; and as I was in denial about leaving, the hurt was extended for longer than it probably would have been otherwise. The meetings I attended that last week of school were sad for a number of reasons.

The weeks between the end of my graduate school career and my eventual move out of student housing and that town altogether were unusual and a bit surreal. Relieved I didn't have to worry about overdue schoolwork, I really hadn't considered all of the harsh consequences of leaving. Academically, I had been trained to think theoretically about things that didn't seem all that close to me. Perhaps this theoretically way of thinking was why I was able to develop a plan B: a return my old community college to begin a new direction in a new field.

As depression is an illness, albeit a mental one, it is sometimes compared to other illnesses. Depression is supposedly a problem with a brain chemical imbalance. Therefore, since depression has a physical cause, why should it be considered different from other types of illnesses that also physical causes like cancer. They say that--bottom line--I had gotten an illness, the consequences of which meant I couldn't finish grad school. However, sometimes, when I consider how much things have changed in the last few months, it still feels like a personal failure.

This Way or That

Two weeks into the graphic design program and I am still not sure if this program is the right fit for me or not. It's true that I am learning some skills about how to use certain design programs and getting information about the business in general. However, there is a lot of information that I don't really need. For example, today in class we spent twenty minutes talking about how to make our *two* page research paper conform to MLA format. Good Lord. Aside from the fact that I could teach an entire class about MLA format, I can't remember when I EVER wrote a two page research paper. The study skills counselor also visited our class and talked about study strategies to be a successful student. I listened attentively and was polite and patient, but I felt very bored and just a little insulted. Money is the major obstacle here. If I had lottery winnings to spend, or more intestinal fortitude to endure the existence of a few thousand dollars more debt, I would try to enroll in a graduate level art program. But, the affordability of my current classes outweighs all the minor been-there-done-that-a-thousand-times issues I face.

And then, I think about my English Degree and the graduate courses I took. Aside from the personal problems I struggled with during graduate school, I excelled at all those English type things: analyzing texts, writing research papers, and reading and researching abstruse journal topics. Am I giving all that up to start over again in a new direction? Is there a way to use and combine my graphic design aspirations with my previous English training? Or should I give up trying to get all of these degrees, stop spending the money, and figure out a way to earn money with an English degree. I suppose I could try some kind of writing career (likely freelance), but I'm not sure I could really pull it off. Bottom line: I am a little confused about where I am headed or where I should go.

Today, I broke my glasses. They were getting weak at the bridge and finally snapped this morning. I took them to the local jewelry shop to get it soldered, and then to the eye clinic to get the nylon strand that holds the lenses in the frame repaired. I spent fifteen bucks for the soldering job which is no big deal. However, since I haven't seen the optometrist for several years, it seemed reasonable and convenient to make an appointment to have my eyes examined. Of course, that will cost me $106, and since my last paycheck was about $200, I'm beginning to feel a few sharp shooting pains in my wallet. I knew I would be poor when I got out of graduate school, but I didn't realize I would be this poor.

Anyway, I am trying to maintain my equanimity about the whole career and life situation. I'm not spending as much time as I used to being depressed about where my life was headed. For example, a few months ago, a thing like my glasses breaking would have been the catalyst for my having a more upsetting day than I actually had. I suppose you could call that progress, even though nothing has really been resolved in any major way. I'm sure I will come to some conclusion eventually. At least I hope so.

Stalled Engine

So tomorrow is the first day of the new career training whatever. I'm still not entirely sure what to call it, what name to give it when I describe it to myself. Regarding my general life transition, of which this school thing is just a part, I discover I alternate between moments of a sort of muted malaise about the whole deal to moments of feeling adrift at sea. Emotionally, I feel like one of those cold rainless but cloudy days where everything is tinged with grey. I feel like I should somehow be doing something that yields more fertile results, accomplishes something I can look back on with satisfaction. Which is not at all to say that I have been unproductive. I've actually done some important things at work. I've even been reading a couple of novels at home, Graham Greene's The Quiet American for one. But, for the most part, life feels like it has stalled.

Perhaps this school thing will start the engine again. Today, I worked the Sunday shift down at the shop and continued on my assigned writing project. I've been researching the concept of business models and how to implement or refine them. After work, I wound up helping my dad hang some new shelves for the garage area. The longest part of that particular job is figuring out how to get the stinking doors to hang perfectly, and believe me, unless you have tried to do it yourself, you can't imagine how hard that actually is. While we were steadily working on those doors, four deer stepped out of the darkness, walked through the driveway, and stepped back into it again. It was sort of neat to see. The crazy cat, who I'm going to call "Bonkers" for the time being, decided that she would attempt to chase them. The functioning half of her brain apparently decided against a chase once she saw how large the deer were. That's it for now. Time to get to bed at a somewhat decent hour in order to be prepared for tomorrow.

A Character from a Thomas Mann Novel

Today, I managed to get up earlier than usual, so after making myself breakfast and taking a shower, I was able to feel like I was "up" for the day. There is a kind of lethargy that overtakes me after I eat breakfast: definitely a bad habit that I need to break. I resisted the urge to go back to bed.

The major accomplishment of today was getting ready for the new round of classes on Monday. This is going to be a career change, somewhat unwanted, that has all of the attendant fears and regrets that go along with an unwanted career change.

Let me explain a little bit. Last night, I watched a long PBS documentary about Andy Warhol. I liked it, but I really got involved with the description of Valerie Solanas' near fatal shooting of Andy shortly after his Silver Factory days (1968). I had watched the movie I Shot Andy Warhol on television awhile ago, and consequently I was sort of interested in the whole shooting episode, looking forward to a more documentary and less narrativizing approach. (The movie was good on its own terms, but I don't think it really portrayed the extent of Solanas' mental illness.) In any event, the documentary made a point to note how even though Warhol's near death had a brutal and devastating impact on him, he pressed forward with his art anyway. It appeared to be the only thing that he could do. To me, it seemed he had a simple choice after surviving the gunshot wounds: to either accept death and die quietly at home or to go forward and live life the only way he knew how. My circumstances are nowhere near as dramatic, but I have definitely felt a tremendous emotional impact (read: grief) over my late problems. But, the lesson here is that even in the worst moments of life, there is only really one choice: to let life's setbacks smash you in the face and stop you cold or to continue to move forward as best you can. Dogged determination to take tentative steps forward and another and then another even though you feel you're steadily losing ground. I am taking these kind of steps forward, even though I would prefer the impossible: to somehow go back in time and fix my earlier problems and lessen their impact. (Actually, as time does go forward, I am feeling less intense regret about the loss of my previous career path and more mild sadness. Thoughts of time travel occur with much less frequency.)

So, I went to campus to made the usual pre-class rituals--buy books, pay for classes, pay for the parking permit, etc. After several years of school, I'm no longer anxious about the first day like I used to be. In fact, standing in all of the usual lines which go with the college experience, I'm beginning to feel somewhat old. A few years ago, I could pretend I was just an old pro in the student world, but now I'm starting to feel vaguely ridiculous. Most of the other "students" are now nearly half my age. Despite this, I am hoping to do well in the upcoming term. I have a perfectionist streak and a bucket full of good intentions that sometimes make it difficult to not crack under pressure. The grand total of these college expenses are approximately $625, all of which is now on my new credit card. Monday is the first day. The first day of which I hope is the start of a new career path.

Frustrations

There is something magically compelling about the keyboard of my laptop to the cat. For some reason, despite the several square feet of sitting and sleeping space that abounds around her, she really only wants to sit on the few square inches of my fragile keyboard. Perhaps there is something about the static electricity in her fur that aligns her with expensive electronics, or maybe she just harbors a grudge against me and amuses herself by this petulant behavior. She sees my reaching to move her away from the computer as an invitation to play. Consequently, my right hand has more than a few scratches and bites. I suppose I should see this as some kind of subtle hint to spend less time on the computer as I tend to waste a lot of my time with it.

Aside from the somewhat comical struggles I've had with the cat, I've been having more serious frustrations on a number of fronts lately. I'm not entirely sure if I've followed the roots of all these frustrations to their ultimate source, but if I had to guess, I think they stem from my transition from my previous career path as an English scholar to a new and more uncertain one as a Graphic Artist. As crazy as it may sound to some, I really enjoyed reading obscure novels and abstruse literary theory, writing long papers, and generally thinking critically about those aforesaid things. Most of my personal relationships have suffered because I can't keep control of these frustrations all of the time, or because I can't express them as eloquently as I would like.

Today, I spent most of my time in bed researching for some projects at work. I couldn't motivate myself to take a shower or go into town. I've had a few headaches and been a little more fatigued than usual, both of which could be a result of my forgetting to take my medicine on a regular schedule. Tomorrow (well, technically today after a night's sleep), I am going to be in my previous college town for most of the day. I am not 100% sure what I am going to do, but I will probably take some time to look around maybe even see a movie.

Yesterday, I drove into the capitol and I picked up my portfolio from the Visual Communications department. For some unsupported reason, I was expecting to receive feedback about my portfolio submissions, at least some indication of where my strengths/weaknesses were, but there was nothing. I'm not too disappointed, especially the director of the program indicated she would be out of town for awhile during the overview session I attended last month. I logged into the registration website and signed up for a couple of classes today. In a couple more weeks, I should have a report about what they are like and what I expect to get out of them. I am looking forward to learning about the vector illustration software they use. I hope this will be challenging enough to be worth the money and time investment.

In any event, on the personal level, I am going to start seriously working on how to keep my frustrations in order so they don't overwhelm me. (By the way, it should be said that these frustrations aren't the daily minor ones that everyone faces every day, but major ones that grow out of life's regrets and failings.) I used to ignore these kinds of bothersome things by saying to myself that whatever was irritating me didn't really matter all that much in the long run, or that my frustration was somehow a personal failure to interact properly with the person who was involved in the bad emotion. And maybe there still is some use to this type of coping as long as it doesn't develop into full blown denial. But really, I think I need to figure out how to accept these frustrations and move on without causing some kind of havoc in my life and the lives of those around me. I've (inadvertently) caused enough havoc today.

The Literary Feline

Fountain

Today was not one of my better days. I've forgotten to take some of my medication this past week, so that explains some of the reason why I've been under the weather. On the plus side, the word finally came down that I got into the program to which I was applying. Now, all I need to do is come up with just a few hundred dollars and I will be a student again, albeit at decidedly lower stakes than before. I am really hoping to pick up some career skills that will help me climb out of the black hole of debt I am currently in. Nothing like the prospect of being compressed into an impoverished singularity to motivate one to earn money.

By now, most people know that I unofficially have a cat. It has a balance problem due to a brain defect. According to the vet, to which she was taken a few weeks ago, the cat is known as a "mild cerebellum" something, something. Some injury or disease early in its development affected the cat's brain, specifically the part that controls motor skills. Therefore, the cat frequently falls over, misses jumps, and generally acts like the chief doofus of the feline world. Sometimes, it looks like she is constantly pouncing on things, but I believe that is because she compensates her jumping problem by leaping several inches higher than necessary to reach her intended target. But, beyond her brain issues, I think the cat is just plain weird. She chews on a cardboard box; her favorite cat toy is my hands (which she has scratched and bitten nearly all to hell). And despite her jumping compensation, she still misses. There is nothing like sitting in your chair, and having a cat leap up as high as your head in order to sit with you, but either miss the chair entirely or plain fall out of it. This is in addition to the normal cat issues like fish breath or sitting on my laptop as I am using it. (For instance, this blog post has been interrupted at least five times already.)

Aside from school, and the cat, I think I am doing generally okay. I've been reading for pleasure again. Right now, I am reading Storm of Steel, essentially the diary of a German Soldier during World War I. It has been interesting to get new perspective on the war that launched the 20th century. I finished reading Jimmy Corrigan about a week ago. Generally, I liked it, but I think I turned to Storm of Steel for something more classically literary. I am not sure what I will read next, but I have a paperback copy of Freud's "Jokes and their Relation to the Unconscious" that I picked up in a used book store in Salem. I read his "Psychopathology of Everyday Life" for class last year and enjoyed it. Tomorrow, after depositing my paycheck, I'm going to try and take care of a few errands. I may or may not take more pictures.

Underwhelmed

Fort Hoskins II

After making a breakfast that consisted of three eggs and reheated coffee, I spent most of the morning cleaning things up and straightening the mess that my room had become. The piles of paper that had been on the floor were thrown out, the books that were strewn everywhere had been restacked, and the dirt on the floor was swept away. I took my time doing all of that since I've been trying to cope with the loss of my previous career path: English scholar/teacher. I get the sense that most people who know me want me to get over my moods already and move on with my life, and to be really honest, I am doing the best I can. I'm trying not to let it get in the way too much, but I can't help feel some loss about it.

The overview session that I went to today, the one I mentioned in my previous post, the overview session for the graphic design program I am applying to, was somewhat underwhelming. I think the main purpose of the meeting was to dissuade the unserious and errant dabblers from enrolling in the program. If you saw Art School Confidential, you got to see the arty stereotypes that make up these sort of classes--unserious, errant dabblers being one of those stereotypes. I'm afraid that my nervousness and anxiety about the program was manifested in my nerdy questions after the main presentation. "Did I submit the portfolio in the proper format," "Does the program make use of wacom tablets," and "How soon do you need to buy the (very expensive) digital camera" all were questions that could have at least have waited until August 30th, about the date when I find out if they even accept me. The question that was really on my mind is "How am I going to pay for this," and of course that is a question that, eventually, only I can answer.

After the presentation was over, I went to Circuit City and looked at some several hundred dollar cameras, with so many buttons and screens that it seemed obscene somehow. None of the clerks there appeared to want to answer any of my questions because they all ignored me. Perhaps they somehow sensed I was the essence of poverty. I then went to the gym and worked out for about half an hour, because...well because I sometimes feel like a "fat sack of crap." (Not really, but it's my new phrase.) My last stop was at the pet store to pick up three cheap fabric mice for the cat that lives outside my door to chew on. I am going to try and take the next couple of days easy as far as my worrying about this graphic design program. It is not worth getting heartburn over. Besides, I got over things to work on in the meantime.

Dreams and Portfolios

Fort Hoskins

I slept most of the day away. After waking up at 7:00 a.m. or so, I went back to bed around 10:00 a.m. and slept until 3:00 p.m. It was just barely enough time to turn in my portfolio to the Visual Communications program at the local college. I spent all day Sunday taking photographs, filling out forms, and taking photographs of art that I had already drawn in my previous art classes from years ago. The deadline for turning in the portfolio is on Tuesday, but I wanted to get mine in a day early to beat the other last minute people, especially since the college accepts people in the program on a first come, first serve basis. If space is short, I might be able to beat out a handful of the other last minute applications. Tuesday, I go back to attend an informational meeting that discusses the program in more detail.

Except for driving into the neighboring town to turn in the portfolio, the only other big thing that I did today was the sleeping. I had a couple of dreams though. In the first one, I was on another planet that looked like a large city, like Portland, while other parts of the planet reminded me of California. I was in the parking lot of one of the big box stores looking for my lost cat, a cat that was the size of a large dog. When I got out of my van to look for him, the people I was with drove away leaving me stranded. I spent the rest of the dream trying to navigate my way through some suburban neighborhood in order to find the van and the cat.

In my second dream, I was re-visiting my old University for some reason. It was the end of the term, so all of my former colleagues were attending some large meeting. I was checking where my old office was, when the director came by and asked if I needed a key to clear it out. (The office in my dream was much smaller than the one I actually had last year.) I told her "no," since I had already cleared out the office earlier. I don't remember much else of the dream except that I was walking around campus and trying to avoid the people who knew me. Thinking about the dream made me a little pensive for most of the afternoon.

I'm not going to stay up too late tonight since I need to get back on a normal schedule. On Tuesday afternoon I attend the informational meeting, which even if I don't get into the program, should be interesting.

Adjustments

I've been neglecting my blogs for awhile, partially because I haven't really had anything new to say. Nothing has inspired me to get back to writing either. I think--and I haven't really admitted this to anyone yet--that I still feel somewhat demoralized from the loss of career and apartment at the beginning of the summer, so it has been a little difficult to find a new path and be excited about it. However, I have made a lot of changes since then, so I suppose I should try and keep some perspective.

For example, I am applying to the visual communications program at my local college to gain some practical skills that should help me get a freelance illustration career going. I've thought about also doing some freelance writing since I already have the training for that, but I worry that I am not creative enough to find topics to write about. Heck, if I can't figure out things to say in this silly blog, what makes me think I could write some kind of article and be paid for it. The nice thing about school assignments is the fact that the instructors pretty much guide you through what they want to see in a paper. Anyway.

The above picture is from a trip I took to the Finley National Wildlife Refuge. The environment there is supposed to be comprised solely of authentic native plants. It was sort of interesting to look out over the prairie and see what the country might have looked like about two hundred years ago. However, as you can sort of tell by the fence, there is also an original Pioneer farm house that was built in 1850's in the refuge as well. It was nice to reflect on how those people might have lived all those generations ago, but the building isn't that much to look at. Yes, it is authentic, but it is still just an old farm house.

Getting it in Control

Crane and Geese

Things haven't seemed to be going right for the past couple of days. I have a hard time talking with people without getting angry. The slightest irritation on someone's else behalf gets me going. I've been really trying hard to get it all under control. I think I need to center myself somehow, and to do that, I think I need some time alone. I have also had problems with allergies for the last two weeks. It affects my sleeping, and it makes it hard to breath sometimes. I know that these two things are unrelated, but I am sure it would be easier to control the anger if I hadn't had the allergies to deal with. It is like constantly being interrupted when you're trying to get it all under control.

Part of my relaxation technique is to get away for a little while at a time. The above picture is from one of those trips. It was one of the first times I have seen a crane at this particular location. In addition to the crane, there were the usual Canadian Geese, and in other photographs I have (which aren't as good) there is a nutria. At least, I think it is a nutria. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but it was pretty cool to see.

Steps in Front of Others

I've spent the last few days at work preparing a large submission for a specific trade magazine. The major part of it is about nine pages single space with one inch margins. For those of you who have typed term papers and the like, you know how much that really is. Anyway, for the project, I had to learn a lot about local history: stuff about pioneering trails, historic pioneer farms, and the like. It has been somewhat interesting to know more about the place you live, but I've not really been keen on learning about the pioneer stuff. Yeah, it is interesting to know how people lived one hundred years ago but that only goes so far. I guess I am more proud of the natural environment and the progressive reputation that the coastal west often enjoys more than the hard-work and determination blah, blah, blah that is usually associated with Pioneers. I mean, I guess it would be one thing if the so-called pioneers were the first people out here to settle the land and carve a life for themselves. But, of course, the reservation down the road (with it's popular casino) proves otherwise. The trumpeted ballyhoo about the pioneers of the American west is always tempered by the fact that, for me, it largely represents American expansionism and the displacement of the indigenous peoples.

Personally, I have been having some weird dreams. My life has changed dramatically, and I think, sub-consciously, I am still trying to get a grip on it. I often dream about being poor without any resources to depend on. I managed to get my first paycheck the other day, which was great, but I still owe rent for the month of May in place I moved out of, cable I no longer subscribe to, and phone for service I no longer have. The paycheck won't cover even half of it yet. Fortunately, by the end of the month, I should have most of my bills paid off, but the stress of still owing money combined with the fact that I'm not making any progress on my long term life goals--and that I am 34!--is a little depressing. I tell myself that life is one step in front of the other and that knowledge sometimes helps.

Cliche Enrollment Cards

McBee Park

I figured I could use some of the time I had at lunch to update my blog. I've thought about doing it a few times in the past couple of days, but the heat and the amount of work I have been doing has made posting a bit difficult.

I am officially flat broke. I have ten bucks in my pocket and five in my bank account, which I suppose is something, but not when you consider that I have over 60,000 dollars debt in college loans. I try not to think about that number, especially when I consider all of the other garbage that seems to go with it these days. I'd explain more, but more than likely, everyone who knows me has already heard it.

Being 34 and living your parent's garage is quite a come down. I've officially become a cliche and I am considering submitting my official cliche enrollment card soon. I know I am not the first person of my generation to have done so, but it would be rather nice to have my own apartment again. And speaking of cliches', since I have already gone there, I suppose I should view the next couple of months as a period of recuperation and recovery. Every self-help book and TV show seems to say that is a good idea, even if I am uncomfortable and self-conscious delving into the self-help territory.

I've stalwartly decided to ignore the seeming ignobility of my position to look at the slight upsides. For example, it is sort of a nice garage, and it gives me an amount of privacy that living on the streets never could. (Yes, that was a path I could have taken.) Also, I've still got access to television and the internet, so my mind will have something to occupy itself in the evenings aside from thoughts about the past. And, my parents do live in some scenic country. It has been rather nice to go outside and watch the wind rustle through the large trees instead of watching an empty plastic sack float past a public bus.

I've been spending more time in Nature lately, which is something one could probably tell by the pictures I have been posting recently. The above picture comes from a half-mile hike up and down a steep mountain to a very beautiful river scene. And because of the difficult hike, no-one else was there.

The top picture doesn't do it full justice. Even though it was a bright afternoon, this river clearing was a cathedral of shady greens and running streams. I should have taken some time to get my feet wet instead of standing on the river rocks. In any event, I'll post more pictures later from this particular hike when I have more time for blogging and more things of substance to talk about. Until then.

Footprints

I believe I have settled in for the time being. There is no more moving or shifting of my various material things left to do. Now, I am beginning to establish my new routines. I am not sure what has been really noticeable during the last week, because I suppose I have been too busy to notice anything. The one thing that has been on my mind the most have been the allergies I have been having for the last few days. They are giving me a lot of trouble, to the point where I have a little trouble sleeping.

Perhaps I am having somewhat of an existential crisis. School didn't turn out the way I would have liked, and so my future plans need to seriously re-adjust, but I am not quite sure what direction I want to head in yet. I have been exploring the idea of a future working in the fine arts somehow, but really, nothing seems practical at the moment. It was easy to imagine a future career in reasearch and teaching. It was close enough to taste; I saw it everyday, and to some extent, I was doing it. It is hard to have that kind of vision with an artistic path. Frankly, I think I am still in some of the various stages of grief about the last three years. I'm sure I will eventually work through that grief, but right now, it still feels like I'm far back enough in the tunnel to where the light at the end of it seems rather dim.

Moved!

It's finally done; I've moved out. It took two days to physically get all of the furniture out of the apartment, and then it took about four days to unpack it all into my current living situation. And I can't fit it all in, so I am looking at putting some of it in mini-storage, depending on the cost. I really hate moving, and from a purely physical standpoint, this move was harder to do than all my previous ones. Clearly, I am way more out of shape than I thought. I need to start going back to the gym so when I move next, I won't feel like I am going to pass out.

After about a week's break, I've started back on my artwork again. Having the scanner unpacked helps. I've got plans for upgrading my overall art supplies, but that will have to wait until I start earning my own cash. I am avoiding thinking about school for the time being. Part of me wishes things has turned out differently, but the other part of me is glad to be rid of that particular stressor. There's still some stress about the whole thing. Fortunately, it is not quite like it was before.

Packing Up

If all goes according to plans, this should be my last week here before I move back in with my folks. Yes, I have become a cliche, but I take solace in that it should give me some ability to earn a few bucks before striking out on my own again. I've also been thinking about how I should approach a permanent career in the arts somehow. I've invested in a handful of sketchbooks, pens, and drawing boards. For a mid term goal, I would like to get a good computer rig (*photoshop software, decent digital camera, and a desktop PC or MAC) put together to do some of the cleanup, coloring, and other various illustration tasks.

I am still adjusting to the major changes going on in my life. I spent the past few days at my parent's place trying to get things prepared for my arrival. I also did some initial training so I would know how to do invoicing and billing. There is a lot to learn, and I will need some help still, but I think I should be able to do it without too much trouble. However, the stress of the past couple of days has been a little overwhelming. I am still trying to cope with the adjustment, but I think I should do okay as long as I remember not to overdo everything by trying to get it all done at once.

Moving

Wednesday, I visited the disability services office, the financial aid office, and the career center. All of these things were in preparation for my upcoming move. At this point, I have packed up most of the apartment but I still have to sort through all of the things in the kitchen. I have a grand total of fourteen file boxes packed at this point. And the sad thing is that this is the bulk of my material possessions. Six more file sized boxes should take care of all of the small stuff. And, there is still a lot of things to throw out. I am sure there is some food stuffs in the cupboards that are least two years old.

Of course, since this is the end of spring term, I am not the only one moving. Right now, there is a moving van (not mine) parked in front of my building. I am starting to worry that I may not be able to rent my own truck when I need one if demand happens to be too high. If I can't get moving truck, then I am going to throw out more furniture than I planned on. I don't have that much anyway.

Throwing out furniture and household goods is nothing unusual for students. What was unusual was that I saw a couple people rummaging through the outside trash today. At first, I wondered if they might have accidently thrown out something that they really needed, but then I realized that they were probably homeless. They came up with a few pots and pans. I sure hope that they plan on selling them for scrap or something rather than using them for food.

I am going move my first load of boxes tomorrow. I am also going to change my address with the post office, make an appointment for "checking out" with the housing office, and try to be hopeful about all these changes in the next handful of days.

Some Days

Ritz Quacker

I've been packing for the last couple of days, and I have about four boxes loaded and ready to go. I should be all moved by the end of the month. I sorted through all of my clothes and books in order to determine which ones I could do without. The old clothing, the stuff that doesn't fit anymore, I dropped off at the goodwill today. Ihe books, I sold to a couple different bookstores downtown. Normally, when I sell books, I don't usually make anything more than twenty bucks because I am only getting rid of four or five at time. However, today, I got rid of about sixty altogether and got more money for them than I would have expected. Not to worry though, I still have a ton of books I kept, so nobody would even notice that I unloaded a few.

I also went back to campus today to clean out my office. I said goodbye to my officemate after I gave him some bookends, a desk lamp (which is broken), and some old text books I didn't need. I've never spoken to the guy more than just a few times, so it wasn't too awkward to say goodbye. I didn't feel any pressures to explain my future plans to him other than to say that this was my last term and I was looking forward to the summer. However, I did bump into the guy who I shared the office with during my first year. Every time I see him, I think about how he could be Jack Black's brother. They both look alike, sound the same, and act alike to some degree. I deflected questions about what I was going to be doing in the future by asking him about his dissertation and commenting on how busy he was going be. He laughed, and I wished him luck.

The last thing that I did today was go to the career center. I told the receptionist that I was interested in taking the strong interest survey. They arranged for me to meet with a career counselor, some short man with a receding hairline who was dressed "business casual." Since I knew what I wanted, we didn't talk about too much, except to say that in addition to that particular survey, they required students to fill out a myers-briggs test as well. He said when I finished both tests, we would discuss the results during a future appointment. I didn't really think much about the whole thing because, frankly, I was hot and tired. Part of me is also looking forward to putting this whole school thing behind me. Metaphorically, I've expended a lot heat and lost a lot of energy in the process.

Tomorrow, I am going to packing up the living room and cleaning out the kitchen to the best of my ability. I also need do the laundry. The picture of the duck, whose name by the way is "Ritz Quacker," (no, I am not making that up) was from a walk I took the other day downtown. I needed to get out of the house, so I bought a cold coffee drink and tried to think about all of the other things I need to do before I leave town. Some days are better than others.

Re-Tooling

Lunch This Past Tuesday

For several months, ever since my car was stolen, I have been climbing in to my car's driver's seat from the passenger side of the vehicle. The lock had apparently been forced open with a screwdriver or something and the whole internal locking mechanism was completely broken. I no longer get mad when I think about my car being taken for a teenage joyride, or used as some kind of temporary hotel, but I do occasionally speculate on what it was used for when it was away. Anyway, I had become quite adept sliding across the seats and rather indifferent to potential stares from strangers. I mean, my car was broken and it was not my fault. What could I really do, right? So, on Tuesday, I finally got it fixed. I spent the afternoon walking around downtown while the mechanics re-tooled the door. I was also able to buy a few small art supplies, like a metal copic brush pen.

My walk across town also helped me consider my current demoralized condition. My career path is not going so good, and getting my master's degree may not be in my future after all. Truth be told, I have earned a several incomplete grades and it is rather hard to get them resolved while still trying to attend class. It is very much like trying to save money while spending much more than you earn. I am just not getting ahead. To say that I have been spending a lot of time being pensive and disappointed is an understatement of sorts. My future plans and goals for my life are shifting, but I still don't know which direction they are shifting in yet. I've been reflecting on my future for the whole past week.

Today, I went to talk with the administrators to see if there was any hope of somehow salvaging what I could from the past two years of college enrollment. According to the people I spoke with, there may be a chance to get a degree at some future point, but it is long shot. A very, very long shot. But to earn this chance, I have to swallow my pride again, justify my presence to several bureaucratic gate-keepers, and finally make some academic progress. And to do that, I will have to spend the next three weeks on campus at the admin. bldg, the clinic, and the library. I am not sure I am up to it. On the other hand, to think that I've added a few more thousand dollars of debt to my college loans without a degree to show for it is a strong motivator to persist along my college path for a little while longer.

Regardless of what decisions I come to, my plans for the summer (and beyond) involve a significant change. For too long, I have been stuck in a sort of spiritual neutral; the ship of myself has sailed into still and stagnant seas. Soon, I will move back in with my folks, start work in the family business, explore my illustrator interests, and generally regroup emotionally. I think a change in my physical environment will actually help me get kick-started. And I am looking forward to making some progress--any progress--because, after all of this, a little success will go a long way.

Future Shock

Future Shock

I have become a close friend to anxiety. It has nested comfortable inside my chest, to the left of my heart, and whispers to me constantly. Usually, I try to fight it and say to myself, one way or another, "okay, just because you're worried about the future does not mean that things won't eventually be okay and sort themselves out. Life goes on. Failures are just opportunities. Feelings aren't facts. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But because the whispering of anxiety is incessant, it takes all of my energy to fight it or ignore it, and occasionally, it absorbs me from the inside out.

One way or the other, it seems that my current school plans are either at an end or on hold. I certainly can't afford to keep going into to debt, either financially and academically without having some sort of promise of future reward. So, I am looking at getting a new job, but not in the field for which I have studied. I am looking at getting a new place to live, but some place super cheap. Essentially, I am looking at starting things over, going back to where I was four years ago, but this time, I don't really have a plan for how to move things forward or recover some of what I've lost. I've reached a cul-de-sac in life, and I have to turn around.

Perhaps, I do have something to show for it. For example, maybe I have a better sense of self. After all, I am resolving some long standing life issues to some degree, even though I feel I've made more than my share of mis-steps. And maybe I've even improved the quality of my present and future internal life, even if I will continue to be among the poor and working class. But faced with my current setbacks and debts, this is classic "cold comfort."

But, now I've indulged my anxiety with this blog post, I can start talking back to it with the "life goes on, failures are opportunities, and feelings aren't facts" stuff. There may yet be some things I can do, so, I will do what I have always done. Accept where I am at without too much regret, and try to negotiate for better place and more secure future.

Today on Campus

Campus

I've been on some new medication that makes it more difficult for me to stay asleep. Consequently, I have been waking up super early in the morning, usually around 4:00 a.m. or 5:00 a.m. This would be great, except that I am getting to sleep around midnight or later. I've always had a weird sleep schedule, which I think was due to the swing shift/graveyard I worked at for nine years, but this medication I am on makes the whole eight hours of sleep idea a lot more challenging.

Speaking of medication, because I don't have an income to speak of, I have to signup for a patient assistance program to continue to get this stuff from the corporate guys who make it. I was on campus during the hottest part of the afternoon today getting all the required paperwork filled out and jumping through hoops. The nurse manager, a nice person who seems really overworked, was in charge of all the hoops that needed to be jumped through.

I've had to work with this Nurse Manager before, let's call her R.N. T-----. She's a very nice person, but the last time I met with her, I was sweating from the exertion of walking across the campus on a hot day. After a few minutes, she noted that I was sweating and so she asked me if I was okay. I assured that I was, but while I was filling out forms and such, she left and got me a cold soda. A little stunned, I quietly took the soda and put it in my bag and drank it while walking back to the library. Well, today, the same thing happened again. R.N. T----- looked at me with a look of concern and asked if I was okay. I was sweating again, partly because it was hot and I don't acclimate well to the heat, and partly because the meds I am on make me perspire more. But she was so concerned that she made me take a cold can of apple juice, even though I repeatedly said I was fine. After I filled out more paperwork, I left and drank the apple juice in the car.

However, I have spent the rest of the day wondering if I look like crap, like some kind of human disaster who has just crawled out from under a rock. What is it about me that inspires concern on the part of this woman each time I see her? Do other people notice how I look and think to themselves, "what is up with that guy?" but don't say anything for some reason? I am not going to be too self-conscious about it, but getting feedback about your appearance along the lines of "are you okay?" can affect your self-image for the day. Oh well.

Morning Moon

Morning Moon

I've not been sure what to post, so I haven't really done anything with my blog here for awhile. My biggest project is trying to finish up work for several classes, but everyone knows that, and therefore, is not really worth mentioning.

Although I may not have made much progress in the school department of my life, I have been making a lot of personal progress in creating a healthier lifestyle. I am not sleeping as much as I used to. The above picture of the moon at 4:00 a.m. is evidence of that. But, most people are sick about hearing about my so-called progress too.

In fact, the only thing that might be interesting is that I bought a recliner for ten bucks on Friday. I happened to see it at the St. Vincent DePaul store as I was driving by it after school. It was a bit of a trick loading it in the car and carrying up the stairs by myself, but somehow I managed it. Normally, I read my school books in bed, but I usually fall asleep if the books are too boring, which frankly, they can be. I figure that the recliner will be a better place to read.

Saturday, I cleaned the apartment top to bottom, which included doing a sink full of dishes by hand. I also rearranged the living room to accommodate my new piece of (shabby) furniture. Today, I read my school book. I need to write a two page paper and make a bunch of copies tomorrow, and then on Wednesday, I have to be in Salem to get the door of my car fixed. It has been stuck closed ever since some thief broke into the march before last. I have been climbing into the driver's seat from the passenger side of my car. I have gotten pretty adept at sliding in out of my car, and I am not as self-conscious about looking like some cheapo astronaut climbing into an Apollo module, but it will really be nice to open the driver's side door again. Not sure when I can post next, but maybe I will post a bit sooner than I have been.

Living in Limbo

Today, I managed to go to campus and tkae care of a few things, not the least of which is a making an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. I need to talk with the doctor about increasing my medication if it is possible or advisable to do so. I only spent about twenty minutes waiting to see the triage nurse to discuss why I needed to see a doctor. For some reason, the student health center was packed with sick people: one had a pretty rough cough, and another had "pink eye." I know this because one of the nurses mentioned it to the staff at the front desk, and everyone overheard (about seven students.) I guess privacy about one's health is not something that students really have as much as older patients might. Generally, students are a pretty healthy lot anyway, and they don't have much experience with clinics anyway. Therefore, if one of the clinic staff mentions, in a rather loud voice, that "Richard" has "mono," Richard is not likely to complain about it.

Another minor success for today--I did some grocery shopping. I bought some hot dogs, tea, and chicken. I would like to go to Costco sometime to buy some stuff for the freezer, but to be honest, I am not sure if I am going to have to move in a couple of weeks or not, so stocking the freezer now might be a pointless exercise. I've been thinking about getting a job, about moving to another apartment, or about moving back in with my parents temporarily. Money is getting low, and school options are running out. I am still not sure what I need to do at this point, but I am fairly certain that I will know more by the end of the week.

Tomorrow

Okay, so the optimism of the previous post might have been a little premature. I haven't accomplished much since Wednesday except catching up on too many naps. I am almost out of cash, and I needed to have written two fifteen page papers a month ago. I've lost my confidence, enthusiasm, and motivation for doing the work in the face of the failure to have done it before. And, I am not too sure what to do about it other than to keep trying until circumstances force a change.


Night Driving

Last Friday, I went for a drive around town looking at apartments that I might want to rent. (For a couple of reasons, I have to move out of the place I'm currently in, regardless of whether I have money or a job.) There seemed to be a nice place--sort of secluded, near the river and a park. It is very unlikely that I will move over there, but it was nice to think about it while I was looking. Of course, I don't want to paint too bleak a picture. There are some things I can do, and I am going to try and do a few of them tomorrow. The inertia of the moment feels like it is dragging me down a little bit, but I know I can work against it. As the cliche goes, tomorrow is another day.

Slow Going and Turning a Corner

Anyone who knows me, or has seen me in the past couple of months, is probably aware that I have been struggling with depression for some time. It is not really a big deal anymore at this point because I finally have accepted the whole medical/biological side of the whole thing. Yes, there have been some outside circumstances that have contributed to my condition, but for the most part, I am figuring out that the real deal is internal. And on that front, I have been changing quite a bit. I'm not going to say everything I have been doing to make things better, but I will say that I think it is starting to work a little bit.


Sunrise

The evidence for this has been the past couple of days. After a significant relapse of depression that was more intense than usual, I turned myself around. I spent all Sunday cleaning my apartment. That may not sound like a big deal, but the months' worth of clutter I slowly let accumulate was significantly out of control. Today, I went grocery shopping, took a twenty minute plus long walk (to the grocery store), and did a lot of research for one of my overdue papers. I also made myself breakfast and balanced my checkbook. (Of course, I am running out of cash, but I am not going to let that bother me just yet.) While this might seem like a normal day for the average graduate student, it was quite an accomplishment for me. As cornball as this sounds, I am going to be proud of myself. Tonight, I have planned a few more things that should clear the way to getting more work done on my papers. It may be too late to make a difference in the money department, but this next week is also an opportunity that I am not going to let slip away.

Animal Games

Part of the dilemma that I have been having about posting here on my blog has been that I have not really taken very many pictures lately. I feel that, since I can, I should at least post a picture or two, right? Well, the picture of bamboo to the left here is from March of last year. I will definitely need to charge up the batteries for my camera and stop spending so much time indoors. The other part of the dilemma is that I don't exactly know what to say. The things that have mostly been on my mind are either too trivial or too personal to mention.

Therefore, I suppose I should say something about Animal Crossing. (Trivial) Yeah, the game has been out for a couple of years already on the gamecube. Now, I myself don't have a gamecube and if I am vegging out with a videogame, it is probably something on my Playstation Two. But I heard about it, and I thought my sister would be interested so I bought it for her. Long story short, I think I created a monster. She played it, and she liked it. In fact, she bought her own gamecube console ($99) just to play that one game. Since the game is played in real time, and because a pixelated Turtle asked her to, she had to "visit" her town each day for a whole week to turn on a lighthouse.

I have to admit that the game is sort of fun in that there seems to be new stuff to discover every other week or so. I created my own character to play my sister's town. Consequently, my sister and I have been speaking a weird language which, if overheard by others, sounds rather absurd. I might be saying something like: "I gave another fish to the owl at the museum and there is a shovel for sale at the store, but you really have to write that duck a letter or she'll move out of town." Anyway, so much for that. I hope to post more often, but maybe I won't.

The Wringer

Today was one of those days that put me through the wringer. A few people know I have been struggling with financial aid hoops. Well, at the library, I wrote a detailed letter explaining how I planned on completing my work, then I had two professor's sign it. It took awhile to track down the professors in their offices, and then of course, with each prof. I launched into a self-deprecating story of the troubles I had, but the determination to finish my outstanding work.

So, with the two signatures in hand, I walked the fifteen minutes it takes to get across campus to turn those papers in to the financial aid counselor. He said that I also needed signatures from two more professors for the following term, so I went back across campus to get them (going through the same professor tracking down experience as before), and then walked back to the financial aid office to hand these new signatures in. (For those keeping score, that's approximately 45 minutes of walking. Most of it, by the way, in the pouring rain.) Of course, the second time I got the signatures in, he said that the other thing he now needed was an e-mail from each professor confirming my current work completing strategy. I felt the strong desire to kick the chair out from underneath him, but I smiled and thanked him for taking the time to meet with me. I probably wouldn't be so miffed if I hadn't already been through a similar process the week before. Most of the first week of school has been spent in meetings or organizing meetings with the various campus resources I need.


Sunset

But on a positive note, I am fairly certain that all of this work will actually pay off. I do believe that my petition will be approved some time next week, and then I won't have to worry about paying rent or affording groceries On top of the back and forth on campus today, I drove across town and had my driver's license renewed. The experience at the DMV was not all that excruciating in that I was in and out in less than twenty minutes, which gave enough time to buy some food at the grocery store. But, after the walking, the rain, and the driving, I was pretty tired. I plan to not really do very much tonight except read the assignments I have for Thursday's class.

I could say more about the meeting I had with the professors: one, in response to my description of the difficulties I have had the last two years, said "Life is full." I think it was his attempt to say something profound about the nature of life's problems, or the inevitability of suffering, but while I appreciated the sympathetic gesture, I found it a little corny. The other professors seemed somewhat surprised that I was still hanging around working on the same problems I had discussed with them last year. I feel like a barnacle on this institution, desperately clinging to rock. Like I said, I could say more about the professors, but I think I might save that for later. Suffice it to say that I feel that this is my last best chance; now I need to show some work for it.

Plans and Trips

There may yet be one more chance for me to avoid moving. It involves a couple of well-written letters and about another week of waiting, but if I can actually turn things around rather than just talk about it, then it will be worth it. By tuesday, questions about my short-term housing plans should be put to bed. And, after spending so much time worrying about that and seemingly everything else, I am pretty sure that I will feel somewhat better either way.

Of course, I could have avoided this current pass of circumstances several times before, but for various unwritten and unspoken reasons, I didn't. I try not to be overly critical of myself, but it is hard to stop doing something that one is so accomplished and practiced at. So far, it has been like trying to un-bake a cake. At this stage of my life, I think I am beginning to truly appreciate the importance of honest and sincere emotional support, both the giving and receiving of. Although I am far from perfect in either regard, I have learned that it is okay to ask for it when you need it. I tell myself it is okay "not" to chain myself up in guilt so much.


Depoe Bay

The holidays were rather nice, but the best part were the few days that I spent at the beach with a friend. The picture above is from our second day at the coast. Shortly after taking this picture, we could see the spray plumes of a pod of whales several miles out in the calmer seas. We did not see any sea lions during this trip, but there were a couple of nice walks on the beach that I enjoyed as much. I did not take many pictures, but I am glad of the few that I have.

Oak Tree

It has been well over a month since I last posted something on the blog here, but I figure now is as a good time as any to let everyone know that I haven't stopped writing or thinking about writing a little something here. It has been somewhat difficult to be a "strong ship" and ride out some of the emotional waves I've been sailing on, but the good news is that I haven't capsized. Besides, a sea without waves is rather boring. Related to the emotional stuff, school is pretty much a wreck right now, and I am not sure if I can salvage a degree out of the whole fiasco or not. But I sure am going to spend the next couple of weeks trying my best to do just that--finish. I am still reading some books in my incomplete subjects, and I am actually finding the material interesting and thought provoking. The reality of losing some of the things I have worked for is sinking in to such a deep level that it makes me realize how some of the painful sacrafices will be lose some of their meaning if I don't have something to show for them at the end of it all.

I remember when, while on a field trip for a college biology, the instructor pointed out a little oak tree that had already begun to have bulbous and cancerous growths sprouting on its limbs. The tree was in a picturesque field of tall grass tucked on top of a high hill with large airy veiws of the valleys and farms spread out below. I think of that mental image, and sometimes, I feel like the tree. While I know I have a lot of lovely resources that should nourish my sense of self and accomplishment, there is some internal thing, like the oak cancer (something wholly my own, internal) sapping me from achieving the potential growth I could acheive without it.

Crossroads

So I guess I am going to stop stressing about how often I post here and just post whenever. Too often, I get to feeling like I should be posting here like every other day or once a week, but I am going to give that up. If I only post two or three times a month, so be it. Blogs can take up a lot of your time if you let them--obviously, right? Anyway, I figured I would at least check in here and post something. I am still going to blog occasionally and am not going anywhere. I didn't want anyone to think that I disappeared.

The school thing seems to be going as well as it normally does, except now it really is crunch time. I know I have said that before, but I really feel like this is my last chance to make it. If I can turn in three term papers at the end of the next three weeks, I will be in good shape and will be able to go to school in the winter. If not, I must make some changes. Anyway, I am enough caught up on school to where I think I can actually pull this off, but I am not going to focus on it too much. I just plan on keeping my head down, and putting my nose to the proverbial grindstone. We shall see what comes of all of this.

On the personal front, I think I am really making progress. I have been cooking my own breakfasts and dinners lately (even if the dinners usually only consist of George-foreman-grilled-chicken-breasts). I have even been to the gym three times this weeks. I may be over doing it right now, but maybe not. I think I can keep this up for a little while. Tonight, after laundry, I am going to be finishing my novel (50 pages to go) and writing my report for Monday's class. Then, I start in on reading my theory book, which will probably take me all weekend to do. Should be a full weekend.

The only really interesting things in my opinion, besides doing more work than usual, are the dreams I have been having lately. Usually, I walking am in a crowd of people, none of them with faces or anything, but all shorter than me. It is dark, like the inside of a movie theatre, and I am having a hard time fitting through small doors. Each door I walk through is really thin and cramped. I have to turn sideways and squeeze through. All of which winds up making me feel frustrated. I am not sure what these dreams mean, except maybe that I am trying to fit in somewhere and having a little trouble doing so. Who knows? Anyway, that's it for this blog post. More later sometime.

Knights and Fighting

I've just finished reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Of course, not knowing middle english all that well, I read it in modern English translation. Overall, it is an interesting tale that I had not read before. Now I need to think about all of the elements that include the natural (and possibly supernatural world). The color green seems significant, but besides all of the traditional formalism and symbol interpretation I could do, allow me to say that I am awed by the amount of blood and death that frequently appears in these texts from the middle ages.

The thing that I keep thinking about was how this poem seems designed to show how to be a good soldier. For example, loyalty to the King, even when carrying out absurd quests is more important than protecting one's own life. I suppose the Knight would say it was for a good cause, but I really don't see it. Of course, in Gawain and the Green Knight, this sort of loyalty is rewarded by divine approval, so the death that seems so eminent does not occur. But I wonder about the Knights who admired this story and died trying to emulate the standard of honor it conveys.

I wonder if the action movies of today are meant to do the same thing in our modern wars. For example, when Arnold blows away forty or so "bad guys" and looks supercool doing it, especially when it occurs with a Rock-and-Roll soundtrack, I wonder if the result partially teaches young men how to act as soldiers in battle. I read in some books that the icon of John Wayne, the ultra-masculine cowboy shoot 'em up hero, was an image that some soldiers in the Vietnam War had to confront when faced with the fear of combat. I'm not too sure what I really think of all of this, but it is something to think about, and sometimes helps to put it in modern contexts.