The Hēathernet 20oz. to Geekdom

Trimester down!

Yes, that was a blur. Somehow I swung those grades despite my uncanny ability to leave every assignment for the night before and alternate between 14 hours and 2 hours of sleep.

What's frightening is that I'm muscling out this update while I'm in the midst of already having met for most of my classes already in the next trimester.

I did enjoy a lot of the research I've gotten to do already. There have been some late night psychotic breaks. Most of the time I am raving mad and declare, loudly, that I don't want to do this. A few times it's been because I've been really into my work. If I get around to it I may post a couple of my presentations or papers if I can figure out a way to make them internet entertaining.

Other than that things should stay pretty quiet around here on the update front.

Anything but homework

• Went home to the Scotia area on a deliberate and exclusive trip to see Jenna and Jordan and Jason last weekend. I could never some up how good it felt to be with friends again. No visit could ever be long enough to be all I need from them.
• Sometimes the Pre-K and kindergarten boys relate me a little too closely to their fathers. If I work with them on floor level they've been known to suddenly tackle me.
• Mary Morrison is 90% military sub base families. I asked one kindergartner today if he planned on showing his art to his mom and dad after school. He told me his dad was underwater for a long time. I saw his dad pick him up one day after school. Now that man is somewhere in our oceans.
• I don't know what to do about my handwriting. In 10th grade I made the conscious effort to learn how to write in all capital letters after I noticed my handwriting became more legible while staying just as fast. That's three years of high school and eight years of college where all the notes I've taken have been in uppercase writing. I can write lowercase neatly on a board in my old handwriting if I concentrate but if I have to take notes quickly my brain fights my efforts and my hand warps the neatness. Most of the time this is a non-issue as note taking is for me and board writing is for the children. Today I did some reading assessments and I went with lowercase as it seemed to make sense at the time. I made  mess.

Here’s a damn entry

Why does school ruin everything?

Before school I liked to read. Now I never, ever read for fun. How does a flashlight-under-the-blanket kid become a sloth ridden couch potato.

Before school I liked to blog. Now I have to write a daily journal entry after each day of my internship.

That's where the writing goes.

That time of year

I've been spending my time not at work either motionless on the couch or motionless at my desk. I don't work any more hours than normal at the big red bullseye but somehow they're all the more soul crushing. I've even had the recent experience at getting on the naughty list for working forty hours and five minutes and then coming in the next week and having the tasks I didn't complete pointed out to me. Breaking that down: I worked too much not working enough.

Things are moving forward with grad school. I've been awarded an internship (most likely) and I picked up a substantial financial aid package.

My internship interview was a strange experience. At one point the principal and assistant principal looked at each other and briefly confirmed with each other that, "Yeah, we're staying open."

I was struck by what a strange country it's become. When the Mohawk Mall slowly became an empty husk or the retail football that was the Glenville Fay's Drugs building finally was razed to the ground it was change but it was good old fashioned American change. Schools closing and restructuring feels entirely different, although maybe that's because I grew up in a district that was pushing against the size of it's buildings. I've seen schools closing in the news but this was the first time I sat across from actual professionals what that shrug in their shoulders: we don't know where the country is going.

The financials were the last thing really holding me back from committing to grad school. I'm going to get swallowed up by a really nuts schedule over the next month. Enjoy this nugget. I'm going to go disappear again.

Incoherent rambling

I got my letter. I'm accepted to the Masters in Education program for the Winter 2011 Trimester at the University of New Haven.

My studies, should I choose to begin them, are right around the corner. I have an introductory orientation class in December starting the night of the 7th where I'll have to commute to New Haven four nights a week. That puts a timer on how long I have left to learn how to drive Michelle's car. Yeah, I really should know how to drive stick by now anyways.

So the question is: Am I going?

Well, yeah. It's the better option. It's only a year and on the other side is a better life with a better career.

The next question: Am I excited? Looking forward to an education and career in education?

No.

Despite this apathy I can still feel another feeling and one that is far stronger. The sand is really starting to come out of the hourglass now. I turn 30 a year from now. It's probably time to have a career.

Sometimes I'm still pretty confident that the feeling is just me falling for a social convention. Money and insurance are powerful forces, they kind of make it easy to fall.

I think the conclusion is that inside most of us there are two selves. There is one self that wants a dog, and a backyard, and a separate television for watching baseball (ahem), and all the perks that come with growing up and making money. The other self, which is the self that has always gotten to come first before, is the one that wants to make no sacrifices for adult life. I think this other self gets accused a lot of being immature and unintelligent but I tend to think no such thing. Especially in creative types I think it is this self that drives us to be the amazing species that we are. I demand adventure because I'm inquisitive. I'm indecisive because I'm all-inclusive.

This is what happens when you make the Camp Fowler motto I've never done it that way before a manifesto.

Alright, here's what I know. Ever since I was 16 I have met amazing folks who have become my closest friends and fellow visionaries. If we could all be promised we could do anything we want, so long as: we made the world a better place, music and art surrounded us, we shared the work, lived in tight community, made time for reflection, and-most importantly-need not worry about putting the needs of the adult self before the value of the ever changing selves within our community; we would flock to that experience and live out our lives, filled to the frothy brim, not necessarily with happiness, but with a soul deep contentment and purpose.

I don't know how people live any other way.