I'll go in order of how I remember them, because there were a few things I wanted to say but didn't think each one individually warranted its own separate post.
1. When parents say "I wish my kid would stop getting so big!" it bugs me. Not because I don't feel the same way. I do. Time goes so fast and I barely remember my big 5-yr old when she was a tiny infant. I barely remember cradling her in my arms, and now she is independent, she wants to go outside and play with her friends before she gives me a welcome hug and kiss when she comes home from her dad's, she's in school for christ's sake!.. What bothers me about this "I wish my kid would stop growing" sentiment is one small passing comment my mom made to me when I said that to her about Caelyn. She said, "There's only one way for them to stop growing." And of course she was referring to my sister Katie, who died of a cancerous, inoperable brain tumor when she was only 6 years old. She will ALWAYS be 6. And that kind of "stop growing" is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. So when someone says, "My kid is getting so big I wish he would stop!" I hold my tongue.
2. Does taste in coffee mature with age? Or does it somehow reflect our current mood and emotions? I've been pondering this recently because I've found my taste in coffee choice radically changing. I used to be the Breakfast Blend or French Vanilla extra light extra sweet kind of coffee drinker. Now I find that a light brew almost tastes like water. I find myself putting less sugar and less creamer in my coffee, and prefer to drink a darker brew, a French Roast or some other such "dark" type. Is this my maturing of coffee taste? Or maybe it's me being stressed out and so needing a deeper, richer jolt in the morning? My other thought about this was a little more disturbing: The coffee I'm drinking right now almost tastes like DFAC coffee... and I like it. *shudder* Don't get me wrong, though, I still crave a light and sweet iced coffee every once in a while, but for the most part, dark and bitter have been suiting me just fine.
3. I bought a class ring. Not the wisest decision given my current financial status. But I did it. I'm graduating this semester, barring any failing of classes, and I really feel like after a 10-year journey to this damn degree, I want something, for myself, to show for it. Besides the requisite diploma, of course. The only other thing I want is the tassel. I totally missed booking a sitting for yearbook pictures. Not that I'm going to buy a yearbook, I don't know anyone else in my graduating class and I wasn't active in anything on campus to make me want to fondly remember my college years. Which I've spent half of being a part-time commuter just wishing for it to be over already.
4. I'm sure there was one more thing I wanted to put down here, but I've forgotten. My memory is very bad, so that is all!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Getting Dirty
No, I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about my daughter, Caelyn. She is 5 (if you didn't already know this fact already). She is a Princess (with a capital "P"). And she likes to play hard. In the dirt. This may be a fact of life for most kids, but I have never seen a child get as filthy as she manages to get. She's outside for 10 minutes and she comes back with dirt smeared across her face, leaves in her hair, cuts on her hands, and holes in the knees of her jeans. I really can't imagine how she manages.
Actually, I do have a slight idea. I once caught her pouring flower-pot-fulls of dirt onto the top of her head. I also caught her sticking tree branches and flowers (with the roots still attached and dropping dirt everywhere) under her headband so she could be the Forest Princess. Yeah.
The other thing, aside from her, that gets dirty is her clothes. A good amount of her clothing has dirt, grass, and food stains on it. I know the importance of cleanliness, and not looking like a slob when she goes out, but seriously, she's 5. She's going to get dirty, and then she's going to out-grow these clothes in about 4-6 months. At which time she is going to have all brand new clothes to mess up. Yeah, when she gets a little older it will be farther between needing new clothes, but for now, I say, "Sure go ahead and play. Get dirty. Have fun!"
Actually, I do have a slight idea. I once caught her pouring flower-pot-fulls of dirt onto the top of her head. I also caught her sticking tree branches and flowers (with the roots still attached and dropping dirt everywhere) under her headband so she could be the Forest Princess. Yeah.
The other thing, aside from her, that gets dirty is her clothes. A good amount of her clothing has dirt, grass, and food stains on it. I know the importance of cleanliness, and not looking like a slob when she goes out, but seriously, she's 5. She's going to get dirty, and then she's going to out-grow these clothes in about 4-6 months. At which time she is going to have all brand new clothes to mess up. Yeah, when she gets a little older it will be farther between needing new clothes, but for now, I say, "Sure go ahead and play. Get dirty. Have fun!"
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month
This is my first disclaimer: if you get queasy about girl-part details, don't read this post. Just wait for my next blog post.
Also, before I get to what I want to write about, let me first state that THIS POST IS NOT MEANT, IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, TO BELITTLE, DEMEAN, OR IN ANY OTHER WAY DIMINISH THE EMOTIONAL AND/OR PHYSICAL HARDSHIPS OF LOSING A CHILD WHETHER THROUGH MISCARRIAGE, STILL BIRTH, OR OTHER MEANS AFTER BIRTH.
That was my second disclaimer. Because it's true, and some people may get sensitive about my seemingly heartlessness. Because what I'm thinking about this month, since October is apparently Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, is why I don't feel sad or think about my own loss. Granted it was six long years ago, but even a year after, even two months after, I did not feel any deep sadness or grief or emptiness.
And let me say that when it happened I DID feel terrible. It was excruciatingly emotionally debilitating. For about a week. Seriously. I cried my eyes out while waiting to go in for the D&C, I broke into tears when I talked about it. I cried at the damn mall when I passed the maternity stores because I wasn't pregnant anymore. It hurt to watch other prego-bellies walk in and out of the store buying fat clothes that they will only wear for the next 4 or 5 months because I wasn't one of them anymore.
But then I was fine. Maybe it was because of my lack of involvement. Here's how it went down: I conceived in April 2004. Presumably due in January '05. No insurance. No ob/gyn. Set up an appointment at the clinic at the hospital, but they couldn't get me in until the end of July. I guess I thought this was ok. That would have put me at around 4 months pregnant. Mid-July I started having slight cramping pains in my uterus-area, and started to spot lightly.
Up until that point I believed my pregnancy was going fine, that I was having a normal non-complicated pregnancy. Sure I felt sick quite often, but I put it off as just morning sickness. And this is what I mean when I said "lack of involvement." I was not involved in the pregnancy. I was stressed out (relationship issues, which is something I will probably never go into), and did not have a doctor to communicate with about what was going on. No blood tests, no ultrasounds, not even a blood pressure test to tell me if I really WAS having a healthy pregnancy. It was four months of mindlessness.
At any rate, the cramping (and by cramping I mean a slight pinching feeling every 5-10 minutes) continued for a few days, during which time I went on vacation with my family. I told my mom about the spotting, and I think she figured it out then, and I think I had it figured out as well, but I wanted to believe it wasn't anything serious.
Two more days went by and I wake up and both symptoms had gotten a little bit worse. Worse meaning the cramps, though not any more painful, had gotten to about 2 minutes apart. My mom insisted we go to the hospital. Two minutes later and there would have been a very bad mess in the car. We got there, I got admitted, I was asked to give a urine sample (and at this point I was still only lightly spotting), and when I went to go pee in the cup... Let's just say all hell broke loose. Literally. I felt like I was dying; the gushing just wouldn't let up for a minute (and that includes the tears from my eyes and boogers from my nose). My mind was completely in denial. All I was focusing on was giving that damn urine sample. I had the cup in one hand, and ball after ball after ball of toilet paper in the other, trying desperately to clean myself enough to put some clear pee in the cup. It wasn't happening.
I guess finally the nurse came in and gave me a huge gigantic pad to wear (which didn't help really, I think they changed the absorbant pad under me no less than five times), and they decided that the only thing to do was to put me under for a D&C because it was obviously too much for me to pass on my own. And in case you don't know what a D&C is, it stands for Dilation and Curettage. They surgically scrape out all the stuff inside (like scooping seeds out of a pumpkin) so your body doesn't have to do it on its own. It's basically what they do when you have an abortion.
I remember talking to the anesthesiologist, then I remember waking up and feeling really hungry. Painless. I ate a really awesome hospital meal of chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, and then was free to go home. They couldn't tell me the cause of miscarriage. By all counts I should have been 4 months along already, that would have meant a definite fetus. There was none. All the paper I clogged the toilet with made it impossible for them to get a sample of whatever was left. What they scraped out was nothing definitive either; just blobs and lumps and clots. Their best guess was that it was a missed miscarriage, where the fetus dies very early on, never develops because of chromosomal issues, and my body just hadn't felt the need to expel it until then.
That was it. I think I moped around most of the rest of the day, and the next day we went out for my dad's birthday. The next day I drove myself home and cried all over again (and got drunk. Really drunk). I may have had no more than 2 more complete break-downs about the ordeal.
The other reason I think I recovered so quickly is because I got pregnant only two months later and went on to have my daughter, Caelyn, the following June. And that is not to say I felt like she replaced the one I lost. I just never felt like I lost a child. Under the circumstances (which I have so graciously detailed for you), it never felt like a child. To me, there was no face, no footprints, no heartbeat, nothing. It was just globs of bloody tissue that had to get scraped out of me. I never felt a bond with that unborn being, I never got to think of that unborn being as a child growing inside of me. My mental thought process was "yay pregnant. wtf miscarriage." Period. End of story. And that may sound extremely callous to some. Maybe to most.
Let me also add that I was not in a happy relationship. I was not in control of my life. There was no focus, no long-term goals, no aspirations. I dropped out of college. My life was a real mess. I had no room to stress about bloody clots that I never thought were a baby to begin with.
All my sympathy goes out to all the women who have dealt with loss in a real way. Not my way. I will never understand those feelings, those emotions of grief and mourning because I have never truly felt them myself about experiencing my own loss. All my sympathy also goes out to all the women who have lost young children, because I watched, and lived through, my mom losing her daughter, my sister, Katie to cancer at only 6 years old. Now THAT still affects me to this day. She was in my life for almost 7 years; I watched and experienced her growing from a baby into an amazing little girl. And while I will always weep her passing, I will also remember the good times we shared together, and the brightness she brought to the world for such a short time.
And perhaps that is a third reason I don't mourn my own loss. It was a mere blip in my life compared to the pain and agony of watching my sister deteriorate from the moment of her diagnosis to the moment of her death almost exactly a year later. Bleeding for twenty minutes and then having surgery to erase what I had never even seen is nothing compared to watching my young sister, (and mind, I was 15 at the time) who was in my life for almost half of it at that point, take her last breath. My loss seems insignificant compared to that.
So, yes, I have all the sympathy in the world for those who mourn, for those who grieve, for those who have lost once or multiple times. Because I can do that, even though I don't mourn my own. Recognize, Respect, and have Sympathy for those who have ever lost this October, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
Also, before I get to what I want to write about, let me first state that THIS POST IS NOT MEANT, IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, TO BELITTLE, DEMEAN, OR IN ANY OTHER WAY DIMINISH THE EMOTIONAL AND/OR PHYSICAL HARDSHIPS OF LOSING A CHILD WHETHER THROUGH MISCARRIAGE, STILL BIRTH, OR OTHER MEANS AFTER BIRTH.
That was my second disclaimer. Because it's true, and some people may get sensitive about my seemingly heartlessness. Because what I'm thinking about this month, since October is apparently Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, is why I don't feel sad or think about my own loss. Granted it was six long years ago, but even a year after, even two months after, I did not feel any deep sadness or grief or emptiness.
And let me say that when it happened I DID feel terrible. It was excruciatingly emotionally debilitating. For about a week. Seriously. I cried my eyes out while waiting to go in for the D&C, I broke into tears when I talked about it. I cried at the damn mall when I passed the maternity stores because I wasn't pregnant anymore. It hurt to watch other prego-bellies walk in and out of the store buying fat clothes that they will only wear for the next 4 or 5 months because I wasn't one of them anymore.
But then I was fine. Maybe it was because of my lack of involvement. Here's how it went down: I conceived in April 2004. Presumably due in January '05. No insurance. No ob/gyn. Set up an appointment at the clinic at the hospital, but they couldn't get me in until the end of July. I guess I thought this was ok. That would have put me at around 4 months pregnant. Mid-July I started having slight cramping pains in my uterus-area, and started to spot lightly.
Up until that point I believed my pregnancy was going fine, that I was having a normal non-complicated pregnancy. Sure I felt sick quite often, but I put it off as just morning sickness. And this is what I mean when I said "lack of involvement." I was not involved in the pregnancy. I was stressed out (relationship issues, which is something I will probably never go into), and did not have a doctor to communicate with about what was going on. No blood tests, no ultrasounds, not even a blood pressure test to tell me if I really WAS having a healthy pregnancy. It was four months of mindlessness.
At any rate, the cramping (and by cramping I mean a slight pinching feeling every 5-10 minutes) continued for a few days, during which time I went on vacation with my family. I told my mom about the spotting, and I think she figured it out then, and I think I had it figured out as well, but I wanted to believe it wasn't anything serious.
Two more days went by and I wake up and both symptoms had gotten a little bit worse. Worse meaning the cramps, though not any more painful, had gotten to about 2 minutes apart. My mom insisted we go to the hospital. Two minutes later and there would have been a very bad mess in the car. We got there, I got admitted, I was asked to give a urine sample (and at this point I was still only lightly spotting), and when I went to go pee in the cup... Let's just say all hell broke loose. Literally. I felt like I was dying; the gushing just wouldn't let up for a minute (and that includes the tears from my eyes and boogers from my nose). My mind was completely in denial. All I was focusing on was giving that damn urine sample. I had the cup in one hand, and ball after ball after ball of toilet paper in the other, trying desperately to clean myself enough to put some clear pee in the cup. It wasn't happening.
I guess finally the nurse came in and gave me a huge gigantic pad to wear (which didn't help really, I think they changed the absorbant pad under me no less than five times), and they decided that the only thing to do was to put me under for a D&C because it was obviously too much for me to pass on my own. And in case you don't know what a D&C is, it stands for Dilation and Curettage. They surgically scrape out all the stuff inside (like scooping seeds out of a pumpkin) so your body doesn't have to do it on its own. It's basically what they do when you have an abortion.
I remember talking to the anesthesiologist, then I remember waking up and feeling really hungry. Painless. I ate a really awesome hospital meal of chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, and then was free to go home. They couldn't tell me the cause of miscarriage. By all counts I should have been 4 months along already, that would have meant a definite fetus. There was none. All the paper I clogged the toilet with made it impossible for them to get a sample of whatever was left. What they scraped out was nothing definitive either; just blobs and lumps and clots. Their best guess was that it was a missed miscarriage, where the fetus dies very early on, never develops because of chromosomal issues, and my body just hadn't felt the need to expel it until then.
That was it. I think I moped around most of the rest of the day, and the next day we went out for my dad's birthday. The next day I drove myself home and cried all over again (and got drunk. Really drunk). I may have had no more than 2 more complete break-downs about the ordeal.
The other reason I think I recovered so quickly is because I got pregnant only two months later and went on to have my daughter, Caelyn, the following June. And that is not to say I felt like she replaced the one I lost. I just never felt like I lost a child. Under the circumstances (which I have so graciously detailed for you), it never felt like a child. To me, there was no face, no footprints, no heartbeat, nothing. It was just globs of bloody tissue that had to get scraped out of me. I never felt a bond with that unborn being, I never got to think of that unborn being as a child growing inside of me. My mental thought process was "yay pregnant. wtf miscarriage." Period. End of story. And that may sound extremely callous to some. Maybe to most.
Let me also add that I was not in a happy relationship. I was not in control of my life. There was no focus, no long-term goals, no aspirations. I dropped out of college. My life was a real mess. I had no room to stress about bloody clots that I never thought were a baby to begin with.
All my sympathy goes out to all the women who have dealt with loss in a real way. Not my way. I will never understand those feelings, those emotions of grief and mourning because I have never truly felt them myself about experiencing my own loss. All my sympathy also goes out to all the women who have lost young children, because I watched, and lived through, my mom losing her daughter, my sister, Katie to cancer at only 6 years old. Now THAT still affects me to this day. She was in my life for almost 7 years; I watched and experienced her growing from a baby into an amazing little girl. And while I will always weep her passing, I will also remember the good times we shared together, and the brightness she brought to the world for such a short time.
And perhaps that is a third reason I don't mourn my own loss. It was a mere blip in my life compared to the pain and agony of watching my sister deteriorate from the moment of her diagnosis to the moment of her death almost exactly a year later. Bleeding for twenty minutes and then having surgery to erase what I had never even seen is nothing compared to watching my young sister, (and mind, I was 15 at the time) who was in my life for almost half of it at that point, take her last breath. My loss seems insignificant compared to that.
So, yes, I have all the sympathy in the world for those who mourn, for those who grieve, for those who have lost once or multiple times. Because I can do that, even though I don't mourn my own. Recognize, Respect, and have Sympathy for those who have ever lost this October, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Facing the Day
It's been rainy and dreary the past few days. I set my alarm for 6:20am, not to get up, but to allow time to snuggle with Caelyn. She is getting accustomed to waking up at this time as well so things are going a little more smoothly in the morning. So, I wake up enough to poke her awake enough to climb under the covers next to me. It really is quite cozy, warm and sleepy, next to my baby girl, who's not such a baby anymore. It's hard to really wake up and get out of bed when the real alarm goes off at 6:55 (allowing for at least 2 five-minute snoozes), especially when it's still dark from it being so cloudy.
Anyway, here is a poem I wrote during class (No, not a poetry class. I was bored, and uh, wrote some words down).
Facing the Day
Warm
hidden
covers over my head
eyes shut tight
The sun is peeking up over the horizon
but I don't want to see it.
secret
alone
burrowing deeper
grasping for dreams
but as my mind awakens
I know I must
face the day.
Anyway, here is a poem I wrote during class (No, not a poetry class. I was bored, and uh, wrote some words down).
Facing the Day
Warm
hidden
covers over my head
eyes shut tight
The sun is peeking up over the horizon
but I don't want to see it.
secret
alone
burrowing deeper
grasping for dreams
but as my mind awakens
I know I must
face the day.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Lethargy
This is the main reason I haven't blogged in a while. I've been feeling really lethargic. Not just physically, but more mentally than anything. I'm having a hard time remembering things, staying focused, and just plain thinking straight. I feel like my brain is burnt out. I've been thinking about so many things that I think I finally just stopped thinking altogether.
I have to do well this semester to graduate. I've been preoccupied with Caelyn going to school as well. It's double homework for me with all the notices and fund raisers she's brought home so far just in the first 2 weeks. I am infinitely glad that she gets free school lunches because if she didn't I would probably forget to feed her. Work has been slow. I am so distracted by anything and everything in the house right now. Too many people and too much mess and I'm the only one home most days to clean up. Which I shouldn't really be spending all my time on since I'm supposed to be working.
Then there's the moving thing. Trying to pack boxes here and boxes there, deciding what I don't really need for the next 3 months and can send up to the house. And all that takes time, too. I guess all the problems stem from there being a deficient amount of time to work with. I need the days to be at least 3 hours longer each. Then maybe I'll be able to feel productive.
I'm feeling pretty unproductive right now writing this blog because there are at least three other things I should be doing instead. Getting Caelyn ready for bed (I've told her to brush her teeth 5 times already, but of course I need to be right on top of her to do anything these days. At least she's in her pajamas), the dishes need to get washed, even though I think my mom is going to do them, she's on the phone so now the dishes are sitting getting all crusty. The carpet hasn't been vacuumed in at least 4 days, and I meant to do it today but never got around to it. Mostly because Caelyn had her friend over for most of the day, and the other reason was because I was futzing around online. And then I was cooking dinner.
I've gotten to the point where I need to put alerts in my phone to remind myself to do really stupid easy things so I won't forget. And I'm not talking about like when something is on your mind and you're still thinking about it and just procrastinate. I'm talking about like, at around 8:30am I'll tell myself "Ok I have to call her pediatrician after 10 because that's when they open," and I won't remember that I had to make the phone call until we're going to bed and the office is closed and everything. And then I say "I have to remember tomorrow to call..." It's a vicious cycle of reminding and honestly forgetting. My mom will say "can you open the window to get a breeze in here?" and I will literally say, "Ok, sure thing," and then NOT do it because I forgot that quickly. I think I have to start setting an alarm to eat, because I've lost 4 pounds (not that I'm complaining about the weight loss), but I'm pretty sure it's because I've become accidentally anorexic. I just forget to eat.
I'm really not sure how to fix this problem. Any suggestions will be greatly appreciated. As for now, I am going to try my best to start drinking a LOT more water and to start running every day. I've fallen into a really bad slump and I need to get out of it. I think hydrating (I really don't drink anything during the day: cup of coffee in the morning, maybe a glass of juice at dinner. Usually nothing in between. I know, it's so bad) and getting more active may help with my brain functions. If I'm still as addled in two weeks as I am right now, well, then I have no idea what I'll do. But I haven't gotten there yet, so for now I have to go and get ready for bed and make sure my sleep-deprived daughter is sleeping as well.
I have to do well this semester to graduate. I've been preoccupied with Caelyn going to school as well. It's double homework for me with all the notices and fund raisers she's brought home so far just in the first 2 weeks. I am infinitely glad that she gets free school lunches because if she didn't I would probably forget to feed her. Work has been slow. I am so distracted by anything and everything in the house right now. Too many people and too much mess and I'm the only one home most days to clean up. Which I shouldn't really be spending all my time on since I'm supposed to be working.
Then there's the moving thing. Trying to pack boxes here and boxes there, deciding what I don't really need for the next 3 months and can send up to the house. And all that takes time, too. I guess all the problems stem from there being a deficient amount of time to work with. I need the days to be at least 3 hours longer each. Then maybe I'll be able to feel productive.
I'm feeling pretty unproductive right now writing this blog because there are at least three other things I should be doing instead. Getting Caelyn ready for bed (I've told her to brush her teeth 5 times already, but of course I need to be right on top of her to do anything these days. At least she's in her pajamas), the dishes need to get washed, even though I think my mom is going to do them, she's on the phone so now the dishes are sitting getting all crusty. The carpet hasn't been vacuumed in at least 4 days, and I meant to do it today but never got around to it. Mostly because Caelyn had her friend over for most of the day, and the other reason was because I was futzing around online. And then I was cooking dinner.
I've gotten to the point where I need to put alerts in my phone to remind myself to do really stupid easy things so I won't forget. And I'm not talking about like when something is on your mind and you're still thinking about it and just procrastinate. I'm talking about like, at around 8:30am I'll tell myself "Ok I have to call her pediatrician after 10 because that's when they open," and I won't remember that I had to make the phone call until we're going to bed and the office is closed and everything. And then I say "I have to remember tomorrow to call..." It's a vicious cycle of reminding and honestly forgetting. My mom will say "can you open the window to get a breeze in here?" and I will literally say, "Ok, sure thing," and then NOT do it because I forgot that quickly. I think I have to start setting an alarm to eat, because I've lost 4 pounds (not that I'm complaining about the weight loss), but I'm pretty sure it's because I've become accidentally anorexic. I just forget to eat.
I'm really not sure how to fix this problem. Any suggestions will be greatly appreciated. As for now, I am going to try my best to start drinking a LOT more water and to start running every day. I've fallen into a really bad slump and I need to get out of it. I think hydrating (I really don't drink anything during the day: cup of coffee in the morning, maybe a glass of juice at dinner. Usually nothing in between. I know, it's so bad) and getting more active may help with my brain functions. If I'm still as addled in two weeks as I am right now, well, then I have no idea what I'll do. But I haven't gotten there yet, so for now I have to go and get ready for bed and make sure my sleep-deprived daughter is sleeping as well.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
School
Well, my last semester has started. I had a couple of issues with how to pay for it, but thankfully things have worked out for the better. I won't say best, because the best got lost a long time ago, but better is better than working out for the worst, wouldn't you agree? I thought I was getting grant money, then I wasn't. Then I was again, then not as much as I had hoped I would get. In the end I took out a dreaded student loan (I REALLY did not want to resort to that, but it's not a lot) to cover the rest of what I owe for tuition, and the rest will be enough to finally pay off my car with some left over (I say finally like I've been at it forever, which isn't true. It hasn't even been a full 2 years on a 6-yr loan. Go me!). At any rate, I will feel a whole lot better not having to worry about a car note (with an astronomical interest rate because my credit is less-than-shiny), and to be able to work on paying back a student loan at a lower interest rate with lower monthly payments. And that's not to say that I will only pay the minimum, it's just a relief from having to pay quadruple that amount on my car.
Am I getting too personal into my finances? We all have our troubles, and I admit mine aren't all that bad. A few credit cards, and soon to be a student loan. Which I plan on paying off ASAP. Which may not be as ASAP as I hope. All speculative at this point, so I won't dwell.
On to more interesting things: my actual classes! I think I had my expectations reversed. I fully expected my syntax class to be the harder of the two. So far it seems pretty rudimentary, and there will be a LOT of discussion and reviewing of material so I'm not worried about maybe not understanding something. Slow and steady seems to be my professor's mantra on this one. Phonetics, on the other hand, while not as "slow and steady," still looks like it will be relatively easy, but not as easy as I had first thought. As long as I get to look at the charts, I'll be ok. I did look through the text book and saw a bunch of waves and confusing math-y looking equations and let's just say that it didn't make me smile.
I just have to keep in mind that THIS IS IT. No more school [for now]. I even went to the registrar to make sure I didn't have to do anything else to be able to graduate. Which I don't. Hooray! All I have to do now is pass these classes and I will be an official graduate with diploma in hand by mid-February!!
And now my daughter. She started Kindergarten last week! I can't believe she's going to real school now. And I already have the first fund raiser of the year, AND I'm volunteering to help out with the book fair next week. I guess I just think it's weird that it's the school that I attended, and her principal is my old middle school principal. It also seems that all the K-age kids' parents have been around the block before, have older kids so they already know each other, or have younger kids and already know each other.
I suppose it's mostly my fault for not being more active in my community. But really, I'm not the most sociable person. I'm actually not very sociable at all. Plus we're moving at the end of December, so right now I feel no need to create lasting bonds with anyone here. I guess as long as Caelyn behaves herself, I get her to do all her work, and get her to bed early enough to not be a cranky cry-baby in the mornings, we'll be OK.
Am I getting too personal into my finances? We all have our troubles, and I admit mine aren't all that bad. A few credit cards, and soon to be a student loan. Which I plan on paying off ASAP. Which may not be as ASAP as I hope. All speculative at this point, so I won't dwell.
On to more interesting things: my actual classes! I think I had my expectations reversed. I fully expected my syntax class to be the harder of the two. So far it seems pretty rudimentary, and there will be a LOT of discussion and reviewing of material so I'm not worried about maybe not understanding something. Slow and steady seems to be my professor's mantra on this one. Phonetics, on the other hand, while not as "slow and steady," still looks like it will be relatively easy, but not as easy as I had first thought. As long as I get to look at the charts, I'll be ok. I did look through the text book and saw a bunch of waves and confusing math-y looking equations and let's just say that it didn't make me smile.
I just have to keep in mind that THIS IS IT. No more school [for now]. I even went to the registrar to make sure I didn't have to do anything else to be able to graduate. Which I don't. Hooray! All I have to do now is pass these classes and I will be an official graduate with diploma in hand by mid-February!!
And now my daughter. She started Kindergarten last week! I can't believe she's going to real school now. And I already have the first fund raiser of the year, AND I'm volunteering to help out with the book fair next week. I guess I just think it's weird that it's the school that I attended, and her principal is my old middle school principal. It also seems that all the K-age kids' parents have been around the block before, have older kids so they already know each other, or have younger kids and already know each other.
I suppose it's mostly my fault for not being more active in my community. But really, I'm not the most sociable person. I'm actually not very sociable at all. Plus we're moving at the end of December, so right now I feel no need to create lasting bonds with anyone here. I guess as long as Caelyn behaves herself, I get her to do all her work, and get her to bed early enough to not be a cranky cry-baby in the mornings, we'll be OK.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Paper and Poetry
I'm going to keep this post short and to the point. I've had a lot on my mind the past week or so, between going upstate, getting me and Caelyn ready for school, and some propositions in regards to my writing (I will speak about that when things are more set in stone), I feel like I'm ready for a week of sleeping and not showing my face to the world at all.
The following is the response my Get Sparked partner created from the poem posted in my first previous blog post, Morning on Hoel Pond.
The following picture is the work of art that my partner sent to me, and then following the picture I'll post the poem that it inspired.
The following is the poem I wrote using this piece as inspiration.
Sea of Wanting
Shower of spring petals
dancing
Trees, flowers, adoration
growing
Silver sands of summer
enticing
Riding waves of desire
reeling
It was wonderful at first.
Everything was vibrant, colorful.
Life was full and then it wasn’t.
empty.
distant.
cold.
lost interest.
Shimmering autumn hopeful
shriveling
Threads that once bound us
unraveling
Snow-flecked winter winds
freezing
Break through fragile ice
sinking
Gone.
© Elizabeth Cordes, 2010
The following is the response my Get Sparked partner created from the poem posted in my first previous blog post, Morning on Hoel Pond.
 |
| "Hoel Pond" Canvas made of handmade paper, made by the Artist, Gwynne Mason, kakishibu dye, silk paper, mixed media. |
 |
| "He Said He Was No Longer Interested In Me" Handmade plant fiber papers, made and decorated by Gwynne Mason, mounted on a handmade silk tapestry, mixed media. |
Sea of Wanting
Shower of spring petals
dancing
Trees, flowers, adoration
growing
Silver sands of summer
enticing
Riding waves of desire
reeling
It was wonderful at first.
Everything was vibrant, colorful.
Life was full and then it wasn’t.
empty.
distant.
cold.
lost interest.
Shimmering autumn hopeful
shriveling
Threads that once bound us
unraveling
Snow-flecked winter winds
freezing
Break through fragile ice
sinking
Gone.
© Elizabeth Cordes, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)