Another Lesson (Re)Learned

I withdrew from grad school. I know it was the right thing--the only thing, actually, that I could do given my present circumstances, but I still felt sad about it. What I realize in looking back, is that I shouldn't have enrolled this semester to begin with and here's why.

I have long been of the mind-set that when I'm trying and trying to do something and everything I do doesn't work, it's almost always because I'm on the wrong path. Now I can't describe exactly the feeling between what I'm talking about and the natural opposition we get when we KNOW we're doing the right thing, but this "signs" experience happens occasionally and if I had paid closer attention to the signs, the details and the feelings, I'd have saved myself some grief.

When I was trying to register for school I ran into all kinds of problems, from registering for classes, to reaching people in the right departments, to being registered as a 'non-degreed' student even though I was accepted otherwise, to getting financial aid. There were so many indications that I shouldn't force school, and the most prevalent was the feeling, even the idea coming into my head that maybe I should hold off. But did I listen? Listen and trust? Noooooooo. I think I was so anxious about having a plan for my life, having a reason to get up and having goals to work toward, that I forced the issue anyway.

Had I waited just a little longer, I would have arrived at the same place without all the unnecessary stress. I know why I'm not supposed to be in school and what I'm supposed to do and why. Feels wonderful. I'll keep you posted.

Grad School

is a challenge. My writing instructor is an accomplished person. She's one of those who's been writing since she was ten and she's won all kinds of awards etc. I don't think I really even started writing until I was at least 42. It's difficult not to compare myself to others, although as far as the students go, we're a pretty good group. No one person stands out as being really fabulous or really bad, but that might change...Last week I misunderstood the assignment and I turned in what amounts to a child's ditty:

Oh may you live in a humble house,
a rumble, jumble, tumble house
with rats for friends and a purple mouse,
a laughing toad and a curious louse
da-da da-da da-da da-da...

you get the idea...now maybe if I were taking a writing for children workshop...but I turned it in, not just to the teacher, but to every student for critiquing! Oh well, as least I have the option of emailing to them a do-over...

Academic Awards

Sorry for the blurry but my batteries were running out.

Yesterday I went to the academic awards ceremony at Mills with my friends Sarah and Noel. I'm so proud of my friend Sarah, whose recognition included a cash award. She is gracious and funny and unassuming and she had no idea she was going to be honored until a professor emailed her and encouraged her to attend. I'm glad I got to be part of her celebration. Noel and I had three out of four classes together our first semester at Mills. Noel is a wonderful poet; we had a great time in a poetry workshop together. I was surprised to hear so much clapping and cheering when I walked up on stage. Turns out that most of my senior thesis class attendees were also there. I don't know why it meant so much to me to hear my friends cheering and to have a certificate in my hand, but when I sat down after receiving my award, I felt a few tears.

I was always the best in my classes at DVC, but when I started at Mills, I discovered that I was surrounded by intelligent, talented, motivated women. At first I wasn't sure where I fit in. And the personal challenges (Brandon's awful situation, Andrew's leukemia, Clayton's accident at work) of that first semester were horrendous. I wonder now how I made it through. But I did. My daughter was a rock, (I love you, Telly), my friends stood by me, and my professors were very supportive.

Yesterday my all time favorite professor, Brinda Mehta, was at the awards ceremony. She hugged me and said, "See? All those self-doubts---gone." Some time I will have to write about her, if I can do her justice.

I'm excited to move to Baltimore and go to grad school. I know I will have challenges there, and sometimes I feel nervous about the unknown. But my time at Mills is fast coming to a close and I'm beginning to feel sad about that. I think I need to stop and pay attention to each day. I'm thinking about what Rachel told me once, that if we look at the future with too much focus, we miss what's right in front of us. How true.

Honorable Mention

This year I won an honorable mention for poetry from the Mills English Dept writing contest. That, was cool. Here's one of the poems I entered:

Cruella Deville
always lurched her long gray car, parking sideways on the un-mown scorch in her yard, until the night she ran over my bicycle, the long wrinkled car a menacing finger pointing, the headlights two crazed eyes staring through the walls, pounding her drunken fists and scream-crying, ‘Let me in my house!’ We huddled in our pajamas against our pure cotton mother who always smelled of lilacs and yellow, and when my father opened the door, a shaft of light tumbled out and broke into a hundred tiny pieces on the porch.

I saw her cracked, ochre teeth, the red mercurochrome eyes like the time I skinned both knees, smelled grape vinegar leaking from the ends of her wild, sizzling hair. My dad stepped easily over the broken shards into the darkness, his voice warm music just like Pastor Shane’s on Sundays, to gentle Mrs.Deville across the imaginary line between our yards, the one my brothers dared to cross, press their virgin freckles against the dirty plate glass window, see if Satan owned a color television.

Morning and I slide onto the banana seat, ‘good as new’ my dad says, close my hands around the rubber grips and push off, picking up speed, the pink and white plastic tassels and long flying hair, but it never rode straight after that.

The front tire always wobbled
just a little.

Should I or Shouldn't I?

I arrived home after 10:30 pm. I had worked all day at my care-giver job and I was tired. Brandon was still up. Two boxes from the distribution center had arrived (I had ordered some ASL materials for Brandon and his friend who recently joined the church). On top of the boxes was a stack of mail. A check from Guideposts! Cool! They paid me for a story that's coming out in the May/June issue. They had changed the title of the story from "A Friend in Deed" to "Wilma to the Rescue." I laughed out loud. That was Wilma alright. I shuffled through the mail. Yet another offer for a credit card. A flyer from a real estate agent. A bill from my auto insurance company. A letter from the University of Montana. Two of them, in fact! My mind raced. Two letters? Duplicates? One saying, "We don't want you" The other saying, "We REALLY don't want you"? Or one letter for the "N" and one for the "O"? Brandon urged me to open them.
"No. I'm not ready."
"But Mom, whatever is in the letters will be the same no matter when you open them."
"I know, and that's why I'm not opening them now."

I thought about my daughter--the person I would tell first. It was almost 2 am in Maryland. I thought about my friend Glo. She'd be up. But, still, I wanted to share this with my girl. If "no" I'd need her support. If "yes" I wanted to share the joy. I opened everything else, including the boxes, threw the trash away, brushed my teeth, got ready for bed, said my prayers, and left the letters on my vanity. My heart wouldn't slow down. I had to get some sleep. This was ridiculous. I reached for the letters and, lying back on my pillows, held them up to the light. Maybe just a few words to give me a hint. Sort of the way I get into a swimming pool--one toe at a time instead of doing a cannonball off the diving board. I couldn't make out anything significant. I put the letters aside, turned off the light and went to sleep.

Last night I dreamed happy dreams. I don't remember what I dreamed exactly, but I felt peaceful and happy when I woke up. I called Chantel and got her voice mail. She called me back a short time later. The moment had arrived! With her on the other end of the phone, it was easy to open the letters.

Dear Martha:

According to information...could not be processed...information is incomplete...if you have any questions...blah, blah, blah!

All that anxiety over a letter from financial aid? Basically, the letters said what I already know: my application is being processed. They need more information. (They're waiting on my completed tax return).

Next time I'll just rip the envelope open right on the spot...But what if it's a no? What if it's a yes? What if it's late, and Telly is asleep across the country? Oh----------raspberry!!!

Anxiety

Counting down...chewed off my nails!! Darn it! First time in 3 years. Withdrew my application from Emerson. Got two no's this week--Pittsburgh and Iowa. That leaves Montana, North Carolina, Baltimore or West Virginia. With only four choices left out of seven, I should be feeling better, but I actually feel worse. I'm trying to look down the road and my future isn't neatly packaged, dated and bar coded for efficiency. It's a big question mark; HOWEVER--I'd rather have anxiety and excitement than dull and routine. Lack of conflict doesn't necessarily mean happy. And I still have a thesis to complete and a graduation party to plan. I'll keep y'all posted.

Stolen Treasure

About 6 weeks ago, I left my clothes on a bench in the locker room while I went upstairs to the athletics department to get a locker assignment. I took my backpack with me (wallet, etc) but when I came back, I realized I'd left my blue topaz earrings in my jeans. They were gone. I was so disappointed. It's one thing if some random person steals when you're out in public. But this felt worse because one of my own did it--another Mill's student. How crappy is that?

I posted an announcement on Mill's Student News. It goes automatically to every Mills student and cannot be relegated to "spam." I didn't accuse anyone of stealing, (even though they had) I simply said that I felt terrible, I'd lost my earrings, if anyone found them, please turn them in, etc. No response. Two weeks passed and I posted again..."I'm hoping someone has my earrings but has been too busy to turn them in...they mean a lot to me...please...etc." No response. Several weeks later I was mad. I decided that if someone was going to steal from me, she was going to feel guilty for keeping my earrings. I went to the computer lab and printed flyers. Then I took them to the gym and posted them all over: on the lockers, on the bathroom mirrors, in the bathroom stalls, on the doors leading into and out of the locker room: "Do you have my earrings?? Blah, blah, blah....Please do a kind thing and turn them in..." I was prepared to keep posting flyers every week until graduation. But Wah-lah!! Someone turned them in to lost and found. Maybe the guilt got to be too much. Whatever the reason, I got them back. So thank you, whoever you are, for doing the right thing. And please think twice before stealing again. It wasn't really worth it, was it??

Road Trip!!

I rented a vehicle for a trip, and ended up driving a 4 wheel drive Ford F150 club cab. The rental agency gave me the same price as a compact plus a free tank of gas, if I'd take the truck. Surprisingly, I loved it. The ride was comfortable and other cars stayed out of my way. I drove 3 hours East of Tel's to check out Morgantown, West Virginia. I've applied to school there and although the university isn't my first choice, I can see myself living in this town. It's close to my family, it has four REAL seasons, the people are very friendly, the crime rate is non-existent, it's right in the heart of many American history sites, and the price of real estate is great. According to several residents, Morgantown is "unlike any other city in West Virginia." Given the influence of the university, which boasts a medical research school in addition to hundreds of other programs, Morgantown residents are diverse in both education and ethnicity, PLUS the Southern influence of manners and gentility was evident but not overly. The population is 26,000 but doubles when school is in session. Here's a sampling of the photos I took when a wonderful woman, Judy, gave me a tour of the town.

Lots of trees on every street. This was taken from a neighborhood called "Southpark" which has some really nice homes, but older ones, which I love for their high ceilings, beautiful woodwork and porches large enough for porch swings. View looking North.

This was taken from the same street, looking West instead of North.

The medical facilities taken from a hill on one of the three campuses of West Virginia University.

Love the architecture in this town, older but kept up.

Morgantown, like most East Coast cities, boasts a lot of churches. I thought this doorway was especially beautiful. This church is in town, one block from Main street, but right next to a residential neighborhood.


A frat house across the street from the red door church.

Typical residential street within the city limits of Morgantown.


Main street looking North.

Main street looking South.

The Old Stone House, the oldest structure in Morgantown from the 1780's, right in the downtown and now a gift shop.

Morgantown is built on the banks of the Monongahela River, American Indian for "river with slippery banks." These photos were taken outside of town. Rivers, creeks and trees are prevalent all over the area. Fall here is purported to be "glorious."

The main building on the University's main campus (there are 3). Lots of trees but not a bad shot from a moving car.

Ok, I didn't take this one, but it's a different view of the same building and gives one a feel for the Colonial influence in Morgantown. Even if I don't go to school here, I would definitely come here to vacation.

What's in a Score Anyway?

Yesterday I drove to Fremont to take the GRE. I could have gone elsewhere but I would have had to wait longer and since I need the scores for a couple of schools, I decided the sooner the better. The test was about what I expected, some essay writing, some analytic, some vocabulary, some math (x*!@@#*!) and some reading comprehension. Everything was timed though so that was a little stressful. Anyway, I did OK, not bad, not fabulous, but as I was driving home (in Friday traffic with lots of time to think) I realized that the scores might mean something, but they don't reflect who we really are. For instance, how does one measure enthusiasm, or passion, or dedication to a profession? The GRE can't hear one's voice, or recognize the conditions under which someone might be testing. I told myself all these things so I could stop worrying about which school I'll get into. Hopefully, my writing samples will stand on their own; I'm realizing throughout this process, that so much of what we do depends upon faith. I can't read the future, and based on my past, I don't think I'd ever want to, except maybe a little bit, like WHERE am I going to be living next year? But oh well, I should take the advice I give my children: No sense worrying about it now because I can't act on it anyway. And I don't want to waste the present by worrying about the future, something we Mormons are occasionally criticized for. So...it's December, I have a paper to write, a tree to put up and time to spend with my Mother. Happy December!

Countdown to the Holidays

The last time I did a count-down, it was not a fun one: Chantel was moving to the East Coast. Now, however, I'm doing 2 countdowns: one til the end of this semester (14 days) and one til I hop a plane for Baltimore (21 days). I have two big papers left to write, one for my 18th Century Novel class on the book Fanny Hill which is a graphically sexually explicit and problematic text and one on post-colonial issues in African communities. I have my choice of topics to write about for both classes, but I found Fanny Hill to be so problematic, stereotyping both male and female sexuality, that I decided to sound off.

As soon as school is over, I can concentrate on the holidays. I love the lights and the music of this season. I've never been to the East Coast and I can't wait to be with my muffins, Owen and Soren.

My mom is still here. I got up this morning at 4:45 so she could be to the airport on time, but she is ill and having trouble breathing. I feel bad that she is sick, but honestly, I'm glad she is still here. I don't get enough time with my mother and the older we both get, the more I appreciate her role in my life.

1st Post, Thank you!

After following Chantel and Austin's posts for almost a year, I decided to jump on the wagon (where did that phrase come from anyway?--I'll look it up and let you know) and create a blog of my own. I'm in my last year of school at Mills, but I feel as though I'm already out of there because I'm in the process of applying to grad school. I've chosen the University of Montana, Missoula; University of North Carolina, Wilmington; University of Baltimore; West Virginia University; Emerson College in Boston; University of Iowa, and University of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; I will be pursuing an MFA in creative non-fiction. There are plenty of creative writing programs out there, and all of them offer MFAs in fiction or poetry; only some offer an emphasis in non-fiction, and that's where my interests lie and, apparently, my talents. Angels on Earth magazine will be publishing another true story of mine this coming Spring. I gradutate from Mills on May 12. I can't believe how fast the time has gone by. So anyway, thank you, Chantel and Austin, for showing us all how it works. I love my family and I'm grateful to live in a time when technology allows us to keep in contact in a variety of ways.