Moving Day

The house is done.  I realize it has been several months since I last posted, and as you can see, the house is done.  The lawn is not in, the final grading is not done, but that will be happening in May.  The builder was supposed to have this house finished in November, but didn't have it "done" until January.  And, even then, there were several things that needed to be finished yet.  As of today, we are still waiting for two things to happen.  And this is what people hate about building.  I will not build again.  It has been stressful, worrying, perplexing, aggravating, and sometimes, absolutely, astoundingly, head-scratchingly,  stupid.  We were at the house almost every single day, and even still stupid, and more likely, apathetic, mistakes occurred.  Neither Scott nor I are experts at building a house, which is why we hired a builder.  So it's amazing to me that we were able to figure things out that the "experts" either couldn't, or didn't, want to.  Head-shaking perplexing...

But, as much as building was stressful, moving is proving to be its better, more insidious, champion.  I will start out by saying we have a lot of stuff.  Scott and I have varied interests, and that is reflected in the amount of boxes we are trying to move after 24 years at our current house.  I severely underestimated how long it takes to pack a packed room.  We've postponed the movers once because we weren't ready, and are really trying to get everything boxed by the time they show up in a month.  Just our books alone (seven bookcases) are enough to make me go running into the night.

I think that people should sort through their stuff every five years just to avoid the giant clean-out that happens when you move.  I've taken a huge car-load of stuff to donation center, and while my closet is stunningly perfect now, I know that it won't last long.

But, what is really perplexing to us, is why we suck at moving?  I keep thinking we should have had this done in a day, but in reality it is going to take much, much longer.  What are we doing wrong?  We've had a do-it-yourself moving truck three times now, and we're still not done!  I just don't get it.  We've both resigned ourselves to dealing with a year of moving, and we'll need to put our old house on the market with stuff in it, I guess.  Maybe if we have a hard deadline, that will get us to move our stuff.

I'm going to need moving recovery after this.  I'd rather build again, than move again.  And, with that, I have to go make friends with some tape and a box.  Happy moving, my moving friends, I hope your move is going better. 

There be walls here...

Hole

Floor joists

Walls

So, I wasn't kidding when I said we were going to build a house last November.  I haven't written in awhile, and much has happened in the seven months since then.  The builders started toward the end of May, and have progressed to the point of it being a recognizable house.  We built an ICF home, (insulated concrete form), and the basement and upstairs walls are solid concrete.  10 inches for the basement, and six inches for the first floor.  We've been pretty happy with the builder and the form system and hope to be in the house by November of 2016.

We were warned by almost everyone we told that we were building about how horrible it will be.  But, we haven't had anything so horrible as to make us run off into the night stark raving mad and regretting our decision.  It has been busy, filled with decisions, filled with meetings and plans, lots of worry (but good worry), and just generally busy and exciting.  I have no real complaints about the builder or the home building process.  However, what I do have a problem with, no one ever warned us about.  The neighbors.

Now, I'm not talking about normal neighbor stuff.  Dogs barking, kids yelling, or fanatical devotion to the lawn.  We've had them where we are now, and I'm sure we'll have them where we are going to, also.  What I wasn't prepared for was the outright rude behavior that people seem to feel is their God-given right when dealing with a construction site and the new homeowners.  My first neighbor interaction was with an older man walking his dog.  He seemed nice at first, but soon proclaimed himself the "watch-dog" of my site.  Not for advocacy in the construction crew doing things correctly, but to make sure that Scott and I don't put a metal roof on the house, use cheap materials, vinyl flooring, or Formica counter-tops.  His genial questions soon turned to interrogation style questions about what we were putting in the house.  Rapid-fire questions, without really listening to my answers were being shot out of his mouth like I had to pass some kind of test.  I answered a few at first, "no, it will be a standard shingle roof," but then I thought, "why should I tell him what's going in my house?"  So I did the first defensive thing I could think of.  I purposely lied about what we were putting in the house.  And then fired back at him every question he asked me.  What kind of counters does he have in his house?  Flooring choice? Roof?  Cabinets?  He left as soon as I demanded to know what his counter tops were made of.  I've seen him twice more, walking by and eye-ballin' the site, but he only says hi now and doesn't really interact anymore.  Not sure if he got the hint, or he disapproves and can't do anything about it.

I'm not naive about people coming onto the site, looking around, and generally being nosey and rude neighbors.  Let me say now that I have never gone onto a construction site unless I was invited by the owner.  I've looked at sites from the road, public areas, or places where the public should stay.  I find it not only rude and disrespectful for people to trespass onto private sites, but I find it a serious character flaw in these people who nose and poke around in places they shouldn't be.

My next interaction was with the neighbor who is directly behind us.  This is the one that upsets me the most because we will be living next to these people.  Granted, we have both of our lots between us, around 100 feet between the houses, but they are still our back neighbors.  Scott and I went by the site to collect our cooler that we had brought for the day.  The construction guys poured the upstairs walls and it was a hot day.  We brought soda.  After everyone had left, we drove over to see the house and to, as I said, get our cooler.  As soon as we pull up, I see a Big Wheel in the road.  There's a little girl, around seven or eight, running around on the lot.  I got out of the car, went up to her and told her to get off of the lot, that she could look at the house from the street, and to not come back here.  I was mad.  I will say I was really mad.  She did as I told her, but kept looking up at the house.  I asked her if there was anyone else here, and she said, "yes, my dad and my brother."  I took a deep breath, told here to stay put, and marched up to the front door.
  
   

Front door, day of pour, with living room window in distance

There was a man INSIDE my house, looking out what will eventually be the living room window, and a five year old boy with NO shirt OR shoes on who was running all-out in circles and jumping over the bracing that was holding up the walls.  The dad didn't hear me approach so when I yelled out, "CAN I HELP YOU??!" he jumped slightly and turned around.  "Uh, no, uh, are you the homeowner?" he asked back.  "Yes." was all I said.  He stammered something to the kid, who immediately started pitching a fit about having to come out of the house.  They had to climb through the bracing in the doorway (that alone should have been the first sign to keep out), in the process stepping on the freshly poured concrete door frame.  When I pointed this out to him, he muttered, "oh, sorry" so insincerely, I think he did it on purpose.  This did nothing for my current raging and I asked him point blank if he was one of my neighbors.  "Yeah, I live a couple of houses over" was his reply.  I asked him his name and he told me his first name.  I then went on a diatribe about private property, construction sites, kids, BAREFOOT kids, and that he had better have them up-to-date on tetanus shots.  I finished with the spectacular "you know, I would just prefer it if you and your kids don't come onto the property again."

When Scott (who knew better than to try and calm me) came up, I introduced Scott to (blank) and said, "he's from a few houses over."  I was barely civil, but had calmed down a bit.  It was then that (blank) tells us, "well, actually, I'm the neighbor behind you."  I just looked at him and asked if he was trying to take in the view of us looking at his lot?  He at least had the decency to look away.

They left after several awkward minutes in which he tried to tell us about how great the area is, how long they've been there, and blah, blah, blah.  All I could think of was, why the hell he would be so inconsiderate to his kids and us, and so rude, AND a liar?  He had to have known I would have found out who he was.  We posted a "keep out" sign, but the kid was throwing such a fit about leaving his personal playground, that I'm sure those kids are over there whenever they can be.  I don't think they are there when the construction guys are, but they are there when they think no one else is.

The third neighbor is stealing the lumber.  I "caught" him in the act last week when I was there taking pictures after the bracing had been removed.  When I asked him what he was doing, he said he wanted the "scraps" that were garbage anyway.  I told him in no uncertain terms to put them back and to stay off of the property and to stop stealing and filching from me.  He protested that he wasn't stealing, but yet had the lumber in his hands.  I signed a contract and forked over piles of cash, so yeah, he's stealing from me.  Not the builder, not some anonymous corporate business, or even the land fill.  The lumber is ON MY PROPERTY!

So this is my rant and vent.  When the HELL did it become socially acceptable to go to people's private property and just take what you want, or trespass and treat it like it is your kids' personal playground, or think that it's ok to just outright steal?  Have we really lost our sense of self-respect and belief in the Golden Rule?  Do unto others and all that?  I asked him if I could come over to his construction site (yep, he's building, too) and take what I need?  I'm going to need light fixtures and cabinet hardware pretty soon, can I just come over and help myself to scraps?  And who decides what is a scrap?  Stuff lying on the sub-floor might be a scrap, right?  Who cares if the fixture is STILL IN THE BOX????

The destructive force that is, and has, swept this country of I-want-now-why-should-I-work-and-wait bullcrap is to blame.  Those whiny-faced millennials and occupy everything jackholes who think they are supreme snowflakes because they were never taught by their thieving parents to work for anything and they have a right to everything so just take it, by force if necessary, are to blame.  There's two whole generations of this mentality to deal with, and it is so insidious that I don't think we'll ever get rid of it now.  Scott and I have worked VERY HARD for everything we are putting into this house.  We worked, saved, waited, and didn't STEAL stuff to get where we are.  And for these thieving, disrespectful jackholes to come onto the property and think they have a right to stuff is so galling to me that I can't even get past they are my neighbors and I should attempt to be civil to them.  It is NOT ok to steal, trespass, be disrespectful, badger, bully, and generally be a jackhole.  I live by the Golden Rule as much as I can, but I know I'm not perfect.  However, you will never catch  me trespassing IN my neighbor's new house or stealing their construction materials.  I don't even care if they have a metal roof, either.

Nothing to say....

So it has been a little over two months from my last blog.  I'm guessing no one missed me, but if you did, awwwww,thanks!  The trouble is, I just haven't had that much to say.  Maybe I'm mellowing with age, or there just isn't enough going on in my life that I need to vent about.  That's good, and well, who am I kidding, there's always something to vent about.  I just haven't had the motivation to write about it.

We are building a house.  We are very close to signing a contract, and I imagine we'll do that in the next week or two.  It's at the lawyer's office now (the contract), being checked for some weird or bizarre thing that would come back to bite us in the keister later on.  Scott and I are really getting into the whole thing now, and are past the sticker shock of how much it costs to build a house.  We have the lot, paid for in full, just waiting for action.  It's a nice lot, level, bigger than our current lot, and I'm finding that I'm really looking forward to the building process.  I know it is supposed to be a very stressful time, and I think it will be, but I'm really anticipating getting this done.  We were talking about where stuff is going and laying out the house yesterday, and it really started hitting home for me.  This is it, once we sign, we'll be put in the builder's queue and off we go!

We are building an ICF home.  Insulated Concrete Form house.  They will build the "frame" out of foam sections, pour in concrete between the form walls, and let it set.  Both the foundation and the exterior walls will be made this way.  Then, the interior walls will be traditional, except for the wall between the LR and master BR.  That will have sound dampening insulation in it.  Mainly so Scott can play his video games later at night after I go to bed.  One of the hazards of waking up at 4am, is that I got to bed around 9pm.  Scott doesn't go to bed that early, so yeah, he's doing his gaming thing or watching tv. Anyway...  ICF will also make the media room almost sound proof so he can crank that 120lb sub-woofer all he wants and the neighbors shouldn't hear a thing.

I will be doing the painting, when it gets to that point.  My hope is that I can get in there to paint before they put in the flooring, wood trim, doors, or anything else we don't want painted.  Then, I can just tape off the windows, and the use a sprayer to prime and paint hopefully in two weeks time.  It's a bigger ranch style house, so it will take some time to paint.  And prime.  I haven't forgotten how much paint is sucked up with new drywall.  Luckily, the lot is only six miles south of us, so it shouldn't be a big problem to go there right after work to get stuff done, check on progress, and take pictures.  It should be interesting to see how things go together.

I am not looking forward to the actual move.  We have a lot of stuff that needs going through, sorting, and packing.  I think we'll be getting a POD or container of some sort and then packing that,  moving it and unpacking at our pace.  The furniture, big stuff, appliances, and bulky, heavy stuff we are going to have moved professionally.  Neither of us will be lifting that stuff.

I can't wait to set up  my room.  I can finally put stuff in a permanent system of organization instead of just leaving things in bags and waiting.  Plus, I have a lot of stuff in my room now that doesn't belong in here, that is taking up space, and needs to be in other parts of the house.  That will be nice to get my room organized so when I have friends over, we can actually do project stuff in my room instead of crowding at the DR table.

So, that's about it for now.  I will have pics and stories as they come through, and it will be interesting to see if I will be as positive about the whole process once we're done.  Hopefully, 2016 will be the year of the move, gone smoothly, and our old house will sell within a week.  Well, we'll see about that...

Yeah, it's going to hurt a lot....

I like the doctor I see for my elbows.  He's a nice guy and he tells you like it is.  Yesterday (Aug 11), I got my third, and probably final, shot in my elbow.  It is extremely painful.  Unlike a knee or shoulder (I've had both) shot, there is no lidocaine in the elbow shot because there isn't enough space for both that and the medicine.  So, he's just pretty much ramming in medicine in a space not meant for anything to be rammed in to.  He tells me, "yeah, it's going to hurt a lot."  And, it did.  However, the upside is that after a few days, the tendinitis disappears for hopefully forever, but I know it will come back.  So I enjoy the pain-free time as long as I have it.  When the first twinges of inflammation come back, I know the ride is done.  Then it becomes the battle of how long I want to put up with the pain until I do something about it.

He suspects, well, actually knows that my chain mailling (CM) is the culprit to my elbow woes.  I'm inclined to believe that there are other things that are causing my problems, but I don't disagree that CM is also contributing.  My right elbow started bothering me last November when I was snow shoveling.  That never bothered me before that even though I've been CM for years.  I have come to believe that it is a mixture of house work, carrying in heavy bags, and pulling weeds that are the big culprits to my issues.  Why?  Because those activities hurt the most when I do them.  My elbows don't really hurt when I CM.  After I'm done, yes, but not while I'm doing the actual work.  When I pull a weed, it hurts right away.

I have been working on a project that I would like to eventually enter into the Bead Dreams contest through Bead & Button.  I was hoping for a 2016 entry, but I'm not so sure I can CM for the length of time I have left.  So maybe 2017.  It is a chain maille shawl, done in cobalt blue anodized aluminum rings 19g 3/16" inner diameter (ID).  I've never made clothing before, so I'm going from the view point of making squares for the body of the shawl and then I'll have to figure out how to make the neck.  I'd also like to put a hood on it, but I'll have to see if I have enough rings.

I made the mistake of ordering rings in two different orders, and yep, they are two different colors.  I'm not sure how noticeable it will be in the final piece, but I can see it, and so can Scott and the PT person.  She asked me if I made the stripes on purpose.  So, I think that piece will have to go on a sleeve or part that isn't looked at first.  I spent an hour yesterday opening all 175 remaining packets of 500 rings each and mixed them all together in a big bucket.  That way, any color differences will be mixed in and will not be noticeable.

I haven't been told to give-up CM.  So, now that I have both elbows under some control, I'm going to try and keep them that way.  I have warm-up exercises and time limits so that hopefully, I can continue in my favorite hobby for a long time yet.  We gain pleasure in life by doing things we love.  And if this hobby of mine becomes too painful, that's going to be a very sad day for me, indeed.  And a day that will hurt more than getting a shot in my elbow.  Yeah, that day, it's going to hurt a lot...





 

Enjoying the summer

It's been over a month since I've written anything, but in my defense, I have been, well, very lazy.  It's the first summer in seven years where I haven't had a summer class and, quite frankly, I've been putzing around doing house chores, yard work, car stuff, and, well, starting to build a house.  We closed on a lot on May 15th and will be moving to Belgium (Wisconsin, not the country).  A small town of about 2200 people in northern Ozaukee county.  About 1000 more people than Random Lake, so that will be a bit different.  We can see Lake Michigan from out lot as we're only about 2 miles away.  Now we have to find a builder.

We've met with one already and rough-sketched out a house.  We are waiting for prices now.  We will be meeting with another in the next week or so and will repeat the same process.  They all have their own plans and we'll have to customize what we want to one of their plans.  I think we are going to meet with four builders just to make sure we are within price ranges and are consistent in what we want to do.  Everyone we talk to tells us horror stories about building, but I'm kind of looking forward to seeing all the choices and how a house is built.  I'm lucky in that I will be passing by on my way home (Scott, too) and will get to stop several times a week to see how things are progressing.  I plan on taking lots of pictures and will be doing some of the finish work like painting.  We are hoping to be in the house by next year.

What I'm not looking forward to is moving.  OMG.  We have a lot of stuff, and I'm terrible at packing, sorting, and boxing.  It was a nightmare moving from our apartment in Grafton to the house in Random 22 years ago, and we have a crap-load more stuff now.  What I am thinking of doing is getting a container from one of those moving container companies and just loading that thing up and having them move the container.  We'll hire movers for the big and heavy stuff, but our breakable and highly collectable stuff we'll move ourselves.  Oyo.  We plan on selling our current house when it is empty because it is small and looks crowded when it has stuff in it.  And, then I can do a complete clean so that potential buyers will be impressed with that, too.  I know when we were looking for houses, the ones that were spotless were more attractive to us than the ones that needed some help.  I know it is a psychological thing, but it made a difference.

I saw my first "back-to-school" sign yesterday.  My heart jumped for a split second until I realized, "it's not for me!"  I also got official word last week that UWM has given me the final clearance for my degree.  It's official and my diploma will be mailed in a few weeks.  That is good news, indeed.  I'm really enjoying not having to do homework in the summer and am slowly getting back to doing the things I used to do every summer.  Both cars are washed and waxed, I'm starting to get the deadwood out of the hedges and lilacs, I'm weeding my gardens, and things are looking a bit less shabby.  This weekend I'm tackling the snack bar and dining room table.  Oh, the projects we make for ourselves...

Happy 4th of July everyone!  Party safe, and beware of home made fireworks....

Graduation, Anniversary, and Party Planning

May 2015 UWM Graduation Nicki and Scott

Last Sunday, May 17th, I finally graduated college.  It was a long, convoluted road to get to graduation, but I did it, and I'm happier and better for it.  I don't think any major changes will happen in my life as I'm happy with what I'm doing for a living, and quite frankly the thought of starting a new job is too exhausting for me right now.  I just can't fathom going out there and starting all over again.  I've made peace with things I don't like about my job and have come to the realization that I'll have those no matter where I go.  You can run all you want to different jobs, but ultimately, you'll never outrun them.  It's a part of life.

On June 9th, Scott and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary.  Yes, I was a wee tot when I got married...  Anyway, we decided to have a combined party for both big events because people aren't going to want to come to two parties in a short span of time.  Especially the out of towners.  So, we have a cross-section of folks coming and we'll have to have name tags for everyone.  Odd, but it should be interesting.  Planning a party is not so much fun, and I'm looking forward to the day.  It is going to be outside at Virmond Park on June 6th and hopefully, it will not rain.  We have a shelter, but if it rains hard, that might just spoil things.  Although, there's beer, food, and games, so maybe not.

Now that I'm done with school, I have had almost every person I tell that to ask me what I'm going to do in "all my free time?"  I'm never sure how to answer this, because as a non-traditional student, I have the same responsibilities and life commitments as they do.  Work, home, husband, family, bills, lawn work, car crap, and all the other things make life, life.  I had them before, during, and will have them after college, too.  Just like they did.  We are going to be building a house, so that's usually my answer to the question, but I still feel like they are expecting something more or different.  I didn't go to college to get a different job.  I went to correct a life mistake I could still correct, but when you tell people that, they get uncomfortable.  I don't know if they have issues they feel they should fix, or if they can't believe someone my age would go to college just to go.  I would say that education is never a waste of time or energy, but I get the feeling that some feel it is.  That I could have somehow done something "better" with that time and money.  I guess one could argue about the money issue, but when a life is examined, would it be better to "waste" money on college or something else entirely, like gambling, or cars, or clothes, or vacations, or even interior decorations.  It comes down to what you value in your life.  I value intelligence and knowledge.  I really don't care if I have an older car or clothing, or don't have the latest in home interior decorating.  I really don't need $50 throw pillows.  But our society has placed value on these things, so I still get judged by those qualities, or lack of them.

I do know that I will pick-up my hobbies I had to abandon when I went back.  I was an avid quilter, and I love scrap-booking, and, of course, chain maille.  I have completed several projects and am going back to a long-term project of making a shawl.  If it's good enough, I want to enter it into the Bead & Button Show's competition they have every year.  I have to complete the project first, and figure out how to seam the shoulders and neck onto the piece.  Tricky, tricky.

What am I going to do with all that "free" time?  Read.  Quilt.  Chain maille.  Scrap. Build a house.  Sell my current house.  See my friends and family.  Time with Scott.  Life. 

I am done!

2015 UWM Honors Convocation

Monday, May 11, 2015 was the Honors Convocation for UWM.  And, here I am!  The one promise I made to  myself when I made the commitment to go back to college was that not only would I finish, but I would excel, as well.  And I did.  This Sunday is Graduation, and I'm an very excited for that, too.

I have used this blog to complain, sometimes bitterly, over the past years about school.  It was an excellent way for me to vent without necessarily having to chew my friends, or Scott's ears off.  And, they always want to help, and sometimes, I just want to vent. This blog is a result from my Eng 102 class, and I'll never forget that.  I like blogging, even if no one reads these.  Or, at least leaves comments.

I am checking a big thing off my bucket list.  Now, on to the next chapter of my life, which involves more money than college cost, and lots of wood, nails, dry-wall, carpet, tile, and fixtures.  We are building a house.  That will definitely take some time, and I'm really glad we didn't try to do that while I had homework to do.  No, I will not miss homework in the least.  Not at all.  I really liked going to classes, but no one misses homework.  And tests, and giant papers.  I know I won't miss the tests.

So, this will be the last of the school entries.  I thank anyone who is still reading this, and have been reading it for the past seven years.  Now, onto the house-building chapter...

0% Happy

I took an online "fun" quiz yesterday and was shocked at the results.  This was a quiz that one of my facebook friends took and she shared her result.  She got 50% happy.  The name of this quiz was, "How Happy Are You?"  I figured if she got 50% happy, I'd get at least in the upper 90s because I have so  many things to be happy about.  I answered all the questions as truthfully as possible and I was stunned that mine came back at 0% happy.  0.  0%.  Zero.  WTH?  How is that even possible?

It's just a fun thing that isn't by any means to be taken seriously, but I was still shocked by that.  I thought for sure I'd get in the upper percentile.  My friend has had a terrible year with breaking up with a long-term serious boyfriend and an injury that side-lined her passion for running.  That's some serious unhappiness right there.  She is openly grieving her break-up on facebook, and yeah, she's unhappy.  But she still got 50%!  I'm celebrating two big events this month and next month, and I get 0??  I'm graduating college with Honors and have a wedding anniversary milestone of 25 years, both things that people are happy about, but apparently, I'm not.

This got me to thinking about happiness in general.  I've always thought I was a happy person.  We all deal with crap in our lives, and serious crap that makes us unhappy.  I've certainly had my share, but I've always felt that I've dealt with it and moved on.  But I wonder if I have?  Apparently, the quiz thinks I haven't and that makes me wonder.  I don't even know where to start making myself happy because I really didn't think I was that unhappy.  What makes a person happy?

Making chain maille makes me happy, and that was one of the questions.  It asked if I had hobbies.  Yes!  Of course I do.  So why didn't I get some points for that?  Maybe it knew that my elbows are giving me problems and with the crapload of homework from school, I haven't been able to make much of anything this semester. I haven't made a quilt since going back to school, and I really miss that.  Nor have I scrapbooked anything, not to mention putting our vacations on hold until I'm out of school.  Hmmm, maybe I wouldn't have scored as high as I thought.  But I know that I will return to these hobbies once I don't have the pressing doom of homework deadlines crashing in on me.  I'll just give myself some points for that.  Yeah, who needs the stuupie test to tell me that...

0% happy.  I need to find the how unhappy test out there and see what I score on that.  I hate failing tests.  That makes me unhappy. I still cringe inwardly when I think of my Spanish oral exam that I failed.  That was three years ago!  I hate failing things.  That makes me unhappy.  But, this week, on May 7th, I will have corrected a huge failing in my life and will complete my Bachelor's degree.  I really think that should count for something.  I am happy about that, no matter what the stupid online test tells me. 

Things I Learned in Seven Years of College

I did something similar to this when I finished my two semesters of Spanish and I was surprised by the long list.  So here goes. 

Things I learned in seven years of college:

There is a huge difference between the two-year and four-year schools.  Not just in classes, but in students and teachers.  I really enjoyed being at UW Sheboygan, but not so much at UWM.  I made friends at UWM, and I liked most of my classes, but it was more exhausting and emotionally draining. 

There is never enough time to study.

I hate carrying backpacks.

I really do love libraries.

Test anxiety sucks.

Older younglings don't like cookies as much as the younger younglings, but when they think no one is watching they will wolf down a half-dozen cookies without blinking an eye.

I have favorite teachers that I'll miss seeing, and feel a bit sad that I can't be friends with them.  Time, distance, circumstances all get in the way.

I don't mind writing papers.  Guess being an English major was a good choice.

I still suck at Spanish and am thankful that I took it at UW Sheboygan (Thank you Kyle).  I don't think I would have made it through at UWM.

I actually kinda like Shakespeare (Thank you Mark).

I really liked writing creative non-fiction (Thank you Carolyn).

I have found a new well of motivation I didn't realize I had.  Not to mention finally... finally being able to put to rest dropping out of college.  Not only will I graduate, but I will graduate with Commencement Honors and Honors in the Major.  Take that 1986 self.

Seven years is a long time.  I may be seven years older, and seven years grayer, but I'm so glad I stuck with it.  In re-reading some of my blogs about not continuing on after UW Sheboygan, I'm so glad that I didn't give in to the exhaustion of the moment.  I still have three large projects to finish yet, but then that's it.  I'm done.  And that, my friends, is all she wrote.

The Last Two Weeks

It is the last two weeks of school.  I'm anxious for it to be over and not as sad as I thought I was going to be.  My perspective is very different from the younglings who are graduating, but I'm looking forward to just working an 8 hour day and then having some time to concentrate on my home, our possible building a new home, and all the crap that goes with building and moving.  No lot yet, but we are still going back and forth with offers and counter-offers. 

I have two massive projects I need to finish for school yet.  Fifteen pages for my fiction class, and the comprehensive editing project for tech editing.  And, I have no motivation to finish either one.  But, I will, I always do, and it is part of being an adult.  You finish what you start.  I ended up not liking the fiction class as much as I thought I was going to.  I know now that type of writing is not what I want to do and that I really do have a talent for creative non-fiction.  I'll stick with that.  And, even though I will use my editing skills in all my future work, I really don't want to be an editor, either.  I'm very thankful that I have a job I like, and I've come to realize that I really don't want to leave pharmacy. 

I'm writing stuff for the department now because our accreditation for Joint Commission requires us to write EVERYTHING down.  That's going to take some time and then it has to be updated continually.  I will inherit that job because it seems a natural fit.  I don't mind.

Scott and I have decided to have a combined graduation/anniversary party on June 6th.  It seemed silly to have two parties and invite the same people again.  So, I'm calling it the granniversary party and it will be my graduation and our 25th wedding anniversary party.  We are having it in a park and I hope it doesn't rain.  Should be fun and even though it will be a lot of work, I'm really looking forward to it. 

Well, that's enough of my boring blog.  I really need to get to writing my story for Eng 415.  I just need a big burst of motivation and that will be that.  After seven years of high motivation, it gets more difficult to dig that deep.  Two weeks...  Two weeks.

Week 10

It is week 10 already.  I always keep count of the weeks of the semester, mainly because homework is easily managed in weekly chunks.  Beyond that, however, is a psychological boost for me because I assign week 10 as my I-think-I'm-going-to-make-it week.  Since the start of school and their regimented weekly schedules, there is something about this week that changes everything.  For one, it is usually the first week past the final date for dropping a class.  It's almost as if the students realize they will have to finish it now and for some, just relax and go with it.  I'm one of those students.  I know I'm locked in at this point unless something so drastic happens that I need to put the class on academic hold.  It would have to be a medical or family issue as I can't think of anything else that would qualify for doing that.  In any case, I know there are six weeks left in the semester and I have an idea of how I'm doing and what will be needed to finish strong.

My friend Natalie said to me the other night that I'm so much more relaxed this semester than any other she's seen me go through yet.  I agreed with her, and said that it just feels different knowing it is my last semester.  I know this is it and when I finish I will have done something worth while (to me, anyway) and that I did my best.  I got the official word that I will be graduating with Commencement Honors and I'm absolutely thrilled with that.  One of my goals in coming back to college was that not only was I going to finish my bachelor's, but I was going to excel.  I really wanted to make the Dean's List, but UWM doesn't recognize part-time students for that honor.  I think that really, really sucks.  But, I'll settle for graduating with Honors. 

I can't wait to graduate. It has been a long struggle, both for me and for Scott.  We have started serious talk of building a house again, and I think he was waiting for me to finish school so that he didn't have to go it alone.  I kept saying I would help, but homework comes first.  But, I'll be done soon and I won't have to face several hours of homework after a day of working anymore, too.  I won't miss that one bit.  And, I have so many projects lined up that I don't even know where to start.  I have so much cleaning and organizing to do, it feels a bit overwhelming.  But, keep your fingers crossed, maybe those projects will turn into cleaning, sorting, and PACKING!  We are looking at a lot that we saw months ago and are debating whether to put a bid in or not.  I hope we will as it's a really nice lot and we can offer with contingencies that should prevent us from getting into a money trap.  We just have to make the call.  Kinda scary, but it's time.  We've been looking for 10 years now.  The house we are in was supposed to be a starter home, and it is, but we need something more custom for us now.

With any luck I'll be jumping from the pan of school into the fire of building a new house.  Rest?  I don't need no stinkin' rest....  anybody got some tape and boxes?

The Start of the End

I started my last semester of college this past Monday.  God-willing, I will finish in May.  Graduation is May 17, 2015 at 9:00a.m.  I am eager to finish, and have begun to think of life in terms of before and after college.  As in next Christmas should be less stressful because I won't have finals two days before Christmas Eve and I can get my baking, shopping, and decorating done  like other normal people.  I won't have to be in summer school this year and maybe, just maybe, I can work in  my yard more and make it look much better.  And, maybe, just maybe, I can get the garage cleaned out, too.  Yeah, we'll see about that.

I'm taking two classes this semester, Eng 444 Technical Editing and Eng 415 Fiction Writing Workshop.  I need Eng 444 for my last credits for my major and Eng 415 is my last elective.  I decided in a fit of fancy to take a fiction writing class because it was so different from tech writing and because I thought it was going to be fun.  I really should have thought about that because there are few classes in college that are fun.  We meet once a week, on Thursdays, so this last Thursday was our first class.

I don't know anyone in this grouping because I'm not in that track for the English major.  A few kids knew each other, just the same as I know quite a few in my technical/professional writing (TPW) circle.  We travel in packs at this point.  I am the only TPW in this class, and I should have realized that.  Anyway...  Most of the kids, and yes, they are kids, are about half-way through to thier varying degrees in fiction writing, poetry, and literature studies.  They are clearly of a different mind-set than I am, but that can be fine.  I've had these types before.  What I didn't expect, was the level of snobbery and narcissism from a few of them.

As I mentioned, Thursday was our first class.  After all the perfunctory stuff, the teacher had us read a sample of a student's writing and he wanted our feedback.  He chose me first to give that feedback.  I've been taught from day one of TPW to give good feedback before constructive criticism.  So I did.  I explained what I liked about the piece, and I did like the piece, and then a few suggestions for improvement.  I wanted to know more in-depth details about the characters, a more detailed plot line, and less "bogginess" in some of the more adjective heavy descriptions.  Nothing that I felt was horrible or mean-spirited.  After I had finished, the hipster-doofus emo kid told me I was completely wrong, he didn't agree with me at all, and that I was "lacking in understanding of what good fiction is."  Oooookaaaayyyyy.  I didn't reply to him because I didn't trust what would have come out of my mouth.  Despite his youth and rudness, he is entitled to his opinion.  I felt he was extremely rude and uncivil, but he had the right to state what he did.  But then, some of the other younglings started to trash the piece (thankfully, not me) and just like sharks who smell blood, they pounced on this poor story and ripped it to shreds.

I was bothered by how vehemently they tore the piece apart.  As I sat there thinking I had made a huge mistake, I got the thought that the teacher had written this story.  He kept saying that they were being a little too harsh, that the writer wanted nothing more than to entertain them, and that he was a human being with feelings, too.  It was at that point I fully realized what he was doing.  This is a workshop class meaning all of us will submit work for class discussion.  There is a right way and a wrong way to give criticism, and he was teaching us a lesson.  Half the class didn't even say anything.  After the blood-bath abated, he turned to me and asked if I wanted to change my opinion.  I said no, I stand by what I said, and that I didn't feel it was as bad as what the others were saying it was.  With some small revisions, it would be a good story.  That's all fiction should ever really be.

He took a deep breath and told them that what had happened would never happen again.  This was an early piece he had written when he was in college (he's probably in his late 50's or early 60's) and that everyone should take notice of how I gave my criticism in that it was the correct way to give feedback.  You could have heard a pin drop from several floors below.  All these kids who were flaming on the piece were in shock.  I'm not sure why they didn't think of him as the author to begin with, but I blame the internet for what they did.  Let me explain.

On any forum, discussion group, or other sites, people feel they can trash-talk, flame, yell, saying incredibly mean things and other bad behavior because they are not face-to-face with the person they are criticizing.  They are so used to just saying, "it sucks" with no reasoning, that is how they give feedback.  Now they are in a class setting and just like any forum, one right after another, ganged up and fed off of hipster doofus' rant against me.  No civility, no recognition of the writer as a human being with human feelings, and no realization that they too will be under the microscope in the context of this class.  No golden rule here.  They just trashed with the arrogance that their writing is going to be prefect.  It never occurred to them that some one will be doing the exact same thing to them.  I'm not sure why they haven't learned to give appropriate feedback at this point in college, but I'm guessing it's because they haven't finished their upper level classes yet where they will be judged on their work.

I'm not so sure I want to take this class now.  I thought it would be a good compliment to my technical editing, but I think I prefer the world of grammar, punctuation, and sentence structure.  We are at least a little more civil to each other.  Maybe this is why writers are so very often loners.

Marathon baking and other Christmas miracles

I am a marathon baker.  Other people run or walk marathons, I stand in a hot kitchen the day before Christmas Eve and bake like a maniac.  I'm not sure when this started, but I can remember from little kid to now, I've always baked or helped bake at Christmas.  The past several years, I've had some real motivational issues with getting my baking done, and thus, the marathon baking session was born.

Before I went back to college, I'd have plenty of time to get the house decorated, do my baking, wrap presents, and all the other stuff that goes with Christmas.  As a kid, I'd decorate my room in addition to helping with the house decorations and I'd help my mother bake all the good stuff, and even the fruitcake.  (I had to stir the concoction because it was too thick for my mom to stir it.)  Then, when I got married, I suddenly had two households to help.  My family and extended family was really shrinking by then, so we didn't have many presents to buy for my side...  but Scott's side was really extended.  At one point, we had over 30 people to buy for on his side.  No names pulled, no gift cards, nothing but an actual present.  Those were hard years for shopping, and this was before the internet.  No Amazon back then...

However, time passes and slowly his family has diminished, just like mine.  We now have a small group of people to buy for, around five or six, and I buy gift cards for my sister's family.  The biggest consideration I have now are my four very closest friends.  But I digress...  The past seven Christmases have been plagued with finals from school.  I feel this has led me to a lower motivational baking and cooking drive.  Once I'm done with school for the semester, then the guilt of not doing anything for Christmas hits me full force and the next thing I know I'm spending 12 to 14 hours in the kitchen making cookies, bars, and other goodies for Christmas.  In recent years, I've also had to deal with cleaning and clearing the dining room and kitchen from a semester's worth of neglect and Black Friday shopping carnage.  Usually Black Friday yields Christmas presents, so it's not a total loss of time.

2014 was no different other than I really had a problem getting motivated.  I just couldn't even get the slightest energy for baking going, and my poor husband was searching for the easiest recipes he could find for me.  He usually makes fudge, toffee, and some other candy items, and it's a good mix between us.  Cookies and bars from me, candy from him.  So, on the 23rd, my Christmas miracle of getting my baking done, I pushed myself hard and baked.  For 12 hours straight, I baked.  Maybe this is why I don't like to do it anymore, but once on a roll, I didn't want to stop.  I got what I wanted to bake done, and that was it.  Scott made his stuff after I did so it was around 2 in the morning when we were finally done.  A big sigh of relief and hopefully next year, a year without school in December, I won't be baking for 12 hours straight.  I also won't have a 15 page paper due for my seminar class, and two other 7 page papers due for the other class.  I had some motivational issues there, too, but I got A's in both classes, so apparently I did ok.  2015 brings one semester left for school, and then I graduate.  Finally. And what a long, long trip it's been.

Merry Christmas to anyone reading this yet.  I hope you have a wonderful, miracle-filled Christmas day, and a very, very happy New Year.  You've earned it if you are still reading these blogs....

Expectations and Extensions

As I sat down this morning to finish three papers for school, I was a bit shocked to see the my Eng 621 deadline has been moved to Thursday instead of Monday.  Now, I understand why people need extensions, but we knew about this project from Day 1 of class.  The professor gave us the assignment and specifications the Monday before Thanksgiving.  Mostly because I asked him if I could work on it over the holiday because I had off of work and I wasn't making a meal.  Perfect time to do research, refine ideas for a thesis, and generally get the ball rolling on a senior capstone project of 12 to 15 pages on The Global Early Modern.  When I checked my school email this morning, my professor wrote that he's given so many extensions out that he just decided to move the deadline.  There are only 11 people in this class.  I know that three of them for sure asked for later deadlines and when I met with him on Wednesday he said that one of my classmates had met with him earlier to DISCUSS topics.  Really?  Really!?  I looked at him and said, college is sometimes wasted on the younglings.  I work a full-time job, run the household, all the errands, and still fit six credits of upper level classes into my life.  The difference is, I know how to plan and parcel my time.  My youngling classmates, however, think they can just produce a paper, and not just any paper, but a senior capstone thesis paper, in a day.  Write it the  night before.  I hope that at some point, they learn a lesson here, but I'm not sure that they do.  I'm a bit angry because I dedicated three full weekends to just WRITING this paper.

I only need to write 3 more pages, expand some sections, clarify a few points, and proof and polish.  I worked my butt off to get to this point and yet my youngling classmates were screwing around doing whatever they felt like and then come begging for more time because the professor is nice enough to give them that time.  They are taking advantage of him because he's a nice guy.  I'm a bit angry because that's not respectful to do that, and they should know better at this point how that is not a decent thing to be doing.  Our future will be run buy these kids that know more about working the system than actually working with the system.

I will hand my paper in at the first deadline.  Then, I will concentrate on getting my house in order because it was a busy semester and there's a lot that needs to be done.  I'd actually like to put a Christmas tree up this year because I miss it.  We haven't had one for the past few years, and it's a bit depressing to not have one, I think.  I also just want to be done.  I'm tired, a bit run-down, and need to recharge a bit.  I want to work on my chain maille projects that are building up in my room begging me to work on them.  I want to clean my room so I can move around in it without playing out Godzilla and knocking stuff over when I try to walk around in here.  So, with that said and vented, I'm off to finish my THREE papers by tomorrow evening.  I even want to email them a day before the deadline in case they don't get them so I can email again, or (Heaven forbid) take paper copies to them on Monday.  I bet those younglings don't even consider what would happen if they couldn't email their papers...  

Mood

To quote Gurney Halleck from "Dune", "Mood's a thing for cattle and love-play."  Gurney then goes on to teach Paul a lesson in hand-to-hand combat.  I'm in a "mood" this morning, one that could be described as irritated and annoyed.  It was a long week, I had a few instances where people just want to argue with me, and I'm tired of doing homework.  I'm a bit fed-up with my Composing Process class, and I feel that I'm not only learning nothing really new, but the view into what the youngling teachers learn is doing nothing for my perception of the profession.

This past week we had to read about how teachers teach to "children of color" (their words, not mine) and poor children.  The point was that white people are privileged and have a culture of power because English is the common language.  The papers and class argued that for COC and the poor, apparently they don't speak English in the same way and therefore are disadvantaged because of not being able to communicate on that same level.  We were instructed to pair up with a classmate and then we were put into larger groups after that and then we discussed as a class.  Nowhere in the entire night's class did we discuss writing other than these kids need to be handled differently because they don't speak English.

The person I paired up with wouldn't let me speak.  My sentence was this..." If they speak street jargon..." and then she would interrupt and say, "but it isn't street jargon to them."  To which I would reply, "yes, but to the interviewer it is.  If they speak street jargon..." and she'd cut me off and say, "you keep saying that, but it isn't jargon to them."  and I'd reply my see above answer and would then try to make my point.  She kept cutting me off instead of listening to what I was going to say.  The majority of the class decided that these kids are disadvantaged because need to learn two languages.  Their own and standard English.  And then they also decided that standard English speakers need to learn "their" language.  I was done talking at this point because I had just spent a half-hour with my classmate and the group and listening to their kumbyeya moment of how we should just all speak everyone's language with no regard to the rules of language.  Young, idealistic, and idiotic.

Kyle, this one's for you.  I then brought up the term "lingua franca" for the younglings and told them how my Spanish teacher told me that I had no reason to fear that English would ever be replaced by Spanish.  (I had told him that I'd be in trouble if English ever did get replaced by Spanish) He's right.  It won't be replaced by Spanish, it will be replaced with whatever-you-feel-like-saying lingo.  I'm convinced that these self-centered and self-righteous Millennials will no doubt educated the future generations that whatever you believe is just fine.  Who cares if there are rules because they are just meant to be broken and our way is the better way!  One girl in class came very close to saying this, everything up to the point of "our way is the better way!"

I get it.  I understand that everyone has a different level of language skills.  However, at some point there needs to be a common core of basic skills that will enable everyone to communicate on some level or things will just de-volve into chaos.  Expecting children to at least be able to follow commands and communicate back is not too much to ask.  It is probably a good thing that I won't be going into teaching.  While I think teaching is important, I don't think I'd survive the process of becoming a teacher.  If I'm irritated at this level, I can't imagine what the rest of the classes are like.  I'd be that angry teacher no one likes.  I'm still irritated at this class.  And with that, I need to go do the homework for it.  Yeah....

It's easy

I had this comment directed at me once:  "College is easy for you because you're older."  It was said by a 21 year old girl who is having a rough time in college, apparently.  Now, I won't deny that I am older, and especially older for the traditional college aged student.  However, college is college and I believe that teachers and professors teach not based on the age of their students, but on two things.  One, the curriculum and two, their specific interest in the subject.   I'm not going out on a limb here by saying that college professors teach what they like and what they are interested in.  Or they should anyway.   

But I have been thinking about her comment.  Is college really easier for an older person, and what defines "older" in such a way as to cross over into some magical knowledge based area that makes learning "easier?"  My answer back to her was not one of anger, but of old age wisdom, "Perhaps you need to stop screwing around so much and study more."  I wasn't angry when I said it, but I do feel that if the younger students who complain about college being "too hard" would apply more effort into learning, they might get something out of it.  But that is not the way of the young.  I was the same way, so I know of what I speak.

College is wasted on the young.  Or many of them anyway.  Not all young people are there to just get through it and get their degree.  Every once in a while I run across one of these youths, and it usually is enough to restore my faith in our youth.  They are usually bright, active, nice, courteous, thoughtful, intelligent, and you know they are going to go far in life.  Unfortunately, there are many that are just the opposite.  I hear them complaining in the hallways, in classes, and on the shuttle buses.  They complain that they have to work for a class, or do homework, or actually study.  Now, let me say that I have done my fair share of complaining on this blog, but having now seen the difference between teachers who are worthy of complaint and the ones who are just trying to impart some type of learning is a stark contrast to each other.  I think of the differences between document design and Spanish.

I'm not going to rehash in great detail those two classes and professors, but suffice it to say that one was unwilling to see his students through (document design) and the other pretty much did everything he could to make sure the students who wanted to succeed, did (Spanish).  Yet I got the lower grade in Spanish.  If interested in the whole story, go to the earlier blogs, but at this point, I would consider these two classes my hardest classes, but for very different reasons.  Keeping in  mind the little chippie that tells me college is easy because I'm older, I found that these two classes were anything but easy.  Both were stressful, time-consuming, and probably meant for a younger student.  Learning a foreign language in your mid-40's is  a kind of stress I never want to endure again.  I came away with an anxiety/panic disorder from it that still leaves me reeling at times.  That same anxiety came back with document design, and we all know (again, see previous blogs) how that ended.  As a side note, that professor is not teaching that class next spring.  You're welcome.

The DD professor did not teach.  He did not lecture, show by example, clarify the subject matter, or even make himself somewhat approachable to answer questions.  He dumped the material, gave impossible tests, and texted his way through classes.  He taught in English, but it may as well have been (pick a language you don't know) for all the good it did.  What got me an A in that class was reading the four textbooks, realizing that I needed to get through the class in order to graduate, and not wanting to ruin my GPA.  Spanish was very similar in that the same reasons applied to my motivation.  But the Spanish professor cared, or appeared to care, that his students mattered and especially their comfort level in learning Spanish.  I'm thrilled with the B's I got in the two semesters because I worked my old keister off, and know when to be grateful for working as hard as one can for a decent grade.  And, again, the Spanish teacher really did make the difference here.  Had he been like the DD teacher, I'm not exactly sure what would have happened.  But I do know that it was never easy because I was old or older.  Never.  Not once.  Neither class was easy, and I don't think I was given special treatment because of my age.  I was given the same amount of homework as the younger students and not once was I told I didn't have to work hard because I was older.  In fact, I sometimes think I'm held as an example because of my age.  Not openly, but sometimes I feel like a mother hen to some of the younger students, and that was never so true as in DD.

I realized about 1/3 into the semester with DD that I had developed a group of kids who would sit by me.  I think it was mostly because I would read the material, and I actually asked and challenged the teacher on questions.  This was confirmed when a kid came over one day before class started and he asked if he could "sit with my group."  I was a bit shocked and said sure, it's a free classroom.  But it got me to thinking that the kids sitting by me did so because I would not back down when I didn't understand something.  There were several episodes in that class where the teacher just walked away from me because I kept asking questions about the material and he finally admitted he didn't know the answers to some of the questions I was asking.  I also noticed that he got twitchy because my group had grown to about 15 people by now, and they were all listening because they too had the same questions.  At that point, the teacher should have stood up and started a lecture on the subject because if half the class is leaning in to listen (think of the old 80's TV commercial for EF Hutton), then he has a responsibility to at least go over the material once.  Not to mention the amount of tuition I paid for this class and his "expertise." 

The epitome of this experience was when the last test was given and, again, a major portion of the class failed it, a girl asked him a question about the duo tones question he had asked on the test.  She asked her question and then looked at me and said, "right, Nicki?"  I had gotten the question wrong and was wondering the same thing  myself.  Because here's the thing:  I knew the book answer and wrote it almost word for word as my answer.  I said, "yes, I'm wondering why that answer is wrong because I put down the same answer as the book."  He challenged me and said to bring the book in an he'd reconsider.  I then pulled the book out of my backpack (you HAD to have known I had it with me), went straight to the page and showed him.  He came over to my spot, leaned down and read the passage, and looked up at me with a heated, angry look in his eyes.  I was proud of myself in that I didn't flinch, move, smile, look down, or otherwise back-down.  However, what he did next shocked me.  He gave me the points for the answer, but denied the girl who had asked the question.  She had the answer right.  She should have been given the points.  But because he didn't lecture on the material, it was open for interpretation.  He felt that because she didn't write down the memorized passage from the book, she wasn't right.  But because he didn't lecture, he couldn't argue with my answer which was pretty much verbatim from the book.  I think that is one of the most evil things a teacher can do (well, besides illegal things...).

This semester I'm in a class that teaches teachers on how to teach their students to compose and write papers and essays (way to many uses of the word teacher in that sentence).  I didn't know it was for teaching majors, and it didn't specify in the listings.  Again, UWM, you really need to work on those descriptions.  But I stayed in the class because it is really interesting to see the "inner workings" of how teachers teach.  In our readings from two weeks ago, this style of assigning material and not lecturing on it is an actual tactic used in making students "interact and know" the material.  By testing on the assigned readings and not lecturing on them, somehow makes students not only know the material, but be experts on it.  I was shocked this is a method of teaching.  Shocked and dismayed because I've always had the impression that teachers should lecture, show, answer questions, and generally explain the information (that's why they are called TEACHERS).  But a lazy teacher such as the DD professor would embrace this method whole-heartedly.  Four textbooks with hundreds of pages to read but never a lecture.  Not once.  450 pages alone on typography.  The entire book.  And not one comment other than "you need to interact with the material."  His words, not mine.  And how, exactly does one interact with the material when even the teacher doesn't want to teach it?

This brings me back to the college is easier for older people comment.  When I explained that the motivations may be different and that's why it APPEARS to be easier, she didn't want to hear that. I also think that A students have the perception from non-A students that it is just easy for them and everyone else struggles.  But chippie tells me it is easy for me because otherwise it makes her responsible for her own learning.  She needs to believe that somehow I have an easy time learning because of my age.  Why would that be true when studies have repeatedly shown that learning is better when started younger.  Foreign languages are the first example I think of.  It's proven that younger people learn faster and better than an older brain.  Yet I wouldn't say it is easier, but just different.

I'm not mad at her, but a little dismayed that someone who is sitting right next to me, doing the exact same work, getting the exact same experience thinks that it is easier for me because I'm twice her age.  I don't think she is any less intelligent than me, or that her learning is more difficult because of her age.  But her motivations are very different from mine, and that, that is where the difference lies.  I told her that her motivations will change and once she is older, she will see the error of her comment.  But by then, she will have a chippie telling her it's easy because she is old and I will probably be long gone....

The power of the Matrix

We are born, we grow old, and we die.  It is a simple concept made difficult by the growing old part.  From the moment we are born we begin to age and nothing can stop that until death.  This past weekend I almost met with my death and now I’ve been obsessing about not only the incident, but life, and my life, in general. 

On a divided highway I travel frequently, and through an intersection I’ve traveled probably hundreds of times, I was almost “T-Boned” by a Sheboygan County Sheriff SUV from my left.  I never saw him cross the northbound side of traffic (I was traveling southbound), go through the island divider of the north/south roads, and only until I had passed in front of him did I see him in my peripheral vision.  I had glided past him by the time I slammed on my brakes.  He glided past me just as smoothly as if we had coordinated the whole maneuver.  I remember seeing just a flash of blue and then the brown blur that is the front end of an SUV that sits higher than my Matrix.  I saw with blurry side vision his headlights, grill, hood, and the massiveness that is too close to a moving vehicle at 60mph. 

Once I came to a screeching halt, I looked back on my right and saw that he had slammed to a stop also.  I didn’t see him in the cab, just the side and back but once he determined I hadn’t rolled my vehicle stopping, he took off on his original call.  Not once through the entire episode did I hear his siren.  It wasn’t on.  I still don’t understand how I never saw him, and he never saw me.  I know they are trained to proceed through intersections slowly and cautiously, for this very reason, so I can only determine that he didn’t see me or made the assumption that I saw him. 

This is a wide open part of the highway, and I really should have seen him.  I’m still bothered and at a loss as to why I didn’t see him.  It was daylight so maybe his lights weren’t as effective, and he didn’t have a siren on so I never heard him.  I didn’t have music blasting, and was not texting, on the phone, or otherwise preoccupied.  I had just taken a drink from my soda bottle and I think I may have looked down to put it back in its holder and by the time I looked back up had traveled far enough that I didn’t scan the horizon and intersection like I should have.  If he was responding to a call, he was distracted because they have to concentrate on the details coming over the radio and writing stuff down.  That’s as bad as texting.

My point is this.  I never saw my life flash before my eyes, but I do know that had we collided, I would have taken a direct hit to the driver’s side door and probably would not have survived the collision.  I guess in some regard I would have never known what hit me.  As the days progress from it, I have stopped being in shock and fear, and have moved on to some kind of melancholy about the whole thing and how quickly life can end.  I’ve had close calls on the road before.  I travel so much that it would be impossible if I haven’t had some kind of incident.  I would think every driver has had close calls.  But I’ve never felt so sure that I wouldn’t have survived before and this bothers me.  Maybe it’s those awful commercials and tv programs that show the impact of a side collision that is vivid in my mind, but I think I was given a second chance on Saturday.  However, the question is, why?

As human beings we search for meaning in pretty much everything.  And I’ve never really been the one to think that it is all coincidence.  I think some is, but basically I think there is a Divine plan that we are part of, but may never know why or how we play our parts.  I guess some would say they don’t want to be manipulated in that regard, but if I am on this Earth to fulfill a reason, no matter how unclear to me, I will count myself grateful that I was a split second faster than the Sheriff.  Now, to figure out why.

Does this blog make me look boring?

I haven't had much to say in the past month that I felt anyone would really be interested in, but I feel like writing.  So be warned, this is probably going to ramble and be boring.  I am a week away from the start of another school year, my last.  Yes, my friends, I am in the last 10 credits of my college career and what a long road it has been.  This semester I will be taking Eng 445 and Eng 621.  445 is titled "The Composing Process" and 621 is a seminar class in "The Early Global Modern".  My friend Julie will be in the 445 class with me, and I've had the professor before who is teaching the 621 class.  I'm nervous about the 621 class as that seems to me it is going to be an advanced Eng Lit class.  We are reading five Shakespeare plays so I guess I'm going to really have to figure it out.  I've always had a bit of a well, not fear, of Shakespeare, but I guess an intimidation of him.  However, when I took 302, I actually kind of liked what we read of old Bill, but it was still a bit of a struggle to get through.

In looking up what the difference between a "lecture" and a "seminar" is, I read that a seminar class is one in which there is active student participation.  That a lecture class is one where the teacher just gives out the information.  I think this professor teaches in that seminar fashion because there was much class discussion from what I can remember.  He also uses lots of pictures and fun stories to keep the students interested.  I don't know how this class will work, but there are only 9 of us so far, so that is going to be interesting.  No hiding in the back row or not talking when having a bad day.  I will be attending class after a full day of work and I have to admit that I will be happy when I don't have to cram both things in one day anymore.  I'm not sure how I will get all the reading done, but I'm guessing that I will be glued to my table on the weekends.

I'm going to try having my textbooks on my  tablet this year.  After last spring's semester with four textbooks for Eng 439 and a large bound "reader" for Eng 434, my backpack was pretty heavy.  If I can get away with a notebook and my tablet for my classes this semester, I will be a happy camper.  My elbow is still giving me problems, and adjusting a lighter backpack will help with straining that tendon.  Which brings me to how technology has changed the way we go to school.  I heard on the news today that the price of educating our children (grades K-12) has risen 18% since the 1980's.  I'm guessing that it has to do with computers.  They are more expensive than textbooks, need to be replaced more often, and with advances in forms (tablets vs. desk tops), there's going to be an increase in price.  I'm not sure how I'm going to like an electronic form, but it certainly is easier to carry around.

  I'm still having a hard time believing that I will be done with college in two semesters.  I have this little fear in the back of my head that when the powers that be go through my transcript they will declare that something is terribly wrong and I will need to complete another 36 credits before I can graduate.  I guess it's just my negativity coming out, but honestly, I really have that fear.  Crazy, I know, but that's how things work out for me.  I am anxious to be done now.  I can remember thinking at one point that 2015 was so far away and that I would never get there.  Well, it's not so far away now and I'm glad I stuck with it.  I know I was really debating about continuing on, but I'm really glad I did.  I would have hated it that I didn't finish.  I apply for graduation this fall, and I think that will be a good day.  See, I told it was going to be rambling and boring.  Thanks for reading anyway...