Dance class with jazz hands.... um, no.

This week I had a meeting with my school advisor about my future classes at UWM.  It was my first meeting with this particular advisor as I'm no longer a first year transfer student and was given a "permanent" advisor.  The College of Letters & Science is the largest school at UWM, and while there are many different interests in that school, apparently my advisor doesn't seem to think that English is a "worthy" degree.  He actually did a lip curl with a tinge of distaste in his voice when he stated (when reading from my record) that I am an English major.  I was watching his face as he was reading what was plainly evident (to me, anyway) and he was just filling time.  When I asked if there was a problem with an English major, he asked if that was what I really wanted to do.  Well, it's a little late to change now, doncha think?  Is anybody really SURE of what they want to do?  I said, "yes", and he just looked like a pile of dog crap had been placed on his desk and he was told to take care of it. 

 

I decided to let him off the hook, and started asking questions as if there was nothing wrong.  He apathetically answered them, and basically told me that whatever I wanted to do was fine.  But he was a bit insistent that I take a one credit class my last semester instead of a three credit class.  I'm in that weird spot where I need 19 credits to graduate, and 18 of them need to be L&S credits above a 300 level.  That's fine.  I have ONE credit that can be anything.  Anything.  I had planned on taking my usual 6 credits my last semester, two classes at three credits each, for a total of 122 credits total.  I need 120 to graduate.  At this point, what the hell difference does taking the two extra credits make?  I will still be at UWM the same amount of time and cost-wise, I will probably get more use out of the $836 for the two extra credits than the one credit DANCE class he wants me to take.  He seems to think I should take a "fun and easy A" class.  Deep breath.  Deep, deep, breath.  I am not at college to take "fun and easy A" classes.  Yes, parents, this is what your kids are getting advised to do.

 

The most insulting part of this meeting (besides him thinking I needed to learn how to dance) was the following statement, "that A- in grammar class is killing your GPA."  What?  Did I just hear that correctly?  I said that I would hate to be his kid and come home with an A-.  What the hell is wrong with an A-?  In an ADVANCED college level grammar class?  Deep breath.  Deep, deep, breath.  Now, if my GPA was in the 1 range, I could see that being a problem.  However, my GPA currently sits at 3.953.  That's what an A- does to "kill" one's GPA.  The A- never even entered into my realm of thinking that it was "killing" my GPA.  I am thrilled with my GPA, proud even.  And for him to say that it isn't somehow "good" enough, that an A- is "killing" my GPA is so shocking and a bit discouraging to me that I brought out my big words and let him have it.  I have written in this blog numerous times about my abysmal performance my first year of college.  I KNOW what "kills" a GPA and an A- isn't one of them.  This Skippy (yes, all the young,clueless people I meet I call  Skippy) tells me that I would have a perfect 4.0 if it hadn't been for that A-, as if I don't already know that.  Somehow I think a person with a 3.953 knows that they would have a 4.0 if they have an A instead of an A-.  And while that is a nice, neat, wrapped-up perfect number, I'm really ok with a 3.953.  I asked him how he would have done in an advanced grammar class and he looked down at his desk and admitted that he would probably have gotten a lower grade.  I then told him that if he plans on doing this same thing to the younglings of UWM, who have a very fragile self-confidence, he's going to have a mess on his hands.  Because if an A- is not good enough for him, what the hell is going to happen when he finds a C student?  I told him that maybe he would want to re-evaluate his being an advisor if he's going to knock down the A students because he's got no where to go with the B, C, and D students. 

 

After my little tirade, he suggested I find a new advisor and I told him that would probably be a good idea and asked him if he knew of one that thought an A- is an acceptable grade.  Don't piss off English majors.  They know how to use the words that hurt the most. 

 

He actually suggest I take a dance class for the one credit I need, and when I said to him, "does this body look like it dances for credit?" he did have the good manners to blush.  His next one credit suggestion was for a philosophy class, which earned an eye-roll and a sigh from me.  No, I will take an advanced writing class and get useful tutelage from that even though it is three credits and not one. 

 

I don't even know where to start on the concept of taking a "fun and easy class for an A" attitude.  These classes are assessed at the same tuition rate as the "hard" classes, so you aren't getting a reduction there.  I guess if you are trying to pad your GPA they would be a good idea.  There's chess, exercise classes, yoga, photography, billiards, cooking, hiking, biking, and all sorts of classes I would say are not really college worthy.  I'm not sure why they are "educational".  All of them can be found at a YMCA, community classes, online, thorough stores and commerce business, and other venues that are not tax-payer supported.  Where they should be.  I hear complaints from my teachers about budget cuts.  Well, I can think of a department that could be cut and that money transferred to the educational programs that are really a college level class. 

 

Maybe I look stupid and uncoordinated.  That is the only reason I can come up with in Skippy's offering of dance class for me.  Maybe he didn't really look at my transcript and GPA and thought I needed a helping hand to pad my GPA.  Maybe I look like I need to take an easy class.  Maybe he wants to take the common road heavily traveled and assumes everyone else does too.  Maybe he just doesn't care what he tells his students to take.  Maybe I'm too naive in my thinking of what college is, or should be.  Maybe the problem is with me in wanting to learn something that isn't easy (Spanish?).  Maybe I expect more as I get older.  Maybe more of us should expect more when we are younger.  Maybe Skippy realized this yesterday as I refused to agree with his ridiculous plan of dance class and jazz hands.  But probably maybe not.  I suspect this is the norm for advising and once again I am under-whelmed by UWM. 

Hissing employees

Although I'm not directly on the front lines everyday, I do work in the retail world.  My part is dealing with billing and angry customers, and problem solving for the stores.  I know and understand what good customer service is all about.  I treat my customers the exact same way I would want to be treated if our positions were reversed.  So when I went to a local bead store on this past Friday night (Nov. 1st), I was stunned at how I was treated. 

I had decided at the last minute to go to this store to interview the employees for my current school  paper, an informational article, for Eng 433 (creative nonfiction for publication).  We need four "live" sources, and I was looking for new ideas and angles to pursue.  I walked into the store around 6pm and there were two or three customers in there browsing.  There were three employees doing their work stuff and asking if customers needed any help.  I was greeted, questioned about looking for something, and then left to browse.  I wanted to shop (yes, there was an ulterior motive for going, but it was all in the name of research.  Yeah, I'll stick with that.) for a bit to see if they were swamped busy and wouldn't be able to answer my questions before I even asked.  I was not about to take them away from their customers.  After a few of the other customers left, I went to the counter and asked the two employees there if they would like to answer some questions about chain/scale maille and how its use in the jewelry and fashion world have changed and evolved.  They both said ok, but that I really wanted to talk with the other employee who is their chain maille expert.  I said that would be great and wandered over to the other side of the store to assess how busy this employee was.  She was helping a customer who had a very particular issue for around 45 mins.  This is important, because most of it was him telling her about his plans (IN A VERY LOUD VOICE SO EVERYONE COULD HEAR) and not really shopping related at all. 

After the employee was done with that customer, she went back to working on pricing and putting stuff away.  One of the other employees came over and pointed me out and said that I was looking for someone to answer a few questions about chain maille for a paper.  Employee number three said sure, and I went on to explain my class, my project, and so forth.  The whole interview took around 20 mins and I thanked her and made my way to the check-out counter (all in the name of research, of course).  While checking out, the employee asked if I found everything I needed (yes) and if I got my questions answered (yes, thank you for your help).  The other employee came over, leaned across the counter and hissed (yes, she hissed) at me, "you are NOT to use the name of the store in your article!!"  I know I blinked a few times because one, I was scared of her, and two, I couldn't understand or figure out what difference it made if I used the name of the store.  I wasn't about to get into an argument with her, so I said I wouldn't.  Plain and simple, no back-talk, sass, questions why not, or anything of the sort.  Immediate and complete agreement.  That wasn't good enough for little-miss-angry-control-freak and she hissed it at me again.  This pissed me off because one, I'm not stone deaf and I heard her the first time, and two I was dropping a considerable sum of cash and I was dumb-struck at how she was treating a PAYING CUSTOMER.  Cold, hard, cash was being exchanged while she went on this tirade. 

She went on to harangue me while she walked through the store in a very LOUD voice about how unprofessional I was in not making an appointment to interview employees or to clear this.  I'm assuming she meant clearing this with the owner of the store.  Ok, I will agree that I probably should have cleared this with the owner, but honestly it is a SCHOOL PAPER.  It won't be published.  And, if she would have handled this differently, I would have recommended this store for people to buy their stuff at.  Now, I won't.  I explained to hissy-fit employee that it was again, a SCHOOL PAPER, but she wasn't having any of it.  She was angry, aggressive, and so upset that she was doing laps in the aisles yelling at me.  The poor employee checking me out was so embarrassed that she couldn't even look me in the eye.  I left as soon as I could just to shut hissy-fit up.  She continued in that tirade as I was walking out the door. 

As I look back on the whole episode, I take the responsibility that I didn't call ahead.  But I made sure the employees were not busy, not helping other customers, and I only took 20 mins.  Mr. let-me-tell-you-my-entire-life-story-and-plans took over an hour between two employees.  I know this because I was in there for a good two hours.  So if they could help him for that long, why was my little 20 minute interview such a big deal? 

My husband offered an answer that I will use in my paper.  The angry employee does not see chain/scale maille as a viable art form.  And, when she realized that I wasn't going to interview her, she got pissed.  Even though she referred me to the third employee, she was pissed off because I didn't talk with her AND she doesn't like chain/scale maille.  And this is what I've run up against from time to time from people who don't think weaving metal rings is WORTHY of being called art, or serious jewelry or fashion.  It was right there in front of me and I didn't see it.  Maybe I should have talked to her and gotten a different point of view.  I was so taken aback by her erratic behavior that all I could do was leave.  I wanted to get out of there because she was such a b*tch to me.  And, I fumed for a good part of the one hour and five minute drive home because that is not the way you treat paying customers.  She could have POLITELY asked me to not use the name of the store, or, even better, asked for my contact information so the owner could contact me and clear everything up.  POLITELY.  Not the aggressive, angry witch that she was to me. 

So I won't use the name of the store in the paper.  However, she said NOTHING about the source list.

And that my friends, is chain maille winning.

Sometimes I just feel like rambling

I really don't have an overwhelming topic to write about, but I feel like writing something.  Which is odd because both of my classes this semester are writing intensive and you would think that I wouldn't feel like writing at all.  But I do.  It's probably going to be a boring one too.  Oh, well.  In my technical writing class we are working on a "how-to" manual.  I wrote about making a magic mouthwash.  This is a mixture of medications that a person uses as a mouthwash to help heal and deaden the pain of severe mouth sores from chemo and radiation therapies.  It's not hard to make, but there is a trick to it.  I wrote out the steps, took pictures (thanks for the help Marty) of compounding it and have it pretty much completed.  I am awaiting feedback on the draft in order to fix whatever is wrong with it.  In my creative nonfiction class, I just handed in my interview/profile paper and had a mid-term meeting with my professor last week.  She gave me my review paper back, and it was a grade lower than I thought it was going to be.  She gave me a B on it, and marked what was wrong with it, of course.  I was a bit stunned because I didn't think I did that badly on it, and the small group feedback I got on it was all positive.  But, she said nope, not good. 

Here's my question:  Why do we do small group critiques if they are of no real useful help?  I had three fragments in my paper but the three other people in my group never found them.  That was the only real thing wrong with my paper, so I'm assuming that's why the mark down.  There were a two punctuation problems (one comma splice and one reversal of quote marks and the period), and the very subjective issue of my teacher thinking I needed one more sentence in my conclusion.  Just one?  However, she has a very liberal policy in that you can rewrite your paper once for a better grade.  Of course I rewrote it immediately, but I really struggled with what she called fragments.  I admit the other issues were correct, but the fragments....hm, I'm not sure.  I did, however, rewrite them so that they are painfully a complete sentence.  It ruins the voice of my paper, but I guess that is what will have to be done if I want an A.  I'm not about to stand my ground on a 1,000 word review. 

I'm still at a loss as to why small group critiques are useful.  It has been my experience when I am completely truthful that many of my fellow students don't take it well.  I try to be nice, I try to give them the benefit of the doubt, I really struggle with trying to understand why they are in a senior level college class and can't produce a paper that reflects that.  Again, I am by no means perfect as my review paper proves, but at my mid-term meeting when I was trying to answer her question as to why my paper was "not up to my high standards" as she put it, she said that some of the papers she didn't even grade because they were written so poorly.  Really?  How does that happen?  This isn't some freshman class where it is required to take it.  This is an upper level class, a foundational class in the professional writing track major, and a senior level class to boot.  How are these papers not all, at least most, complete and worthy of at least a B?  I was stunned in my little group the week before when all three students admitted they thought my writing was the best they've seen in their classes.  Holy crapbuckets!  Are you kidding me?  I though they were joking with me, and when I called them on it, they looked hurt.  Here, they had paid me this compliment and I didn't take them seriously.  I explained that I am by no means that good, but they disagreed.  I still think they are wrong, in fact I know they are wrong because the teacher did not agree with them on my review paper.

She did, however, want samples of my query letters for excellent examples in her next class reader.

I do understand that the small group critique might catch some of the really glaring errors, and maybe that's what it is meant to do.  But I find that my fellow students don't want to really come out and say what is wrong with the paper.  I know this is an age thing, but I feel that I really should tell them what is wrong with it.  I mark spelling errors, punctuation errors, sentences errors, tense errors, you get the point.  I mark it all.  At least to my understanding of the English language.  Again, I'm not perfect, but if there is an error in the paper I would have rather had it pointed out BEFORE I handed the dang thing in for grading.  But because the younglings don't want to, for whatever reason, point out my mistakes, or even worse, didn't SEE the mistake, so we just give each other compliments and go our merry ways.  Sigh, why bother?

This past Wednesday afternoon I rammed a hedge branch through my foot.  We were trimming the hedges along the garage down to a more reasonable height, and I had clipped one off about three inches off the ground.  At an angle.  I was standing up and just nipped the stupid thing off.  I should have cut it flush to the ground, but I just lazily cut it off.  It made the  most wonderful one-side spear point!  I went about the drudgery of hauling branches to the curb and forgot all about it because, really, why would I even think about something I've done hundreds of times without any problems?  Well, awhile later I had to crawl between the hedge line and the garage to trim the hedges in the back and when I stepped back there, my foot came down on top of the spear point.  Just my one foot with all of my weight on the front part of my foot.  I'm not a small and dainty girl by any means.  Hardy farm stock is what my mother used to say, and all that weight proceeded to not only shove that point through my imitation garden knock-off crocs, but about a half-inch into my foot too.  And, here's the worst part, I didn't register that I had done it.  I knew my foot wasn't landing on a flat surface so I kept trying to shove it down (!) to make it flat.  I was so hell-bent on trimming the back hedges it didn't occur to me that I had a branch submerged into my foot.  Until it started stinging and then it was really sticky.  (there's a fragment and the type she dinged me on)

I got the branches trimmed, hauled them out from behind the garage and when I stepped out onto the driveway, my poor husband (who does NOT like real blood in any means) just turned away from me and when I looked down there was copious amounts of blood running out of the little holes in the side of the shoe.  Now I know the real reason why imitation crocs have holes in them.... 

I put a plastic bag on my foot because I had to get to my bathroom and that is through the living room which has light beige/silver carpet.  I got into the tub, flushed my shoe and  my wound and then the pain really started.  I am amazed at how the mind can divert pain if you are not concentrated on it.  We really needed to get the brush to the curb by Saturday (we only have one, once a year pick up) and I didn't have any time off this week to work on it; I had mid-term projects for both classes, and work.  I had about three hours on Wednesday to get this done, and there was a lot of brush.  Here's the final picture:

     
Yes, that is the entire front lot line of my house and half of my neighbor's, too. 

Anyway, I pulled the debris out of the hole in my foot and slapped a band-aid on it.  I went back outside and continued to work.  Hardy farm stock, indeed.

It occurred to me on Thursday  morning as the hole was still bleeding that I might just need to see someone about it.  I went to the urgent care center at my workplace and they gave me some antibiotic ointment and told me to look out for infection.  Duh.  I then asked if I should get a tetanus shot and they thought it might be a good idea.  Not exactly instilling confidence in me, but then again, by the time they looked at it the worst of it was over and it really did only look like a small cut.  Friday, however, I woke and my toes, metatarsal, and arch are black and blue, and deep, deep purple.  The cut still looks small and innocent, but my foot looks like a sledgehammer was dropped on it.  And while I could walk pretty normally on Thursday, Friday proved to be a challenge.  I went to Occupational Health and had them look at it and she was a bit shocked.  And promptly gave me a Tdap (tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis) shot.  My last one was in 1999 after I fell on my knee and scraped/cut it up on the side walk.  Again, another adventure in crappy footwear choices. 

I hope by Monday I will be able to walk on it because I have to go to class.  And, I'm not using a cane.  It's bad enough I'm the oldest student in both  my classes that I'm not going to reinforce that image with a cane.  And, I am now looking for a pair of garden shoes with a hard sole.  I guess foam soles and spears don't really mix well.  At least I wasn't bare foot.  Although I think I would have felt the spear point before real damage happened.  I think the cushiony foam just made it worse.

That's my boring blog for a Saturday afternoon.  Now, time for something fun.  I have several chain maille projects waiting for me. 

Is it possible for your brain to split out of your skull?

I woke with a severe migraine yesterday at 5:21am.  I had gotten it sometime during the night while asleep so there was no chance of taking a rescue medication until I woke up.  The ironic thing is that my brain was trying to wake me up because I kept dreaming I was having a migraine.  You would think my mind would have flashed a big "wake up! You really ARE having a migraine in real life" sign instead of vague dream-like images I ignored.  I could feel the pain in my head when I moved, but attributed it to my dream.  I eventually woke and realized I was beyond immediate help.  This was going to be an all-day affair and if I am lucky I won't have to go to the ER.

I've written about migraines before in this blog and every time I have one of this level I feel the need to hash it out again.  I was told at some point that as I got older, they would diminish.  Keeping in mind that Spanish class proved to be a definite migraine trigger, I would say that outside of the Spanish outlier, they haven't.  I still take a daily preventative medication and just when I think I don't need it anymore, something like the one I had yesterday happens.  I still can't figure out what the trigger is.  I have some ideas, but when I go through them again and I don't get a migraine, I'm never sure if that is a trigger or not.

Friday the 6th, Jill, Natalie, and I celebrated my birthday.  I turned 46 on Sept. 1st, or as I like to call it, 29 again.  Jill took us to a Japanese sushi place by her house and we ate and talked for a few hours dining on all sorts of wonderful sushi, rolls, and sashimi.  I didn't have alcohol because I took allergy meds earlier in the day so that wasn't it.  I've eaten Chinese and Japanese food before without causing a migraine, so that wasn't it.  I was at work, but it wasn't an unusual day, so that wasn't it.  The only thing I can think of is that school started this week and I had something really, really irritating happen. 

As anyone who is even vaguely familiar with UW-Milwaukee knows, parking on campus is right up there with parking in New York City.  I had both of my classes on Wednesday the 3rd, and both teachers made specific points that they will under no circumstances accept emailed homework assignments.  Large, bold font also announces this in the syllabi for both teachers.  There are several points I want to  make about this, so hang in there.

First, both classes are foundational classes to the Professional/Technical writing track of my English degree.  They are classes that not only teach you about those very same subjects, but also prepare a student for the work force.  They are almost vocational in nature.  What's wrong with the point of not accepting emails?  Do they honestly think that workforces do not accept email?  Are they so cheap that they don't want to print anything out?  One teacher stated she liked to comment on the page as she was reading.  What?  Has she never heard of Word comment?  I just can't fathom why we can't email assignments. 

Second, one of the teachers then makes an assignment due, for the next day, when we DON'T have class.  AND she makes it a non-graded mandatory assignment.  AND we have to drop it off, IN-PERSON between the hours of 9am and 2pm at her "Study Abroad" booth in the student union.  She tells us that this is her way of making us aware that we can study abroad in London next spring.  I have to take a deep breath here, because I can still feel myself get really angry over this.  The assignment turns out to be a one page memo answering a few questions about ourselves.  This is something that could EASILY be emailed in two seconds versus the 1/2 hour I will need to go to campus, find a parking spot, give it to her, and leave.  AND I work a 10 and 1/2 hour day on Thursdays, from 6am to 4:30pm.  The only time I would get to do this is on my lunch, and that isn't going to happen.  Now, if my office was still at Columbia Hospital, I guess I wouldn't have minded so much.  I would have been right across the street.  But, I'm not at Columbia anymore, I'm in Glendale at the River Woods outpatient clinic.  20 mins from campus, at best.  After class was over, I waited for the other students to leave and then I went to talk with the professor.  I stated that I heard her say no emails, but I went on to explain my situation and asked if I could email mine.  Nope.  She told me I could "drop it off after work, and slip it underneath her door".  I then told her I wasn't going to be on the east side of Milwaukee, and she just repeated herself with a breezy, airy smile.  I sighed and told her that I would be going to a friend's house on Friday and could make a detour over, but I will not stop on Thursday after work because I had two errands to run that were in Mequon and Saukville that had to be done by 5pm when the store in Mequon closed.  I was NOT coming back to the east side of Milwaukee to slip a one piece page of paper under her door when she wasn't even going to be there.  I must have shown some irritation because she relented and said Friday would be fine. 

Third, both teachers made comments about being too "old" to learn these "new" ways of doing things.  The discussion was about emails and D2L, which is the electronic version of the classroom.  I've taken several courses that use D2L (desire 2 learn), and I think it is an excellent tool to get people acquainted with electronic forms of communication that isn't for a fun purpose.  It is also the classroom for all online classes.  It is a serious, work environment that is similar to what happens in the work force.  I know this because I am in the work force.  So I don't understand when I get two teachers, both in their 60's who announce to a class of 20-somethings that they are too "old to learn new tricks".  What the hell am I paying tuition for then?  And WHY would anyone choose UWM's programs if they have professors that are too old to keep up with standard, current workforce practices.  Especially in something that will use technology for its standard practice.  I am appalled at this.  Both as a student and as a taxpayer.  And, less-so, as a woman.  Both teachers are women and I feel they are just adding to the stereotype of old women who can't use computers.  Hey, that's fine if you are not teaching the next generation of kids who will be entering the workforce in a few short semesters.  You want to hole up in the 1970's and stay there, that's your problem.  But, you have NO right to call yourself a teacher of current practices then.  And, just because you are tenured, doesn't mean you get to rest on your laurels, waste taxpayer money, waste student tuition money, and make the younglings dance circles around your schedule. 

After this semester I have 19 credits left for graduation.  I am so close.  But, instead of warming to UWM, I find that I am becoming increasingly annoying and disgusted with them.  I really miss UW Sheboygan.  I'm not going to transfer to a different school with only 19 credits left.  I have no idea if a different school is any different, better, or possibly worse.  I will stick it out, get my degree, and finally put this chapter in my life to rest.  I have to keep reminding myself that I have had teachers who are normal, nice, and interested in teaching students and not for personal gain.  Who don't put on an air of quirky antiquity when trying to teach a forward-thinking technology class.  Yes, I understand that the basic principles of writing are the same.  What I'm trying to learn is how to apply that to today's business practices and if I have teachers that won't even use an established form of communication, why am I here?  Not using email is akin to using an abacus in a calculus class. 

I just hope this is the only real bump in the semester.  I can't take another 15 weeks of quirky teachers who pull this crap out of their hats and call it an education.  I really can't.  This is why college is for the young.  They don't know any better.  But I guarantee you they know how to email.  And that brings me to my last point.  The younglings of today are past email.  They will be more advanced in using technology than I will ever be, and if I can see the problem with having professors that won't use what is available in the workforce, why should they invest their, and their parent's, money into a university system that could be so much more greater than it is?  Why?  Why as taxpayers should we accept shoddy services for our money?  Why are we giving tenure to professors who have no interest in keeping current?  And, why does this bother me so much that I get a migraine so bad that I consider removing my head as a treatment option?     

Totems on the mind

My sister imparted to me the other day that she had her totems read.  At least that’s what I understood her to say.  She tells me that her left-brain is ruled by the horse and the right-brain is ruled by the bear.  And then she said that of course this is true because she is very creative like the horse.  With no offense to my sister, I was almost compelled to ask her why a horse is more creative than a bear?  Or any other animal in the animal kingdom.  Or a human.  It seems to me that horses aren’t necessarily creative.  I grew up on a farm and we had horses.  I love horses, and they are beautiful animals.  However, they are not that creative.  They usually don’t have to forage for food, don’t have to figure out how to hibernate over winter, and can’t catch fish in their mouths.  They are pack animals and don’t do well with being by themselves.  I would give them attributes of strength, speed, and dependability, but not creativity.  But what do I know about American Indian lore? 

Our family history includes some American Indian in our blood, but for the most part I’ve always regarded myself as Caucasian.  My sister, however, clings to the 1/8^th Indian part of us that may or may not be true family genetics.  The family records are unclear and not researched, but whenever the subject of my great-grandmother on my mother’s father side came up, my maternal grandmother would get very angry and tell everyone it was none of their business.  So, there’s something there, but not a whole lot.  It also doesn’t help my sister’s cause in that I’m about as white as you can get without actually being an Albino with light green eyes and blond hair, although it is a darker blond and laced with gray now.  But, my sister and my mother are/were dark complected with dark hair and brownish-hazel eyes.  They could pass for Native American mixed with Norwegian, which, I guess we are.  My father was Norwegian but always said he had Native American in him.  I’m not sure and his family records are also not researched either.  I however, have no resemblance to an Indian whatsoever, and my sister knows this, but chooses to ignore that little fact.   

But, that doesn’t stop her from believing in the possibility that she is connected to something that really isn’t there.  Which brought me to the thought of how people in general seem to cling to something that they aren’t.  Whether it is Native American heritage or super-hero status, there are people who are just never happy with whom they are.  Of course it is fun to imagine yourself saving the world, or being something special with a special purpose, or somehow being one in billions that stands out from the rest.  It’s the premise of so many movies and tv shows that it is cliché on many levels.  But, that doesn’t stop the formula from pouring forth.  And people believing in it.  And some believing so much they have identity issues and entitlement issues.   

Not everyone loses touch with the real world.  And by real world I mean the daily, boring, grind of working to support yourself and family, dealing with the problems both mundane and unique, and generally existing until you don’t.  Which is a depressing thought, but ultimately aren’t we all just marking time?  Hopefully in a way that will be agreeable to you when you look back on your life and ponder.  And maybe that’s why folks want to be special or live a life that is extraordinary.  But why is a life, normally led, seen as not good enough at the end of the line?  By “normally led” I mean the usual:  school, job, marriage, house, kids, pets, vacations, grandkids, retirement, and hopefully some type of dignified end.  Or some variation of this track.  When all is said and done, how many of us truly look back on our lives and say, “I wish I would have been a ___________________”.  It seems to me that no matter what you do in your life, and unless you choose to make some horrible choices, your life is probably well-lived with some regrets but probably more accomplishments and things to be proud of even if you haven’t saved the world.  Or subjected yourself to dangers and death, or lived as a minority ethnicity that is full of stereotypes seen as a noble people wandering around living off the Earth.   

A coworker I’m not that fond of once told me that I’m very cynical.  I prefer to say I’m a realist with a healthy attitude of skepticism.  And while I have a share of my life in fun and fantasy (science fiction, Gen Con, conventions, reading, etc) I always know I have to come back to my reality in the heritage that I have no choice in.  And while that is the roulette that is genetics, I understand that to try and make myself something I am not is simply an illusion that will leave me resentful, depressed, and wishing my life away instead of accepting what can not be changed and being happy with what I am.  I am not a woodland Indian princess.  I am not Wonder Woman.  I am not James Kirk.  I am not many things.  But I am me, and there is no one else like me out there.  Shouldn’t that be extraordinary enough?

 

Redistribute the wealth!!!!

The human capacity for judgment never ceases to amaze me.  I know it is every where and I shouldn’t be surprised by it at all, but every once in awhile it stops me in my tracks.  Both when I hear and see other people doing it and when I find myself doing it.  I know it is a human trait that is impossible for most of us to overcome, but it still strikes me as petty in most matters.  For example:  The “grass is always greener on the other side of the fence” judgment.  I have the type of job where I can have a flexible schedule.  This is one of the benefits of doing billing and accounts receivables for a living.  And, for dealing with the angry public.  For the summer, I am working four, 10-hour days a week.  This gives me a day off plus the weekend.  I organize it so that every other weekend, I have a four day weekend with the Friday and Monday before and after off.  I still work 40 hours a week.  80 in a pay period.  Anything more would be overtime.  In order to work from 6am to 4:30pm , I get up at 4am .  I am not skipping merrily into work at noon and leaving at 2.  I slog just like the rest of you.  But, my room coworker seems to think that I skip in to work merrily at noon and leave at 2.  Just because I have a day off during the week.  Her job is an 8 hour Monday through Friday deal.  That’s the nature of that position.  When you are “on-call” for other depts that are open during the full week, that’s the way it is.  However, she snarkily comments on my cushy schedule and how it must be nice to have “long weekends every week”.  It doesn’t occur to her that I’m still working a 40 hour week, the same exact amount of hours she works, but because I arrange the days so that I do have a four-day weekend every other week this allows her to pass judgment on my “cushy” schedule.   

 

On a much larger scale, the green grass on the other side is glaringly apparent in folks who want more than what they have.  The people who want to be richer than they are and use whatever example comes to mind.  Big business, oil companies, computer gurus, and any other person who has some unbelievable amount of money are the usual targets.  “Why does “X” deserve all that money, he/she/it should give it to me!”  “Let’s redistribute the wealth!”  Why?  Why does anyone have to give their money to people who are jealous and judgmental?  Isn’t that what taxes are for?  But, wait, here’s “they should have to pay their fair share of taxes!”  Really?  And you don’t take advantage of all the credits and deductions you can too?  Are you paying your “fair share” when you’ve pumped out a bazillion kids and now I, as a taxpayer that doesn’t get a kid credit, have to fork over more than my “fair share” to pay your kid credit?  Just because you can procreate doesn’t mean I owe you money.  That doesn’t seem “fair” in my book.  Maybe you shouldn’t have kids you can’t afford?  And, that’s where my judgmental side comes out. 

 

We have lost in this country the ability to say, “hey, I want “X”, maybe I should work for it.”  I have worked for everything I have in my life.  And while some folks would see me as the target of their “redistribute the wealth” scheme, I happen to think that if I got what I have today by working hard, so can they.  I made choices in my life that allowed me to save my money and not squander it.  I live below my means.  That is how you save money.  You do not live above your means.  And, when the crap storm of recession hits, you have something to fall back on.  Do I want the 4,000 sq ft house with all the amenities?  You betcha.  Do I have it?  No.  I have a 1200 sq ft house that is exactly what I need to live comfortably but doesn’t keep up with the Joneses.  And, it’s paid off.  Four years early on the mortgage because we chose to put extra money to the principal instead of squandering the cash on clothing, eating out, expensive toys, and other frivolous stuff that judgmental human beings seem to think they need to prove themselves worthy individuals.  So, again, why should I have to redistribute my wealth to pay for you and your frivolous pursuits?  You can do the exact same thing I did.  You want to judge me?  Well, I can judge you right back.  Stop wasting and whining your life away and do something about it.  You don’t like your job? Find a new one.  You don’t make enough money? Get an education and find a why to improve your financial status.  Or, here’s a thought, you don’t really need the latest fashions from Paris .  You don’t need the giant-ass house, you don’t need the Harley, you don’t need a $20,000 plus car.  You don’t need a $500 a month phone bill.  You don’t need all the cheap crap you buy on a daily basis because you think you HAVE to have it.  That brand name coffee you just dropped $5 bucks for?  No, you don’t need that.  And the $10 lunch you buy every day?  No, you don’t need that either.  So, again, why do I have to redistribute my meager wealth because you are making very poor financial decisions? 

 

Yet I get judged by the same people who want something from me.  My co-worker wants information from me.  Wants me to fix her computer.  Wants me to agree with her on everything.  Wants me to give her answers, easy answers, to her problems.  And then judges me when I don’t do any of what she wants.  Because I’m married that somehow translates to “easy street” in her book because there are two incomes.  Yet, she owns a house, a brand new car (which cost more than either of my two cars), and everything else that goes with life and still is not happy.  I pointed out to her once that a homeless person would kill for her life and she got mad at me.  I’m not making light of homeless people, but the old adage of complaining about painful shoes to an amputee comes to mind.  She is wealthy beyond measure to someone who sleeps in shelters and calls nowhere home.  Yet, she doesn’t see it that way.  She’s the victim, she’s the one oppressed, she’s the one who life is kicking and ignoring.  Because she doesn’t have money beyond count, she is the one “owed” something by big business, oil companies, computer gurus, and me.  If you can’t even convince a person they have wealth whether or not they see it, there is no hope for this country.  We will de-volve into whiny victims begging for cash while driving our expensive cars and complaining that the couch and curtains do not match.

 

The pointy end goes IN the knee

Last Monday, I got an anti-inflammatory medication injected directly into my evil, right knee.  This makes me all manner of wiggly, and even though in the grand scheme of medical tests and procedures it is a cake walk, it stills feels disgusting and is painful.  At least to me.  My doctor was nice enough to inject the needle into one of my old arthroscopic surgery scars from 1984 and he also numbed the skin up with some magical freezing spray that I've seen in the pharmacy a millions times before but have never really paid attention to it.  Now I know what it does.  The shot took around 2 to 3 mins, but it felt like 20.  At one point I must have been holding my breath because he told me to take a breath but I didn't.  I'm one of those people that tenses up and holds their breath whenever something painful is happening.  I also know that this is not a good thing to do and you run the risk of passing out when you do this.  I mention all this because by today, Friday, I'm virtual pain-free in my knee and I'm doing things that several weeks ago would have brought me to tears and close to blacking out. 

This small episode of medical drama in my life reminds me that there are so many unpleasant things we need to go through in order to get what we want in life.  It was one of my worse weeks with my coworker this week and amongst many, other topics discussed, was the subject of what we control in our lives.  A constant, running theme with this coworker is her continual need to see herself as a victim and the subject of fate with no control on her part.  And, I, of course, pretty much feel that we are in control of our lives, for the most part.  Obviously, there are things that happen to us that we don't have control over, but for the most part we can control how we handle the events of our lives.  Case in point:  Coworker hates her job.  So, I tell her to find a new one and she tells me that it won't happen, she can't find a different job, that she shouldn't have to work, and blah, blah, blah.  So, she sits at a job she hates and complains about it all the time.  She does nothing to change her situation except continually and loudly tell me that she is retiring.  (yeah, in a year)  Personally, I can't wait for her to leave.  There are many, many, examples with this person of things she doesn't like but won't change.  Almost all of them are in her power to change them. 

I waited a week and a half before I built enough courage up to get that shot in my knee.  But, as the doctor told me "come back when you've had enough of that knee" I realized he was right and that I was being silly.  You need to get through the awful before the good.  There's also no promise that the medication will last, but for now it feels pretty good. 

My coworker will not change.  She is unwilling to go through what she needs to in order to make herself happy.  Which also leads me to believe that she doesn't want to be happy.  I find this thought disturbing, but I'm really beginning to believe it.  Not only does she not want to be happy, but she wants everyone else to be unhappy too.  And that they should be happy being unhappy.  If that even makes sense. 

I had a full-blown migraine this week.  Rage, visual aura, headache, light and sound aversions, the whole kit and caboodle.  As I thank God for the miracle that is Maxalt, I realize that better living through chemistry really is my motto.  But, the next day, my coworker decides that she needs to fill every drawer in the room with plastic vials from a distance of about three feet.  Just open the box and let the vials pour out.  When I ask her to stop doing this, she gets a smirk on her face and informs me that I should just change my situation if I don't like what she is doing.  She thinks that she's turned the tables on my comments to her, so I decide right then and there that there will never be another kindness towards her from me.  She will get civility, but nothing else.  I change my situation all right, and to one she will regret.

And that is all I am going to say about her.  I've wasted too much of my energy on her, she has sucked too much of my life away for my liking and I'm not going to let her do that anymore.  I'm done with her.  She is not worth my time and that is my situation to change.