Happy car gets ass kicked

Last night the vandals were out. The Happy car was parked peacefully in front of my house, minding her own damn business, but the hoodlums got her anyway.
I went outside this morning and saw my license plate and the holder bent completely in half, with the imprint of a trailer hitch right in the center, sitting on the hood of the car.
"COOL," I thought, "The jackass in the SUV rammed his trailer hitch into my plate and broke it."

I called Mom. Mom said to call the police and report it. I didn't want to call the police - "I have a paper to write!" I said. (I still have a paper to write and am obviously procrastinating by blogging.)
Mom said "CALL the police!"
So I called the police. I was all bummed 'cause I was going to go for a quick run and then get to school and write, and I thought "the police" wouldn't show up for quite some time (they're kept pretty busy in my neighborhood).
I was standing in the bathroom not 10 minutes later, attempting to remove my gross black fingernail polish (Halloween...) when the doorbell rang. Officer William said hello and asked if my car was the one parked across the street, the teal one with the driver door smashed in.
"No," I said "mine's the Jetta with the dead license plate and cracked bumper."

We stood around the car for a bit. He took my "important" info down. I walked into the house to put shoes on. He called me back out - "ma'am, could you come around here for a minute?"
I joined him where he stood, looking at the back of my car. The entire left corner, light fixture and all, was smashed in. Sad little pieces of my Happy car were scattered on the ground.


I'd been so preoccupied with the license plate that I hadn't even looked over the rest of the car.

That's when I noticed the note stuck in my driver's side window. It was from another officer who'd apparently been called last night and seen the damage to my car - the note said to call him between 11pm & 7am so he could get more info from me. Oookay.

We took a quick look at the other cars parked on the side of the street and noticed that mine was not the only one with damage. Damn. Office William tells me to call the other guy who left the note. That guy should file the report and give me my insurance claim #. I have to get a new pair of plates and take Happy to the dealer. Poor Happy. :(

In other news, the squirrel from hell (the one that broke into the pantry) is still alive and well and terrorizing us. He now has a partner in crime. They ate through the top of the pumpkin I put outside, making a huge, gross pumpkin mess on the front steps. I saw him inside the pumpkin - his grey bushy tail sticking out. I chased him around the porch for a while, yelling things. I probably scared the neighbors more than I scared the dang squirrel. He also tried to chew threw the screen door.

Shrimp!

So I just experienced the "all you can eat shrimp" at Red Lobster with my buddy Nik. And it definitely was ALL I could eat.

The shrimp, plus the mountain of leftover Halloween party food that I munched on today means that I am a very stuffed girl. Very stuffed. Like a turkey. Not a shrimp.

Popcorn shrimp, coconut shrimp, shrimp scampi, fried shrimp, shrimp & pasta... this is starting to remind me of Forrest Gump.

There are a lot of good life lessons in Forrest Gump. Perhaps I should watch that movie.

My thoughts are twisted like spaghetti

Today I got a letter from the UW Credit Union. They sent me a questionnaire. The top of it says "Please tell us why you haven't opened an account at UW Credit Union." I guess they want to know students' reasons for not choosing to bank on campus so they can better their services offered.
The funny thing is that I opened an account with them over a month ago. I'm kinda wondering what records they looked at to process the names for this mailing. Weirdos. Should I fill out the questionarrie anyway? I think I'll just send it back and say "Hey jackass, check your data... I'm ALREADY a customer. Please stop wasting paper."

I'm feeling lonely again. I hosted yet another one of my infamous (I'd like to think they're infamous) Halloween costume parties last night. To my disappointment, it was sparsely attended. Two of the second year TAs that showed up said that it was a pretty normal TA party - Sociology grad students are apparently lame and busy and rarely go to parties... and when the do, they leave around 10pm. Okay, fine. The thing that pissed me off was that at least four people told me they'd definitely be there - and then they didn't show up.

Okay, so I realize this is petty and pathetic. Buuut I'm pretty confident about my party hosting abilities... I've gotten so many compliments over the years (not that this is a difficult skill... it's just one of the few things I'm good at). I love hosting because then I can make sure everyone's having fun and is sufficiently stuffed with food, and at the end of the night, I get to hear about how much fun they had and how great the event was. Then I get to feel successful and happy that I have so many cool friends.
In my eyes, then, the party last night was a failure. The people that were there were very grateful and happy. Britta even called me today to thank me for hosting and to say that she was sorry more people didn't show up - she said she knows the amount of time and effort (and money) it takes to host a good party, and it really sucks when people blow you off.
That made me feel a bit better. The entire event just left me feeling sad and alone. Maybe I should stop having parties until I actually make some real friends.
Whatever. Sorry. I'm feeling sorry for myself and I really don't have any right to do so.

I talked to Mom today. Dad has one week and three days left of radiation therapy. Katie went home this weekend (it's her bf's birthday). I guess she was kind of upset when she saw Dad. She walked up to him, and Mom said "look who's here, Bud." Dad was, turned to the side, looking straight ahead instead of down and said he didn't see anyone.
Mom turned him so he was facing Katie and said "Now can you see who's here?"
"No," he said. He was still looking *over* Katie's head. So Mom said "Tilt your head down."
Finally he saw Katie.

Maybe my preoccupation with the stupid party is just me focusing my feelings of fear, loneliness and grief on something else besides my family and moving-to-new-city issues.

I did fix up a heaping plate of spaghetti for dinner. That always makes me feel better. CARBS.

Grad school is cool

I have something to brag about. Since this is my blog and not many people really care what I write, I'm going to do my bragging here. (You have been warned.)

We (we = the sociology first year kids) got our first "big" papers back today, graded and marked up with green ink.
I'd felt pretty good about this paper when I turned it in. I spent a good amount of time on it and felt that it was actually decent writing... but wasn't about to let myself feel too great about it until I saw the actual grade.

I only lost two points.

I ROCK. (*gloat, gloat gloat*)

The end. Thanks for reading.

Weekend rambling

Right now, there are so many things going on in my head that it's difficult to think coherently. It's not necessarily as bad as it sounds... it just means there's a lot going on in my life right now.

Last Thursday, I successfully hosted my first party in Milwaukee. We carved pumpkins and ate a TON of food. Spectacular. This Friday is the Halloween party. I'm very excited. I wonder if I could find a job doing this kind of thing (... doing what? hosting parties? weird.)

I was home to see my parents this weekend. Dad is doing okay. He has two weeks and three days left of radiation therapy. He's exhausted. The doctors aren't sure if he's tired from the therapy, the tumor, or the swelling around the tumor... even though they don't know why he's tired, they upped his steroid dosage today so he'll be more awake. It's interesting - you'd think they'd try to figure out the reason for the exhaustion.
Then again, the reason for the exhaustion is the least of everyone's worries right now. Mom has a very difficult time just getting Dad up and functional by noon - when they have to leave for therapy everyday.

I stayed at home with Dad all day Sunday so Mom could attend Katie's soccer game. I was nervous at first, but it turned out to be fine. All he did was sleep and doze. I just had to feed him, basically. Jay came over that evening so I could get out to do some homework and meet a few friends for coffee. Mom was very thankful. She said "I can't wait another month and a half to do something for myself." Damn right, she can't. This is just so hard on her, and I feel very guilty having to leave.

When I said goodbye to Dad this morning, he was upset when I told him I'll be back in a few weeks... "A few weeks?!" he said. He didn't realize or remember that I had a five hour trip back to school. He sounded so sad when I said I was leaving. I hugged my mom goodbye, walked out of the house, got into the jetta and just cried. Every time I leave there, I get in the car and cry. I've been good about not tearing up in front of my parents... but that's difficult sometimes. My eyes hurt from holding in the tears sometimes.

This is so damn hard. I get so angry with myself for breaking down and not being able to handle it. My life is GOOD. What the fuck am I crying for? ... Then I realize, this isn't something I can always deal with alone, no matter how strong I try to be. Sometimes, I just have to cry and be pathetic and irrational... even if somewhere in my head I know that this will pass and the world will keep turning.

Right now, it's too early to tell if the radiation is working. I guess we just have to wait for the next MRI, which will be in three weeks. We already know that the tumor will still be there... we just have to wait and see how much (or IF) it has shrunk.

I'm back home now. I got into town around 4:30, unpacked, ate a bagel and some Halloween candy, and went to campus to write a paper that's due tomorrow and to plan my class lesson on violence against women and the "rape culture." (It's "gender inequality" week in Soc 101.) Then I went to the grocery store to buy milk and fresh fruit. Now I'm here, sitting at my desk - with my computer on my lap because my desk sucks.

I am emotionally tired.

It was nice to see some friends this weekend... and Em and Jay - I saw them every day I was home! It was hard though too, to know that I had to leave again. I really love Milwaukee and my grad program. I also really love Minneapolis and my friends and family.
Oh, so torn am I. But that's life, right?

Anyway, I'm rambling. Life's not so bad. Tomorrow's Tuesday already. I was thinking the other day that it's going to be 2007 soon. That's very strange to me... but I think about this kind of thing every year, and the year looming in the future always "sounds strange."

I'm still rambling. Here's a picture for some flare ... Jay gave me a bunch of wedding photos. This is my lovely family, complete with new sister-in-law. This makes me happy.

yeah

I LOVE MUSIC!

It could always be worse

I've been noticing a trend in my life lately.

I still can't seem to get off the emotional roller coaster. Adjusting to the move, school, Dad's illness have thrown me for quite a loop. I have good days and bad days and "okay" days. The REALLY bad days are few and far between, thankfully. I think I've figured out why.

Whenever I'm feeling really horrible, thinking "damn my life sucks/poor me/I can't deal with this..." something happens to make me realize how good my life actually is.
It's always a jarring wake-up call that embarrasses me out of my funk, a slap in the face and a "shut the f*$k up, deal with your stuff, and realize that other people have it a lot worse than you do!"

I'm sitting in the TA office right now. A student of another TA came in. She sat down to talk to me, because her TA wasn't here and I TA for the same class. She's very stressed. Her mother is on life support and this student now has power of attorney... she needs to make the decision about whether to keep her mother on life support or to unplug the machine.

Yeah.
Honestly.
It could always be worse.

The Traveling Wilburys

This past weekend I lived dangerously.
I walked on the edge... right into Atomic Records.
(There will be no mention in this post of Saturday night's activities with regard to their "dangerousness"... hookah hookah.)

Atomic Records is very dangerous. Every time I go in, I leave with another CD.
This weekend, that CD was Traveling Wilburys Vol. 1.
I must say, I'm very impressed.
The brainchild of George Harrison (yes, the Beatle), the Traveling Wilburys formed in 1988. The CD is a dazzling showcase of a few great recording sessions between some of the most brilliant minds and voices in the music industry - Harrison, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, Bob Dylan, and (of course) Tom Petty.
They played together on and off for a few years (with the exception of Orbison, who died of a heart attack shortly after the first album was released). Very sad.

I highly recommend these guys... they are shining stars separately, and together, they're just pure genius and musical perfection.

*sigh*

I love music.

I lose again

Okay, fine... you win... you ALL win... to all of you who've asserted over the years that my car smells like crayons, (sigh)... apparently you're right.

Damn.

I still love my Happy Car.

I lose at lit reviews

Damn. Scratch that last post. This grad student thing is frickin' annoying and stressful.

Okay, so it's not that horrible. There are just quite a few things going on in my head. I'm trying to write a lit review... I'm about done and realized that it took me four pages to find my "voice" (as in the one you employ in writing... if that makes sense).
So, I have four pages of stiff, incomprehensible "blah blah blah"... in essence, I have four pages of shit... and one paragraph of decent writing.

It's kinda funny. I'm smiling right now, on the inside. It's just a draft... that will be peer reviewed and critiqued. I'm kind of nervous because the two people in my group this time around are the two people in the class who most intimidate me (ironically, the two men). Eeeaaagh. (Say it out loud, you'll get a better idea of how I feel.)

I've also decided that I don't want to get my phd. That's another slightly interesting story that I will save for a later date.

I think I'm a real student now.

It's 11:03pm. I'm sitting in the TA office on campus. I just finished writing a three page paper that assesses a debate about causes and effects as discuessed in two journal articles. Or something like that.
I came into the office a little after 8pm to start working on this paper.... THREE hours for a three page paper. This is by far the longest time I've ever spent on a three page paper. The reason this paper was so difficult and time-consuming to write was that we were required to be extremely concise regarding a very deep, extensive topic - the professor is trying to teach us to not ramble on (bullshit, if you will) about stuff that doesn't matter when we're doing academic writing. (Funny... I'm pretty sure there is a lot of bullshit in a lot of academic writing... hopefully, I'll be different!)

Here's the ironic thing. Right now I feel SO energized. I'm going to do a final run-through tomorrow and then print off my four copies (this paper is actually a draft, which we will critique in groups and then revise to make the final draft... we're also doing this with lit reviews).
*Anyway*...
When I was an undergrad, I think I might have been up past midnight doing homework/studying... twice? three times? (I was up past midnight frequently for many other reasons completely unrelated to schoolwork.) I wonder what this grad student experience will be like... I had a lot of fun thinking about this paper and writing it... it was like soc theory... I had to actually think about it before I did it.
Yay learning!

I was thinking about Gustavus/my undergrad career in another sense today too. Earlier this evening in class, we were discussing the option we have to attend various sociological conferences that are held around our great United Stats. The national conference is in NYC next year. (Waahoo.)
Unfortunately, many of us graduate students are unable to attend because of financial limitations, and there's really no way for the school to fund us. Our professor admitted sadly that many public schools, even "big ten" schools, don't have the means to fund these types of trips.

And I thought... Damn... DAMN, I was so fortunate to go to Gustavus. We were undergrads... and we easily raised (and were given by the student senate) more than enough money to send people to these conferences! Fuck! (My former-Gustie friends, if you're readings this... we were SO lucky!)
As frequently as I heard complaints about the financial state of Gustavus, it's pretty obvious that the funds abounded.
Money may not directly buy success, but it sure as hell can buy the means that generally facilitate success... then again, I guess this hinges on how you define "success." I'm not going to get into that right now.

Oh, Gustavus. While you can be a snotty bubble of upper-class, blonde liberals, I still love you very much. Thanks for teaching me how to write. Thanks for giving me so many study abroad options, and conference attendance options, and honors society membership options, and cafeteria food options.
Basically, thanks for teaching me about the plethora of options I will have in my life, and also for teaching me so much about the world so that I can have a fighting chance when it comes time for me to decide which options and opportunities I will follow.

Thoughts in my head

I've decided that I hate my desk. My mother bought me this desk when I was in ... 6th grade, maybe. It's teeny. I thought I would like the fact that it's not huge, but I have since realized that there are some definite positives to having a lot of drawers and shelves. It's also very uncomfortable to sit behind this desk. Maybe this is a good thing - I'll get out of the house and go to my office to do my work. Right.

An update on Dad: I have no idea how things are going. I haven't been able to reach anyone for a few days. The last time I talked to my mother, she sounded much happier (and much more awake). Friends have been stopping by with food, and she is very grateful for that. My brother called me last week and asked me if I'd dropped my elective course like I'd planned. Yes, I have. Then he asked me when I'm going to start coming home every weekend.
That was a surprise.
Um... I'm not going to come home every weekend. I will be home more frequently than I'd originally planned on, yes, but not every weekend.
If I were to go home every weekend, I'd probably have to quit school. "Going home" for me now does not entail hanging out, sitting on my ass on the couch, or getting together with friends and driving all over the cities. "Going home" now means being a constant care provider and supervisor of Dad... meaning that I would get ZERO homework finished (unless I start drinking redbull by the gallon and find someone to get me speed - something which probably won't happen).

I've been feeling very torn about this, and very guilty. (VERY guilty.) On the one hand, I have my "student" role - I have very important obligations here and I need to BE here to get things done. On the other hand, I have the "daughter" role and my obligation to my family. I want to be supportive. I want to help.
There's just no possible way for me to "perform" these two roles perfectly. They don't fit very well together.

Every night since that conversation with my brother, I lie awake and think "what if he (meaning Dad) dies next month... then how will you feel, you selfish bitch?" Honestly, we have no idea how long Dad is going to last. What if it's only another couple of months? And what if I don't go home enough? And what if I'm not there like I should be??
But what if I am? What if I go home all the time and help out? I feel like if I start doing that, I might as well just move back to Minneapolis, because my career as a grad student here would basically be over.

What the hell am I supposed to do? My mother has never asked me to come home. In fact, she was mad at me when I told her I was going to drop a class. And Dad, well, I know he'd be angry and upset if I ever decided to quit the program because of him.

So I'm staying here. At least for the moment.

I've been feeling very lonely and confused lately. I wish I could find someone who would go out for a glass of wine with me, someone who liked the hookah and would share a pint of ice cream with me in the middle of the night. Once again, I must remind myself, friendships develop with time... it is a process, and it will happen eventually.

Well, fuck that! I don't have time to wait for friendships to happen. I need friends NOW.
I feel like everything is rushed right now. I'm impatient and edgy. I can't even wait for the bus, let alone a friendship!

Wow, listen to this rant. This is ridiculous. Life is still good. Today was a beautiful day - which I spent inside doing homework.
Yeah, okay. I just need to focus. Or maybe I just need a day where something actually goes really well, where something surprises me and ends up perfect. That would help.