Filters (Or Jealousy of the Even-Keeled)

I have had a few bad days in a row at work. Things have frankly just been awful. It seems I can do nothing right. I blow budgets, screw up paperwork processes I've gotten right for years, send out emails incorrectly, miss important phone calls...you get the idea.

And to pile frustration on top of frustration, campus technology issues still plague all that work there, whether it be a slow network, email clients force-quitting countless times a day, laptop hardware issues...things aren't going well. 

All those things together make for a very tense and grumpy Lindsey. And what I have learned, okay, maybe knew all along...what has been exacerbated greatly by the constant dwelling at the end of a rope, is my complete lack of filters to be able to handle things appropriately. Most people would take a little walk, ask calm questions to find reasonable answers, just keep fighting through... Me? I yell...at my boss, at our secretary, at random students. I send inappropriate emails to departments that seem to be the cause of my most miserable state. I cry a little. I fly off the handle, throw a temper tantrum, then yell some more. 

I am not an angry person. I don't have a lot of pent up anxiety or frustrations that I carry with me for days, weeks, years. I am generally full of joy. I consider myself an optimist, for Pete's sake! But when I'm at the end of my rope, I lose control. I can't help but type up a nasty letter in my email and hit send immediately. 

And it's times like these that I look around and see normally functioning adults not doing this as a general rule. Colleagues can sit calmly and have a quiet conversation about the situation at hand while I stand over my boss's desk and throw papers at him. Coworkers can ride out the storm, remaining action oriented and solutions focused while I shoot down every suggestion they may make. 

And frankly, I'm jealous. I'm jealous of whatever filter they have that I lack. The I-won't-blow-up-at-that filter. It's a simple even-keeledness that keeps people from freaking out, that holds their tongues and send-button-pushing-index-fingers back even if they may want to use them. I am not even-keeled. And the last two days, I've really been the very antithesis of  even-keeledness...not a single level-headed moment has come from me in two days. 

Yesterday, on my run, I started to ask God to teach me to be tempered, even, smooth, moderate...but then I stopped and took it all back. When people pray for patience, what does God give them? Situations to practice patience. When people ask for the ability to forgive wrongs, what does God show them? A few more wrongs to forgive. So, noooo, no. No thanks. I do not want to ask for temperance. Not if it means that I will be given more situations to practice such a skill. I don't want to ask for even-keeledness, unruffledness, moderation...because it seems to me that God will certainly provide me with ample opportunities to learn it if I do. And based on my performance over the last two days, I don't necessarily think it's a learnable skill for me. I'll just remain jealous of those that have the ability and rely on them to deal with things when they get really thick. 

(Okay, so I realize that I'm becoming unreasonable here at the end. I really do want to learn these skills. I know several people who are absolutely gifted in this skill, and I need to ask them about it to see if I can learn a thing or two. And, because I know I need to, I will reinstate my retracted prayer for help in this area. Even if I really don't want to have to practice it any more.)

Blame Facebook

Tonight, I accidentally got into the beginnings of an epic debate of the future of our nation that all stemmed from the recent changes to the look and functionality of the popular social media mogul, Facebook. If you have your own Facebook profile, you know that with each round of changes comes a rash of complaints, cheers, lovers and haters...Okay, so actually it just brings out the whiners and gripers that have nothing better to do than grouse about how awful change is and how ridiculous the new changes are...right up until they get used to them and accept them as the new normal. 

But I digress. 

Tonight, one of my friends posted a little we-hate-Facebook bumper sticker (for lack of a better term) on her wall. For you non-Facebookers, the wall is your space to tack anything you'd like. Everybody has one. Everyone posts status updates about what they're doing, what they like, what they hate, what they think is beautiful, ugly, or cute. Think of it as a public front-of-my-refrigerator but with WAY more insignificant, random, and cluttered stuff all over it. 

Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

So, my friend posted this we-hate-Facebook thing as a reaction to the most recent unveiling of terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad changes. And I simply responded to some of her thoughts on some of the specific changes by saying something to the effect of: I think the most recent changes are in reaction to the sad reality of American youth's current state. The page looks the way it does to satisfy the younger generation's insatiable need for constant and multiple instantaneous inputs of data as their attention spans continue to be programmed into nearly nothing... (I may have gone on to say a little more here.)

And since it was on my friend's wall, one of her friends saw it and responded to me (despite our having absolutely no association with each other whatsoever) with something to the effect of: Sad reality? The only "sad" reality here is that our younger generation has created and organized information at rates never dreamed of by previous generations. And frankly, if the previous generation had spent more time on Facebook, maybe I wouldn't be paying so much in taxes and health care costs today. God bless this new generation for their advances. They will save this world. 

A little dramatic, even for me. 

But, not being able to resist the urge for a good solid debate, I, of course, responded. Well, if you call Facebook content "information"... I won't pretend to not frequent and even enjoy social media innovations such as Facebook and Twitter, but I work with college students for a living, and there are countless studies about the negative effects of technology, social media, etc. on how we function as individuals that are downright terrifying. Students are losing the ability to read, write, effectively verbally communicate, think critically, focus on any one thing for any duration of time, imagine... Sure, we may be creating information at a rapid rate, but what good will it do us if we lose the ability to analyze it?

And then, our poor mutual friend, an innocent bystander in the crossfire of civil discourse on generational implications of social media, took us off of her proverbial fridge. She'd had enough. And she probably regretted ever complaining about Facebook changes to begin with. But neither of the stranger-debaters were quite done. Oh, no. We each needed some sort of final word, a wrap-up justification for our online outbursts. I started it, I would surely finish it. So, I write on her wall asking why she took it down. I ensured her that I was being civil to this stranger that she knew and that there were no hard feelings, just a really good debate. And the stranger responded immediately: It's really too bad. I've got facts to back up my points all night long. Really sir? Now we're maybe losing a little civility. But in the effort to get the last word, I said: The tempting hook! We could battle with reports and data all night long (though I think we're probably actually talking about two different issues altogether), but I'll pass tonight. If we knew each other, it would be ON, but I'll try not to clutter this wall with anything else tonight. ;)

I stand by my points, as I'm sure this stranger also does, but I find it ironic that I was willing to pour so very much energy into such points regarding a few simple rearrangements of items on a social media site. And, not only was I, but so was another person. 

I blame my work, my relationships with students that back up current data with practical experience. 

I blame my passion of student issues.

I blame that random guy for egging me on. 

I blame Facebook.

When Life Finds You

Lately, I have taken note of some things that, at first glance, it looks like I have done, that I have discovered, that I have made for myself. Because as I continue to examine these things, I have come to find that many of them, I have not found at all. They've found me. 

Running is the most real example of a part of life that has found me. For those of you who have known me for any amount of time at all, you've probably heard me utter the phrase, There's really only two good reasons to run as far as I'm concerned. I'm either really late or something's chasing me. What happened to that attitude? Where did that philosophy go? One day, I just woke up and started running (slowly and painfully)...and I've found in a few short weeks a love for the sport, and maybe even a talent for it.

Running was definitely not in the forefront of my mind for this summer. In fact, it wasn't even on my radar. It was a foreign concept that I only associated with pain, injury, and a special brand of insanity that I saw in some of my mega-running friends. So, I cannot claim that I found running. Running found me. And it found me at the very time that I would need to focus on health and balance, a time that I would need a distraction from the business and craziness of a very full life. 

I think graduate school falls into this same category. What are the odds that a person can get accepted to both a full-time masters and doctoral program that one, did not require GRE scores to get in, and two, allowed me to work full-time while studying. I am fully convinced that education has found me. 

Even some of my friendships have found me at the very times that I have needed them or they have needed me. 

I don't consider this fate or happenstance or pleasant coincidences. This is God at work. This is a God that desires joy for my life, that wants my heart to be happy. And although I pursue Him and His will for my life, I still find that He surprises me by giving me unexpected joys. This year, more than any before, I am recognizing the gifts, even the little gifts that God gives to me, even when I'm not necessarily looking for them, and my heart is truly grateful for the many unexpected and beautiful gifts.

Having it All

Today, I set up an interesting lunch scenario which ended up with a very interesting question asked of me.

Lately, I've wanted to be intentional with the limited time I have with my close friends. In an effort to do that, today I brought a friend to lunch with a list of questions I wanted to know of her. They were questions like, When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? and Have you learned anything new about yourself in the last year? 

And after all of my questions were answered, on our walk back to the office, I was asked, What do you hope to learn in the next year? What do I hope to learn? Well...umm....

There are certainly things I plan to learn this year. I am a grad student after all. I will undoubtedly learn about my field, about research procedures, about students. And although those are important things to learn, I'm not sure those are things that I really want to learn....have a real desire to learn. I will probably learn more about balancing life, school, work, relationships...something that I've been learning for the past eight years or so. But I think what I've determined I really want to learn is how to have it all. I know that maybe sounds smug, but that's what I want to learn. I want to learn how to enjoy life; how to be intentional with time, with my relationships; how to balance time, hobbies, things I enjoy; how to get a lot of work done, a lot of homework done, a lot of cleaning, gardening, cooking, reading, running....

It sounds impossible right? Well, I want to learn about how to make it possible. And I want to do it all with joy. I think it is possible. And that's what I want to learn about this year.

All in all, my lunch today with my friend was amazingly enjoyable. We talked about all sorts of questions that helped me get to know her and her get to know me with intention, with purpose. We laughed, reflected, sighed with contentment. This lunch was the kick-off party to living with intention and learning how to really have it all. Who wants to learn along with me?

When I'm 28...

With my 28th birthday coming up just around the corner, I took some time to reflect while running in the rain tonight, on what I want to do, see, be at 28.

When I'm 28, I want to dress like I'm 28. I have no earthly clue what that means, but I want to figure it out. I want to look nice at work, look fun on the weekends, look put together always. I don't want to wear things too big, too small, to long, to tight...I want to be classic, stylish, but not too trendy. I may need a personal shopper and a big birthday present to pull this one off.

When I'm 28, I want to be healthy. Really healthy. Not obsessive, gross-looking healthy, just really healthy. I started running this summer (and completely love it). I want to keep on running, more and more often. I want to go to every yoga class possible. I want to stay away from junk food and embrace fresh foods. I want to glow. I want to be hot. I want to feel really good about myself.

When I'm 28, I want to BE love. I don't just want to act with love, or look a little like love. I want to BE love, all the time, with everyone. I want to be thoughtful, share joy, surprise people. I want to be a reflection of Jesus' love in the world.

When I'm 28, I want to be the very best me. It's going to be a great year. :)

Running mantra for the night...

Tonight, I decided to slip home just before sunset to try to get a run in. This running this is really catching hold of me. I seriously love it. But tonight, I decided that since I didn't have much time before the sun went down, I'd try to run a shorter distance faster than I had before. 

Toward the end, I was getting pretty tired, and I could feel myself beginning to slow down. But just as that started to happen, I began to think, Persistence. Form. Trust. 

Persistence: Your brain will always take your body further than your body can go. Push yourself. Conveniently, this is also a great mantra for life - persist through the tough parts because there will be better days ahead. 

Form: When I get tired in a run, I find that I get sloppy. My arms start to flail side to side, I kick my own ankles, my feet hit the ground funny. This is how bodies get sore. This is how injuries happen. So, when I am at my weakest, that's when I need to focus on form the most. Strangely, this is also true in life. When the going is good, good form is pretty easy to come by. In tough times, it's easy to get grouchy, mean, short with people. Tough times are when it's most important to have and keep good form. 

Trust: Sometimes I find it hard to trust my own body on a run. What if I can't make it that far? What if my legs get sore or my shins suffer? What if I have to walk home? But the worries are, so far, unfounded. My body always gets me home. I can make it as far as I am willing to persist. So far, my legs have held up just fine. Trusting in my own abilities, my own strength is important. I was made to do this right now (sounds a little like life, too, come to think of it). So, I just need to trust that I can. 

Persistence. Form. Trust. Good for running. Good for life.

Dare I Say...

Tomorrow marks the half way point of August. There's lots of work to be done, and lots of big things happening on campus yet this month. But dare I say, I'm doing more than just surviving August this year. I'm finding that I'm actually enjoying it! I'm at work a lot. I even worked most of today...a Sunday. I'm not bothered. 

I'm finding myself proud of what I'm able to accomplish and shrugging off some of the things I'm not. Today, I finished a nightmare of a bus logistics schedule for a trip for 440 or so students and faculty. Finished it. I was pumped! My email is not a mountain, maybe just a molehill. Yay! My car's kind of full of random work junk. So what. My house is untidy. Such is life. My lawn needs mowing. Maybe tomorrow. My office can still be traversed from door to chair and back. A big plus. I'm eating well and working out more than once a week. Big deals, really. 

Looking back of the past three Augusts that I have just barely squeezed through alive, all the terribly long days with short, sleepless nights, starving my way from day to day, missing meals and other such good-for-me things that should not be ignored, I am quite pleased with my ever-so-gradual learning curve finally catching up. 

Those that came before me gave up far too soon. They got tired. I have somehow hit my second wind. I'm not tired. In fact, maybe I'm better than I was when I began. I've grown, matured, learned a thing or two. 

So, here's to a fantastic August. One with no whining, no tears, no temper tantrums. One with some fun, some health, undoubtedly some extra coffee, and a little indulgence here and there. What a joy, what a surprise, what an August!

Running could be...

Running could be a great personal challenge to take on at this point in my life. Not that I necessarily need another challenge. For most people, working 60 hours a week; going to grad school full-time; trying to participate in church, relationships, and home would probably be challenge enough. But I happen to think that pursuits and challenges feed off of one another. The more that's in front of me, the more I seem to be able to accomplish. 

Running could be a great physical adventure. I like to push my body and see what it can do. I love yoga, mountain hiking, and volleyball for the same reasons. How far can I go? How consistent can I be? How many days, weeks, months, years can I maybe keep this habit up?

Running could be wonderful prayer and thought time. I'm finding even early on in my attempt at becoming a runner that my mind wanders from one topic to another, thinking about things that are current, troublesome, joy-filled... And I find myself drifting in and out of prayers, thanking God for relationships in my life, then recalling funny things my friends say; telling God my worries and fears, then deciding how I might best tackle them; asking God for things my heart desires, then pondering into the future about what my life might look like over the next few years. 

Running could be very representative of life struggles. As I strive for another few minutes at a time, all I can muster right now, I can't help but think of the tough times that lie ahead of me in school and at work, and there will certainly be some. Running can easily represent those hard things. And if I can push through another minute on the trail, then I know somehow I can push through another day of craziness in the office. And on the days I don't really want to run, I get up and do it anyway because sometimes that's just how life works. 

Running could be a real pain in the legs. There's a reason I haven't run before now. And that reason in my shins. They always seem to revolt upon the very thought of running, jogging, or even briskly walking with any sort of consistency at all. A flat arch and some tiny legs have certainly always been to blame. But, in all honesty, I could get three weeks into this running thing and have to give up completely because my legs just won't sustain such a lifestyle choice. And if that's the case, then I'll have to move on to something else. What, you ask? I haven't a clue. I've tried P90X, and I got sick of watching the tapes. I do yoga, but usually only once a week. Volleyball is seasonal and a minimal workout on our team's best days. Running just seems a natural choice, especially when the goal is to tackle something consistently that I can dual purpose with thought/prayer time and intentionality. 

Running could be, at this point, either a really good or really bad idea. We'll know for sure in a few weeks' time when I've either fallen in love or abandoned it completely.

Thoughts on Being the Baby

It has been a rare occasion that I have been the true baby of a group. In grade school, I fell fairly middle-of-the-pack due to my fall birth date. I was briefly one of the younger ones in my first job, but we were all within a few months. In my grad program at UWL, we were all close with a few exceptions on the older scale. But I found out today, that not only am I the youngest student in my doctoral program, I am the youngest by multiple years. I am the baby of the whole group. 

In my cohort, there are fifteen students. In three total cohorts this year, there are around forty-five of us. We were all in a room together for three days. Walking in on day one, I saw the few familiar faces from my interview and a whole room of people from all walks of life that I had never seen before. I was nervous. So was everyone else. I couldn't help but think that I must be one of the youngest. Others were worried about how they were certainly the oldest. We're all a little curious how we're being perceived, judged, analyzed by other students and the faculty. 

As the baby, even before it was confirmed that I was indeed so, I found some of my normal actions became things that I was a little self-conscious of. When my shoes came off and I found "indian style" the most comfortable seating arrangement, I suddenly glanced around and noticed all the other professionals in the room with their shoes clearly still on their feet which were clearly still on the ground. I twirled my hair and thought of the noticeable critical mass of mom-cuts surrounding me. 

I think there's great value in having such varied perspectives in one program. I think I'm at the biggest advantage as the newest professional - so much to learn from the experts. But I can still offer a lot, too! I know cool technologies like Prezi that I can wow my classmates with and make them all seem really hip and with it with their colleagues. I can bring endless energy, heart, and freshness. I can bring just a touch of crazy. 

Baby or not, this doctoral thing is going to be a lot of fun...a lot of hard work...a lot of frustration...a lot of research...a lot of fun. And I'm awfully excited about it.

First Day of School Jitters

Yesterday was my first day of school. And although this is something like my twenty-first first day of school, it seems they all begin the same. With jitters. Nerves. Anxiety. This first day of school was no exception. In fact, as I left my dad's cousin's house (where I'm staying while in Madison) I thought I actually might be sick. I was sweating, antsy. On my way to school, at first, I was just dwelling in the anxiety. But the drive was short, so I couldn't dwell for long. So, as I pulled up to the building, I began a little self-talk to try to pep myself up. You're just as smart as everyone in this program. You deserve to be here. You got into the program just like everyone else. 

But what I found when I got there was a room full of people that all had to do the same thing. They were all nervous too! People from all walks of life, all experience levels, all ages, all nervous. And for some reason, that little fact in itself makes everyone feel a little better. 

Despite the initial jitters, I am so excited for this journey. I am excited, believe it or not, to do an extended period of research on a topic I enjoy. I'm excited to get to know my cohort group. It's going to be a tough, long, quick, fun journey. And I am so ready for it.

Just an Idea

Is it just a girl thing? Or do guys do it, too? Or is it maybe just a me thing? Single gals, you may need to chime in and comment here to set me straight.

This has happened on more than one occasion. I have begun to "fall in love" with the idea of someone....someone, in fact, that I have never met. I have seen a picture or two, heard a story once or twice, and there I tumble. The daydreams begin. As does the googling. The looking for just one more photo. The hoping for another story. 

I don't plan to ever meet this man of my imaginary dreams. I won't ever even probably ask to. It would probably be far to disappointing to meet the actual man after building a fictitious one in my mind. 

Do all women do this? Well, the single ones at least? Are we supposed to grow out of this phase at some point? The looking longingly at his first name. Sneaking his last name behind your name just one time. Dreaming of hopelessly romantic proposals and weddings. Imagining Christmases with the family. 

Sorry if this post is really strange. Every woman I know that reads this is probably shaking their head in bewilderment wondering how in the world I got to be so strange. And if that's the case, well, at least I'm going down honestly. 

And in an only slightly related note, where in the world is the real man that will make my heart melt in reality rather than in dreamland? How do I go about finding him outside of my imagination? Twenty-seven years, and I still don't think I've come anywhere close to figuring this out. 

And in truly unrelated news, on Wednesday, I start school one more time. I have first-day jitters worse than the first day of middle school tonight already. Time to prepare for another great adventure!

Living Off the Land

What exactly is so very satisfying about living off of the land? I mean really? 

Last night after work, I went out to the garden, picked three summer squash, a large hand full of peas, a half a dozen onions, and an entire ice cream bucket full, no overflowing, with green beans. I couldn't even wipe the goofy grin off my face walking back toward the house with armloads of fresh food. 

Some of the neighbors were out in the backyard, and I couldn't wait to share the bounty with them. I told them to take whatever they'd like, and Mike promptly started pulling things out of my container. "What's this?" he'd ask. Summer squash? You've never seen that before? Weird. "Can I have some of these?" I did start with instructions to take whatever they'd like, right? Then Karen started to scold him for taking too much. As if more isn't going to grow. That silly contented grin just kept creeping in. 

Late into the evening, I washed green beans and snipped ends and bagged them up, and somewhere in there, I cooked up some peas that were still growing just minutes earlier. And tonight, I blanched and froze up all of those wonderful little beans while roasting up some summer squash for dinner. 

I don't have this kind of love affair with store bought vegetables, you know. I don't eat only vegetables multiple meals in a row. I don't giddily rush home to get to other chores. I don't risk bug bites, ticks, bird poop...for almost anything. But this time of year, when the whole garden is in bloom, it's all I can do to not go out and just watch it grow...to not seek out something to pick, pull, or pluck every single night. 

I think I may have to expand this living off the land thing and figure out how to do even more of it, for the very joy of digging in the dirt, witnessing things grow, sharing with loved ones, and eating well!

Risk and Reward (a.k.a. Passion-Gap Containers)

Why do we have hobbies? What makes a person pursue something that is just for pleasure (whether or not it actually appears to be pleasurable) even at great personal risk, effort, and time? And how do we get to our hobbies? Some people settle into quilting, classic cars collecting, model building while others are attracted to racing, sky diving, triathlons... 

This year, I spent hours working out to get into shape for my trek out West with my dad to hike in the Rockies, then rode fifteen hours in a truck to get there. Then, for four days, I allowed five 14,000-foot peaks kick my butt as I tried to conquer them one by one....as a hobby. 

Prior to this year, I never really stopped to think of how risky such a hobby was. For three years now, we've been driving to various locations around Colorado, hiking for a week or so fairly uneventfully (a great time with great memories), then driving on back. But this year, there was a series of events that made me stop cold in my tracks and really think about what it was that we were doing. 

For the most part, we had a beautiful week to hike, and the peaks we had selected were within our ability levels. We had proper equipment, food, and hydration with us, a GPS preloaded with maps for all of the trails, good shoes, and layers of warm clothing as we usually do. But on the second day of hiking, I saw a story on the local news of some missing hikers. You hear of this sort of thing from time to time, and I've heard stories from other hikers on summits of injuries, lost hiking partners, instantaneous blizzards or lightning storms, but nothing ever hit as close to home as the story on the news. 

A father and daughter hiking pair went out hiking on Wednesday, June 22 for a day hike up Missouri Mountain, a hike that would normally take somewhere between eight and twelve hours to complete. They were considered expert hikers with several years experience, and even some published articles on safety equipment and trail safety. At the end of the day, the hikers did not come down. They did not go back to their vacation home in town for dinner. They did not text or call loved ones. They didn't come back the next day either. Or the next. After three days, the ex-wife and mother of the hikers became concerned. So did the daughter's boyfriend. Finally, after five days, a search was started in the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness, an area that encompasses 167,584 acres of mountainous terrain, dense forest, and eight peaks over 14,000-feet. Helicopters, hiking teams, dogs, friends, and family all searched in vain for six or seven days. On Saturday, the bodies of the hikers were both found, 500 feet from the trail they were supposed to be on on Missouri Mountain, and only a few miles from the trailhead they started from. From Mount Belford's trail, my dad and I watched the helicopter land on a small flat space near some snow fields to pick up the last of the active search crews. News reports today indicate that they could have fallen as much as 2,000 feet from near the summit of Missouri. 

And if that wasn't enough, we also heard on Saturday that a woman fell to her death on Mount Princeton on Thursday, a peak that we had tackled just the day before. 

This is not some simple sport, not just something people pick up once a year or on the weekends for kicks. It's dangerous. Every peak offers life-threatening opportunities at many turns...exposed cliffs and walls, slippery scree fields, disappearing trails... So why do we do it? Why do we keep making plans and getting in shape and buying equipment, investing time, money, blood, sweat, and tears to go out and participate in the great risks that are clearly present? Something in us is designed for hobbies. Some place in us where passions meet irrationality. Where pursuits become personal vendettas against things that never did anything to us in the first place. Where your gut tells you, Yeah! Keep going! and your brain promptly agrees.

There are places in our lives where we get to pour passions, gifts, and abilities. For many, careers are the receptors. For many, it's family and children. For others its volunteering and serving others. For some of us, it's all of the above. But there are voids, gaps, where we still have passions leftover, gifts and abilities going unused. We seek out containers for the passion gaps, something with which to catch where those parts of us ooze out when left alone. Some seek out creative things, others things to get dirty and messy, still others to be able to just let loose and be free, some need a thrill or a rush, some a personal challenge.... And as these passion gap containers fill up with the drips of our gifts, passions, and abilities, we can peer into them and learn a little more about ourselves.

This week, I learned that although stubborn and bullheaded, I do have a cautious side. Ultimate freedom is too much for me. Boundaries, fences, and trails are good...even if they need to be pushed and challenged. They keep me focused. I learned that pushing myself expands my abilities and gifts to areas that I didn't even know they could be. Are those lessons worth the present risks? Because every hobby has risks...whether it's pricking a finger with a sewing needle, bug bites from the garden plot, a scraped knee falling off a bike, a parachute not opening with the ripcord... We were wired to seek out hobbies in order to seek out who we were created to be...making the risk completely worth the reward in every endeavor.

Be careful what you wish for...

I do not know the origins of the phrase, "Be careful what you wish for!" But lately, that phrase has been ringing truer than usual in my life in a number of situations.

The other night, I went on a blind date of sorts - a set up by my next door neighbor. My neighbors are wonderful people who I adore and am very thankful for. But when a neighbor tries to set you up with someone (they've never met), one should not always accept the offer. But I guess I did invite it. I tell all people that know me well that if they know of people that I might get along with, they should introduce us. Perhaps some people are a better judge of personalities than others.  (Long story short, the blind date did not go well...at all. We each brought several friends out for drinks so it was at least low key. But I got a text the following day asking if the friend I brought with me might be interested in a call from him. Neat. And she would not.) I need to be far more careful what I wish for!

At work, I'm getting a new assistant director to help me out with Student Activities. Awesome! But that means that in the next few weeks, I have to figure out how to hire, train, and get fully functioning a whole person...and myself. I can't even get myself organized for the fall most years! I am so very grateful for finally getting the help I so desperately need. I have no idea how I'm going to get everything done before students come back. Lesson learned - I need to be careful what I wish for! 

I'm leaving on vacation in a few days. I love vacation. I love seeing my mom for a few days and my dad for a few days. (No, they're not divorced. We just like to do different stuff together.) I love the challenge of climbing to the tops of mountains and the relaxation of shopping and girl-time. Work is tragically busy right now. I have publications coming out of my ears. I'm way behind. But I want this vacation. Looks like I'll be dragging mass quantities of work along with me to Colorado. Oh, and my house needed some major cleaning before it would meet minimum-mom-standards...so that's what I got to do tonight. Okay, I get it! I guess I should be careful what I wish for! 

This summer is shaping up to be one of the busiest, craziest, most wonderful summers ever. I'm excited, thrilled, calm, tense, and through it all, in remarkably good spirits. I have to keep reminding myself that I indeed did ask for much of what I'm experiencing this summer. I wanted a garden, thus I need to commit to weeding and keeping it nice and canning or freezing everything once it's ready. I wanted some help in the office, so I need to figure out how to get them here and give them a great experience. I want a husband, so I need to learn to take the bad with the good all as a part of the process...either that or figure out how to find him all by myself. 

Perhaps the lesson, "Be careful what you wish for!" is really code for, "For every decision you make, there is a consequence. You're going to have to deal with that." :)

Like a fight with a boyfriend...

The past few weeks at the university have been tough to say the very least. It's been a lot like being in a fight with a boyfriend. There has been frustration at every turn, and I walk away from this week feeling defeated. 

First, after playing middleman between Admissions, the Registrars Office, and Technology. The reason for me being in the middle? Well, mainly because it was all my idea. (What idea, you're asking yourself...it doesn't really matter.) But I ended up smack in the middle, and the only way my brilliant idea was going to take off was for me to stay right there doing tasks that I frankly had no business doing. But, I took it as sort of a challenge, and I went about my additional work willingly and with a smile. But today, out of left field, it all came crashing down. One part of the department triangle decided that what we were doing can't be done, then the other starting asking all sorts of questions, and then it all collapsed. We would just no longer do what we were doing. The end. Crushing. I worked so hard for that, and one person can just cabosh it? Just like that? 

And then there was the whole issue of my personal reimbursement. I purchased a significant amount of Visa gift cards with my own credit card for a student organization (about as much as my entire monthly paycheck). It launched an entire barrage of questions about the legalities of the whole thing and requests for more and more information, none of which I could really provide, at least not on solid truth. I tried my dutiful best to get that information, I really did. At first, the entire reimbursement was delayed a week (reminder: about as much as I get paid in a month), then it was agreed that I would receive a portion. Then the rest was delayed for three more terrifying, terrible weeks. I will receive the last of it tomorrow, but not without a whole armload of scoldings and warnings. So, even though I didn't do anything wrong, I certainly felt like I did in the end. 

I feel terrible about how these weeks have gone. I love what I do, and I love where I get to do it. But the past few weeks challenged that love in a real way and caused me to question why and how I do some things. I no longer maintain a blind faith that my campus will always take care of me and have my best interest (or students' best interest for that matter) in mind. There is a new layer of skepticism that I don't want to be there, but as a matter of self-preservation, it will probably have to remain for a while. 

Like a fight with a boyfriend, the past few weeks have left me with some open wounds that I'll have to continue to deal with. It lingers much longer than just these weeks. I'm very glad that I will only have to make it through a half a day more this week. I need some healing time this weekend in order to gear up for next week.

Ahead and Behind

Can someone please explain to me how I can simultaneously feel so far ahead and so far behind on things lately? And not just a few things. It seems like everything is suspended in this weird cosmic taffy pulling machine. 

I've been seemingly cruising along nicely in all things New Student Orientation - getting a theme to the University Relations folks, setting up the schedule, making plans to change things from last year, getting quotes and contracts tidied up... But then I stop and think about all there is to do yet - completing said contracts, working out the kinks in my budget, getting training planned for the mentors, getting faculty and staff on board, planning meal menus and traffic flow patterns and information delivery methods...Oh how very much there is yet to do! 

And the same ahead/behind theory applies to my home and personal life, too. I've got my garden planted and veggies springing up everywhere, but I don't have a single herb in a planter or my flowerbeds weeded. I managed to mow but not trim this weekend. The laundry's clean and folded but all over the living room floor. See what I mean? Ahead and behind. 

And well beyond simple and mundane tasks, the theory seems to still hold true. Look at all I've accomplished already in life! I joke frequently about getting to live three times the amount of life that everyone else does just because I pack so much in. And it's a wonderful life if I do say so myself. I'm not even thirty and somehow I've found the career path that I plan to stick with in one form or another, I have a house that I love, I (usually) can pay all of my bills and live a fiscally competent life, and I am about to embark on the educational journey of completing my doctorate degree. But there are, several things that I feel have been left far behind, for one reason or another. My ability to build and maintain healthy, strong, lasting relationships with others (friends and loves) always seems to suffer to one cause or another. 

Perhaps the solution to this whole mess is that I take a break or slow down on some of the things I'm so very ahead on in order to play catch up with the things I've fallen behind on. Simple concept in theory, right? Somehow I think that if it was that simple, I would have already figured it out by now... 

Post-Non-Rapture Funk

I did not believe the rapture was coming yesterday. Not even for a second. However, having a publicly professed rapture date by some "prophet" that thought he really knew what was up, did lend itself to some interesting conversations in the neighborhood. For instance, everyone assumed that I would be the only one to go on our street. That may indeed be true, but how did they arrive at this conclusion? Are they all that sure of their own fates of being condemned without life with Jesus? It seems to me a very sad account of life, but I suppose then that they wouldn't necessarily believe in any sort of judgement or rapture at all, so maybe it's not so sad for them. 

At one point last night, I had said something to the effect of, "If Jesus is coming back, I'll be with him," and the seventeen year old son of my neighbors said, "Well, isn't that thinking awfully highly of yourself." Well, no, it's not. I am just confident in my standing with Jesus. I know that I'll be in heaven someday and certainly by nothing I've done on my own, but by the grace of God.

However, today I find myself in a bit of a post-non-rapture funk. I woke up this morning convinced it was Monday. I mean fully convinced. The first thought on my mind as I heard my alarm (set for workday wake up time) was that my polo for work was still in the washing machine, so I promptly got up, went downstairs, and put the wash in the dryer. My next thought was that I had agreed to be at work a little early to finish up a project that didn't get done before the end of the day Friday, so I hurried myself up to get through the shower quicker than usual. Then I was mad at myself for not buying candy that I knew I needed for work. Then I started making mental notes of how many copies of things I needed to make for my morning meeting, if my credit card had enough room for some office purchases I'd be making, and things I needed to email my boss. All very Monday-like behavior. But I had this weird nagging thought in the back of my mind that something didn't feel quite right. What was it? Finally, out of habit, I checked my phone to see what time it was. There, right on the main screen was "Sunday, May 22, 2011." Earth-rocking moment. I hadn't been to church yesterday. I hadn't had a whole weekend. It was indeed only Sunday. 

So even though I feel like I'm in a bit of a funk from the non-rapture day yesterday, I also feel like I've been given a bit of a bonus day to fill with whatever I'd like. For now, the plans include mowing, folding laundry, and planting a few flowers around the yard.

On Being a Dubuquer

Today, after living in Dubuque for two years, I finally became official. For the first time really, I did some very "Dubuque" things. Some things, I've done before, and in and of themselves, are not particularly Dubuque-like, but when you put them with everything I did today, they were certainly a very Dubuquian sequence of events. 

Last night, I found myself at a concert at the clock tower downtown. I haven't done that before. It was a pretty good band and the atmosphere was pretty cool, people just hanging out every old place. After that, a quick stop at the Busted Lift, where of course, a friend and I run in to the same retired ER doctor that we had run into the last time we were there. Then it was a leisurely night at home in the 'hood with the neighbors just enjoying the night and the company. 

Somehow, this morning, the neighborhood gang had all decided that we would get up and go to the farmers' market together. And why not? This is one of those things that doesn't appear to be so specifically Dubuque-like, but after some wandering around the market, we did what only Dubuquers can do after the market - we went to the Sunrise Cafe for breakfast. Now this, I've never done. Great, funky little diner that I'd go back to if given the opportunity. 

After the diner, we went to Bluff Street and did a little shopping: Brew Haus (for neighborhood homebrew supplies), Calico Bean Market, a vintage place, a local artisan shop, a furniture store. Then, what else is there to do but ride the Fenlon Place Elevator for a single dollar to the top. And while we're at the top, why not start the old home tour? So, to the old home tour we all went and saw five amazingly old and lovely homes around town. It was full of not only history and stories of renovations and riches and families but little kid lemonade stands, wonderfully kind old people, and a perspective of town on foot never experienced before. 

And if that wasn't all enough adventure for the day, the neighborhood crew continued on to the Art Fair downtown. Then finally back home to Frog Hill, the community that brought us all together in the first place. 

Here's the thing I learned about being a Dubuquer: it doesn't matter what type of person you are, we can all be Dubuquers. At every event, I saw quite the mishmash of people - hippies, families, truckers, country boys, prim and proper old ladies... Somehow at Dubuque events, everyone fits in. No one is left out. This weekend has made me realize just how much I love this town. In fact, I almost bought a t-shirt that read: I fleur-de-lis Dubuque (like I Dubuque, but just a different symbol, you know)...Okay, so maybe you just need to be from Dubuque to get it. :)

It all seems a little silly.

Last night, a few friends gathered in my backyard with a single purpose: plant my garden. I didn't need the help necessarily, but it just seemed like it could be way more fun with others around. It had been a pretty drizzly day, and the evening wasn't particularly pleasant, filled with intermittent sprinkles, cool air, and lots of bats as the sun went down. There was even a few frantic-ish moments toward the end of the night, trying to find all of the tools in the grass, staple the last of the fence corners tight, and gather all of the seed packets strewn all over the yard. 

When it was all said and done, cucumber seeds, summer squash seeds, peas, six rows of green beans, 200 or so onion sets, four rows of carrots, four tomato plants, and six pepper plants made it into the ground. Climbing fences and bunny fences were secured. It was, if I do say so myself, a pretty valiant effort for a few soggy evening hours of work. All that's left is herbs and lettuces in pots and marigolds around the veggies, and a lone hasta that needs a home somewhere. 

I suppose it all seems a little silly to outsiders looking in. Heck, sometimes it seems a little silly to me. Gardens are a lot of work. And they'll produce more food than I will be able to figure out how to store or consume. This little project will occupy my entire summer, every free moment. I will curse at the weeds and creeping charlie trying to overtake my plants. And I will curse when too many veggies come up at once. Okay, I probably won't really curse as that's not my usual practice. But regardless of the silliness, there's still something nearly intoxicating about the idea and even the practice of gardening. I just love it. Regardless of the endless hours spent babying along seedlings since early March, raking grass clods out of the new plot, dragging tools in and out of the garage and shed, planting, weeding, harvesting, cleaning up, there's just something about gardening that feels good. And it's not just a solo project. I mean, sure, it could be, but it's way more fun when it's shared. And frankly, I think that's the main reason why I'm growing so darn much - just to share it with others.

So, cheers to the silliness of gardening and all that comes with it! And a big thanks to the friends who have already taken part in sharing and who will share in it in the future!

Random Song, Certain Failure, and a Really Big Bird

So, I must confess that what follows is actually three posts in one. Sometimes a person just has more to say than others. And since it is my official 300th post (if you factor in saved and never published drafts), I figure I can do what I want. Enjoy.

Random Song

For UD's Baccalaureate service last week, our gospel choir chose to sing this song: I Don't Feel Noways Tired. It wasn't this version, but this was one of the least annoying versions I could find online. For some reason, this song has kind of stuck with me throughout the weekend. I can't quite figure it out, to be honest. The first line of the song is, "I don't feel noways tired," but I can't figure out if the writer of the song was really saying that he wasn't tired because God always gave him the strength to move forward or if he was more trying to convince himself that he wasn't tired even though he knew full well he was, but somehow he still knew that God would give him the strength to more forward. The end result, I suppose, is still the same - God giving you the strength to move forward, but the song takes on a completely different tone depending on what it's really saying. 

I either totally agree with the author, in that I'm totally exhausted, but there's moving on to be done, so God will get me through, or I can't really quite believe the author in that he is simply really not tired. I feel tired. Exhausted really. I've survived another year of working with and fighting for college students, and there were indeed many battles to be fought, and I feel tired. But somehow I still don't doubt that I'm the place that I'm supposed to be and that God will give me what I need to keep going. 

Either way, I think it a bit of a strange song for a Baccalaureate service to be singing such a song. Sure it embodies moving forward and God being with you and such, but should a new college grad really be contemplating exhaustion at all? You just wrapped up the best four years of your life. What could you possible be so tired over? But maybe that's just me.

Certain Failure

Today I felt as though someone was trying their darnedest to align all possible controllable circumstances against me so that I was doomed to certain failure. How, you ask? I was supposed to give a presentation to the faculty today about the First-Year Experience program that I along with a team of fantastic people have worked really hard to build. I created a draft of the presentation and showed it to my team. One of the members responded like this: "Ooh, could you take this one part out here? That idea was presented to the faculty last month and was met with a lot of resistance." I, of course, said no. I couldn't in good faith take that part out. It was one of the most important parts that couldn't be peeled away from the rest no matter what. 

After some significant reworking of the presentation to frame it in a way that really talked about benefits to faculty while still highlighting the services and goals of the program, I apprehensively brought myself and my presentation to the faculty meeting this morning. I met several administrators in the hallway, and they said this: "Well, we're running about a half hour behind...and they're pretty much done being willing to listen to, well, anything...they're just so tired you know." Great. Please, feed me to the wolves. Oh, did I mention that I was slated to be the very last session before lunch? Did I also mention that I was originally given a twenty minute time slot that two other presenters were added to last minute? So, please feed me to the grumpy, tired, hungry wolves with a presentation that ran right at seventeen minutes each time I rehearsed it with a negative ten minute time slot to do it in...as the smell of freshly delivered pizzas wafts into the room. 

How much more could be stacked against me? Seriously. So, after about a half hour of nervous pacing and jumping around the back of the room as I watched several others (some that didn't even have agenda slots) present to the hungry, grumpy wolves, I got called to the front of the room and was instructed to present...quickly. 

Quick prayer, flash a smile, crack a joke, and get moving.

"If you've ever seen the movie Over the Hedge, today I will be playing the role of the squirrel on the energy drink, so hang on tight, you get this presentation in hyper-drive." Laugh elicited from grumpy crowd, check. 

After breaking the ice, I pretty much gave my entire presentation in a single breath, no break, no pause, no asking for questions. I think once, I paused ever so briefly to make sure everyone was tracking with me and no one had become motion-sick due to my very motion-filled visual presentation at it's new pace (laugh elicited mid-presentation, check). 

When it was all said and done, I finished my perfectly timed seventeen minute presentation in something like ten and a half minutes. And at the end, I received thunderous applause and more laughter as well as a full round of congratulatory messages during lunch. 

I'm not sure what to do with all of this tonight. It was what it was, I suppose. The information was presented, faculty either cared or they didn't. And that's the end of that. 

A Really Big Bird

Tonight, I decided to take a trip to Platteville to share some ice cream with Megan. We had both been really good and worked out, so we felt as though we deserved a reward. Shouldn't all workouts be rewarded with ice cream? I think so. Anyway, I was driving along highway 151 at my usual seventy miles per hour, when from the far side of the other direction of traffic, I see this huge bird gliding in my general direction. My thought process went a little like this: 

 
Wow, that is a really big bird. Is it a pheasant? No, it's too big to be a pheasant. Could it be a turkey? I don't think turkeys can - THWUMP. WHAT?!? Did I really just HIT the bird? How in the world did I just hit the bird?!?

But the best part was when the car that was behind me passed me, the passenger turned all the way around in her seat to see if the giant bird had left any damage on my car where I had clearly run smack into a slow gliding, easily visible, massively huge bird. Oh yeah, and the huge scuff that goes from headlight to side mirror is nice too. 

I'm still not really clear on what exactly it was. It was probably five feet in wingspan but fat and round through the body. If turkeys can at least glide, although I thought them to be rather flightless by nature, then I would estimate it to be a turkey. If not, then it was either a mutant pheasant or perhaps a bald eagle...I don't remember seeing white...but clearly I wasn't really watching all that close...since it hit my car. Is killing a member of an endangered species a federal offense?

Well, there you have it. Three posts in one for my 300th post. What a crazy day it has been.