The Ikea trip was unplanned and wildly successful. Maddie wanted to go for a drive and I never turn down an opportunity to get into the car, so we drove. We also forgot to look at the exits and ended up in Wisconsin. We crossed the border, took a picture (because Madeline has never been to WI) and then headed back. Ha, I thought, as we got back on the highway, we should just use my GPS.
You have a GPS? Maddie asks in exasperation.
I forgot, I lamely explained.
We named the GPS Gretchen (because she sounds mean) and then followed her directions all over Illinois, taking the back roads. We finally arrived at Ikea, which is actually only about a half hour from my house.
The place is a wonderland. I encourage you to Google it. It's like the Target of home furnishings, but on steroids. Amazing.
Also, they have 50 cent hot dogs. I mean, I would drive nearly anywhere for a 50 cent hot dog.
I got a desk, a chair and a bookshelf, as well as a new thermos for tea, some candles and wall pictures. My room is turning into a floral/impressionist/scenery sanctuary. It's colorful, but full of blues and greens. Comfortable.
Graduation news: Commencement will be held on the Lake Shore campus (sorry, not downtown) on Friday May 14, 2010 at 7pm. You should come. I'm assuming someone will buy me a sweet cake. I'll probably do that myself. It won't be chocolate. It will have chocolate frosting. It will not be in Loyola colors. Maybe I can get them to put my name and the year, obviously, but then superimpose a map of the Chicago transit system onto the cake. Or I could do that myself. Oooh, that isn't actually a bad idea. Anyway, Maddie and I were thinking of having a joint graduation party, but I think that idea has long since flown out the window. Maybe we'll have an open house? The only problem is my apartment is on the third floor of a walk-up. And old people (not anyone you know, of course) wouldn't be able to make it up and down those stairs. Trust me, I sometimes have a hard time.
So tired for some reason. Need to make it to the gym but I won't have time before night class.
I had a dream last night that I'm not going to get into DU. Back up preparations must begin. Apparently, MSCD is getting an MSW program, but not until fall 2011. Could go then? Maybe will get a PR job or do freelancing or something lame for awhile.
DPS is still a possibility.
So is that romance novel. Everyone who's read by BDSM paper thinks I have the chops for prose writing. That was a weird sentence and I understand that very little should be based off of a paper I wrote less than twelve hours before it was due.
Tomorrow is going to be a long day. So much theory packed into six hours is nearly overwhelming. I've lost the ability to look at anything without thinking about the feminist perspective. It's killing my reality tv, my rap music, my social life. The other day, I stopped a conversation about something to discuss the linguistic connotations that the words we were using had. While it's not a bad thing to be more aware of the hidden gender messages and ideas in society (blah, blah), it's annoying to have your mind constantly inundated with ideas about it.
Sometimes the Beastie Boys are just the Beastie Boys.
The weekend was fun. I'll put up some pictures.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Juice.
It went well.
Of course it did, I was foolish to think it wouldn't.
I slept badly last night. Tortured by dreams that I couldn't escape from, I woke to find myself in an uneasy melancholy. Apparently, I was talking in my sleep all night. I'm upset by something, I know what, and I don't know how to let it go except to give it time.
Time. Screw time and feelings. I hate not knowing what other people are thinking. I hate wishing I could have something I can't. I hate that I had it for just a second before life got in the way.
I drove downtown this morning to make sure that Emily got to her law school open house alright and realized how much this city has meant to me. In a strange way, I belong in Chicago. I've never loved Loyola, but I've loved Chicago. I have a fascination with the train. I still love the train. There's something so raw and unguarded about it, something so connected and yet so fragile and broken. You are forced to sit around people you don't like, forced to interact, or merely to react to the those around you. It's beautiful. It's dirty. It smells. It's so satisfying and so stressfully slow. I love to sit with a book, lost for half an hour until I feel the train start to descend past Fullerton, the slide into the tunnel. Then the darkness comes and the rattling is somehow magnified by the proxomity of the walls.
But what is home? Everyone's moving back and forth and here and there, and I've realized that as much as I'd like to stay here, for awhile, I can't. I want to be in Colorado, to start my life there. Even though the city begs me to stay, I'm afraid if I do, I'll never leave. I can't fathom the idea of trying to raise children in a city like Chicago, and although it would be a wonderful place to get my social work grounding, I'd prefer to start my career somewhere comfortable.
Blegh, another blog with no purpose, only rambling. Perhaps the morning can bring a sweeter sleep?
Of course it did, I was foolish to think it wouldn't.
I slept badly last night. Tortured by dreams that I couldn't escape from, I woke to find myself in an uneasy melancholy. Apparently, I was talking in my sleep all night. I'm upset by something, I know what, and I don't know how to let it go except to give it time.
Time. Screw time and feelings. I hate not knowing what other people are thinking. I hate wishing I could have something I can't. I hate that I had it for just a second before life got in the way.
I drove downtown this morning to make sure that Emily got to her law school open house alright and realized how much this city has meant to me. In a strange way, I belong in Chicago. I've never loved Loyola, but I've loved Chicago. I have a fascination with the train. I still love the train. There's something so raw and unguarded about it, something so connected and yet so fragile and broken. You are forced to sit around people you don't like, forced to interact, or merely to react to the those around you. It's beautiful. It's dirty. It smells. It's so satisfying and so stressfully slow. I love to sit with a book, lost for half an hour until I feel the train start to descend past Fullerton, the slide into the tunnel. Then the darkness comes and the rattling is somehow magnified by the proxomity of the walls.
But what is home? Everyone's moving back and forth and here and there, and I've realized that as much as I'd like to stay here, for awhile, I can't. I want to be in Colorado, to start my life there. Even though the city begs me to stay, I'm afraid if I do, I'll never leave. I can't fathom the idea of trying to raise children in a city like Chicago, and although it would be a wonderful place to get my social work grounding, I'd prefer to start my career somewhere comfortable.
Blegh, another blog with no purpose, only rambling. Perhaps the morning can bring a sweeter sleep?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Social scene
It's official! I applied today!
Tonight, Emily Dewhurst is coming into town to visit a law school, so she's staying at my house.
I'm going out for the first time post-Hunter-breakup with a circle of friends and acquaintances. I'm nervous, I won't lie. It's just dinner and one of our friends has been in Thailand for the last month, so I'm excited to hear all of his stories.
Tomorrow night is going to be lovely as well. Madeline, her new boyfriend, his friend, I and others are going to go out and hit the town. (Hit the town?)
I must go and put my face on; I'll either edit or post something different so that this might make sense as more than an informal social calendar.
Also, 3 days in a row at the gym! I'm a regular fitness expert. (That's a lie. But it does feel really good.) I've been eating way less processed foods and trying to cut out meat (just not bacon and I've demoted myself to turkey cheddarwursts instead of regular). But the increased fruit and veggies is fun. I always have eaten a nice share of them, but nearly all of my diet at the moment is fruit, vegetables and cereal/oatmeal/whole grain bread. And wine.
Tonight, Emily Dewhurst is coming into town to visit a law school, so she's staying at my house.
I'm going out for the first time post-Hunter-breakup with a circle of friends and acquaintances. I'm nervous, I won't lie. It's just dinner and one of our friends has been in Thailand for the last month, so I'm excited to hear all of his stories.
Tomorrow night is going to be lovely as well. Madeline, her new boyfriend, his friend, I and others are going to go out and hit the town. (Hit the town?)
I must go and put my face on; I'll either edit or post something different so that this might make sense as more than an informal social calendar.
Also, 3 days in a row at the gym! I'm a regular fitness expert. (That's a lie. But it does feel really good.) I've been eating way less processed foods and trying to cut out meat (just not bacon and I've demoted myself to turkey cheddarwursts instead of regular). But the increased fruit and veggies is fun. I always have eaten a nice share of them, but nearly all of my diet at the moment is fruit, vegetables and cereal/oatmeal/whole grain bread. And wine.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
MSW application: January 2010
After a week of writing (including revising, something I'm not exactly used to), my statement of purpose is complete. I know now that if I don't get into DU or Loyola, it's not for lack of trying.
Here it is:
A. Rationale
He has to take a bus to school and then walk. He doesn’t own a coat or a cell phone. He is deaf but can’t communicate with his family because none of them learned how to sign. His family doesn’t worry about feeding him--they rely on school lunches to provide his daily nourishment. The only communication he has is with teachers, interpreters and other deaf students. My mother has worked with this particular student since his freshman year of high school. She’s his only resource. When his father wouldn’t buy him a cell phone, something that all of his brothers and sisters have, it was my mom who went around to various outlets to see about getting a free phone with text messaging capabilities. Watching my mom struggle with the ethical issues surrounding this student, I realized that I too felt what she felt. I want to watch people succeed, to triumph over problems that exist in their lives. I want to help people as she has helped this student. I know that this case is all too common--forgotten children with disabilities that their parents aren’t prepared to handle. I want to help people who need help the most.
Social work has been of interest to me since before the beginning of my undergraduate career. I feel that social work is necessary to the future of not only our local communities, but our global one as well. Social workers provide guidance and support necessary to maintain and reinforce community and family structures that are often shaken by events outside the control of the family or community. They are able to assess a situation and provide services that many others would not be able to offer, doing the greatest amount of possible good through their specific courses of action. The social worker can play an essential role in the rebuilding and strengthening of the existing family, but must rely on a strong sense of intuition and the ability to quickly assess a specific situation.
I plan on using my time in graduate school to assess the problems within my own community and become actively involved in working toward a solution. I am particularly interested in the intersection of women, children and the justice system. In five or six years I hope to be heading a program helping to facilitate increased interaction between mothers and children during incarceration as well as creating a viable support system for those same mothers after they’ve been released. Increased support for women returning to society would drastically reduce the recidivism rate and also create a stronger family network, which would in turn help children stay in school and out of trouble.
I want to devote my life to helping people the way that I have seen my mother help people my whole life. She doesn’t get any thanks for what she does, but somehow, day after day, she keeps doing it. Social work is often a thankless task, but is something that can create hope and direction within the worst situations. I want to be a social worker so that I can help even one person. I want to enter into social work selflessly, focusing on others rather than my own personal gain, but I know that social work would give me a sense of fulfillment that no other career could provide. I want to get satisfaction knowing that I’ve accomplished something meaningful, even if it’s as small as getting someone a winter coat or a cell phone. I want to be an agent of change within the world.
B. Attributes and Liabilities
As I begin my pursuit of a career in social work, I believe that my interpersonal communication skills would be one of my most valuable assets. Writing and speaking are essential skills for such a career path. As an English minor, I am adept at interpreting a situation with a critical eye.
Even though I consider myself a very passionate and caring person, which I believe is necessary for a lengthy career in social work due to the level of personal commitment involved, I also possess the ability to remove myself from a situation. Being able to remain objective in the face of emotional struggle is a quality that will serve me well as a social worker. While able to perceive the emotional depth of any given situation and to internalize the struggle of the parties involved, I am able to remain objective and far enough removed in order to find the best outcome. Even though the job can be demanding, I am also capable of seeing even the smallest amount of positivity and possibility in any situation. Through my ability to remain upbeat, I will be able to consistently approach my work with enthusiasm. I am able to quickly and accurately assess the mood of a situation and from there, am able to swiftly decide on any number of possible solutions.
I am open to new experiences, even though at times I am hesitant to begin. I have decided that life is too short to not dive in, to be cliché, and since I have made that decision for myself, I have found experienced many things that I wouldn’t have otherwise. Social work for me is an area that I have always been surround by, interested in and have always wanted to engage in. I find that making the decision to enter into a social work career was not made out of fear but has been a distinctly focused decision that has been made joyously and with great anticipation for things to come. My openness to begin will serve me well as a social worker.
The area of my life that I feel needs the most strengthening is the area of professional experience. I haven’t spent much time navigating a professional environment and am at times uncomfortable in a professional setting because of my lack of work experience even though I see myself as being perfectly capable of becoming an experienced professional with a certain amount of practice and guidance. I envision this as the area that will see great improvement in the next few years. Through in-field experience and more involvement with social workers, I will be able to increase my comfort level in order to enter the social work profession confidently and ably.
Graduate school would be a full-time commitment for me. I am excited to take on the challenge. I am entirely dedicated to my work and studies, especially in the pursuit of a specific goal. After undergraduate course work, I feel as though the time and energy investment asked of graduate students is something that I would adapt to incredibly well. While I would have preferred to enter into graduate level work with more experience in the field, my passion for social work cannot be denied. Without the constraints of a family or another, equally demanding career, I find myself able to fully invest my time and energy into my social work graduate degree.
C. Employment and Volunteer Experience
After spending four years in the service industry, one is often very capable of being able to anticipate the needs of customers and co-workers alike. From my various positions, I have learned the value of patience, an often under-represented virtue. I understand that not everyone is going to have needs that fit exactly into certain categories and that accommodations must be made in many circumstances. I have developed my intuitive listening skills and honed them, able to anticipate and make advance preparations in order to ensure a quick reaction that will most certainly be agreeable. Child care has taught me more than I ever thought possible. From discipline to creating educational activities, I have developed the ability to firmly adhere to decisions while at the same time rationalizing those decisions to the people affected by them.
My freshman year of college, I spent a number of hours a week volunteering at a soup kitchen. During this time, I found myself excited and incredibly fulfilled by the prospect of doing something as simple as providing a meal. The community that emerged from the simple act of sharing a meal was a strong community, full of hope and strength. Everyone was willing to share with their neighbor, a willingness that I don’t often see in the public arena. This community bond was created on something necessary yet symbolic. The act of eating together reinforces the human need for connection and commonality.
Through my work with film, including documentaries and independent projects, I have realized the power of non-verbal communication. Human services are based so much on communication, and I believe that I can be effective in a variety of ways other than just basic dialogue. From my interviews and research, academic and otherwise, I have realized the value of conversations and trust. Observation is a necessary skill to become a social worker and my various projects have allowed to me to develop the strong powers of observation needed for detailed writing and understanding of a situation.
There are so many people living in the world who have so much to say but haven’t been given the opportunity to speak up. I did a short documentary for a class focusing on justice that involved interviewing the homeless that gather around a major public transportation transfer point in Chicago. These people live blocks from one of the biggest shopping districts in the country, yet are often overlooked, receiving appalling treatment from both tourists and locals. They were open to attempts at conversation and were optimistic about the future (this was on the eve of the 2008 Presidential election). One of my subjects was moved to tears during his interview. They provided me with the material for my documentary but in doing so, they shaped the way in which I presented the information. My original ideas shifted and instead, I focused on their emotional outpouring of anguish and grief rather than numerical statistics. It is this willingness to deviate from the standard facts and numbers that drives my goal to be a social worker.
During the spring 2010 semester, I will be involved in service learning that will enable me to mentor high school journalism students in Pilsen, a neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. Through this experience, I will be sharing with them my journalistic knowledge and interviewing skills but in return I will be able to experience a culturally distinct neighborhood that I know very little about. I am excited by this opportunity and see it is as a way to further integrate myself into the social work mindset. Working with high school students isn’t something that I’ve done before and I believe the opportunity will help me to grow as a social worker by broadening my experience base.
D. Education
My undergraduate educational experience has been one that has involved many elements, rather than one focused area of study. The Jesuit education that I have received while at Loyola has been all encompassing, focusing on educating the whole person. Within that education, there has been strong emphasis on developing communication skills including writing and oral communication as well as concentration on a broad array of studies. The variety of subjects I have studied has allowed me to take many different classes, after which I decided to select three very distinct courses of study. I will be graduating with minors in Sociology, English and Women’s Studies and Gender Studies. All of those are conducive to social work in that they have allowed to me to not only study the condition of women throughout history to today and beyond, but also to attain better understanding of the society in which I live. I have read countless cultural criticisms and theory, from which I have been able to craft a broader understanding of our position as people living in a global society.
I believe that having been in Catholic schools my whole life will greatly aid my social work progress. Having been raised in a space that puts emphasis on gratitude and service work has made me a person sensitive to the needs of those around me. From the Christian Brothers to the Jesuits, my education has encompassed the ideas of giving back, appreciation and personal reflection.
I began to consider social work during my senior year of high school, when I was the head of a group that gave grants to non-profit organizations. As we received requests from all over Colorado, I became aware of the immense need that existed within the state. Living in Chicago has only furthered my understanding of the need for assistance that exists and the lack of resources available. As we gave the checks away, I felt satisfied that we had helped the best that we could, but I was also aware of a nagging need to do more. Since then, I have considered social work as a possible career path.
During the fall semester of 2008, I was unable to maintain my grade and unwilling to ask for help when I should have. The F on my transcript represents a learning experience; not one that I’m proud of or one that helped my GPA, but one that I take full responsibility for. It was my failure alone.
As a student, I am very dedicated but also relaxed enough to not let undue stress overtake my life. Instead of becoming overly stressed about something insignificant, I do not let trivial things bother me, preferring instead to focus on the larger picture. While the small assignments are obviously important, I do my best to think further than that. I do my best work under stress, something that will help me not only in graduate school, but in my career as well. As I have said previously, I am a quick thinker, able to come up with a multitude of ideas to suit any given situation.
E. Life Experiences
It could be argued that my life has been cut out for social work since I was born. I was adopted at birth and have remained in contact with my birth mother throughout my life. Reading a journal that my biological mother wrote for me shortly after my birth, in which she discusses the emotions that she was feeling at the time I was born and then after, I have realized the immense hope and joy that can come from a situation that involves selfless sacrifice. My adoptive mother’s career has also shown me selfless service. She works as a special education teacher in the Aurora school district. Watching her struggle with the situations that she faces on a daily basis, such as lack of resources or the hesitation of parents to get involved with their child’s education, have shown me the strength, determination and modesty involved with social work.
After finding out that my mom had been diagnosed with kidney cancer during the fall of my sophomore year of college, I made arrangements to leave Loyola and come back to Denver to be with her and my brother through his senior year of high school. I spent the spring of 2008 in Denver with my family, watching my mother heal even though she was still working to help the students that she cares so much about. Being around my supportive family made me feel immense gratitude, yet at the same time, I understand that many people don’t have the same support network that we do. This is about the time that I realized that social work was indeed a viable career path for me.
My parents’ divorce left me as a child whose loyalties were spread between many places and family members. Although there was love on all sides, no divorce can be an easy thing. As a child, there was no one to turn to for help or guidance. This experience left me able to deal with very personal human and social problems. Coming from a non-traditional household and then becoming a child of divorce, I am able to empathize with children that I will come in contact with; my understanding of their feelings will allow me to gain their trust and also to be effective in helping to support them. I understand the pressures that children from non-traditional families face, especially through school and oddly, holiday seasons. The idea of the broken family is becoming more and more prevalent in our society today, and the children affected by these families need all the guidance and positive reinforcement that they can get in order to succeed. I am a stronger person than I was when my parents got divorced, and part of that is because of the emotional turmoil that we went through. My unwavering faith in myself is what allowed me to persevere through that difficult time and that confidence will allow me to trust my instincts and make the correct decisions as I enter into the social work field.
F. Social Work Values and Ethics
If Chicago is one of the most diverse cities in the United States or even the world, then Rogers Park is one of the most diverse neighborhoods in the country. You cannot walk through the area I call home without seeing people of every color, speaking any number of different languages walking, biking or driving. Families live among college students. Rogers Park is still a neighborhood of small distinct shops but is also home to Loyola University Chicago, a growing institution that has begun to spread into the surrounding neighborhood. Living among a wildly diverse population has allowed me to encounter people that no educational experience can teach. The issue of gentrification in Chicago is one that is growing faster than even Loyola could have imagined. The fight to keep the true identity of neighborhoods while at the same time trying to modernize them, in essence overhauling their identity and population, has been one that has the city polarized. During the unsuccessful bid to bring the Olympic games to Chicago, the debate about gentrification came to the forefront. My proximity to this debate, even as a temporary resident of the city, has made me mindful of the ethical dilemmas in our growing and changing society.
Spending time at a local restaurant has allowed to me to begin a friendship with a man from Zimbabwe. During our conversations, we do much comparison between the cultures in which we live. It is through these casual experiences that I have been able to gain insight and knowledge into different cultures. The ability to transcend my own culture in order to understand the cultures of those around me and the differences therein will allow me to engage in social work from a unique perspective. I have developed friendships with people of all ages, races and sexual orientations during my time in Chicago. Recently, there was an immense outpouring of student support for a student who had been a victim of harassment based on his sexual orientation. Taking part in the discourse on this subject led me to understand more about the way that many people think about race, class, gender and orientation and has also made me want to fight for equality on all levels. Living in Rogers Park isn’t always ideal due to the high crime rate and vandalism issues, but it has been a worthwhile experience that I will never forget.
During the fall of 2009, I spent time writing a lengthy ethnography about the BDSM (bondage and discipline, sadism and masochism) community. My research took me to diverse places that many were hesitant to travel to or even hear about. The subcultures that I profiled and critiqued are a large and often underrepresented part of the population. I was welcomed and treated as an equal, finding information to be willingly offered and thoroughly explained. Spending time in not only public places, but private clubs as well, I was able to gain access to places that few (except private members) will ever see. I also watched the reactions that people had when I described the project. These reactions showed me the misconceptions that people hold about certain communities. I was able to remain objective in a community that is often hostile to outside involvement and hard to comprehend by hegemonic social standards. This experience helped to shape my love of the diversity that I have embraced while living in Chicago, but furthermore, emphasizes my ability to do cross-cultural analysis and to engage in discussion of taboo subject matter.
Seeing everyone as a human being rather than viewing anyone as existing within any specific category is something that allows me to enter into social work with an open mind and an open heart. My emphasis on global community may seem repetitive, but I truly believe that we are not only citizens of our local environment, but instead are citizens of the world. I think that any social or political advancement made as a people should be one based on mutual respect and understanding.
G. Other Factors
While I understand that my GPA (3.1) and my volunteer/work experience may be on the low end of the scale of applicants, I wish to impress on the admissions committee my desire to actively participate in social work. My undergraduate experience has not been merely studious engagement but has instead included much self-discovery as well as social and urban experience. Living in Chicago has enabled me to be a participant, not merely a voyeur in the urban environment and has made me more aware of the reality of certain issues that are present within society. Race is a still prevalent issue in Chicago and living in such a diverse city has opened my eyes to the ways in which people of the world live and work together; it has also shown me the ways that people can still be affected by prejudice and negative thinking. My time here has been not only a successful academic endeavor but has caused me to evolve as an independent person. I wish to emphasize the importance of life experiences and exploration, things that cannot be taught or quantified onto paper. I will be entering the program as a whole person, not merely someone who knows so much about the specific subjects of study, but as someone with life experience and a dedication to furthering my engagement in the world around me.
Here it is:
A. Rationale
He has to take a bus to school and then walk. He doesn’t own a coat or a cell phone. He is deaf but can’t communicate with his family because none of them learned how to sign. His family doesn’t worry about feeding him--they rely on school lunches to provide his daily nourishment. The only communication he has is with teachers, interpreters and other deaf students. My mother has worked with this particular student since his freshman year of high school. She’s his only resource. When his father wouldn’t buy him a cell phone, something that all of his brothers and sisters have, it was my mom who went around to various outlets to see about getting a free phone with text messaging capabilities. Watching my mom struggle with the ethical issues surrounding this student, I realized that I too felt what she felt. I want to watch people succeed, to triumph over problems that exist in their lives. I want to help people as she has helped this student. I know that this case is all too common--forgotten children with disabilities that their parents aren’t prepared to handle. I want to help people who need help the most.
Social work has been of interest to me since before the beginning of my undergraduate career. I feel that social work is necessary to the future of not only our local communities, but our global one as well. Social workers provide guidance and support necessary to maintain and reinforce community and family structures that are often shaken by events outside the control of the family or community. They are able to assess a situation and provide services that many others would not be able to offer, doing the greatest amount of possible good through their specific courses of action. The social worker can play an essential role in the rebuilding and strengthening of the existing family, but must rely on a strong sense of intuition and the ability to quickly assess a specific situation.
I plan on using my time in graduate school to assess the problems within my own community and become actively involved in working toward a solution. I am particularly interested in the intersection of women, children and the justice system. In five or six years I hope to be heading a program helping to facilitate increased interaction between mothers and children during incarceration as well as creating a viable support system for those same mothers after they’ve been released. Increased support for women returning to society would drastically reduce the recidivism rate and also create a stronger family network, which would in turn help children stay in school and out of trouble.
I want to devote my life to helping people the way that I have seen my mother help people my whole life. She doesn’t get any thanks for what she does, but somehow, day after day, she keeps doing it. Social work is often a thankless task, but is something that can create hope and direction within the worst situations. I want to be a social worker so that I can help even one person. I want to enter into social work selflessly, focusing on others rather than my own personal gain, but I know that social work would give me a sense of fulfillment that no other career could provide. I want to get satisfaction knowing that I’ve accomplished something meaningful, even if it’s as small as getting someone a winter coat or a cell phone. I want to be an agent of change within the world.
B. Attributes and Liabilities
As I begin my pursuit of a career in social work, I believe that my interpersonal communication skills would be one of my most valuable assets. Writing and speaking are essential skills for such a career path. As an English minor, I am adept at interpreting a situation with a critical eye.
Even though I consider myself a very passionate and caring person, which I believe is necessary for a lengthy career in social work due to the level of personal commitment involved, I also possess the ability to remove myself from a situation. Being able to remain objective in the face of emotional struggle is a quality that will serve me well as a social worker. While able to perceive the emotional depth of any given situation and to internalize the struggle of the parties involved, I am able to remain objective and far enough removed in order to find the best outcome. Even though the job can be demanding, I am also capable of seeing even the smallest amount of positivity and possibility in any situation. Through my ability to remain upbeat, I will be able to consistently approach my work with enthusiasm. I am able to quickly and accurately assess the mood of a situation and from there, am able to swiftly decide on any number of possible solutions.
I am open to new experiences, even though at times I am hesitant to begin. I have decided that life is too short to not dive in, to be cliché, and since I have made that decision for myself, I have found experienced many things that I wouldn’t have otherwise. Social work for me is an area that I have always been surround by, interested in and have always wanted to engage in. I find that making the decision to enter into a social work career was not made out of fear but has been a distinctly focused decision that has been made joyously and with great anticipation for things to come. My openness to begin will serve me well as a social worker.
The area of my life that I feel needs the most strengthening is the area of professional experience. I haven’t spent much time navigating a professional environment and am at times uncomfortable in a professional setting because of my lack of work experience even though I see myself as being perfectly capable of becoming an experienced professional with a certain amount of practice and guidance. I envision this as the area that will see great improvement in the next few years. Through in-field experience and more involvement with social workers, I will be able to increase my comfort level in order to enter the social work profession confidently and ably.
Graduate school would be a full-time commitment for me. I am excited to take on the challenge. I am entirely dedicated to my work and studies, especially in the pursuit of a specific goal. After undergraduate course work, I feel as though the time and energy investment asked of graduate students is something that I would adapt to incredibly well. While I would have preferred to enter into graduate level work with more experience in the field, my passion for social work cannot be denied. Without the constraints of a family or another, equally demanding career, I find myself able to fully invest my time and energy into my social work graduate degree.
C. Employment and Volunteer Experience
After spending four years in the service industry, one is often very capable of being able to anticipate the needs of customers and co-workers alike. From my various positions, I have learned the value of patience, an often under-represented virtue. I understand that not everyone is going to have needs that fit exactly into certain categories and that accommodations must be made in many circumstances. I have developed my intuitive listening skills and honed them, able to anticipate and make advance preparations in order to ensure a quick reaction that will most certainly be agreeable. Child care has taught me more than I ever thought possible. From discipline to creating educational activities, I have developed the ability to firmly adhere to decisions while at the same time rationalizing those decisions to the people affected by them.
My freshman year of college, I spent a number of hours a week volunteering at a soup kitchen. During this time, I found myself excited and incredibly fulfilled by the prospect of doing something as simple as providing a meal. The community that emerged from the simple act of sharing a meal was a strong community, full of hope and strength. Everyone was willing to share with their neighbor, a willingness that I don’t often see in the public arena. This community bond was created on something necessary yet symbolic. The act of eating together reinforces the human need for connection and commonality.
Through my work with film, including documentaries and independent projects, I have realized the power of non-verbal communication. Human services are based so much on communication, and I believe that I can be effective in a variety of ways other than just basic dialogue. From my interviews and research, academic and otherwise, I have realized the value of conversations and trust. Observation is a necessary skill to become a social worker and my various projects have allowed to me to develop the strong powers of observation needed for detailed writing and understanding of a situation.
There are so many people living in the world who have so much to say but haven’t been given the opportunity to speak up. I did a short documentary for a class focusing on justice that involved interviewing the homeless that gather around a major public transportation transfer point in Chicago. These people live blocks from one of the biggest shopping districts in the country, yet are often overlooked, receiving appalling treatment from both tourists and locals. They were open to attempts at conversation and were optimistic about the future (this was on the eve of the 2008 Presidential election). One of my subjects was moved to tears during his interview. They provided me with the material for my documentary but in doing so, they shaped the way in which I presented the information. My original ideas shifted and instead, I focused on their emotional outpouring of anguish and grief rather than numerical statistics. It is this willingness to deviate from the standard facts and numbers that drives my goal to be a social worker.
During the spring 2010 semester, I will be involved in service learning that will enable me to mentor high school journalism students in Pilsen, a neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. Through this experience, I will be sharing with them my journalistic knowledge and interviewing skills but in return I will be able to experience a culturally distinct neighborhood that I know very little about. I am excited by this opportunity and see it is as a way to further integrate myself into the social work mindset. Working with high school students isn’t something that I’ve done before and I believe the opportunity will help me to grow as a social worker by broadening my experience base.
D. Education
My undergraduate educational experience has been one that has involved many elements, rather than one focused area of study. The Jesuit education that I have received while at Loyola has been all encompassing, focusing on educating the whole person. Within that education, there has been strong emphasis on developing communication skills including writing and oral communication as well as concentration on a broad array of studies. The variety of subjects I have studied has allowed me to take many different classes, after which I decided to select three very distinct courses of study. I will be graduating with minors in Sociology, English and Women’s Studies and Gender Studies. All of those are conducive to social work in that they have allowed to me to not only study the condition of women throughout history to today and beyond, but also to attain better understanding of the society in which I live. I have read countless cultural criticisms and theory, from which I have been able to craft a broader understanding of our position as people living in a global society.
I believe that having been in Catholic schools my whole life will greatly aid my social work progress. Having been raised in a space that puts emphasis on gratitude and service work has made me a person sensitive to the needs of those around me. From the Christian Brothers to the Jesuits, my education has encompassed the ideas of giving back, appreciation and personal reflection.
I began to consider social work during my senior year of high school, when I was the head of a group that gave grants to non-profit organizations. As we received requests from all over Colorado, I became aware of the immense need that existed within the state. Living in Chicago has only furthered my understanding of the need for assistance that exists and the lack of resources available. As we gave the checks away, I felt satisfied that we had helped the best that we could, but I was also aware of a nagging need to do more. Since then, I have considered social work as a possible career path.
During the fall semester of 2008, I was unable to maintain my grade and unwilling to ask for help when I should have. The F on my transcript represents a learning experience; not one that I’m proud of or one that helped my GPA, but one that I take full responsibility for. It was my failure alone.
As a student, I am very dedicated but also relaxed enough to not let undue stress overtake my life. Instead of becoming overly stressed about something insignificant, I do not let trivial things bother me, preferring instead to focus on the larger picture. While the small assignments are obviously important, I do my best to think further than that. I do my best work under stress, something that will help me not only in graduate school, but in my career as well. As I have said previously, I am a quick thinker, able to come up with a multitude of ideas to suit any given situation.
E. Life Experiences
It could be argued that my life has been cut out for social work since I was born. I was adopted at birth and have remained in contact with my birth mother throughout my life. Reading a journal that my biological mother wrote for me shortly after my birth, in which she discusses the emotions that she was feeling at the time I was born and then after, I have realized the immense hope and joy that can come from a situation that involves selfless sacrifice. My adoptive mother’s career has also shown me selfless service. She works as a special education teacher in the Aurora school district. Watching her struggle with the situations that she faces on a daily basis, such as lack of resources or the hesitation of parents to get involved with their child’s education, have shown me the strength, determination and modesty involved with social work.
After finding out that my mom had been diagnosed with kidney cancer during the fall of my sophomore year of college, I made arrangements to leave Loyola and come back to Denver to be with her and my brother through his senior year of high school. I spent the spring of 2008 in Denver with my family, watching my mother heal even though she was still working to help the students that she cares so much about. Being around my supportive family made me feel immense gratitude, yet at the same time, I understand that many people don’t have the same support network that we do. This is about the time that I realized that social work was indeed a viable career path for me.
My parents’ divorce left me as a child whose loyalties were spread between many places and family members. Although there was love on all sides, no divorce can be an easy thing. As a child, there was no one to turn to for help or guidance. This experience left me able to deal with very personal human and social problems. Coming from a non-traditional household and then becoming a child of divorce, I am able to empathize with children that I will come in contact with; my understanding of their feelings will allow me to gain their trust and also to be effective in helping to support them. I understand the pressures that children from non-traditional families face, especially through school and oddly, holiday seasons. The idea of the broken family is becoming more and more prevalent in our society today, and the children affected by these families need all the guidance and positive reinforcement that they can get in order to succeed. I am a stronger person than I was when my parents got divorced, and part of that is because of the emotional turmoil that we went through. My unwavering faith in myself is what allowed me to persevere through that difficult time and that confidence will allow me to trust my instincts and make the correct decisions as I enter into the social work field.
F. Social Work Values and Ethics
If Chicago is one of the most diverse cities in the United States or even the world, then Rogers Park is one of the most diverse neighborhoods in the country. You cannot walk through the area I call home without seeing people of every color, speaking any number of different languages walking, biking or driving. Families live among college students. Rogers Park is still a neighborhood of small distinct shops but is also home to Loyola University Chicago, a growing institution that has begun to spread into the surrounding neighborhood. Living among a wildly diverse population has allowed me to encounter people that no educational experience can teach. The issue of gentrification in Chicago is one that is growing faster than even Loyola could have imagined. The fight to keep the true identity of neighborhoods while at the same time trying to modernize them, in essence overhauling their identity and population, has been one that has the city polarized. During the unsuccessful bid to bring the Olympic games to Chicago, the debate about gentrification came to the forefront. My proximity to this debate, even as a temporary resident of the city, has made me mindful of the ethical dilemmas in our growing and changing society.
Spending time at a local restaurant has allowed to me to begin a friendship with a man from Zimbabwe. During our conversations, we do much comparison between the cultures in which we live. It is through these casual experiences that I have been able to gain insight and knowledge into different cultures. The ability to transcend my own culture in order to understand the cultures of those around me and the differences therein will allow me to engage in social work from a unique perspective. I have developed friendships with people of all ages, races and sexual orientations during my time in Chicago. Recently, there was an immense outpouring of student support for a student who had been a victim of harassment based on his sexual orientation. Taking part in the discourse on this subject led me to understand more about the way that many people think about race, class, gender and orientation and has also made me want to fight for equality on all levels. Living in Rogers Park isn’t always ideal due to the high crime rate and vandalism issues, but it has been a worthwhile experience that I will never forget.
During the fall of 2009, I spent time writing a lengthy ethnography about the BDSM (bondage and discipline, sadism and masochism) community. My research took me to diverse places that many were hesitant to travel to or even hear about. The subcultures that I profiled and critiqued are a large and often underrepresented part of the population. I was welcomed and treated as an equal, finding information to be willingly offered and thoroughly explained. Spending time in not only public places, but private clubs as well, I was able to gain access to places that few (except private members) will ever see. I also watched the reactions that people had when I described the project. These reactions showed me the misconceptions that people hold about certain communities. I was able to remain objective in a community that is often hostile to outside involvement and hard to comprehend by hegemonic social standards. This experience helped to shape my love of the diversity that I have embraced while living in Chicago, but furthermore, emphasizes my ability to do cross-cultural analysis and to engage in discussion of taboo subject matter.
Seeing everyone as a human being rather than viewing anyone as existing within any specific category is something that allows me to enter into social work with an open mind and an open heart. My emphasis on global community may seem repetitive, but I truly believe that we are not only citizens of our local environment, but instead are citizens of the world. I think that any social or political advancement made as a people should be one based on mutual respect and understanding.
G. Other Factors
While I understand that my GPA (3.1) and my volunteer/work experience may be on the low end of the scale of applicants, I wish to impress on the admissions committee my desire to actively participate in social work. My undergraduate experience has not been merely studious engagement but has instead included much self-discovery as well as social and urban experience. Living in Chicago has enabled me to be a participant, not merely a voyeur in the urban environment and has made me more aware of the reality of certain issues that are present within society. Race is a still prevalent issue in Chicago and living in such a diverse city has opened my eyes to the ways in which people of the world live and work together; it has also shown me the ways that people can still be affected by prejudice and negative thinking. My time here has been not only a successful academic endeavor but has caused me to evolve as an independent person. I wish to emphasize the importance of life experiences and exploration, things that cannot be taught or quantified onto paper. I will be entering the program as a whole person, not merely someone who knows so much about the specific subjects of study, but as someone with life experience and a dedication to furthering my engagement in the world around me.
Workout Rundown/Trivia Trials
Be so proud of me, people of the world:
I worked out today.
Not only that, but I was on the elliptical for a full 54:39. (That's nearly an hour, folks.) I quit once I hit 4 miles.
It's something that I rarely do. I prefer to swim. I'm good at it, it's relaxing, it doesn't hurt my knees. I have horrible knees....I'll blame track but I think they've always been bad. Today it's snowing and the high is 20 degrees, so going swimming isn't really an option. There's nothing worse than walking home with frozen hair or a cold body.
I got into a nice mental rhythm with a nice playlist to back it all up and I just let go. I had originally told myself that I only had to do fifteen minutes (the cold has sort of messed up my lungs, they're still a little wheezy), but after fifteen I was feeling good. After thirty I wasn't done. After 45 I was like, well, why not make it an hour. But then I realized I hadn't eaten, so 4 miles became the goal.
And, to my surprise, I liked it.
I'm going back tomorrow.
Getting toned is something easily within my grasp.
Last night we went to Hamburger Mary's to do trivia. Ever since the homophobic incident at Hamilton's, we've been looking for another place to do trivia. The upside of Hamburger Mary's: I love the place. It's free to play trivia. It's in one of my favorite neighborhoods in Chicago (Andersonville) and it's easy to get to. It's like a ten minute drive and once the weather warms up, it'd be a nice long walk or a short bus trip. Anyway, the trivia was nice. It could have been harder, but we lost by three points, so I guess maybe we should have done better.
But hopefully we've found our new trivia hangout.
I worked out today.
Not only that, but I was on the elliptical for a full 54:39. (That's nearly an hour, folks.) I quit once I hit 4 miles.
It's something that I rarely do. I prefer to swim. I'm good at it, it's relaxing, it doesn't hurt my knees. I have horrible knees....I'll blame track but I think they've always been bad. Today it's snowing and the high is 20 degrees, so going swimming isn't really an option. There's nothing worse than walking home with frozen hair or a cold body.
I got into a nice mental rhythm with a nice playlist to back it all up and I just let go. I had originally told myself that I only had to do fifteen minutes (the cold has sort of messed up my lungs, they're still a little wheezy), but after fifteen I was feeling good. After thirty I wasn't done. After 45 I was like, well, why not make it an hour. But then I realized I hadn't eaten, so 4 miles became the goal.
And, to my surprise, I liked it.
I'm going back tomorrow.
Getting toned is something easily within my grasp.
But hopefully we've found our new trivia hangout.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Feminism, or something like it.
I've spent four years of college learning about feminism and the sociological implications of being woman in the world.
I've spent twenty one years being a woman in the world.
I'm just now getting the theory behind it all, even though I've been studying, discussing and living the "how" part of the equation forever.
This is an unorganized rant. I like it. I'm sticking to it.
I was not raised in a house where gender was an issue. I do not come from a traditional family structure. My mother never cooked dinner and vacuumed in pearls. In fact, I spent much of my childhood without gender. Yes, I had dresses and I was in love with Mom's makeup and I learned to run in high heels (I have mistyped "hells" three times), but I was never expected to act like a lady. I am grateful for having a brother. I know how to roughhouse and make mud pits and have fond memories of playing hockey in the street.
Being a girl wasn't something I was overly concerned about until I hit about the seventh grade. Even then, I was labeled as "uncool," probably because I wasn't showing any overt interest in makeup or boys and making out wasn't very high on my priority list. I didn't feel the need to be attractive to men. And trust me, I wasn't.
I have always displayed typically male characteristics. Even now, I love sports games, mostly football and basketball, and I love to drink beer and eat steak. I always consider myself three-eighths male (how I settled on that number, I'm not quite sure). I am feminine, immensely so and possess the deeply emotional capacity expected of women. I love mascara and everything that goes along with it, but am in no way "high maintenance." I'm not afraid of sexuality, and have suffered social repercussions based on that. I am not dainty, nor do I claim to be. I'm not usually the submissive one in a relationship, and until recently, have never been courted in any sort of traditional manner.
I won't lie, I hate girls. I do not hate them because they are women, but I hate the ways that they act as women. I hate the cattiness (sp?), I hate the obsession with appearance, I hate the whole persona they don in order to please men. When I find a woman who is realistic and approachable, not wearing a fake feminine guise, I am comfortable and from there, can work to create a bond. The male is easier to get along with, less passive-aggressive and more open to odd conversations without the feeling of being threatened. Perhaps once women realize that we're not all threats to each other, we'll be able to get along and foster a sense of respect and unity that I am beginning to suspect doesn't exist, even in our post-modern world situation.
Sometime around the beginning of high school, I realized that attracting men was something that was easiest done if I lowered my perceived intelligence level. I have spent the last eight years with low standards and expectations, not only for my partners but for myself. I am recovering, slowly but hopefully. I am embracing my intelligence and my femininity, but equally, my independence, something that men are equally impressed with and afraid of.
Over break, I started seeing someone intelligent and successful, two things that I have been afraid to embrace based on my perception of myself. My reactions were overwhelming and nearly instantaneous. Not toward him (well, okay, maybe), but toward myself. I started seeing myself differently, more ably. I looked in the mirror and saw someone beautiful, maybe not entirely grown up, but getting there. I mean, he was wonderful, but I felt like I was able to hold my ground. I'm young, I'm still a child, I know this, and there are so many things in the world I still need to experience. But I was able to hold an intelligent conversation, hopefully carrying my own weight. While I'm still gaining my footing as far as feeling "worth it," this was a massive step in the right direction. I want to be around people who make me feel motivated to succeed, to try, to want to reach for something. The poor guy has no idea that he will be a huge factor in my life, even though the acquaintance was brief. It was thrilling, exhilarating, the rush that I felt. I felt like a person. I have never been "wined and dined" but this was exceptional. Perhaps not, but let's review my dating history briefly. Are you shuddering, wincing, thinking, "ooh, that was rough"? I am. And I knew it. When I brought home one boyfriend toward the end of high school, I told Mom, "Don't worry, this is only temporary."
I will say that the one thing that attracted me was the level of non-pretentious-ness about the whole situation. I HATE pretentious people. Success does not have to include a nasty attitude. Intelligence does not preclude pretension, but that way of thinking about others (and inherently, yourself) shouldn't be the norm. I am just as intelligent as most of the people in the world but don't feel the need to display it as though my position in society is somehow elevated.
I've always known that I wanted to seek better, but I guess somewhere, didn't think I deserved it. I do. I am Katie Barry, hear me roar. (I'm keeping that sentence but I thought about deleting it. It's horrifyingly embarrassing yet also so timeless in its statement.)
Of course, no woman should have such expectations for being bought. I do not expect to become an under-earning, under-performing housewife. I want to work. I do not want to stay at home with the children (once I successfully find a man worth my ovaries), because I would be bored to tears. I love children, I want to work with them, but I want a career. I want to find fulfillment outside the household. That and I can't clean or cook anything but bacon and pie. Bacon and pie are a great start, but hardly worth a man keeping me caged at home for 9 hours a day.
Social convention does not allow women to act as men yet to remain feminine. I am that dichotomy in the flesh. I am lovely, sweet, submissive (at the proper times), snuggly, soft, all of the things a woman should be. But I am also loud, stubborn, offensive (at the proper times, hopefully), dominant, aggressive, unafraid.
I have a walk. It's a strut, really, and I'm not really sure how it came about. It's male in its basic form yet feminine and fierce once you throw high heels into the mix. See, for me it's less about gender bending and more about gender blending. Pick and choose, just like religion. That selection has worked so well for me spiritually and it seems to be working in my dating life as well. Men are attracted to someone who's not afraid to speak her mind. Not that life is all about attracting men, but, you know, I do have that as a goal.
I'm linking to an article I read in Newsweek. It's about feminism being blamed for the state of dating. I am not settling. I do not ever want to settle nor do I want to be old and single. I want a life-partner, emphasis on partner. I want a husband or a boyfriend or a life partner who is my opposite and equal. But not yet. In the later years, please.
I come from a non-traditional family with realistic expectations. I never understood myself to be a woman. I was just a part of the family. I was not expected to maintain any certain role, but rather, was accepted for who I was, be that feminine or masculine. My level of education has never been a subject up for discussion. Of course there was going to be college. I never for a second thought that I wouldn't go. There were no expectations of anything more or less. There was just do.
I come from a family of strong women. Women who can and do provide for themselves and those around them. There's a strong sense of satisfaction that comes from being able to maintain yourself as an individual rather than based off of someone next to you. Any marriage is a partnership, focused on a mutual respect for one another rather than on dependence. The women in my family are educated, intelligent and wildly successful in their endeavors. I am joining their ranks in a few months (once I become a college graduate, I feel as though I'm more of a person. This is an error, I understand, but it's strongly based on my desire to achieve and at the moment, I'm just trying to survive each day without becoming overwhelmed by my workload and lack of sleep) and am pleased to have the support system that I do have. Without it, I would not be where I am today.
Also this blog sounds very self-focused. It is. It's my blog. But this feminism idea is not based on feminism for other people but rather feminism for myself. Today, I am declaring myself a rational feminist (a term coined by one of the Irish, actually, but I liked it and I'm taking it and making it mine). I have reasonable expectations for equality. I am not looking to outdo men, but rather to coexist peacefully with them.
Perhaps a rational feminist is then a humanist. More than being a woman, I am a human being.
Blah blah blah.
I am, however, already sick of feminist theory. We're what, a week into school?
By the way, this was all procrastination of Spanish homework. The Jesuits had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they decided to educate the whole person. I'm self-reflecting. This should count for credit hours. Education in action, no?
the promised link::
http://www.newsweek.com/id/232112
I've spent twenty one years being a woman in the world.
I'm just now getting the theory behind it all, even though I've been studying, discussing and living the "how" part of the equation forever.
This is an unorganized rant. I like it. I'm sticking to it.
I was not raised in a house where gender was an issue. I do not come from a traditional family structure. My mother never cooked dinner and vacuumed in pearls. In fact, I spent much of my childhood without gender. Yes, I had dresses and I was in love with Mom's makeup and I learned to run in high heels (I have mistyped "hells" three times), but I was never expected to act like a lady. I am grateful for having a brother. I know how to roughhouse and make mud pits and have fond memories of playing hockey in the street.
Being a girl wasn't something I was overly concerned about until I hit about the seventh grade. Even then, I was labeled as "uncool," probably because I wasn't showing any overt interest in makeup or boys and making out wasn't very high on my priority list. I didn't feel the need to be attractive to men. And trust me, I wasn't.
I have always displayed typically male characteristics. Even now, I love sports games, mostly football and basketball, and I love to drink beer and eat steak. I always consider myself three-eighths male (how I settled on that number, I'm not quite sure). I am feminine, immensely so and possess the deeply emotional capacity expected of women. I love mascara and everything that goes along with it, but am in no way "high maintenance." I'm not afraid of sexuality, and have suffered social repercussions based on that. I am not dainty, nor do I claim to be. I'm not usually the submissive one in a relationship, and until recently, have never been courted in any sort of traditional manner.
I won't lie, I hate girls. I do not hate them because they are women, but I hate the ways that they act as women. I hate the cattiness (sp?), I hate the obsession with appearance, I hate the whole persona they don in order to please men. When I find a woman who is realistic and approachable, not wearing a fake feminine guise, I am comfortable and from there, can work to create a bond. The male is easier to get along with, less passive-aggressive and more open to odd conversations without the feeling of being threatened. Perhaps once women realize that we're not all threats to each other, we'll be able to get along and foster a sense of respect and unity that I am beginning to suspect doesn't exist, even in our post-modern world situation.
Sometime around the beginning of high school, I realized that attracting men was something that was easiest done if I lowered my perceived intelligence level. I have spent the last eight years with low standards and expectations, not only for my partners but for myself. I am recovering, slowly but hopefully. I am embracing my intelligence and my femininity, but equally, my independence, something that men are equally impressed with and afraid of.
Over break, I started seeing someone intelligent and successful, two things that I have been afraid to embrace based on my perception of myself. My reactions were overwhelming and nearly instantaneous. Not toward him (well, okay, maybe), but toward myself. I started seeing myself differently, more ably. I looked in the mirror and saw someone beautiful, maybe not entirely grown up, but getting there. I mean, he was wonderful, but I felt like I was able to hold my ground. I'm young, I'm still a child, I know this, and there are so many things in the world I still need to experience. But I was able to hold an intelligent conversation, hopefully carrying my own weight. While I'm still gaining my footing as far as feeling "worth it," this was a massive step in the right direction. I want to be around people who make me feel motivated to succeed, to try, to want to reach for something. The poor guy has no idea that he will be a huge factor in my life, even though the acquaintance was brief. It was thrilling, exhilarating, the rush that I felt. I felt like a person. I have never been "wined and dined" but this was exceptional. Perhaps not, but let's review my dating history briefly. Are you shuddering, wincing, thinking, "ooh, that was rough"? I am. And I knew it. When I brought home one boyfriend toward the end of high school, I told Mom, "Don't worry, this is only temporary."
I will say that the one thing that attracted me was the level of non-pretentious-ness about the whole situation. I HATE pretentious people. Success does not have to include a nasty attitude. Intelligence does not preclude pretension, but that way of thinking about others (and inherently, yourself) shouldn't be the norm. I am just as intelligent as most of the people in the world but don't feel the need to display it as though my position in society is somehow elevated.
I've always known that I wanted to seek better, but I guess somewhere, didn't think I deserved it. I do. I am Katie Barry, hear me roar. (I'm keeping that sentence but I thought about deleting it. It's horrifyingly embarrassing yet also so timeless in its statement.)
Of course, no woman should have such expectations for being bought. I do not expect to become an under-earning, under-performing housewife. I want to work. I do not want to stay at home with the children (once I successfully find a man worth my ovaries), because I would be bored to tears. I love children, I want to work with them, but I want a career. I want to find fulfillment outside the household. That and I can't clean or cook anything but bacon and pie. Bacon and pie are a great start, but hardly worth a man keeping me caged at home for 9 hours a day.
Social convention does not allow women to act as men yet to remain feminine. I am that dichotomy in the flesh. I am lovely, sweet, submissive (at the proper times), snuggly, soft, all of the things a woman should be. But I am also loud, stubborn, offensive (at the proper times, hopefully), dominant, aggressive, unafraid.
I have a walk. It's a strut, really, and I'm not really sure how it came about. It's male in its basic form yet feminine and fierce once you throw high heels into the mix. See, for me it's less about gender bending and more about gender blending. Pick and choose, just like religion. That selection has worked so well for me spiritually and it seems to be working in my dating life as well. Men are attracted to someone who's not afraid to speak her mind. Not that life is all about attracting men, but, you know, I do have that as a goal.
I'm linking to an article I read in Newsweek. It's about feminism being blamed for the state of dating. I am not settling. I do not ever want to settle nor do I want to be old and single. I want a life-partner, emphasis on partner. I want a husband or a boyfriend or a life partner who is my opposite and equal. But not yet. In the later years, please.
I come from a non-traditional family with realistic expectations. I never understood myself to be a woman. I was just a part of the family. I was not expected to maintain any certain role, but rather, was accepted for who I was, be that feminine or masculine. My level of education has never been a subject up for discussion. Of course there was going to be college. I never for a second thought that I wouldn't go. There were no expectations of anything more or less. There was just do.
I come from a family of strong women. Women who can and do provide for themselves and those around them. There's a strong sense of satisfaction that comes from being able to maintain yourself as an individual rather than based off of someone next to you. Any marriage is a partnership, focused on a mutual respect for one another rather than on dependence. The women in my family are educated, intelligent and wildly successful in their endeavors. I am joining their ranks in a few months (once I become a college graduate, I feel as though I'm more of a person. This is an error, I understand, but it's strongly based on my desire to achieve and at the moment, I'm just trying to survive each day without becoming overwhelmed by my workload and lack of sleep) and am pleased to have the support system that I do have. Without it, I would not be where I am today.
Also this blog sounds very self-focused. It is. It's my blog. But this feminism idea is not based on feminism for other people but rather feminism for myself. Today, I am declaring myself a rational feminist (a term coined by one of the Irish, actually, but I liked it and I'm taking it and making it mine). I have reasonable expectations for equality. I am not looking to outdo men, but rather to coexist peacefully with them.
Perhaps a rational feminist is then a humanist. More than being a woman, I am a human being.
Blah blah blah.
I am, however, already sick of feminist theory. We're what, a week into school?
By the way, this was all procrastination of Spanish homework. The Jesuits had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they decided to educate the whole person. I'm self-reflecting. This should count for credit hours. Education in action, no?
the promised link::
http://www.newsweek.com/id/232112
Saturday, January 23, 2010
"It's a death thing, you wouldn't understand."
I remember the last night. I remember Dad leading me outside to where Chelsea lay in the grass. I remember petting his soft body.
And when the morning came, I remember running down the hall from my room into Mom and Dad's. I remember sobbing, sobbing, knowing he was dead. He was gone. That memory spins, it's strange. It slides around and around in my head, ending with my three-year old eyes seeing the ceiling from where I was laying on their bed.
That was my first experience with grief. It certainly wasn't my last, but maybe animalian grief doesn't translate to the grief of human loss.
Is human loss just like any other loss? Is all loss inherently the same?
I've never lost someone close to me.
I've been to many funerals; I've seen people throughout the stages of grief. I've attended the funerals of the old, very old, and the young, middle aged. And I won't lie, I've never felt anything.
One day, I'll have to give someone I love to the afterlife. I know it'll be painful.
My biggest fear, the most pervasive, the one that strikes me at the most unexpected moments, is the loss of my mother. That loss hopefully won't come for a long time, but even when it does, I won't be ready.
Lise is readying herself for the loss of her husband; it's been a drawn-out process. I've been unable to figure out how to properly comfort. I feel helpless, even though I'm so removed from the situation. I've decided to listen, asking a few questions here and there and then offering support. Support, hardly, just a few words promising strength and future. It's hard for me to know what to do. I'm caught with the web of life. My life-giver is losing a life partner and I'm unfamiliar with the procedure. It shouldn't be procedural though.
Death is death, it comes swiftly or slowly but never not at all. It is the single commonality for our race, for everything living. To have life, there must be death.
I'm not afraid to die, but I'm afraid to live through the deaths of the people I love. I'm afraid of the things left unsaid, of the moments redirected, spent elsewhere instead of there. Loss from which there can be no gain. Peace after time. It's all so simple but so unknown.
Grief is fragile, a beautiful reminder of life. It's both necessary and humbling, human and sublime.
*This was a weird post. It didn't go at all like I had planned it.
I re-read it and went back. This is from a moment that nearly mirrored Chelsea's death for me. Sixteen years passed between the two, but when I heard the news from Mom, I hung up on her. I threw the phone down and broke down, choking on my own tears.
Oh I'll never forget that day. I took the call in my room, staring at my dark blue sheets and wooden bed. The carpet. Brown carpet. Desk against the wall. Her voice in my ear. Silver phone. Hurt squeezing my heart. Rage.
Here, a bit of grief. My loss of words is evident, my shock and pain masked.
News this morning broke my heart.
I'll be back home soon to take care of things.
If things get bad enough, I'll stay for longer.
I don't even know what to do.
There is nothing to do, but wait.
He was brokenhearted too at the news.
I made her promise everything would be okay.
She did, but it took her too long.
I'm scared.
I cried for too long.
I couldn't breathe. It was one of those.
Make it okay, please.
I don't pray, but I might start.
I told Katie, and she cried
*I don't edit things. I don't ever look over anything. I just do it and then it's done. But tonight, for some reason, I'm re-reading. I must have left something unsaid.
But not wanting to end on such a miserable note (not even sure why I made this a miserable post, I'm in a good mood), I wanted to include my favorite blog entry ever. And when I say ever, I mean it. Grief is one thing, but nostalgia can be nearly pure bliss. A fond memory, then.
And when the morning came, I remember running down the hall from my room into Mom and Dad's. I remember sobbing, sobbing, knowing he was dead. He was gone. That memory spins, it's strange. It slides around and around in my head, ending with my three-year old eyes seeing the ceiling from where I was laying on their bed.
That was my first experience with grief. It certainly wasn't my last, but maybe animalian grief doesn't translate to the grief of human loss.
Is human loss just like any other loss? Is all loss inherently the same?
I've never lost someone close to me.
I've been to many funerals; I've seen people throughout the stages of grief. I've attended the funerals of the old, very old, and the young, middle aged. And I won't lie, I've never felt anything.
One day, I'll have to give someone I love to the afterlife. I know it'll be painful.
My biggest fear, the most pervasive, the one that strikes me at the most unexpected moments, is the loss of my mother. That loss hopefully won't come for a long time, but even when it does, I won't be ready.
Lise is readying herself for the loss of her husband; it's been a drawn-out process. I've been unable to figure out how to properly comfort. I feel helpless, even though I'm so removed from the situation. I've decided to listen, asking a few questions here and there and then offering support. Support, hardly, just a few words promising strength and future. It's hard for me to know what to do. I'm caught with the web of life. My life-giver is losing a life partner and I'm unfamiliar with the procedure. It shouldn't be procedural though.
Death is death, it comes swiftly or slowly but never not at all. It is the single commonality for our race, for everything living. To have life, there must be death.
I'm not afraid to die, but I'm afraid to live through the deaths of the people I love. I'm afraid of the things left unsaid, of the moments redirected, spent elsewhere instead of there. Loss from which there can be no gain. Peace after time. It's all so simple but so unknown.
Grief is fragile, a beautiful reminder of life. It's both necessary and humbling, human and sublime.
*This was a weird post. It didn't go at all like I had planned it.
I re-read it and went back. This is from a moment that nearly mirrored Chelsea's death for me. Sixteen years passed between the two, but when I heard the news from Mom, I hung up on her. I threw the phone down and broke down, choking on my own tears.
Oh I'll never forget that day. I took the call in my room, staring at my dark blue sheets and wooden bed. The carpet. Brown carpet. Desk against the wall. Her voice in my ear. Silver phone. Hurt squeezing my heart. Rage.
Here, a bit of grief. My loss of words is evident, my shock and pain masked.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
You never can keep the beautiful feeling for too long.News this morning broke my heart.
I'll be back home soon to take care of things.
If things get bad enough, I'll stay for longer.
I don't even know what to do.
There is nothing to do, but wait.
He was brokenhearted too at the news.
I made her promise everything would be okay.
She did, but it took her too long.
I'm scared.
I cried for too long.
I couldn't breathe. It was one of those.
Make it okay, please.
I don't pray, but I might start.
I told Katie, and she cried
*I don't edit things. I don't ever look over anything. I just do it and then it's done. But tonight, for some reason, I'm re-reading. I must have left something unsaid.
But not wanting to end on such a miserable note (not even sure why I made this a miserable post, I'm in a good mood), I wanted to include my favorite blog entry ever. And when I say ever, I mean it. Grief is one thing, but nostalgia can be nearly pure bliss. A fond memory, then.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Dear Mom,
There they were, sitting at the bottom of a box left over from freshman year. The stamps.Thursday, January 21, 2010
Graduation is official!
I went downtown yesterday to do some mandatory academic advising, which consisted of me meeting with the assistant dean and her telling me that I'm graduating. We went over the few discrepancies/requirements left on my transcript and got it all settled.
I told her I was sorry and she interrupted me before I could finish, saying, "You're dropping a minor aren't you?"
"No," I replied. "I'm adding another one. It's so late, I know."
She laughed and called me an overachiever to which I responded, no, I'm quite the underachiever, you'd be surprised.
All in all, I have the credits nearly completed and the requirements nearly done (my god I just need to pass statistics--which shouldn't be a horrible experience. I have no problem with tangible data, it's the process I can't do. Theorems escape me. I got from point A to point B, do I really need to know every step it took to get there?)
You are looking at a very nearly college graduate. I will have a major in Communication Studies with minors in English, Sociology and Women's/Gender Studies. ha, not bad considering this has been a wild four year run. Even with the Denver semester, I'm still going to be able to graduate on time (sort of...one summer class isn't bad) and then hopefully start school again in the fall.
I've decided to attempt to apply to DU for their MSW program starting in the fall. I may not have the experience, but I'm hoping to sway them with my writing skills which I consider on par with the greats. (The previous statement is a bold lie. I'm hoping they enjoy confidence or at least the pretense of it.) Anyway, if I don't get in (which I'm expecting will be the outcome), I'll stick to the original plan and get a job in DPS. However, if I get in (please, please) then I will be able to start the full-time two year program in the fall.
I've been trying to get around doing it, but I just requested my transcripts from Loyola and need to do so from MSCD so it looks like I'm actually applying. I spent like two hours the other day trying to figure out how to write a curriculum vitae that makes me look like a thrilling, dynamic individual. On paper, I'm really lame. Personal interviews, however, are another thing. I'm engaging, entertaining, intelligent. Not really. But you know, it never hurts to try.
I'm procrastinating again. I should be reading the 30 pages of feminist literature I have due in an hour. But alas, I'm not.
I found out yesterday that I not only have an ear infection but my first parking ticket of the year as well.
I'm getting nervous. This afternoon's task is write a resume (eek, I've done it before but for some reason it always leaves me feeling so inadequate), and then attempt to begin to tackle the seven page life response that they require. Other than that, it's just a check and some online forms I've already filled out. Pray for me or send me thoughts or something of a spiritual nature: I'll need it now more than ever.
I told her I was sorry and she interrupted me before I could finish, saying, "You're dropping a minor aren't you?"
"No," I replied. "I'm adding another one. It's so late, I know."
She laughed and called me an overachiever to which I responded, no, I'm quite the underachiever, you'd be surprised.
All in all, I have the credits nearly completed and the requirements nearly done (my god I just need to pass statistics--which shouldn't be a horrible experience. I have no problem with tangible data, it's the process I can't do. Theorems escape me. I got from point A to point B, do I really need to know every step it took to get there?)
You are looking at a very nearly college graduate. I will have a major in Communication Studies with minors in English, Sociology and Women's/Gender Studies. ha, not bad considering this has been a wild four year run. Even with the Denver semester, I'm still going to be able to graduate on time (sort of...one summer class isn't bad) and then hopefully start school again in the fall.
I've decided to attempt to apply to DU for their MSW program starting in the fall. I may not have the experience, but I'm hoping to sway them with my writing skills which I consider on par with the greats. (The previous statement is a bold lie. I'm hoping they enjoy confidence or at least the pretense of it.) Anyway, if I don't get in (which I'm expecting will be the outcome), I'll stick to the original plan and get a job in DPS. However, if I get in (please, please) then I will be able to start the full-time two year program in the fall.
I've been trying to get around doing it, but I just requested my transcripts from Loyola and need to do so from MSCD so it looks like I'm actually applying. I spent like two hours the other day trying to figure out how to write a curriculum vitae that makes me look like a thrilling, dynamic individual. On paper, I'm really lame. Personal interviews, however, are another thing. I'm engaging, entertaining, intelligent. Not really. But you know, it never hurts to try.
I'm procrastinating again. I should be reading the 30 pages of feminist literature I have due in an hour. But alas, I'm not.
I found out yesterday that I not only have an ear infection but my first parking ticket of the year as well.
I'm getting nervous. This afternoon's task is write a resume (eek, I've done it before but for some reason it always leaves me feeling so inadequate), and then attempt to begin to tackle the seven page life response that they require. Other than that, it's just a check and some online forms I've already filled out. Pray for me or send me thoughts or something of a spiritual nature: I'll need it now more than ever.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Schedule
The morning has brought a much brighter outlook. Not necessarily sunny, but looking up.
I'm posting my schedule as much for me as for you.
Monday Wednesday and Friday:
-Fundamental Statistics at 11:30 -12:20 (STAT 103)
(The statistics class is the math core requirement, which has remained open after the logic fiasco.)
Monday nights:
-Advanced Reporting from 7:00-9:30 downtown (CMUN 315)
(Ugh. I swore I would never do anything journalistic again. I'm good at it, I just really hate reporting for some reason. I needed this class for the Civic Engagement Requirement --it was either that or a social work class that I couldn't make due to a Spanish conflict.)
Tuesday Thursday:
-Introduction to Women and Gender Studies 8:30-9:45 (WSGS 101)
-Feminism and Gender Topics 11:30-12:45 (ENGL 307)
-Spanish 1:00-2:15 (SPAN 102)
Thursday nights:
-Introduction to Social Work 7:00-9:30 downtown (SOWK 200)
(I just added this class today thinking that I don't need the human reproduction class that I was in, but instead, it might be nice to try out social work before I try to do it for a living. I don't know if you remember, but I was thinking about majoring in social work for awhile but then decided against it because communications offers such a broader spectrum of employment opportunities. While I'm not thrilled about having a Thursday night class, it opens up my afternoons so that I might be able to do some more volunteer work/get in a yoga class/do some more childcare.
Seeing it out for the first time makes it look easier than I had previously thought. I tried to add a seventh class so that I could just finish everything up and not have to take summer classes, but they're still blocking it. So I guess if I'm going to have to pay extra, I might as well wait until the summer to do it. I can do the first six week session (the second is out now because of jury duty and the big move) and then be done with it by the middle of June.
For a senior in college, there are a surprising amount of 101 classes. I know this. I finished my major so long ago and am just now cleaning everything up. I won't lie, I didn't do so well at the long term plan during my first couple of years of school.
I'm posting my schedule as much for me as for you.
Monday Wednesday and Friday:
-Fundamental Statistics at 11:30 -12:20 (STAT 103)
(The statistics class is the math core requirement, which has remained open after the logic fiasco.)
Monday nights:
-Advanced Reporting from 7:00-9:30 downtown (CMUN 315)
(Ugh. I swore I would never do anything journalistic again. I'm good at it, I just really hate reporting for some reason. I needed this class for the Civic Engagement Requirement --it was either that or a social work class that I couldn't make due to a Spanish conflict.)
Tuesday Thursday:
-Introduction to Women and Gender Studies 8:30-9:45 (WSGS 101)
-Feminism and Gender Topics 11:30-12:45 (ENGL 307)
-Spanish 1:00-2:15 (SPAN 102)
Thursday nights:
-Introduction to Social Work 7:00-9:30 downtown (SOWK 200)
(I just added this class today thinking that I don't need the human reproduction class that I was in, but instead, it might be nice to try out social work before I try to do it for a living. I don't know if you remember, but I was thinking about majoring in social work for awhile but then decided against it because communications offers such a broader spectrum of employment opportunities. While I'm not thrilled about having a Thursday night class, it opens up my afternoons so that I might be able to do some more volunteer work/get in a yoga class/do some more childcare.
Seeing it out for the first time makes it look easier than I had previously thought. I tried to add a seventh class so that I could just finish everything up and not have to take summer classes, but they're still blocking it. So I guess if I'm going to have to pay extra, I might as well wait until the summer to do it. I can do the first six week session (the second is out now because of jury duty and the big move) and then be done with it by the middle of June.
For a senior in college, there are a surprising amount of 101 classes. I know this. I finished my major so long ago and am just now cleaning everything up. I won't lie, I didn't do so well at the long term plan during my first couple of years of school.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Life is strange and beautiful.
Before I get all moody as I am prone to doing, I'd like to share with you a travel tip I learned today: Don't correct TSA employees on their grammar, not even under your breath. They have sharp hearing.
I sat in my car and sobbed, letting hot tears fall down my face and down under my chin.
I sat in the dark and in the cold and cried.
My fingers hurt, a pain extending form the core of my palms.
I know it's the exhaustion. I just need sleep and in the light of tomorrow I'll feel better. Easy enough, but not quite.
Life is strange and beautiful. I love being able to feel so deeply but I hate it. One of the biggest strengths to my character is my ability to truly feel the emotion I'm feeling. It's also the worst detriment. I love the exuberance of youth, the feel of an arm thrust out the window of a speeding car, the music, the mountains, the joy. I let myself feel it, unrestrained. And then I feel the equal but opposite reaction. The empty, the alone. Rebuilding. Renewing. blah blah blah I hate people who preach change but I'm holding onto that sentiment with all I have.
I'm here and there's so much to do. Simon looks terrible. The window is horrible. I can hardly see out of it. The car was not left in good condition---there's much cleaning to be done, both inside and out. The house, my room, the big black bag of clothes that desperately needs donated. Time is marching forward. Shopping for school supplies is a must do on the list for tomorrow.
Emily and I made dinner and are watching a movie.
Perseverance, however. I am applying to DU for fall admission. I don't want to wait a year. I may not get in, but at least I tried. If I am rejected, which I am fully expecting, I will spend the year building my experience base through volunteering and lots of field experience before reapplying next year. So either way I'll be doing either DU or hopefully a DPS job. Only problem is that I have ten days to get the application in. Deadlines, deadlines. I've enlisted Maddie as my unemployed life coach to help me get this all situated. Keep yours fingers crossed, dear readers.
I sat in my car and sobbed, letting hot tears fall down my face and down under my chin.
I sat in the dark and in the cold and cried.
My fingers hurt, a pain extending form the core of my palms.
I know it's the exhaustion. I just need sleep and in the light of tomorrow I'll feel better. Easy enough, but not quite.
Life is strange and beautiful. I love being able to feel so deeply but I hate it. One of the biggest strengths to my character is my ability to truly feel the emotion I'm feeling. It's also the worst detriment. I love the exuberance of youth, the feel of an arm thrust out the window of a speeding car, the music, the mountains, the joy. I let myself feel it, unrestrained. And then I feel the equal but opposite reaction. The empty, the alone. Rebuilding. Renewing. blah blah blah I hate people who preach change but I'm holding onto that sentiment with all I have.
I'm here and there's so much to do. Simon looks terrible. The window is horrible. I can hardly see out of it. The car was not left in good condition---there's much cleaning to be done, both inside and out. The house, my room, the big black bag of clothes that desperately needs donated. Time is marching forward. Shopping for school supplies is a must do on the list for tomorrow.
Emily and I made dinner and are watching a movie.
Perseverance, however. I am applying to DU for fall admission. I don't want to wait a year. I may not get in, but at least I tried. If I am rejected, which I am fully expecting, I will spend the year building my experience base through volunteering and lots of field experience before reapplying next year. So either way I'll be doing either DU or hopefully a DPS job. Only problem is that I have ten days to get the application in. Deadlines, deadlines. I've enlisted Maddie as my unemployed life coach to help me get this all situated. Keep yours fingers crossed, dear readers.
Friday, January 15, 2010
48 hours.
I've got that same uneasy feeling I get before I go back to Chicago. Everytime. There is no state of mind that makes it any different. Whether or not I'm reluctant to go (which I usually am), it's always a sense of foreboding that fills me in the days leading up to my departure.
I've had so much fun being home. Last night, Val and Heidi and her dad and I played trivia. It was excellent. We won, and the judge developed a fondness for me based on my answer of "Wolverine (growl)" to a question about the largest in the weasel family in the US.
I've loved going out downtown. I will say that Denver's eligible bachelors are infinitely more attractive than the ones in Chicago and quite a bit nicer too. I wish...a few things but fate must have something up its sleeve. Perhaps not all is lost, but then again, I can never read the people that I need to the most. Character is one thing, intentions are completely another.
My senses are spinning. Especially now, when I know what lays in store for me for the next semester. The break up was horrible, not on my end, not at all, but for him. The way he's reacted to it has made me cringe at the thought of seeing any of our mutual friends. While the old adage, "stick and stones may break my bones..." seems to apply here, it's taken me all that I can do not to fire back. I've slipped once and have since received even worse treatment. I do not have to tolerate such abuse.
I thought everything would be done and over by the time I got back, thought that time would heal all wounds, but alas, it has not. However, Simon has been put in the safekeeping of Madeline, so I feel a little bit better about that situation. I will be picked up from the airport on Sunday afternoon and will immediately be taken for drinks. Immediacy is the prescription for the evening, just as overcome and avoid has been the plan of action since Thanksgiving.
I'm hesistant to leave the house. (I just re-read that sentence and realized it sounds nutty. I am not hesitant to leave the house in terms of going outside, I am hesistant to leave because it's my home and has been for the last 18 years.) I'm hesistant to leave Mom alone for the next few months. I'm going to miss Katie (always).
I feel the loose ends piling up and I realize that there's nothing to be done but take flight and hope for the best.
48 hours until Chicago (give or take 1 hour).
4 days until classes resume.
6 weeks until I set foot back in Colorado.
4 months until I am a college graduate.
6 months until I move back to Colorado.
6 months until jury duty (thrilled).
7 months until I hopefully have a job with DPS.
18 months until I begin graduate school.
This semester is about me. I'm not going to let anyone dictate my terms. I'm going to eat all my vegetables, learn how bake, fight for something I believe in (this may mean finally joining the anti-death penalty people who always call), get straight As (I believe that this can be accomplished simply by doing my homework. What a novel idea), write, and learn how to love myself.
So wish me luck on the 8th leg of the grand adventure that has been Chicago. Let's hope the city saved the best for last (and by best I don't mean worst).
I've had so much fun being home. Last night, Val and Heidi and her dad and I played trivia. It was excellent. We won, and the judge developed a fondness for me based on my answer of "Wolverine (growl)" to a question about the largest in the weasel family in the US.
I've loved going out downtown. I will say that Denver's eligible bachelors are infinitely more attractive than the ones in Chicago and quite a bit nicer too. I wish...a few things but fate must have something up its sleeve. Perhaps not all is lost, but then again, I can never read the people that I need to the most. Character is one thing, intentions are completely another.
My senses are spinning. Especially now, when I know what lays in store for me for the next semester. The break up was horrible, not on my end, not at all, but for him. The way he's reacted to it has made me cringe at the thought of seeing any of our mutual friends. While the old adage, "stick and stones may break my bones..." seems to apply here, it's taken me all that I can do not to fire back. I've slipped once and have since received even worse treatment. I do not have to tolerate such abuse.
I thought everything would be done and over by the time I got back, thought that time would heal all wounds, but alas, it has not. However, Simon has been put in the safekeeping of Madeline, so I feel a little bit better about that situation. I will be picked up from the airport on Sunday afternoon and will immediately be taken for drinks. Immediacy is the prescription for the evening, just as overcome and avoid has been the plan of action since Thanksgiving.
I'm hesistant to leave the house. (I just re-read that sentence and realized it sounds nutty. I am not hesitant to leave the house in terms of going outside, I am hesistant to leave because it's my home and has been for the last 18 years.) I'm hesistant to leave Mom alone for the next few months. I'm going to miss Katie (always).
I feel the loose ends piling up and I realize that there's nothing to be done but take flight and hope for the best.
48 hours until Chicago (give or take 1 hour).
4 days until classes resume.
6 weeks until I set foot back in Colorado.
4 months until I am a college graduate.
6 months until I move back to Colorado.
6 months until jury duty (thrilled).
7 months until I hopefully have a job with DPS.
18 months until I begin graduate school.
This semester is about me. I'm not going to let anyone dictate my terms. I'm going to eat all my vegetables, learn how bake, fight for something I believe in (this may mean finally joining the anti-death penalty people who always call), get straight As (I believe that this can be accomplished simply by doing my homework. What a novel idea), write, and learn how to love myself.
So wish me luck on the 8th leg of the grand adventure that has been Chicago. Let's hope the city saved the best for last (and by best I don't mean worst).
Monday, January 11, 2010
poetry
Youth poetry slam was thought provoking, but the thoughts that sprung to mind weren't necessarily brought on by the insights that the young poets were sharing. Insights, hardly. The repetition repetitively repeated itself until there was very little left to say. One poet, however, chose to perform a piece about chili-mac-and-cheese. Unique.
It was an enjoyable evening, dark wine to match the dark curtains hung behind the stage. Red like the lights draped across the ceiling. Wooden chairs, clustered young adults throughout a crowded room. Music from another room floated in as the waitstaff flitted back and forth, carrying clear pitchers of water.
Four performers, or five, maybe. I whispered the scores I'd have given, not really wanting to give scores at all. Poetry is such a personal art, I thought, held so close. Created, sometimes quite poorly with the worst of intentions. All writing is created with the worst of intentions, though; really, a self-serving selection of words, melodrama, lingering glances and forced emotional pain from which might spring personal growth, all set for a stage created and existing only in the author's mind. But that's where the beauty is. To see it is to connect, for a second, with the words they wrote, to feel them, almost, but barely, to know them.
Anyway, it's strange how so much of growing up can't be taught. I think that's what I drew from watching youth poetry. Think. Because I was so busy living somewhere else, I'm not entirely sure what I drew. Perhaps a million poems from now I'll know what I felt.
Listening to life experiences that can't be relived is beautiful, but then again, so is living.
I turned on the tv this morning to fall asleep and the movie "The Dead Poet's Society" was on. Do you remember going through that Walden Pond phase? Whew, I'll never forget senior year of high school. I embraced transcendentalism like a second skin, loving the possibilities that it offered. Even thinking about it now makes me smile. I seized the subject matter with such fervor, not wanting to wade through Emerson or Thoreau, but wanting to dive in. But the details have long been forgotten.
I emerged as we all must from that phase having realized that life cannot be lived in the mind. And thus, I had forgotten the rush that I felt as a lost teenager when the BRAND NEW NEVER BEFORE SEEN idea of "Carpe Diem" hit me. NO ONE had ever felt like that. NO ONE, NEVER. Ha, ha, it's sad to think that now I've realized that instead of being unique I was merely being another in the long line of people to embrace and then disregard (perhaps not entirely) the ideas that Emerson and Thoreau (among many others, including A.E. Waite - of Rider Waite Tarot card fame) put forth into the world.
I watched about five minutes of the movie before growing annoyed at everything: their actions, their ideas, etc. I turned on HGTV and learned how to stage a house for sale (arguably a better waste of time) and finally fell asleep, most definitely not seizing the day.
Some of that jumble of thoughts must have lingered because I woke up with the urge to go exploring. Instead, I walked the Highline Canal from Iliff through Fairmont and back. I know it's really morbid, but I love graveyards. They are so peaceful, so stunningly set apart from the rest of the surrounding city, so immense in their silence and calming in their sprawling, curving layouts. The path cuts through the cemetery, backing up to one of the mausoleums (I'm not sure that it's what they're called--those tall, flat, white wall-like structures?). As I passed, I heard a family crying as they buried one of their relatives. The pain was acute and although I felt it not for them in particular, I felt it for those who have to grieve and lose.
Life, for all its beauty, is an immense burden to bear.
To all of those in our family grieving, I extend my support. I'll not pretend to know your pain or even try to understand it.
Avery came over tonight, knocking at the back door in the dark. She was wearing the tiniest little boots but had her pants pulled up past her knees. She proceeded to inform me that they may have gotten wet on the walk over. I opened it and she came in. "Where's Ms. Barry?" she asked. "At quilting class," I told her. "Oh, I came over to see you," she told me matter-of-factly.
We had hot chocolate and played with Barbies. I had to be Prince Erik, but it's alright. No less than three times did she say, "I love you, Katie." I would be Prince Erik or even one of the "mean ones" forever to get to hear her say that or even to hear her chatter away.
Also, completely unrelated to most everything in the blog: Please don't workout without a shirt. Especially indoors. This applies to all genders, races and age groups. yuck.
It was an enjoyable evening, dark wine to match the dark curtains hung behind the stage. Red like the lights draped across the ceiling. Wooden chairs, clustered young adults throughout a crowded room. Music from another room floated in as the waitstaff flitted back and forth, carrying clear pitchers of water.
Four performers, or five, maybe. I whispered the scores I'd have given, not really wanting to give scores at all. Poetry is such a personal art, I thought, held so close. Created, sometimes quite poorly with the worst of intentions. All writing is created with the worst of intentions, though; really, a self-serving selection of words, melodrama, lingering glances and forced emotional pain from which might spring personal growth, all set for a stage created and existing only in the author's mind. But that's where the beauty is. To see it is to connect, for a second, with the words they wrote, to feel them, almost, but barely, to know them.
Anyway, it's strange how so much of growing up can't be taught. I think that's what I drew from watching youth poetry. Think. Because I was so busy living somewhere else, I'm not entirely sure what I drew. Perhaps a million poems from now I'll know what I felt.
Listening to life experiences that can't be relived is beautiful, but then again, so is living.
I turned on the tv this morning to fall asleep and the movie "The Dead Poet's Society" was on. Do you remember going through that Walden Pond phase? Whew, I'll never forget senior year of high school. I embraced transcendentalism like a second skin, loving the possibilities that it offered. Even thinking about it now makes me smile. I seized the subject matter with such fervor, not wanting to wade through Emerson or Thoreau, but wanting to dive in. But the details have long been forgotten.
I emerged as we all must from that phase having realized that life cannot be lived in the mind. And thus, I had forgotten the rush that I felt as a lost teenager when the BRAND NEW NEVER BEFORE SEEN idea of "Carpe Diem" hit me. NO ONE had ever felt like that. NO ONE, NEVER. Ha, ha, it's sad to think that now I've realized that instead of being unique I was merely being another in the long line of people to embrace and then disregard (perhaps not entirely) the ideas that Emerson and Thoreau (among many others, including A.E. Waite - of Rider Waite Tarot card fame) put forth into the world.
I watched about five minutes of the movie before growing annoyed at everything: their actions, their ideas, etc. I turned on HGTV and learned how to stage a house for sale (arguably a better waste of time) and finally fell asleep, most definitely not seizing the day.
Some of that jumble of thoughts must have lingered because I woke up with the urge to go exploring. Instead, I walked the Highline Canal from Iliff through Fairmont and back. I know it's really morbid, but I love graveyards. They are so peaceful, so stunningly set apart from the rest of the surrounding city, so immense in their silence and calming in their sprawling, curving layouts. The path cuts through the cemetery, backing up to one of the mausoleums (I'm not sure that it's what they're called--those tall, flat, white wall-like structures?). As I passed, I heard a family crying as they buried one of their relatives. The pain was acute and although I felt it not for them in particular, I felt it for those who have to grieve and lose.
Life, for all its beauty, is an immense burden to bear.
To all of those in our family grieving, I extend my support. I'll not pretend to know your pain or even try to understand it.
Avery came over tonight, knocking at the back door in the dark. She was wearing the tiniest little boots but had her pants pulled up past her knees. She proceeded to inform me that they may have gotten wet on the walk over. I opened it and she came in. "Where's Ms. Barry?" she asked. "At quilting class," I told her. "Oh, I came over to see you," she told me matter-of-factly.
We had hot chocolate and played with Barbies. I had to be Prince Erik, but it's alright. No less than three times did she say, "I love you, Katie." I would be Prince Erik or even one of the "mean ones" forever to get to hear her say that or even to hear her chatter away.
Also, completely unrelated to most everything in the blog: Please don't workout without a shirt. Especially indoors. This applies to all genders, races and age groups. yuck.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Blegh
T H E F O R E H E A D D O T
>
> Finally, someone has explained this.
>
> For centuries, Hindu women have worn a dot on their foreheads. Most of
> us have naively thought this was connected with tradition or religion,
> but the Indian Embassy in Washington , D.C. , has recently revealed
> the true story.
>
> When a Hindu woman gets married, she brings a dowry into the union. On
> her wedding night, the husband scratches off the dot to see whether
> he's won a convenience store, a gas station, a donut shop, a taxi cab
> or a motel in America .. If nothing is there, he must remain in India
> to answer telephones and provide us with technical support.
>
I received the above forward in my Gmail inbox this morning and haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. It followed one that involved "brain tests" to see if we could spot something different in a group of the same. Guess which test was included? Spot the black president.
I won't say much because I know that I too am guilty of letting these things slip by unnoticed, but this is unacceptable behavior if we want to consider ourselves people of the world.
The most intelligent professor that I have had in my four years of college is an Indian woman. Slender with long dark hair and a beautiful smile, she stands in front of us not with a little red dot but with the knowledge of cultures, languages and literature that I can only dream of.
So stop putting everyone you know or meet or even talk about in a corner based on their history, race, culture, religion, etc. It's nasty, very un-neighborly behavior.
I think that this is a response to a comment I made at dinner the night about rape. I feel guilty. A sentence slipped out of my mouth that I regret saying, even thinking. And you know what, maybe what I was saying had some partial truth value but at the same time, it didn't need to be voiced. Every woman has a right to the sanctity of her own body and no matter who she is or what profession she may have taken on, no one should ever take that right away from her. That being said, the truth is the truth and no amount of distortion should be allowed to create a situation.
I'm in town until next Sunday -- I wanted to be able to get to Ft. Collins (which I now will be able to do!!) and get other stuff done. No real reason other than avoiding Chicago for the moment. Very mature, I know. We've got someone guesting on our couch and I am not in the mood to deal with visitors now, so hopefully that will all be over by the time I go back. I miss Simon, though, and desperately need to get him to a shop where he can be cleaned up. Apparently, Goo-Be-Gone (sp?) hasn't helped with the spray paint. I swear, I want to find that kid who did it and spray paint him.
>
> Finally, someone has explained this.
>
> For centuries, Hindu women have worn a dot on their foreheads. Most of
> us have naively thought this was connected with tradition or religion,
> but the Indian Embassy in Washington , D.C. , has recently revealed
> the true story.
>
> When a Hindu woman gets married, she brings a dowry into the union. On
> her wedding night, the husband scratches off the dot to see whether
> he's won a convenience store, a gas station, a donut shop, a taxi cab
> or a motel in America .. If nothing is there, he must remain in India
> to answer telephones and provide us with technical support.
>
I received the above forward in my Gmail inbox this morning and haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. It followed one that involved "brain tests" to see if we could spot something different in a group of the same. Guess which test was included? Spot the black president.
I won't say much because I know that I too am guilty of letting these things slip by unnoticed, but this is unacceptable behavior if we want to consider ourselves people of the world.
The most intelligent professor that I have had in my four years of college is an Indian woman. Slender with long dark hair and a beautiful smile, she stands in front of us not with a little red dot but with the knowledge of cultures, languages and literature that I can only dream of.
So stop putting everyone you know or meet or even talk about in a corner based on their history, race, culture, religion, etc. It's nasty, very un-neighborly behavior.
I think that this is a response to a comment I made at dinner the night about rape. I feel guilty. A sentence slipped out of my mouth that I regret saying, even thinking. And you know what, maybe what I was saying had some partial truth value but at the same time, it didn't need to be voiced. Every woman has a right to the sanctity of her own body and no matter who she is or what profession she may have taken on, no one should ever take that right away from her. That being said, the truth is the truth and no amount of distortion should be allowed to create a situation.
I'm in town until next Sunday -- I wanted to be able to get to Ft. Collins (which I now will be able to do!!) and get other stuff done. No real reason other than avoiding Chicago for the moment. Very mature, I know. We've got someone guesting on our couch and I am not in the mood to deal with visitors now, so hopefully that will all be over by the time I go back. I miss Simon, though, and desperately need to get him to a shop where he can be cleaned up. Apparently, Goo-Be-Gone (sp?) hasn't helped with the spray paint. I swear, I want to find that kid who did it and spray paint him.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Lunch Disaster
Trying to explain Dad is like trying to explain nuclear fission to a two year old. You can scratch the surface, basically, but without a full understanding of the essential parts, you'll never quite grasp it. Nuclear fission may have been a bad example. I only understand the basics of that, so I certainly hope no two year old ever asks me about it. The little boys sometimes put me in that situation with parts of machines. Not being a four year old boy or a mechanic, I don't understand how the combine works. They don't want an overview, they want the in depth analysis. This is why I love Google.
Ah, but that's not what lunch was about, not nearly.
We went nearby to sit somewhere quiet. On a Friday afternoon, nowhere is quiet shortly after noon. However, as expected, there was very little said between us. Things took a turn for the worse after some comments were made that offended me, so I responded. And the response went somewhere I wasn't prepared for it to go: the past.
There are many things that should never been said to a child, not even to a teenager. There are many things that no child/teenager (for the purpose of this whole rant, a teenager is a child) should ever overhear or be forced to listen to.
The plane flight might be delayed. I don't want to go back. I don't want to stay here. It's too bad I can't spend the week tucked away somewhere warm or even flying from place to place. I had thought that this was going to be an easy semester to begin, but then again, I thought wrong. I think we're 8/8 on that count.
Katie is coming!! We will be reunited tomorrow night!!
I'm also in the middle of emailing to get out of jury duty. I'm really bummed out that I won't be able to do it yet, but there's always another time.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Hopeful, I guess, but I'll take what's left.
My time left in Denver is drawing to a close, and for the first time in a long time, I'd say that I'm reluctant to go.
I feel as though this break has been exactly the push that I need to start taking advantage of the fact that I'm about to make huge life decisions in the next few months to a year. I've spent the last six months or so terrified of what comes next, and even though I'm going to lie and say I'm okay with it now, I'm not. I won't be. But I'm going to shove ahead and hope for the best.
However, on the bright side, things have made me realize that everything will work out fine. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself; Chicago taught me that. I know what I don't want. I am starting to figure out what I do want.
Anyway, I have a list in my head that includes things I'd like to do for myself this semester. Just for me. (I am hoping that this semester, albeit lonely, might be as pleasant as the spring semester that I spent in Denver.)
Yoga--studio like three blocks from my apartment, walking-in the freezing cold snow weather, more frequent trips down the bike path to the Peace Garden (I profiled it in one of my videos for production last year...perhaps you've seen it), sleep, homework --last semester I set foot in the library for maybe the fourth time since I've been at Loyola-- this semester I have scheduled in breaks in which to concentrate on homework, de-cluttering (I put this on the list even though I know it won't ever get done. I feel like it's been on every list since my birth), and lastly, writing. The idea of freelancing is seductive to me. Somewhere in there I'd like to expand my babysitting career as well, but I'll take what I can get.
My goal is also to write a more direct, thoughtful blog. And by that, I think I just mean more pictures. I'm going to embark on a journey to photograph the Chicago that I know and love, and the Chicago that drives me nuts. Perhaps that will be my writing assignment. I'm assuming I'll be out and about a lot this semester since my Civic Engagement core requirement is being met with Advanced Reporting. I was really hoping to get out of Loyola without going any further down the Journalism path, but at least Connie Fletcher isn't teaching it.
Even though it's nothing like senior year of high school, when I was poised to make another big change, it is exactly like that. I feel a pull, something telling me I belong back here. The decision is so solid, has been, that I know that it's the right thing to do. I think life is holding out on me. I just wish it'd tell me what it wants, but I'm off on that journey blindly. But I'm all or nothing, so here's both all and nothing.
I feel as though this break has been exactly the push that I need to start taking advantage of the fact that I'm about to make huge life decisions in the next few months to a year. I've spent the last six months or so terrified of what comes next, and even though I'm going to lie and say I'm okay with it now, I'm not. I won't be. But I'm going to shove ahead and hope for the best.
However, on the bright side, things have made me realize that everything will work out fine. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself; Chicago taught me that. I know what I don't want. I am starting to figure out what I do want.
Anyway, I have a list in my head that includes things I'd like to do for myself this semester. Just for me. (I am hoping that this semester, albeit lonely, might be as pleasant as the spring semester that I spent in Denver.)
Yoga--studio like three blocks from my apartment, walking-in the freezing cold snow weather, more frequent trips down the bike path to the Peace Garden (I profiled it in one of my videos for production last year...perhaps you've seen it), sleep, homework --last semester I set foot in the library for maybe the fourth time since I've been at Loyola-- this semester I have scheduled in breaks in which to concentrate on homework, de-cluttering (I put this on the list even though I know it won't ever get done. I feel like it's been on every list since my birth), and lastly, writing. The idea of freelancing is seductive to me. Somewhere in there I'd like to expand my babysitting career as well, but I'll take what I can get.
My goal is also to write a more direct, thoughtful blog. And by that, I think I just mean more pictures. I'm going to embark on a journey to photograph the Chicago that I know and love, and the Chicago that drives me nuts. Perhaps that will be my writing assignment. I'm assuming I'll be out and about a lot this semester since my Civic Engagement core requirement is being met with Advanced Reporting. I was really hoping to get out of Loyola without going any further down the Journalism path, but at least Connie Fletcher isn't teaching it.
Even though it's nothing like senior year of high school, when I was poised to make another big change, it is exactly like that. I feel a pull, something telling me I belong back here. The decision is so solid, has been, that I know that it's the right thing to do. I think life is holding out on me. I just wish it'd tell me what it wants, but I'm off on that journey blindly. But I'm all or nothing, so here's both all and nothing.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
The post New Years' post
It was perfectly casual, an evening of conversation. It felt good to just be. I came home and ran a hot bath and finished the 6th Harry Potter book re read. Perfect night.
A decision seems to have been reached. Simon will most likely stay in Chicago until May, at which point he will be driven back to Denver. There is always spring break. We are considering all other options but as this point, there's not enough time and the danger level is too high to do a quick turnaround sort of adventure. (For the record, I'm still offering to do it myself, but my pleas have been silenced).
The potty training of the rabbit might be going better than anticipated, but probably not.
A nap is in order.
A decision seems to have been reached. Simon will most likely stay in Chicago until May, at which point he will be driven back to Denver. There is always spring break. We are considering all other options but as this point, there's not enough time and the danger level is too high to do a quick turnaround sort of adventure. (For the record, I'm still offering to do it myself, but my pleas have been silenced).
The potty training of the rabbit might be going better than anticipated, but probably not.
A nap is in order.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Blue Steel
Mom's phone (above) -- my phone (below)
Yesterday was an eventful day.
I got a phone call before nine informing me that Simon had been vandalized. Someone spray painted " = pain" all over the driver's side window.
After hearing that, there were tears and a plan was set into action. I'm going to get him; I'm not letting him sit in Chicago anymore. He's been hurt so much and I'm not going to let that continue. The white car (Mike's) had been sitting in the front of the house, so it's being looked at. If it's not horribly expensive to repair, I'll be driving it to Chicago to pick up Simon. I'll leave his car there and keep it until graduation in May. After that, it's his again and I'll be biking where I need to go.
As most trouble goes, there's always something worse, and for me it was dealing with the police. Hunter tried to file a report and was turned away. I tried several times and was met by rude police officers and trouble the whole way.
After that, Mom and I decided to go to Verizon. Mom has been in need of a phone for about a year now and we are finally able to get a new one with the whole new 2 year agreement deal. I will say that Verizon has the best national service. I always have reception when my friends don't, except of course, where there is no service to be had.
Hunter has to stand by a window in his basement apartment. I can sit wherever.
Anyway. Mom wanted the EnV3, a phone that has a full keyboard on the inside as well as a regular keypad on the front. We went in to get it and look around.
Verizon is running a deal where you can get one phone free when you buy certain phones. We were looking at a Blackberry or the EnV3 (I needed a new phone too!).
Turns out, I was up for an upgrade as well!!
Some poor Verizon guy spent about an hour and a half with us, getting us all set up to do everything we needed to do on our new phones. Mom got email and internet on her phone for $3 per month (sweet!). I got a great deal, however, I am paying about 10x more than Mom for unlimited internet. My phone has Twitter (which I will be using more: www.twitter.com/katiemarybarry) - I can't blog on there, I tried-, Facebook, Gmail, everything else.
So of us ended up satisfied and quite happy with our new phones; they each do everything that we need them to do.
I am also enthralled with the customer service at Apple. They are amazing. We returned my printer and it may have been the easiest thing I've ever done.
Then we went and had dinner together.
Overall, a better ending to a day that had a miserable start. Simon is parked in front of my apartment, and while I'm not looking forward to driving cross-country in a Dodge Neon in early January, I will do anything to get him safely home.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Post Christmas Post
I hope that everyone's Christmas was as beautiful as mine was. Quiet and snow-filled.There's a lingering sadness intertwined with the beauty of the season. It reminds me that after May, there is no plan, no set direction. And with that, I am off again on the adventure that will be my life. Here, abroad, I can go anywhere. Of course, anywhere is a strange place, but perhaps better than nowhere.
I'll be getting a new coat and for that, I am thrilled.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Being home is beautiful.
There's nothing quite like it.
Today, Madeline and I went back to Mullen to see all of the teachers.
It was strange. My name is on a banner for people who have received a 5 on the AP tests; it says "Katherine M. Barry - English Language." Impressive, not really, but exciting, yes.
Mr. Hilbert keeps a database of all of his former students. He had to go back and search for me, but he remembered that he'd taught my brother and that my dad had often been in to ask about him. Wonderful. Great. Not remembered for my own achievements but for my father's annoyance.
He updated his little database after telling me that the last time he saw me was in May of 2006. His room hasn't changed. Words are painted on the walls and his collection of books remains. The file folders live on wire shelves against the back wall.
....
too tired. Getting sick.
There's nothing quite like it.
Today, Madeline and I went back to Mullen to see all of the teachers.
It was strange. My name is on a banner for people who have received a 5 on the AP tests; it says "Katherine M. Barry - English Language." Impressive, not really, but exciting, yes.
Mr. Hilbert keeps a database of all of his former students. He had to go back and search for me, but he remembered that he'd taught my brother and that my dad had often been in to ask about him. Wonderful. Great. Not remembered for my own achievements but for my father's annoyance.
He updated his little database after telling me that the last time he saw me was in May of 2006. His room hasn't changed. Words are painted on the walls and his collection of books remains. The file folders live on wire shelves against the back wall.
....
too tired. Getting sick.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
2000s party!
Not me!
Ha, the party wasn't really a party after all, but my costume was epic. (Maybe not, but I was stoked). Joaquin Phoenix is an amazing actor (he was in Gladiator, um, recently Walk the Line) who went crazy (apparently, but the hoax possibility reigns) and then went on Letterman before disappearing out of the public eye.
These are the pictures.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Snowy day!
I blame everything on dehydration. I don't think I'm that wrong either. I feel as though proper hydration is essential to good body function. It's finals week, which means sodium and carbs, the only foods that make a body feel happy. I've been eating to fill the emotional void I've created, and although it's pleasant, it's not necessarily a good thing. So tonight I'm beginning the fruit and tea kick in an attempt to make my body love me again. Wish me luck.
That said, I fell asleep last night at 8 pm, shortly after kickoff, and slept through the game. It was a beautiful nap, and I slept last night but not well. 7am came quickly and I opened my eyes in a cold to apartment to the first snow of the season.
Ugh, of course I couldn't find any of my snow scrapers, even though I know they're there, just hiding. Got my windows done and got to work on time. The little boys of course didn't want to wear boots or coats or hats. So we went outside. Within minutes, the whining began. Luckily for me, I'd brought coats and boots and gloves and hats. And we bundled up and went on our way. They are four and just don't listen. One of them ran across a busy street today, thank god there weren't any cars. Normally they're so good about it, and normally I get so mad at parents who can't keep their kids on the sidewalk, but when I'm trying to cross a six-lane road with three kids, two of whom aren't in a stroller, it gets difficult. So parents, I apologize for screaming at you from inside my car where you can't hear me, or judging you as a bad parent. You're probably trying.
Exhaustion. Sleeping in tomorrow and it will be wondrous!
Saturday, December 05, 2009
300th post? Also, Loyola
I was under the impression that this was going to be the 300th post, but it might be the 301st. Either way, we'll pretend to celebrate 300 entries of emotion and excitement and the cities that I love.
First of all, I would like to make a comment on the way that Chicago has changed me. Mustard. I love mustard now. Chicago is not a ketchup city. Of course, we eat it here, but the Chicago-style hot dog is covered in mustard. And if it can be eaten with mustard, it is. It must be a Midwest thing, but mustard is a staple here.
I've also noticed that my taste in foods is changing as I age. Right now, I'm all about tomatoes. Seriously love tomatoes. I want them on everything. I was eating stewed tomatoes out of the can the other day. And maybe that's not all bad. I've always loved to eat fruit, but I'm also really getting into vegetables. Not just salad, but the pure tastes of all vegetables.
I made breaded pork chops last night. I really don't like pork, but I was excited to have a chance to bread some meat. I love to bread things, but I'm still learning. Egg. It's all about the egg. That was a new addition to my repertoire, Hunter's roommate Adrian taught me the other night when we made meatballs.
I had made some cranberry sauce (cranberries are on sale right now and I'm buying them up and freezing them!) to put on my pork chops, which made them mostly edible. We also had red potatoes that I smashed with butter and a little bit of whole milk, then salted and peppered. Yum.
I'm dyeing my hair tonight! Dark dark brown. I'll post pictures.
Don't make airline reservations yet! Loyola seems to have lost my application for graduation. There's an email into the School of Communication, so we'll see what they say. My credits do all line up for walking in May and for receiving my degree in August. Ugh. Not the best news to receive on a Friday night. But...I double checked in October and it said- there's already a valid graduation application in. So, here's hoping that it will all get worked out.
I'm going out with Maddie and Katie and Anna tonight--even though I've not been doing enough lately to prepare for finals (I seem to have completely lost my motivation)---I'm going tonight to relax and just go out and be. Tomorrow noon will see me ensconced in the library working on my Monday final.
The cold has landed. Hopefully there will be pictures from the evening.
First of all, I would like to make a comment on the way that Chicago has changed me. Mustard. I love mustard now. Chicago is not a ketchup city. Of course, we eat it here, but the Chicago-style hot dog is covered in mustard. And if it can be eaten with mustard, it is. It must be a Midwest thing, but mustard is a staple here.
I've also noticed that my taste in foods is changing as I age. Right now, I'm all about tomatoes. Seriously love tomatoes. I want them on everything. I was eating stewed tomatoes out of the can the other day. And maybe that's not all bad. I've always loved to eat fruit, but I'm also really getting into vegetables. Not just salad, but the pure tastes of all vegetables.
I made breaded pork chops last night. I really don't like pork, but I was excited to have a chance to bread some meat. I love to bread things, but I'm still learning. Egg. It's all about the egg. That was a new addition to my repertoire, Hunter's roommate Adrian taught me the other night when we made meatballs.
I had made some cranberry sauce (cranberries are on sale right now and I'm buying them up and freezing them!) to put on my pork chops, which made them mostly edible. We also had red potatoes that I smashed with butter and a little bit of whole milk, then salted and peppered. Yum.
I'm dyeing my hair tonight! Dark dark brown. I'll post pictures.
Don't make airline reservations yet! Loyola seems to have lost my application for graduation. There's an email into the School of Communication, so we'll see what they say. My credits do all line up for walking in May and for receiving my degree in August. Ugh. Not the best news to receive on a Friday night. But...I double checked in October and it said- there's already a valid graduation application in. So, here's hoping that it will all get worked out.
I'm going out with Maddie and Katie and Anna tonight--even though I've not been doing enough lately to prepare for finals (I seem to have completely lost my motivation)---I'm going tonight to relax and just go out and be. Tomorrow noon will see me ensconced in the library working on my Monday final.
The cold has landed. Hopefully there will be pictures from the evening.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Claude
I've officially decided on a name: Simon's Little Brother, Claude, but we'll just call him Claude.
The last story for fiction as well as the BDSM ethnography are both available at my Tumblr account, www.katiebarry.tumblr.com
Spanish final today, then preparation for my speech Monday, then rewriting stories, writing a segment of a final script and then finishing a Drug Abuse Control class assignment will round out my day today. (Long!) Looking to the weekend: I see relaxation. Tuesday or Thursday brings the Spanish final final (although today is the listening final), then the DAC final Friday. That one will need a good amount of preparation, but I can spend all week doing that.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Colorado, Colorado.
There's really no place like home.
I stole this picture off of Google.
This started out as an attempt to update my blog, but is ending in misery. I cannot form coherent sentences at the moment, thus I cannot aptly describe the scene I was intending to discuss.
But alas, safe in Chicago, busy busy.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Salad.
First post from the new computer! It's been less than 24 hours and it hasn't really set in yet, but I know that I'm so grateful for the opportunity to be able to get a new computer. I'm really settling in to the Mac lifestyle and am excited for greater ease of use. The good news is that I got to avoid the new Windows operating systems. The above picture is the salad that Hunter and I made the other night. I think this picture is before we added the meat (bacon for me, steak for him) and the croutons (always necessary for a huge salad).
Anyway, this is quick. I'm just testing out my new keyboard. It's going to take some adjusting to but it feels so nice.
I'm beginning the process of installing all of the software. It's going to be interesting and so very exciting.
I'm thrilled.
Thanks so much to everyone who helped make this possible, so much appreciation!
Happy Thanksgiving, a better post to come.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Blast from the Past
If you Google Map our house, you can see the Green Bean. Brought back some beautiful memories for me.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I was halfway productive today. I make chicken salad with grapes and celery and tarragon and then put it on a sandwich with some cranberry sauce spread (freshly made!) and lettuce. It was delicious. I felt really proud of myself for turning frost-bitten chicken into food. Really proud.
I've decided that I want to start cooking to sort of give myself some new meaning. I've always really wanted to do it and now that I have so much free time, I want a new hobby.
Hunter and I officially actually ended things today. It's just not something that's going to fix itself. I won't say much, but I deserve someone who wants to work to be with me and who challenges me to be a better person, mentally, socially, etc.
I am having pre-Thanksgiving tomorrow night. I bought a turkey. Oh dear, it's going to be an interesting day tomorrow. Something tells me I'm going to be defrosting the turkey in the bathtub tomorrow morning. Apparently, it needs like three days to defrost. Great. Learned that 30 hours before it's being served. So I'm going to have to come up with a plan.
Cannot wait to be home.
I've decided that I want to start cooking to sort of give myself some new meaning. I've always really wanted to do it and now that I have so much free time, I want a new hobby.
Hunter and I officially actually ended things today. It's just not something that's going to fix itself. I won't say much, but I deserve someone who wants to work to be with me and who challenges me to be a better person, mentally, socially, etc.
I am having pre-Thanksgiving tomorrow night. I bought a turkey. Oh dear, it's going to be an interesting day tomorrow. Something tells me I'm going to be defrosting the turkey in the bathtub tomorrow morning. Apparently, it needs like three days to defrost. Great. Learned that 30 hours before it's being served. So I'm going to have to come up with a plan.
Cannot wait to be home.
Friday, November 20, 2009
blah, blah, blah,
I'm currently in the middle of writing a short film. It's about a fertility-challenged couple. The wife has an affair, and surprise, ends up pregnant (because it's totally his fault they can't have children) and then they have to deal with it. Is it a blessing or a curse? I don't know yet. I'm only at page 13. I'll let you know when I get there.
So Ireland might be out for spring break. I might go alone, though. That could be an interesting adventure. Something tells me Mom won't go for that, but trust me, the Irish is/are worth the trans-Atlantic flight. We are for sure going in the summer. I will sell all of my possessions (except Simon, he's mine) to get there. I'm fixated.
So excited to get my new computer. In all honesty, the whole week has been spent either fixated on the break up with Hunter (of course we're trying to figure it out. He loves me. I love him. We just don't work anymore. So we're trying to work), Ireland (one of the reasons we're not working, my god, he's perfect) and my brand new computer! I still haven't decided what I'm going to name it. The last one was Fluffy. This one might be Leonard.
Steel Magnolias in the theater is just as effective as it was on film. Cried my eyes out. Sobbed like a child. Snot on my sleeves sobbed. Man, if Mom ever needed a kidney, I couldn't give her one. I'd totally sell mine though, so that's a plus. Maybe it would help.
Took a nap earlier and consequently am not tired at 1:30am. Need to be up at 7, so I do believe I should get to bed. Can't. Still writing my affair script. Not putting it all together properly, but it's a start.
So Ireland might be out for spring break. I might go alone, though. That could be an interesting adventure. Something tells me Mom won't go for that, but trust me, the Irish is/are worth the trans-Atlantic flight. We are for sure going in the summer. I will sell all of my possessions (except Simon, he's mine) to get there. I'm fixated.
So excited to get my new computer. In all honesty, the whole week has been spent either fixated on the break up with Hunter (of course we're trying to figure it out. He loves me. I love him. We just don't work anymore. So we're trying to work), Ireland (one of the reasons we're not working, my god, he's perfect) and my brand new computer! I still haven't decided what I'm going to name it. The last one was Fluffy. This one might be Leonard.
Steel Magnolias in the theater is just as effective as it was on film. Cried my eyes out. Sobbed like a child. Snot on my sleeves sobbed. Man, if Mom ever needed a kidney, I couldn't give her one. I'd totally sell mine though, so that's a plus. Maybe it would help.
Took a nap earlier and consequently am not tired at 1:30am. Need to be up at 7, so I do believe I should get to bed. Can't. Still writing my affair script. Not putting it all together properly, but it's a start.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Like the Bus
As if in an instant, there was nothing left of me.
My shell floats from room to room,
back and forth, away again,
as though it wants to be somewhere.
The hollow feeling centers me.
Still. Solid as a cold stone statue,
made immobile by man,
as I was.
Wind and cold register inside my home,
I feel them but then I don't.
The only hurt is my eye,
I've forgotten about my heart,
is it still curled there, somewhere?
Twisted inside layers of deep flesh;
it was once, I remember.
How can it hurt this much?
It shouldn't.
Saw it coming, like the bus.
Stepped on, stepped off
now lying dead gathering road dust.
Crushed.
Rendered motionless.
Surrounded by the present,
surrendering to the past or future,
either, both, at once.
First kisses, children, little smiles,
shoulders warm, now cold.
Heartbreak.
Stomachache.
The shattering of everything.
Cold insistence.
Selfish pain.
Blind panic, terror.
Tears came all day,
they wouldn't stop, they came every way.
Off the tip of my nose, round my cheeks,
over chapped pink lips to fall off my chin.
They didn't stop.
They fled down my shoulders, my pillows, my fingertips.
They fell, there's nothing left.
My shell floats from room to room,
back and forth, away again,
as though it wants to be somewhere.
The hollow feeling centers me.
Still. Solid as a cold stone statue,
made immobile by man,
as I was.
Wind and cold register inside my home,
I feel them but then I don't.
The only hurt is my eye,
I've forgotten about my heart,
is it still curled there, somewhere?
Twisted inside layers of deep flesh;
it was once, I remember.
How can it hurt this much?
It shouldn't.
Saw it coming, like the bus.
Stepped on, stepped off
now lying dead gathering road dust.
Crushed.
Rendered motionless.
Surrounded by the present,
surrendering to the past or future,
either, both, at once.
First kisses, children, little smiles,
shoulders warm, now cold.
Heartbreak.
Stomachache.
The shattering of everything.
Cold insistence.
Selfish pain.
Blind panic, terror.
Tears came all day,
they wouldn't stop, they came every way.
Off the tip of my nose, round my cheeks,
over chapped pink lips to fall off my chin.
They didn't stop.
They fled down my shoulders, my pillows, my fingertips.
They fell, there's nothing left.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
oh, just break up stuff.
Perhaps it was unexpected, but late last week, Hunter and I decided to take a break. I called him Thursday night, after he'd told me he was having doubts about the relationship and told him I thought we needed some time apart.
So that's what we're doing. In all honesty, I've been trying to figure out what went wrong and I'm not exactly sure, but I do know that I haven't been happy in awhile.
We're best friends, but are we right for each other? I'm taking the time to figure it out.
He wants to get back together, and I hate to hurt him, but right now, I'm not sure I want to be in a relationship.
I decided to take the weekend for myself, and sort of just let everything be. I've been relaxing, accomplishing nothing and laying around. It's been rejuvenating and I don't regret it for a moment.
On that note, I do need to get some cleaning done.
So that's what we're doing. In all honesty, I've been trying to figure out what went wrong and I'm not exactly sure, but I do know that I haven't been happy in awhile.
We're best friends, but are we right for each other? I'm taking the time to figure it out.
He wants to get back together, and I hate to hurt him, but right now, I'm not sure I want to be in a relationship.
I decided to take the weekend for myself, and sort of just let everything be. I've been relaxing, accomplishing nothing and laying around. It's been rejuvenating and I don't regret it for a moment.
On that note, I do need to get some cleaning done.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Infinite Sadness.
Mom told me that she was proud of me today. It meant a lot. I wish I could explain it. It's like validation, something like that coming from someone I respect so much.
I'm currently mired in the mess that is cleaning my room. I've been stopping and going and stopping and going, allowing myself to be distracted by anything and everything. But, things are moving, albeit rather slowly.
The clothes are a three foot mound on my bed. Getting rid of them will feel so good. A donation solution to my problem.
I've been overwhelmed lately. Bogged down. Restless. Misguided. Tired. Unproductive. I'm looking forward to the end of the semester, although I feel as though there is so much to do before then! Thanksgiving break is going to be a nice break for me.
This blog was a distraction tool for me that failed. I have so far written not one productive sentence and am assuming that I won't.
My speech went well on Monday. I got up there and glared him down so hard. He had previously told me that I had poor eye contact. That and he wasn't sure why we don't honor Lincoln (as in, the dead president) more. But mostly poor eye contact. So, I gave him looks that should have turned his eye contact meter to stone. And I smiled at the rest of the class. Mandatory minimum sentences for drug offenders, consider yourself erased!
Ha, but seriously, wait for my blog about drugs. I've got some radical ideas about legalization of ALL drugs. Stoked on it. Want to devote my life to at least the legalization of marijuana. I guess I can do that after my kids go to college.
On a completely opposite note, I bought some sweaters at Target. They are so mature. I look like I've never broken a rule in my life.
Also, as I was cleaning my room, I found a bunch of incomplete thank-you notes. So here's the lamest group thank you ever. I promise (keep in mind its an internet promise) to personally do something nice for each and every single person who's done something nice for me. I was thinking something along the lines of cookies and flowers, but who knows. Those gas cards/just-saying-hi cards/chocolate covered almonds [amazing]/cute little candles/blue-orange glasses/anything makes my days.
Perhaps maybe Simon can have a car wash this week? (ooh, not pushing it)
I built a shelf all by myself! I know that's lame, but the directions said "2 people."
Ugh, can you tell I'm buying time?
I want to be swept away, romantically speaking.
I'm currently mired in the mess that is cleaning my room. I've been stopping and going and stopping and going, allowing myself to be distracted by anything and everything. But, things are moving, albeit rather slowly.
The clothes are a three foot mound on my bed. Getting rid of them will feel so good. A donation solution to my problem.
I've been overwhelmed lately. Bogged down. Restless. Misguided. Tired. Unproductive. I'm looking forward to the end of the semester, although I feel as though there is so much to do before then! Thanksgiving break is going to be a nice break for me.
This blog was a distraction tool for me that failed. I have so far written not one productive sentence and am assuming that I won't.
My speech went well on Monday. I got up there and glared him down so hard. He had previously told me that I had poor eye contact. That and he wasn't sure why we don't honor Lincoln (as in, the dead president) more. But mostly poor eye contact. So, I gave him looks that should have turned his eye contact meter to stone. And I smiled at the rest of the class. Mandatory minimum sentences for drug offenders, consider yourself erased!
Ha, but seriously, wait for my blog about drugs. I've got some radical ideas about legalization of ALL drugs. Stoked on it. Want to devote my life to at least the legalization of marijuana. I guess I can do that after my kids go to college.
On a completely opposite note, I bought some sweaters at Target. They are so mature. I look like I've never broken a rule in my life.
Also, as I was cleaning my room, I found a bunch of incomplete thank-you notes. So here's the lamest group thank you ever. I promise (keep in mind its an internet promise) to personally do something nice for each and every single person who's done something nice for me. I was thinking something along the lines of cookies and flowers, but who knows. Those gas cards/just-saying-hi cards/chocolate covered almonds [amazing]/cute little candles/blue-orange glasses/anything makes my days.
Perhaps maybe Simon can have a car wash this week? (ooh, not pushing it)
I built a shelf all by myself! I know that's lame, but the directions said "2 people."
Ugh, can you tell I'm buying time?
I want to be swept away, romantically speaking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)