The reason why I've been in hiding for about a week

There is a reason why I haven't blogged recently, a reason why my house is a mess, a reason why I've ignored everyone and everything for a week: I was finishing my dissertation.  I needed to have it submitted to my committee, and for some misguided reason I thought that I had ten additional days in which to finish.  I don't know why I thought everything was due April 22.  Maybe it just sounds a lot like April 12, the actual due date.  Regardless, I had a lot of work to do between last Wednesday night (when I found out) and now. 

I have had a total of two, maybe three hours of sleep each night since I discovered the true deadline.  I took time off work so that I could finish and I had so much to do that I worked 16-20 hours a day on it.  But it's done.  I submitted my work to my committee.  We meet April 12 to defend it.  My fingers are crossed that they like and accept it without too many revisions.  I want to graduate this month.  I want to be done.

It seems a shame that so much time and effort goes into a major production and then it's never seen.  In all actuality, I don't mind that people won't read my dissertation -- I just want certain people to know that they appeared in my acknowledgments because I love and appreciate them.  Since I can't shout the acknowledgments from the rooftop (or I could, it would just be drowned out by the school sports across the street), I wanted to share them here.  I've modified names for privacy's sake, but these people know who I'm talking about.  I love you all.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First of all, I would like to thank my advisor, Dr. Ken ---, for reading countless pages, providing ample feedback, and for making me laugh as I struggled to complete this dissertation.  You have the patience of a saint.  Dr. Amy --- and Dr. Gary ---, my committee members, also deserve warm thanks for gently pushing me toward my end goal and a dissertation defense.

My colleagues at ---- have been very supportive and caring throughout this last year as I worked to finish my dissertation.  Two who deserve special acknowledgement and sincere gratitude are Dr. Scot --- and Dr. Gary ---.  Scot, thank you for walking into my office every week to ask about dissertation progress – I was motivated by the thought that I should report something positive!  And Gary, thank you for demonstrating to me the true meaning of mentor and listening ear; I will not forget those lessons.

I must thank my wonderful husband for putting up with me as I worked to complete this degree.  His constant questioning and pushing for me to be done helped keep me going in the last few months when I really wanted to give up and stay home.  It is with great pleasure that I can say, “Don’t worry, Honey, the degree is terminal.”

Bestie #2 was always ready to listen, commiserate, and when all else failed she knew what I needed: “Let’s go shopping!”    She is also the person who kept me from giving up in the quantitative data (statistics) class, and for that she deserves a specially blessed afterlife.

Bestie #1 reminded me that I could finish this dissertation and when I had writer’s block she encouraged me to rant on the page, knowing the rant would eventually turn into ideas for chapters four and five.

A--- deserves a special shout-out for always telling me that I am a genius and for believing I could do anything.  She is the world’s best cheerleader.

T----- and M-----, my lovely writing group ladies, understood when I was cranky because of academic writing and they still loved me enough to hold me accountable.  When I would much rather write a novel (or anything else), they told me to sit down and spend that time writing the dissertation.  Ladies, you showed me that I have wings and then told me to fly.  You will always have my love.

J----- makes an excellent cup of coffee and provides even better conversation.  Our relationship is living proof that a conservative and liberal can peacefully coexist and even be good friends (although I do still think you’ll eventually come over to my side!).

My family has always believed that I could do anything.  Mom, you were right – I did become a doctor, just not the kind you originally thought!

Finally, I would like to thank the participants who agreed to share their time and insight to make the research within this dissertation possible.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

DEDICATION

For all my students who have shown that through determination and hard work they can overcome obstacles and reach their goals: this is for you.  Your success is inspirational and I will always be your cheerleader. 

Day 21: A Picture of Something I'd Like to Forget

Why does the Thirty Day Challenge have to require a picture of something I'd like to forget?  Isn't the whole point of wanting to forget something the idea that you avoid thinking about it?

I believe that each person has about a gazillion things she would like to forget, ranging from daily minutiae to big dark secrets that will never see the light of day.  And while the blog is very personal and yet protective, since I just have to tell my secrets to a computer screen without looking at the face of another individual, I don't think it's quite enough to get me to share everything...at least not all at once.  And so I will focus on smaller things that I will find important and nevertheless wish that I could forget.

Things like people who abuse animals -- I wish I could forget about that.  I wish that I could close my eyes and it would all go away.  I don't understand how people could do something like that.  And I certainly don't want to post a picture because every time I see it I run to my own furry babies and hug them and wish that somehow that hug will protect them from all the evil in the world.  If this sounds like you, too, you might want to check out Patrick's Law, a website that is trying to get harsher penalties for people who abuse and torture animals.

Along those lines (in a way), I wish that I could forget that my Hero, my darling cat, died in October 2009.  I do, actually, sometimes forget...and then when I remember again I am crushed.  Hero was the perfect cat and everyone, even dog-lovers, loved her.  She was a cute little 8lb Manx and had been my baby since she was small enough to fit in my palm.  She was named after a character in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, my favorite play.

My mother had her as an indoor-outdoor cat for the first two years, but when I got married and was no longer moving every few months, I brought Hero to live with us. Honey was never really a pet person, but he fell in love with Hero (and we eventually wound up with a house full of furry babies).

Hero liked being outside, but we kept her on a leash or within our sight in the backyard.

 When she was diagnosed with kidney failure at age 10, I was devastated.  We gave her kitty dialysis for months here at home and I took her in to the vet on a regular basis.  We gave her herbs and supplements.  Still, she became weaker and weaker until she was so tiny, only five pounds, and she wanted to sleep all the time.

Lotus and Hero used to sleep next to each other.

Thankfully, Lotus, too, liked to sleep, and we would find them together on a regular basis.  Hero had not liked the addition of Canvas, another cat, to the house years ago (it took her a long time to get used to the idea), but she was fine with Lotus.

I knew that once the vet told me she was in a lot of pain that I would have to give her up -- I loved my baby so much that I didn't want to see her suffer (a reason why I support my state's Death with Dignity law).  Thankfully I did not have to make that choice.  One night at 3AM I heard the most horrific meow.  I do truly wish that I could forget it.  I jumped up and ran to find Hero, who was so weak she could not stand, but she looked up at me and I knew it was time.  I picked her up, set her in the soft, new cat bed I just purchased the day before for her, and carried her to the couch where we curled up together.  We sat that way for three hours, when I finally woke Honey.  It seemed that with that last contact, Hero said it was time and that was that.  My furry soul mate was gone.

I still can't believe it.  I had her cremated and put in something that doesn't look so creepy-urn-like:

and then I bought some "Black Hero" tulips and planted them in the yard:

I cannot begin to express how devastated I was, but those of you who have pets who are like family will understand, I am sure.  Hero's passing did allow us to expand our family...a lot.  I was already planning on adopting two manx kittens (from a litter that a former student & his wife had, a surprise from adopting a stray summer of 2009), and then I saw a beautiful tabby who looked a lot like Hero (except this cat had a tail) for adoption at the local shelter.  We ended up with all three within about two weeks of Hero's leaving.

I love my fur babies.  I can't imagine life without them.  And I am so thankful for the additions.  But I still miss my Hero.  And I wish that I could forget her meow and that last awful night.  My mother says that even though the evening was devastating, it showed my connection with Hero, because she wanted to wake me up (and she waited for Honey to get up), rather than hiding as cats are wont to do when the end is near.  Perhaps that is true.  It is comforting to think that it is, and so I'll run with that idea.

There are many, many more things in life that I wish I could forget: corporate greed, wars, plagues, pestilence, famine, genocide, and people who are cruel and inconsiderate just because they can be. Just because they are selfish.  The world is filled with awful things that would be really depressing if one just focused on that side and didn't see any of the good.  We could look at people helping after natural disasters, or people helping others just because, and realize that life is not all bad.  There are certainly plenty of glimmers of hope and beauty all throughout the world.

Perhaps because all of these things play into who I am, who we are, what the world is, maybe it's best to remember the slogan of Holocaust survivors: Never Forget.  After all, if ever there was a group of people who should be allowed to forget horrors, it's that group, and they remind us every day of the importance of remembrance.

Day 20: A Picture of Someplace I'd Love to Travel

Today's task in the Thirty Day Challenge is probably the easiest of the whole month (that's good, I need a freebie!).  I love to travel.  Thankfully, Honey does, too.  We love people-watching, the excitement of the airport, the thrill (and slight terror) of flight, the adventurism that accompanies exploring a new place and trying to learn a modicum of new language in order to communicate.  The one thing that I do not like about travel (in fact, I hate it!) is leaving my furry babies.  Being gone for ten hours at work is hard enough -- leaving for days at a time is sheer torture!  If I could bring them with me everywhere I went, I would.  Since I can't, I try to plan well in advance and look hard to find someone I trust to stay with them 24/7.

This summer, we'll be returning to Vietnam.

We hope to make a stop in Thailand while there.  My furry babies will be with a brother, who has promised to care for them like his own.  (Truth be told, I'll probably return home and find my plants dead but my furry babies fat and happy -- this brother likes to give the babies extra food and spoils them a bit.)

I am happy to return to Vietnam.  But if I had my choice of returning anywhere, it would be to Prague, the most beautiful city in the world.  I love Prague.

Of course this post is not supposed to be about returning somewhere but about exploring someplace new.  New how?  If the answer is "new as a couple," then I would like to return to South Korea -- a place Honey hasn't seen -- or Israel -- a place we've both been to but never together -- or go to Greece, where Honey has been but I have not.  I might also choose Austin, Texas, but that is only for the food.  Specifically one restaurant. 

Honey raved about it enough that if I were a gazillionare with my own jet I'd probably hop over and check it out for myself.  I could say the same thing about going to San Jose, CA.  Honey has a beloved restaurant and I am all about food, so of course I want to go.

This picture of Mezcal was taken from their FB page.

If, however, I am "supposed" to be talking about a brand new place, someplace neither one of us has ever been, a place made for exploring, I have a few cities at the top of my list:

Found this via Google's image search

Istanbul.  Beautiful.  Historic. 

Ditto to the Google image search.

Buenos Aires.  "Paris of South America."  It has a large population of Jews and the only kosher McDonald's outside of Israel (as far as I know).

Unfortunately, both of these cities tend to fall outside our budget range, which is why we haven't had a chance to go yet.  But one day I hope to see these beautiful sights...and then maybe get around to the "new to us as a couple" locations as well.

Day 19: A Picture of When I was Little

I'm the oldest. These are a few of my siblings + our dog Blackie.

I don't remember much about when I was little.  That's probably the result of a somewhat stressful existence.  I have found, as I get older, that children are very resilient.  Pictures tend to show a happy side of childhood.  In fact, I had no idea how stressed and overwhelmed I was or how different our lives were compared to others because I didn't know any better at the time.

My brothers have a much better memory, and while I think that their experiences were less stressful than mine, they did have to deal with their own share of garbage.  Now, because they are good storytellers and they have good memories from this time, they regale us with humorous tales after dinner parties.  Of course one has to laugh to keep from crying. 

I didn't quite realize how controlled our childhood was until Bestie #2 pointed out that it wasn't normal for children to get a beating for getting into the fridge or cupboard between meals.  One of my brothers said that he remembers a shocking day in fifth grade when he was visiting a friend: the friend stood up in the middle of playing, went to the fridge, and got something to drink.  You can do that?!? You can just get something to drink any time you want??  It was a new concept.  Honey said that he was aware of this eleven years ago during the first overnight stay at my family's house (we were visiting for the weekend, I believe).  In the morning we had a pancake breakfast -- which meant, in my world, that everyone got one pancake.  Apparently this was a shock to Honey, who still put up with it nicely.

Yes, we were poor growing up.  But life was also quite controlled.  There is a reason why when I participated in a mini-boot camp as a teenager it felt like a week's vacation.  There is a reason why I knew how to wash clothes in a bucket when visiting Vietnam a few years ago and why I was okay with taking showers using two gallons of water in a bucket.  There is also a reason why I absolutely hate camping and refuse to "rough it" any more as long as I am in the States.  (I can be flexible elsewhere.)

I do not wish my former life --at least the few bits & pieces I can remember -- on anyone.  But in all honesty I have to be thankful for all of these experiences because they made me able to relate to the kids that I taught and the experiences made me the tough person I am today.

(At least tough on the exterior. Inside I'm a big softy full of insecurities.  But you probably already knew that.)

Day 18: If at first you don't succeed [scream, shout, pout, and then], try, try again

Day 18 of the Thirty Day Challenge is supposed to be all about one's biggest insecurity.  How is a person just supposed to pick one?  My dirty little secret is that I have many.  Ask my Honey, who knows and still puts up with me.  Of course I have the "normal" insecurities about weight, hair, shoe size.  Then I have a few more courtesy of all the years that I was the weirdo girl that few people liked -- usually these revolve around the fear of offending people, fear of awkward silences, fear of interaction, fear of rejection, fear of still being the weird girl few people like.  Still more insecurities are courtesy of Crazymaker: when anything is out of place in my house, it causes heartburn.  There is a reason why the house is vacuumed at least once a day (and no, it's not just because we have five furry babies).  So what am I supposed to choose?

The answer came today as I was trying to do a few art projects.  It's been a while, and so even though I have plenty of other things I should be doing, I decided to take some time for art.  This was an appropriate choice for the day because it showed to me that I still have a long way to go on my journey to creative recovery.

My first project for the day was to take these two cupboard doors that I bought at the Habitat store for $1 each and turn them into art.

The wonderful blogger at I'm a Mom, Not A Professional posted a great how-to on making silhouette art with contact paper for those of us who covet a Silhouette Machine and can't afford it.  Genius!  And I love cherry blossoms.  I took this idea and the dark cabinet and ran with it.

First of all, I must say it probably would've turned out better if my contact paper wasn't old and wrinkled.  Lesson #1 of the day.  Then I realized that this would still take plenty of time and patience because I needed to use an x-acto knife to cut this detailed picture.  Yikes!

I pressed the contact paper on, sprayed the door, used some sandpaper to distress the edges, and then pulled up the contact paper...only to find out that it wasn't laying completely flat (see Lesson #1 for the day) and so there are smudgy/blurry parts.  I was upset.

Confession: I love doing art projects, but I like feeling like there's a point/purpose/usefulness to the project.  That is part of the reason why I get so disappointed when things don't turn out.

I turned my sights to other art.  I found a pretty tree silhouette and a pretty picture of a girl sitting down and thought "I wonder if I could paint something like that with both images."  And so I tried:

The first time I tried, I didn't even make it to the image of the girl because I messed up on the tree trunk.

So I tried again.

While putting on the "finishing touches" I accidentally smudged it, tried to cover the smudge with a branch extension, and ended up being displeased with the whole result.

By this time, I was getting frustrated.  Honey at first didn't even want to talk with me because of my mood, but then I calmed down enough to hear reason.  Honey pointed out that art is supposed to be fun and relaxing, so if it's turning into a stress machine then I should leave it.  I've never taken art classes and have no idea how things are supposed to work, so I should chill.  Why do I need constant validation?  And it's okay to have things not turn out the way I want them to the first time ("Not so!" says my Guilt Monster, who likes to remind me that everything should have a purpose.  Go away, Guilt Monster!)  Most importantly, I should be doing projects because I like them, not because of what other people think.

That is when it hit me: I'm still stuck in my desperate and ridiculous need for approval.  My biggest insecurity: not being good enough.  And that is what drives me to do a bazillion things, work 20 hour days, forget how to say no and put up boundaries, and do all the other crazy things that I do.  It's in an effort to say "I'm valuable! What I do has worth! I'm good enough!" even when I don't feel that way.  Sad, I know, but true.  And something I'll try to fix because it's not a good way to live.

In the meantime, I tried the painting again.  A third time.  And while I am not entirely satisfied with it, I did discover that foam board makes a good and cheap "canvas" (Lesson #2) and that I need to stop trying to overdo it with trees (Lesson #3) and it's okay to not have everything be perfect (Lesson #4).

That's a lot of lessons!  I think it's time for a nap.