In another attempt to delay the microbiology homework at hand, I return to my blog.
I've officially entered my last semester in what has turned out to be the longest undergraduate college career in history. The reality of the situation has hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks: eight years and tens of thousands of dollars later, I have earned (or will, if I can survive the final semester) the equivalent of a high school diploma. My original plan--finish the Physician Assistant graduate program in outstanding fashion and go on to save poor starving people in third world countries--doesn't seem very likely at this stage of the game. Who knew at the start of my education journey that upon completion I'd be old and just barely holding together a household with two much more opinionated children? Damn you, blind optimism...
I've been told flexibility is important for survival--which goes against every let's-make-a-plan-and-stick-to-it fiber of my being. So, in the name of personal growth, I've reevaluated where I'm at and where I'm going...and I've decided that I'm packing my bags and moving to Portland. Possibly Seattle. My backup plan is to attend Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and complete a master's program in epidemiology. Possibly infectious disease. I'm equally optimistic about either plan...
I'm neurotic today because...
The countdown to graduation has begun...118 days, 22 hours, 54 minutes, and 1 second (seriously, I'm counting) until I don the cap and gown and drag across the stage at Johnny Unitas Stadium the shell of what used to be a highly motivated overachiever.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
For My Running Partner, JB
I'm not sure whether it's naivety or narcissism that leads me to believe I can do whatever I want.
Yesterday I completed my first half-marathon, 13.1 miles. Was I the fastest? Not by a long shot. Did I run the whole race? Nope, I took a five minute walking break. But with very little training, I ran--albeit slowly--nearly 13 miles. And I cheered myself 100 feet into the race because I had officially gone further than my uncle Greg could (so he says).
As I was chugging along, I began thinking of how running a marathon is much like childbirth.
First of all, you must breathe through the pain and pressure. Accessing your quiet place is a must. Granted, I had my share of doubts going into the race. I knew I was ill-prepared. I mentally listed all the reasons why this could end in disaster. What if I trip from exhaustion and sprain an ankle? What if I stroke out from dehydration? What if I have bathroom issues from nerves or my donut breakfast? It wasn't until about mile 3 that I actually began believing I was not going to die in this foolish attempt to prove something to myself.
Secondly, much like childbirth, you have difficulty walking the next day. And sitting? Forget about it. I have muscle pain in muscles I didn't know existed before today. I'm choosing to believe that even the young bodies needed an ice-down...just like childbirth, you need those Tucks medicated pads no matter how old you are when you push that watermelon of a kiddo through your hoo-ha.
In both childbirth and marathon running, sometimes you poo yourself. It's true, I've seen pictures. This was a real, totally unfounded concern for me going into this race. I have a stomach of steel....there was absolutely no reason for me to believe I would have a problem. But still, I had visions of the sag wagon scraping my humiliated carcass off the pavement and delivering me to a victorious running partner awaiting me at the finish line. Regardless, I took a huge gamble going into mile 6 and snatched up one of those energy gel packs at the water station. My only other experience using them actually did cause severe stomach cramping. This is how arrogant I was feeling about half way through this race. I took the chance and sucked down that green apple gel like it would cause me to sprout wings and fly over the finish line.
I can't explain how, despite never running more than 5 miles, I ran nearly the entire half-marathon. I discovered a new part of me...someone who can focus so intently on accomplishing one single goal that she can ignore all the self-imposed doubts and totally unfounded neuroses. Sure, I didn't post the best time. I wasn't even close to being middle of the pack (because mediocre is usually my goal). But running the half marathon is something I did solely for me...to prove I could. So whether I'm naive or narcissistic, I'm going to continue to do whatever my little heart desires...because I can.
I'm neurotic today because...
...I forgot the pain with my first sip of post-race beer. Much like childbirth.
Yesterday I completed my first half-marathon, 13.1 miles. Was I the fastest? Not by a long shot. Did I run the whole race? Nope, I took a five minute walking break. But with very little training, I ran--albeit slowly--nearly 13 miles. And I cheered myself 100 feet into the race because I had officially gone further than my uncle Greg could (so he says).
As I was chugging along, I began thinking of how running a marathon is much like childbirth.
First of all, you must breathe through the pain and pressure. Accessing your quiet place is a must. Granted, I had my share of doubts going into the race. I knew I was ill-prepared. I mentally listed all the reasons why this could end in disaster. What if I trip from exhaustion and sprain an ankle? What if I stroke out from dehydration? What if I have bathroom issues from nerves or my donut breakfast? It wasn't until about mile 3 that I actually began believing I was not going to die in this foolish attempt to prove something to myself.
Secondly, much like childbirth, you have difficulty walking the next day. And sitting? Forget about it. I have muscle pain in muscles I didn't know existed before today. I'm choosing to believe that even the young bodies needed an ice-down...just like childbirth, you need those Tucks medicated pads no matter how old you are when you push that watermelon of a kiddo through your hoo-ha.
In both childbirth and marathon running, sometimes you poo yourself. It's true, I've seen pictures. This was a real, totally unfounded concern for me going into this race. I have a stomach of steel....there was absolutely no reason for me to believe I would have a problem. But still, I had visions of the sag wagon scraping my humiliated carcass off the pavement and delivering me to a victorious running partner awaiting me at the finish line. Regardless, I took a huge gamble going into mile 6 and snatched up one of those energy gel packs at the water station. My only other experience using them actually did cause severe stomach cramping. This is how arrogant I was feeling about half way through this race. I took the chance and sucked down that green apple gel like it would cause me to sprout wings and fly over the finish line.
I'm neurotic today because...
...I forgot the pain with my first sip of post-race beer. Much like childbirth.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
I Should've Probably Thought About This Before Now
It occurred to me today while sitting in BIOL 408: Cell Biology that I really could give a frick about cell biology. I mean, really. Cisternae in mitochondria? Who cares? Western blots, Northern blots, Southern blots, Eastern blots, blah blah blahts. This is, of course, perfect timing to check out mentally, considering I'm just one microbiology class away from earning a Bachelor of Science degree in--you guessed it--cell and molecular biology.I've reached an interesting point in the program, actually. There are those people, like my new found friend Ryan, who are serious brainiacs (and ipso facto, make me feel slightly retarded in comparison). This dude is that kid in high school you hated because he got straight A's without doing any work. I, however, forgive him for being obnoxiously intelligent because he brings me coffee every class. Plus, he's entertaining. For instance, when we had to get up in front of the class to present a diagram, he pulled up a circa-1998 jock jams song on his iPhone and sashayed to the podium, so as to make a "proper entrance". He's also been known to have Tourette's-like outbursts of "I'mabout to make a scene!" or "I know that's right!". Tonight during a fellow classmate's journal presentation, he busted out, "I'mabout to knock that gum right outta her mouth!".
Which brings me to the second type of student: the Idiot.
Thank sweet Jebus for the Idiot, really, because without them I'd probably cry myself to sleep. I do think it's more than slightly shameful for a senior in college to lack the skills required for an oral presentation. Yes, sweetheart, you look adorable in your little Ugg boots and freshly bleached hair, but power point slides are meant for bullet points, not the entire journal. If I wanted to read the journal, I would, well...read the journal.
I'm neurotic today because...
...I can't wait to graduate college, be tens of thousands (!) of dollars in debt, and find a career only slightly related to the BS degree it took me 8 years to earn. (At least 8...I lost track.)
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Physics Will Solve Itself
If ever you receive $200 worth of speeding tickets in one night and find yourself *not* angry, you know you're in a good place.
It's not that I have an extra $200 laying around to fork over to the state of Maryland, but it seems silly to be upset (about being penalized for something for which I'm totally guilty) when I have so much Awesomeness in my life. Sure, I could (and do) spend time complaining about my miserable 9-5, or the classwork I rarely understand, or the constant challenges of motherhood (or as I like to refer to it, Just-Survive-The-Next-Ten-Years-Without-Major-Catastrophe), but it's important, I think, to just visit Misery...don't take up permanent residence.
Life is hard. And interesting. And complicated. And beautiful. I say, if you need to cry, cry. If you're angry, be angry. If you're joyful, scream it from the proverbial mountaintop. Own your emotions. Allow yourself to be wherever you are...but then let tomorrow be a new day.
Have compassion for others and do good work...and believe good things will come full circle (see: Tara.) I've been blessed with friends who accept me in all my nerdy, neurotic glory; I have siblings who are my best friends; I have children who respect and admire me, despite my many, many flaws; I have parents who unconditionally and enthusiastically support all the things I get myself into; and I constantly have new people come into my life to show me the value in slowing down, enjoying quiet moments, and focusing on all the Awesomeness of Life.
Be these things to other people, and allow the people in your life to be these things for you.
I'm neurotic today because...
...I have spent the greater part of two hours sipping coffee, philosophizing, and revamping the blog layout. I suppose physics will solve itself.
It's not that I have an extra $200 laying around to fork over to the state of Maryland, but it seems silly to be upset (about being penalized for something for which I'm totally guilty) when I have so much Awesomeness in my life. Sure, I could (and do) spend time complaining about my miserable 9-5, or the classwork I rarely understand, or the constant challenges of motherhood (or as I like to refer to it, Just-Survive-The-Next-Ten-Years-Without-Major-Catastrophe), but it's important, I think, to just visit Misery...don't take up permanent residence.
 |
| Goddess of Universal Compassion |
Have compassion for others and do good work...and believe good things will come full circle (see: Tara.) I've been blessed with friends who accept me in all my nerdy, neurotic glory; I have siblings who are my best friends; I have children who respect and admire me, despite my many, many flaws; I have parents who unconditionally and enthusiastically support all the things I get myself into; and I constantly have new people come into my life to show me the value in slowing down, enjoying quiet moments, and focusing on all the Awesomeness of Life.
Be these things to other people, and allow the people in your life to be these things for you.
I'm neurotic today because...
...I have spent the greater part of two hours sipping coffee, philosophizing, and revamping the blog layout. I suppose physics will solve itself.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Here's to a long, snowy Baltimore winter!
I almost lost my life yesterday...and I'm being only slightly dramatic.
A dusting of snow blew through the Baltimore area yesterday, ushering in with it the first round of panicked winter drivers. Poor planning and procrastination landed me at Target just as the skies began to go gray in anticipation of the impending fluffy (flooofy) stuff. Twenty minutes and $145 later, I evacuated Target and started the ten minute trek home.
An hour and a half later, I was still sitting on York Road. Generally speaking, I don't get upset about traffic. First of all, I rarely sit in traffic; secondly, the road was slick, so why be angry? We're all in the same boat, right? So I took the extra time in my car as an opportunity to Shazam some new songs from the radio. No big deal. And the fact that I rarely clean out my car means I could survive for weeks, if need be, from the contents of my trunk. (I have junk in my trunk, if you will.) So let there be a blizzard for all I care.
And then Angry Man in the Suburban arrived. I was creeping along in an endless procession of cars, enjoying my one-woman concert, when a very large Suburban-type vehicle decided to attempt a merger where no merger existed. Entering from my left, the mammoth truck approached my car and stopped within a foot or so of my driver side door...and in the process, blocked two lanes of traffic attempting to pass in the opposite direction. Confused, I spent the next five minutes (because, again, no one was moving) trying to determine what he wanted--behind me? in front of me? I just had no idea because his maneuver was just that asinine.
Of course, I chose wrong. Using my common sense (I can't move forward or backward), a little rough math (he was a smidgen too close), and the physics I just earned an A with (forces acting on a mammoth object on an incline plane), I decided he needed to merge behind me. There was no way he was making it in the space in front of me, even if he wanted to...which, based on his next move, he did. The two feet I finally moved forward prompted the most INSANE display of road rage to which I have ever bore witness:
"You [expletive] idiot! You [expletive] idiot! You should've let me go! Aw, shut up, you [expletive] stupid [expletive]! I can't believe you, you stupid [expletive]!"
Not only was the man screaming at me, he put his car in park, braved the 27 degree weather, and advanced in my direction to do so. I definitely saw the vein pulsating on his forehead, his crazy eyes glaring at me as he planned my slow painful death. I attempted to reason with the man, starting to explain that according to my calculations, there was no way he could even fit in the space in front of me...but then he called me a stupid [expletive], so I just shrugged my shoulders and ignored him. I figured if he did decide to kill me over two feet, there were enough witnesses to testify that he, indeed, could not fit in front of me.
So, yeah, that was the amazing start to my favorite season of the year. And this story took front seat to my story of accidentally walking into the men's room at the movie theater, and my account of accidentally forgetting which house was my friend's, ringing the wrong doorbell, and waking up a 90 year old man in the process.
I'm neurotic today because....
...after Angry Man in the Suburban merged behind me, I demonstrated my good will by allowing every car I possibly could to merge in front of me. Yeah, it made my drive longer...but it also made my point.
A dusting of snow blew through the Baltimore area yesterday, ushering in with it the first round of panicked winter drivers. Poor planning and procrastination landed me at Target just as the skies began to go gray in anticipation of the impending fluffy (flooofy) stuff. Twenty minutes and $145 later, I evacuated Target and started the ten minute trek home.
An hour and a half later, I was still sitting on York Road. Generally speaking, I don't get upset about traffic. First of all, I rarely sit in traffic; secondly, the road was slick, so why be angry? We're all in the same boat, right? So I took the extra time in my car as an opportunity to Shazam some new songs from the radio. No big deal. And the fact that I rarely clean out my car means I could survive for weeks, if need be, from the contents of my trunk. (I have junk in my trunk, if you will.) So let there be a blizzard for all I care.
And then Angry Man in the Suburban arrived. I was creeping along in an endless procession of cars, enjoying my one-woman concert, when a very large Suburban-type vehicle decided to attempt a merger where no merger existed. Entering from my left, the mammoth truck approached my car and stopped within a foot or so of my driver side door...and in the process, blocked two lanes of traffic attempting to pass in the opposite direction. Confused, I spent the next five minutes (because, again, no one was moving) trying to determine what he wanted--behind me? in front of me? I just had no idea because his maneuver was just that asinine.
Of course, I chose wrong. Using my common sense (I can't move forward or backward), a little rough math (he was a smidgen too close), and the physics I just earned an A with (forces acting on a mammoth object on an incline plane), I decided he needed to merge behind me. There was no way he was making it in the space in front of me, even if he wanted to...which, based on his next move, he did. The two feet I finally moved forward prompted the most INSANE display of road rage to which I have ever bore witness:
"You [expletive] idiot! You [expletive] idiot! You should've let me go! Aw, shut up, you [expletive] stupid [expletive]! I can't believe you, you stupid [expletive]!"
Not only was the man screaming at me, he put his car in park, braved the 27 degree weather, and advanced in my direction to do so. I definitely saw the vein pulsating on his forehead, his crazy eyes glaring at me as he planned my slow painful death. I attempted to reason with the man, starting to explain that according to my calculations, there was no way he could even fit in the space in front of me...but then he called me a stupid [expletive], so I just shrugged my shoulders and ignored him. I figured if he did decide to kill me over two feet, there were enough witnesses to testify that he, indeed, could not fit in front of me.
So, yeah, that was the amazing start to my favorite season of the year. And this story took front seat to my story of accidentally walking into the men's room at the movie theater, and my account of accidentally forgetting which house was my friend's, ringing the wrong doorbell, and waking up a 90 year old man in the process.
I'm neurotic today because....
...after Angry Man in the Suburban merged behind me, I demonstrated my good will by allowing every car I possibly could to merge in front of me. Yeah, it made my drive longer...but it also made my point.
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