long lost livejournal
Again, it's been a while. Whatevs. I felt like writing in an electronic, non-secret, non-old-fashioned journal. And typing is easier than writing, I find. Aw, that makes me sad to realize. I need the machine. Again, whatevs. It might be a long one. I have a lot of updates...
My enter, shift, and up arrow keys don't work anymore. It makes me desperately sad. I don't know how this happened. Yes I do, I spilled nail polish remover on my computer. It could be worse. I could be missing, like, the letter "e" or, OH, the "delete" key. Those are both one-of-a-kind. Luckily, my precious Mac has two shifts and two enters. Only one up arrow, but those really aren't necessary unless one takes up computer games... Tetris doesn't need an up arrow, and if it's good enough for tetris, it's good enough for me.
One week of break left, I can't believe it. It's been productive, but letting go of my lazy self is difficult. I'll explain. I'm actually very proud of the time I've spent over break. It's been a good balance of fun and productivity. Not as much productivity as I'd hope (cough, honors thesis, cough, Devils in Disguise, cough), but I'm human and I'm on break. I think I'm so used to valuing that nothing time when I can just veg out and read and sleep 11 hours a night and watch trashy cable tv that I almost have to remind myself that I'm not disappointed by how I squandered (or the opposite, really) my break.
I just got back from AHMI (that's American Humanics Management Institute for all you plebes), which was amazing. I was looking forward to it all semester then started to dread it once it started approaching and I wanted to revert back to potato mode. It was such a reinforcement of where I'm going with my education and my life. So inspiring. The program is so connected, I feel so lucky to have found something that gets me going. At the end of last semester when everything exploded and I decided to do nonprofit, my dad (who is amazing) sent me an email of wisdom including a quote I just rediscovered:
Gil Bailie, "Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
I wish I'd gotten started on this earlier. I wish I'd realized what makes me come alive when I had more than a year before my ideal graduation date. Why didn't anyone tell me that senior year in high school? or even freshman/sophomore year in college? I'm doing all this grad school research, and I'm like, oh my god, I'm the worst candidate ever. I have a lot going for me, but not as much as I'd like. Not as much as I COULD. Isn't that the way it always goes. I've been looking at the masters in public administration b/c it's a really valuable degree for going into the social sector, but after this weekend, I'm thinking about a masters in public policy instead... I never realized how interested in policy and policy reform I was. I'm thinking even more about a concurrent MPA/JD, which a lot of schools, I've found, are doing... which would be perfect. and ridiculously intense. and you have to apply separately to the masters program and the law school, and I don't know if I'd make it into the law school... let's be honest. I mean, grad school is impossible, and the chances are slim for anyone really to make it into two competitive programs at the same school.
I'm not giving up on my thesis. Partly because I'm so inspired by AHMI and partly because I need all the ammo I can get when I'm trying to convince grad schools I'm worthy and studious (lies) and passionate (truth). Here are some words because my brain can't seem to form sentences regarding the dreaded honors thesis (let alone a topic, let alone an entire 60-100-page paper): literacy, nonprofits, quality of life, books, strategic plan, youth, urban. That's all I got. I may use any or all of those words in my paper. I need to stop neglecting my director. I hope he's not fed up with me. If he drops me, I will probably cry.
My grandmother died last week. It's weird. It's saddest when it's harder to reconcile life than it is to deal with death. I mean, she did have Parkinson's, and she's been dying for as long as I can remember, so we've all had a good 16 years or so to be ready for it. It's been a rough last couple months. Not like her deterioration became any more quick even, I think she just reached that obvious point of no return the day after Thanksgiving and progressed from that point to last Wednesday just as steadily as she'd reached it. On top of that, she's never really been that milk and cookies grandma. She never liked kids (although she had 6...), so I don't think she particularly liked being a grandmother, or a mother even. Those are actually my mom's words, which breaks my heart. I didn't cry about my grandmother dying, but I cried at that. I guess that's what I mean by it's harder to reconcile life than deal with death. Her and my mom's relationship was always strained. It's not her fault, really, she and HER mother (grandmother and great-grandmother) had an even more strained relationship. She wasn't dealt the best hand. I think if she'd been born in a different age, she'd have been able to be happy and live the life she wanted to live without the pressures of getting married and having children. and maybe I wouldn't be here. Maybe if she'd have just been able to wait longer and she wouldn't have been forced into it so young she'd have been able to have both. I take myself on a trip thinking like that, that if she hadn't had my mother (or her other 5 children), she'd have been happy, and maybe she'd have treated those close to her in a way that they'd be sad when she died. Or maybe if it weren't for the Parkinson's she'd have been a more pleasant person (although my mom says that wasn't around before the Parkinson's) and less demanding. I'm sure that was harder for her to deal with than other people because she was apparently always very headstrong. It's hard for anyone to need help going to the bathroom or come to terms with the fact that they really won't ever walk again. but you know, you have to play the hand you're dealt. There's even less reason to not have learned that yet when you're in your 70s. I try to paint for myself this noble, strong portrait of my grandmother because that's what I so want so badly to see and to remember her as; I want to see a real-life example of a woman straight out of a Kate Chopin story, forced into a life she never wanted, rebelling against the societal chains of her day. but I remember her hanging up on my mom and not speaking to my mom for months and refusing to move into a place where there were people who could help her and modifying doctors' prescribed dosage of her medicine and almost manipulating my grandpa out of knee surgery b/c he wouldn't be able to take care of her while he recovered. My grandmother is the reason I never liked Kate Chopin. There's independent and strong then there's overbearing and selfish. It's difficult to let myself think these things about my dead grandmother because they sound as heartless to me as they do to anyone I express them to (if I did express them to anyone, aside from my mom, but she understands so that's an exception). but trying to flip it only makes it worse. I need a little time to think this way, then hopefully I'll be able to accept the excuses and really respect her in a genuine way, not just they way people do in obituaries and eulogies.
It's not an easy death I guess. Not easy. Simple is a better word. Death is never really easy. It's not a simple, cut and dry, death->mourning->recovery kind of death with all the expected emotions.
Anyway, it's 2:30 and I have Special Olympics at 9 tomorrow, so I hope I've blown off enough steam to get some sleep.
My enter, shift, and up arrow keys don't work anymore. It makes me desperately sad. I don't know how this happened. Yes I do, I spilled nail polish remover on my computer. It could be worse. I could be missing, like, the letter "e" or, OH, the "delete" key. Those are both one-of-a-kind. Luckily, my precious Mac has two shifts and two enters. Only one up arrow, but those really aren't necessary unless one takes up computer games... Tetris doesn't need an up arrow, and if it's good enough for tetris, it's good enough for me.
One week of break left, I can't believe it. It's been productive, but letting go of my lazy self is difficult. I'll explain. I'm actually very proud of the time I've spent over break. It's been a good balance of fun and productivity. Not as much productivity as I'd hope (cough, honors thesis, cough, Devils in Disguise, cough), but I'm human and I'm on break. I think I'm so used to valuing that nothing time when I can just veg out and read and sleep 11 hours a night and watch trashy cable tv that I almost have to remind myself that I'm not disappointed by how I squandered (or the opposite, really) my break.
I just got back from AHMI (that's American Humanics Management Institute for all you plebes), which was amazing. I was looking forward to it all semester then started to dread it once it started approaching and I wanted to revert back to potato mode. It was such a reinforcement of where I'm going with my education and my life. So inspiring. The program is so connected, I feel so lucky to have found something that gets me going. At the end of last semester when everything exploded and I decided to do nonprofit, my dad (who is amazing) sent me an email of wisdom including a quote I just rediscovered:
Gil Bailie, "Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
I wish I'd gotten started on this earlier. I wish I'd realized what makes me come alive when I had more than a year before my ideal graduation date. Why didn't anyone tell me that senior year in high school? or even freshman/sophomore year in college? I'm doing all this grad school research, and I'm like, oh my god, I'm the worst candidate ever. I have a lot going for me, but not as much as I'd like. Not as much as I COULD. Isn't that the way it always goes. I've been looking at the masters in public administration b/c it's a really valuable degree for going into the social sector, but after this weekend, I'm thinking about a masters in public policy instead... I never realized how interested in policy and policy reform I was. I'm thinking even more about a concurrent MPA/JD, which a lot of schools, I've found, are doing... which would be perfect. and ridiculously intense. and you have to apply separately to the masters program and the law school, and I don't know if I'd make it into the law school... let's be honest. I mean, grad school is impossible, and the chances are slim for anyone really to make it into two competitive programs at the same school.
I'm not giving up on my thesis. Partly because I'm so inspired by AHMI and partly because I need all the ammo I can get when I'm trying to convince grad schools I'm worthy and studious (lies) and passionate (truth). Here are some words because my brain can't seem to form sentences regarding the dreaded honors thesis (let alone a topic, let alone an entire 60-100-page paper): literacy, nonprofits, quality of life, books, strategic plan, youth, urban. That's all I got. I may use any or all of those words in my paper. I need to stop neglecting my director. I hope he's not fed up with me. If he drops me, I will probably cry.
My grandmother died last week. It's weird. It's saddest when it's harder to reconcile life than it is to deal with death. I mean, she did have Parkinson's, and she's been dying for as long as I can remember, so we've all had a good 16 years or so to be ready for it. It's been a rough last couple months. Not like her deterioration became any more quick even, I think she just reached that obvious point of no return the day after Thanksgiving and progressed from that point to last Wednesday just as steadily as she'd reached it. On top of that, she's never really been that milk and cookies grandma. She never liked kids (although she had 6...), so I don't think she particularly liked being a grandmother, or a mother even. Those are actually my mom's words, which breaks my heart. I didn't cry about my grandmother dying, but I cried at that. I guess that's what I mean by it's harder to reconcile life than deal with death. Her and my mom's relationship was always strained. It's not her fault, really, she and HER mother (grandmother and great-grandmother) had an even more strained relationship. She wasn't dealt the best hand. I think if she'd been born in a different age, she'd have been able to be happy and live the life she wanted to live without the pressures of getting married and having children. and maybe I wouldn't be here. Maybe if she'd have just been able to wait longer and she wouldn't have been forced into it so young she'd have been able to have both. I take myself on a trip thinking like that, that if she hadn't had my mother (or her other 5 children), she'd have been happy, and maybe she'd have treated those close to her in a way that they'd be sad when she died. Or maybe if it weren't for the Parkinson's she'd have been a more pleasant person (although my mom says that wasn't around before the Parkinson's) and less demanding. I'm sure that was harder for her to deal with than other people because she was apparently always very headstrong. It's hard for anyone to need help going to the bathroom or come to terms with the fact that they really won't ever walk again. but you know, you have to play the hand you're dealt. There's even less reason to not have learned that yet when you're in your 70s. I try to paint for myself this noble, strong portrait of my grandmother because that's what I so want so badly to see and to remember her as; I want to see a real-life example of a woman straight out of a Kate Chopin story, forced into a life she never wanted, rebelling against the societal chains of her day. but I remember her hanging up on my mom and not speaking to my mom for months and refusing to move into a place where there were people who could help her and modifying doctors' prescribed dosage of her medicine and almost manipulating my grandpa out of knee surgery b/c he wouldn't be able to take care of her while he recovered. My grandmother is the reason I never liked Kate Chopin. There's independent and strong then there's overbearing and selfish. It's difficult to let myself think these things about my dead grandmother because they sound as heartless to me as they do to anyone I express them to (if I did express them to anyone, aside from my mom, but she understands so that's an exception). but trying to flip it only makes it worse. I need a little time to think this way, then hopefully I'll be able to accept the excuses and really respect her in a genuine way, not just they way people do in obituaries and eulogies.
It's not an easy death I guess. Not easy. Simple is a better word. Death is never really easy. It's not a simple, cut and dry, death->mourning->recovery kind of death with all the expected emotions.
Anyway, it's 2:30 and I have Special Olympics at 9 tomorrow, so I hope I've blown off enough steam to get some sleep.