Can't Sleep... Clowns Will Eat Me.
I'm about to head off to bed, but I wanted to just skim the top off of the whirlpool of thoughts I've been living with these days, hopefully making it that much easier to rest peacefully tonight as I'm starting to get back into that panic-mode pattern where I wake bolt upright out of a deep slumber several times a night remembering something else to add to my To Do lists (usually something quite important that I had previously overlooked which makes me nervous thinking about what else I may have forgotten and thus sends me into a chaotic thought-storm that robs me of any more sleep for several hours).
Anywho, I'm meeting for one last time with my former major professor tomorrow (er, just checked on the time... later toDAY), and I'm in kind of a tailspin about it. I don't want to be melodramatic, but in a lot of ways, this particular goodbye is a lot more poignant than any of the others. I adored my major professor -- still do. She represents everything I wanted for myself in the academic world. She's brilliant, but down-to-earth, bold and sassy, but highly respected and accoladed. She loves what she does, and she is damned good at it. She's just one of those handful of women I have come across in my academic career upon meeting whom, I paused and thought, "Yes! That's who I want to be when I grow up!". But now I find that my dreams for myself are changing, and while I do still believe that I will someday achieve the characteristics that I so appreciate and admire in my major prof, my ideals about the specific job that I pictured for myself have obviously changed. And, you know, it's still a little sad to let go of that. Especially when I was wanted here so badly, and so particularly by this prof. But if anyone can understand my jumbled reasonings for leaving, I have a feeling that she will. So I am looking forward to talking with her and dreading it all at the same time. She says she hopes we will keep in touch over the years to come. I for one plan to hold her to that.
More snow yesterday has brought our total up to well over DOUBLE the annual average. It's funny how all winter I've been asking people, "This is an unusual winter, right?", and the locals kept shaking their heads and saying, "Nah, you should've been here the winter of '79. Now THAT was a wild one!". But now that we are apparently setting records left and right, even the old-timers are gazing at the sky and saying, "Christ, will this snow ever end?". Here's hoping for some much-needed sunshine in the next week as I begin my packing/moving adventure. I sure as hell don't wanna have to drag my shit through five inches of snow in order to load it onto the danged POD.
It's been so sad saying goodbye to my students this week. We Catholic gals (even of the recovering kind) are still mighty susceptible to guilt, and I have had far more than my fair share flung at me these past few days. I am absolutely 100% positive that these kids can muddle on without me and will do fine with whoever is hired to be my replacement. But the way some of them look at me with such big sad puppy-dog eyes I begin to find myself wondering, "Will the next tutor be as gentle as I am with prodding them in their Spanish conjugations? Will s/he hold these students' hands and help them through that algebra expression or will s/he abandon them to the wilds of the learning resource center... alone?". Whatever. I know deep down that I will be but a faint and distant memory by the time Spring Break is over around here, let alone a few more weeks into the term. But it would be nice to think that all my time and devotion and energy will mean something to these young'uns when I'm gone... even if it's just that silly little rhyme I taught them to remember how to do order of operations exercises.
You know, at night time here I can listen to the train whistles blowing from a few blocks down the way. It's not a sound you hear too frequently in Pinellas County anymore, though there were train tracks running right through my neighborhood when I was young -- built to carry oranges away from Thurston Groves. Ah, Thurston Groves. Once the last remaining privately-owned orange grove in the area, now the latest in large suburban housing developments, forcing the local residents to consider widening the road in front of it that used to be practically a country lane. One thing I will definitely miss about small-town Indiana -- life here still seems awfully real sometimes, in comparison.
Well, on to bed then. Will update on the Big Move '08 (bookend to the Big Move '07 which took place only seven months ago) over the weekend, I am sure. You know, when I need to start procrastinating on filling up those boxes.
But good night for now!
Anywho, I'm meeting for one last time with my former major professor tomorrow (er, just checked on the time... later toDAY), and I'm in kind of a tailspin about it. I don't want to be melodramatic, but in a lot of ways, this particular goodbye is a lot more poignant than any of the others. I adored my major professor -- still do. She represents everything I wanted for myself in the academic world. She's brilliant, but down-to-earth, bold and sassy, but highly respected and accoladed. She loves what she does, and she is damned good at it. She's just one of those handful of women I have come across in my academic career upon meeting whom, I paused and thought, "Yes! That's who I want to be when I grow up!". But now I find that my dreams for myself are changing, and while I do still believe that I will someday achieve the characteristics that I so appreciate and admire in my major prof, my ideals about the specific job that I pictured for myself have obviously changed. And, you know, it's still a little sad to let go of that. Especially when I was wanted here so badly, and so particularly by this prof. But if anyone can understand my jumbled reasonings for leaving, I have a feeling that she will. So I am looking forward to talking with her and dreading it all at the same time. She says she hopes we will keep in touch over the years to come. I for one plan to hold her to that.
More snow yesterday has brought our total up to well over DOUBLE the annual average. It's funny how all winter I've been asking people, "This is an unusual winter, right?", and the locals kept shaking their heads and saying, "Nah, you should've been here the winter of '79. Now THAT was a wild one!". But now that we are apparently setting records left and right, even the old-timers are gazing at the sky and saying, "Christ, will this snow ever end?". Here's hoping for some much-needed sunshine in the next week as I begin my packing/moving adventure. I sure as hell don't wanna have to drag my shit through five inches of snow in order to load it onto the danged POD.
It's been so sad saying goodbye to my students this week. We Catholic gals (even of the recovering kind) are still mighty susceptible to guilt, and I have had far more than my fair share flung at me these past few days. I am absolutely 100% positive that these kids can muddle on without me and will do fine with whoever is hired to be my replacement. But the way some of them look at me with such big sad puppy-dog eyes I begin to find myself wondering, "Will the next tutor be as gentle as I am with prodding them in their Spanish conjugations? Will s/he hold these students' hands and help them through that algebra expression or will s/he abandon them to the wilds of the learning resource center... alone?". Whatever. I know deep down that I will be but a faint and distant memory by the time Spring Break is over around here, let alone a few more weeks into the term. But it would be nice to think that all my time and devotion and energy will mean something to these young'uns when I'm gone... even if it's just that silly little rhyme I taught them to remember how to do order of operations exercises.
You know, at night time here I can listen to the train whistles blowing from a few blocks down the way. It's not a sound you hear too frequently in Pinellas County anymore, though there were train tracks running right through my neighborhood when I was young -- built to carry oranges away from Thurston Groves. Ah, Thurston Groves. Once the last remaining privately-owned orange grove in the area, now the latest in large suburban housing developments, forcing the local residents to consider widening the road in front of it that used to be practically a country lane. One thing I will definitely miss about small-town Indiana -- life here still seems awfully real sometimes, in comparison.
Well, on to bed then. Will update on the Big Move '08 (bookend to the Big Move '07 which took place only seven months ago) over the weekend, I am sure. You know, when I need to start procrastinating on filling up those boxes.
But good night for now!