Two For The Books (or blog)

What do we not see in this picture, folks? 

Can anybody tell me? 

An obnoxious, red "MaintReq" light. 

Baby's first oil change! 

Day 2 of adulting went indefinitely different than Day 1. 

I boldly walked into Benton County Tires, (with my car key pre-taken off the ring), announced my name and appointment time, told them the year and make of Beastie (my Rav), handed over the keys and my coupon, and took a seat while the professionals did their thing. 

Now, I have a light-less car and may have even had my tires rotated. Still not sure why that is a helpful thing, but mostly I'm excited about the light being off. 

To temper my "adult" move, here's a picture of how I accidentally closed a tree branch into my car door. 

While we're on the topic of being a responsible adult, here's another small win that I've been waiting to reveal until it became a pattern, not an idea.

I wake up at the ungodly time of 5:30.
I started this last week during MomWeek2014.
Except this time, I was the mom.
TO MY DOG

Needless to say, it was magical. I could smatter this whole post with pictures of our moments together, but that would reveal just how obsessed I am with my small creature...

ANYWAY, little man wakes up at 5:30 (ish).
So, I started waking up them, feeding him, taking a bike ride, coming home to do my morning devos, then writing my thesis for an hour before getting ready for work.

I am still behind on submission schedule (was meant to submit a first full draft last saturday) but I edited my first chapter and wrote a second one doing this system.

What it's gonna take to get this done is channeling crazy college jamie.
There's a lot about her that I hope to never, never revive, but college jamie knew how to get crap done. That's for sure.

Goal finish date for chapter 1 is Monday.
Ready go.

The Path to Adulthood is Slippery

When I was a kid, I sucked at almost everything.
Because, duh, I was a kid.

I have this pretty ugly habit, though.
Of HATING things that I suck at.
So, naturally, I hated most activities.

Mostly I liked to swim.
I was good at swimming.
I'm still good at swimming.

Kids' parties which involved ice skating or roller skating were the worst. I would not even condescend to try and participate.

My very kind and socially aware mother put me in ice skating lessons. roller skating lessons. tennis lessons. volleyball lessons. basketball lessons.

Wanna know how much of those I cried through?
Dang near straight through the whole freaking entire first lesson.

I still suck at ice skating and roller skating (and still refuse to participate. When I go roller skating, I run around in socks, which is enormously more fun).
I straight up quit tennis.
Volleyball is a no go.
Basketball is on a "will if I have-to" basis.

But, during the lesson versions of those things (except tennis. I did not make it through tennis. Or that second volleyball camp), I got over it after the first lesson, even if I didn't love it.

My initial response to new things is frustration to the crying degree. Flash flood temper.

Yesterday, a "MainReqd" light came on in my car.
Checked the oil.
Rechecked it because no one believed I could do it right.

And it was decided that I needed an oil change, not really because I believe I need one but because I want that awful light to go off and leave me be.

Took it in during my lunch break; it was busy and I was super confused.
I felt really stupid and asked stupid questions and tried to be calm.
Did my shopping while I waited.
and waited.
and waited.
and what was supposed to take 15-20 minutes was an hour in and they still hadn't looked at my car.

I then gave up.
Took my car back to work.
And cried about it to be pretty honest.

Why?
Because I cry when I'm frustrated.
Which is frustrating.
And makes me cry.
It's a pretty vicious cycle.

But I got back to the office, asked around for really anywhere alternative for oil changes, sent an inquiry email, which I followed up with a call, scheduled an appointment, and even printed off a coupon from their website.

Two steps backward in the maturity sphere, but you can't be good at something you haven't tried before (unless you are literally the worst person in the universe. seriously. keep that stuff to yourself. we will key your car. in love.).

Now I know.
I know what kind of oil my car uses.
I know where to take it and where not to take it.
I know to use the internet instead of calling my dad first and panic him.

Next time, I'll kick this oil change in the trunk.

Find that Funny Bone

There are wrong times for comic relief.
Believe me, I come from a family where we deal with (most) emotions by dealing out humor.

However, never underestimate the power of humor to dissipate anxiety and anger.

In my Family and Human Services classes, we learned about "repair attempts."

It's those things you do that bring uncontrollable situations into the realm of "Okay I can handle discussing this" again.

Sometimes, that's a 5 minute time out. For my professor's wife, all it takes is him touching her on the arm. I'm not sure what mine is, but I know that something that does work for me often is being taken off-guard by something that makes me smile. Sneak attack humor!

There's been a couple situations weighing on me pretty heavy since I got home (which makes some serious sense, considering how much drastic change I've gone through in such a short period of time), and twice yesterday was I brought out of my seriousness and into clarity.

The first was bestowed upon me by my boyfriend, who decided--mid-conversation about the acceptability of having feelings (something I struggle with sometimes) to ask me whether I thought women or men would live longer should one of their limbs be cut off, given that women are so much more conditioned to losing unreal amounts of blood. It was so...random. And I laughed.

Laughter has actual effects on the body.
Listen to just one of its benefits, stolen from the Mayo Clinic's website:
"Laughter enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain."

Later, I was at a party, where I came across two people I never anticipated being at said party. During the course of the evening, I ended up in the same conversation circle, and a mutual friend of myself and one of said non-wanteds was brought up.
This new acquaintance could not have known the context for why bringing up this mutual friend was funny, but it was enough for both me and the ex to have a moment of significant, amused eye-contact. Our first positive interaction in more than half a year. It was good.

My point in bringing up laughter and amusement and conversations/people I don't like is to say that even matters that seem so hard and fast in one direction can be altered with the smallest of actions.

It reminds me of something I read on pinterest once:

Laughter reminds us that we are human. And no matter how full of red hot emotion, are not unable to find a point of connection and relatability.

It's All In Your Head

No, I haven't been writing.

No, I haven't been writing at all.

Not letters, not content for my job, not in my journal, not on my blog.

The only word document that's gotten any love from me over the last month is my dissertation.

Let's be honest, it isn't going very well.

Sure, the research is done and the brainstorming has happened, and I've organized all my quotes and primary sources, but the actuality of writing this is just not coming along.

Wrote 4400 words.
Submitted them.
Received comments back saying it was interesting but needed an entirely different focus and direction.

I have a secret for you.
Please don't tell.
The literary community as a whole will for sure judge and ostracize me.

I don't get it.
I don't get literature.
Or its purpose.
Or why anyone would spend years of their life writing about literary theory.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love literature--to a fault really.
I also enjoy reading up on the theory of it.

But what is the purpose?
I can't find it.

And because I can't find it, I can't write it.

Somehow, literary theory is like math to me.
And results in very near hysteria from me.
Okay, so not "very near".
Actual hysteria.
The hissy fit kind.

The truth is, professor, that I can't write on how the knowledge of family structure and mental health illuminates a global understanding of the literature because I don't know myself.

It's the same struggle I have with other human beings.
I can see when they are feeling something, but I don't know what it is or why or how to go about deciphering it.

My vision is so literal. It isn't for lack of study or effort on my part. It feels as though I am blind and deaf to that sort of thinking.

So yes. This is me admitting that I have spent four years of university coping, finding alternative strategies to writing my literature papers in order to avoid literary theory.

Remember that "impostor syndrome"?
In this area, it really isn't so much of a syndrome so much as it that I really have been tricking people into thinking I know what I'm doing and have now been found out.
I haven't the faintest idea of what I'm doing.


So yes, my life is full of wonderful things.
I'm so glad to be here in Siloam.
I love my job.
I like being around my friends and housemates so so much.
My blog writing will probably be filled primarily with strategies, small wins, and struggles of writing a dissertation for a few weeks.

Baby's First College Fair

Things I got paid to do yesterday:

1. Take a road trip.
2. Tell a whole bunch of high school seniors why JBU is the best dang place in the whole wide world.
3. Hang out with two of my favorite admissions counselors.

Is my job awesome? Why yes, yes it is.

Yesterday, Austin, Brandon, and I piled into our company Prius, and headed on down to Conway, Arkansas to reel us in some of them smartypants kids from the Arkansas Governor's School.

Our trainer Hannah was supposed to accompany us but unfortunately, she fell ill at the last minute. It was actually kind of nice, though, gave us a chance to be shoved out of the nest and fly by ourselves.

Mostly that involved dancing to "Fancy" (which is a completely ridiculous and mostly horrible song, but also horribly catchy) and gushing sparkles from our personality reservoirs

One down, 4322567214 to go (give or take).

Adulting

Multiple times over the past few months, I would have an abolute panic attack about this whole adult thing, moderated by times when I was like, "Oh no prob. I can take on the world." (Literally).

I feared that I would be totally faulty at my job, totally unable to cope with the Big Move, and totally overwhelmed by the sheer responsibility and commitment of a full time job.

That last part may still give me some nightmares, but overall, I have a little wee comment.

My brother Chon told me, upon my most recent freak out in May, that the best way to cope with it is just to do it. I just have to do it. And the fact of the matter is that I might actually be inadequate at my job, have moments of sucking at this new/old culture, and overwhelmed, but I would be superhuman (or inhuman) if that were not true.

He also sent me a link to Paramore's song, "Ain't it Fun".

Chon was right.

With enormous things, sometimes the only choice you have is just to turn around and face it, even if you don't think you have much to face it with.

There's a chance that I wrote on this before (worth writing on again), but a few months ago, I was reading the Bible and re-read the section of the armour of God:
Ephesians 6:10-13:

¹⁰ Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. ¹¹ Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. ¹² For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. ¹³ Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.

And after you have done everything, to stand.

We align ourselves with Jesus, put what we've got on the line, and then we wait and we trust that if have followed where He led us, then He's going to show up and give power to our meager attempts at being sufficient.

We show up.

We turn and face our giants.

We adult.

And everything is okay.