Well, the trip to Chicago wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I've been dreading it all semester, and my anxiety level escalated when I realized I was going to have to ride there in my advisor's vehicle, all by myself. Think about how many opportunities a person can have during a 4.5 hour car ride to misspeak and therefore to tank one's academic career. But, it was mostly okay and I think even if it hadn't worked out alright, it might have been worth it in order to see the buildings we visited. My advisor arranged for our class to tour four private residences (the Frank Thomas House, the Robert Spencer House, the Charles Purcell House and the William Drummond House), and that opportunity will never happen again, so that was nice.

Still, two field trips to Chicago is at least one too many during a semester when I'm driving back and forth to Indiana every other weekend.

Who gets to decide how much "potential" I have in me? My report cards in grammar/junior high/high school were very consistent: nearly every one noted that "Susan is not working up to her potential." (The corollary to that, appearing nearly as often, is "Susan has a bad attitude," but that's another post.) My entire school career was thus characterized by failure. I should be doing better in class, but I'm not. I should be a better citizen, but I'm not.

The point is, in graduate school, I get a lot of feedback about my potential. (Another aside: I had no obvious potential as an undergraduate. Mostly my professors wished I wouldn't sleep so much in class. I'm not making that up.) I understand that professors like students who show up on time for class, do the reading, fill in the awkward silences in seminars, and compose grammatical sentences in their research papers. And I do like getting feedback on my work, and it is nice to know that I don't sound like a complete idiot when I hold forth in class. Still, once someone starts making positive sounds about a student's work, there's always that specter of "failing to live up to one's potential" hovering in the background.

It's so easy to not live up to your potential in graduate school, maybe because so many people have so much invested in your success. If I listed off the number of people who have some sort of aspirations for my academic career, I'd be here all night. Everyone seems to have somehow magically assessed my potential for academic success, and part of me would love to fail just to make people think twice about the assumptions they make about me. If I could figure out a way to do it without losing my student health insurance, I'd probably give it a try.

So, yesterday I saw a girl get run over and killed by a bus. Or, rather, I didn't see it, even though I was looking right at the bus when it happened. Maybe that's why I'm so upset--it seems like if an 18-year-old girl is going to be killed in front of me, the least I could so is see it. Did I glance away at just the right moment? I can't remember, and what I do remember doesn't seem to match up with what must have happened.

I'm pretty sure I saw the bus come to a stop. I must have, it was turning into the street in front of me. And I think I must have thought, "Oh, it is stopped because a student is crossing even though the bus is trying to turn," or something like that, because I think that a dozen times every time I drive near campus. But I don't really know. I know the bus stopped and eventually I realized it wasn't moving again, but even then, I didn't see. I had a conversation with myself about how it was really a good thing that traffic was stalled because I didn't have much money to put in the meter, so if could spend a few minutes stopped in traffic, that would put me in the parking lot that much closer to five o'clock after which time parking would be free.

I don't know when I really looked at what was in front of me--never, really. It just dawned on me that people weren't moving properly, the people on the sidewalk, I mean. And I remember thinking, "Oh, god, I hope the bus didn't stop because someone jumped off that building and committed suicide." Why would I think that? It doesn't even make sense. Yes, there's a tall building right on that block, but why did I think that (other than the fact that twice people have jumped off buildings right outside my office in the past ten years)? So, I talked to myself about how I hoped no one jumped off the building, and how something bad is obviously going on right here, and if I turned off could I figure out how to get to where I was going? Because I haven't lived here long enough to know how to get anywhere, really.

And by then, of course, I knew it was really bad. I have been trying to figure out exactly how things happened, but it just seems like there were people there, and then there were sirens, and then I was turning off and heading in a different direction. I drove around for a bit, then felt sort of drawn back, so I parked in the library parking lot. I knew it was really bad then, because the police had put up yellow tape to keep traffic out and there was a (second?) ambulance (for the bus driver?). I spent two hours in the library trying not to think about it, but the bus was still there when I came out, waiting for me.

Since I didn't see...it didn't happen. It didn't happen for me until I was walking to school this morning and I saw the flowers on the sidewalk--why didn't I take a different route to school? Why did I stop for coffee before class this morning? I usually don't, and when I don't, I walk up Wright, and then I wouldn't have seen anything this morning.

If I did see anything. I know what I think I saw last night, but I also know it couldn't have happened that way. I know for part of today I remembered the bus facing one way, then for the rest of the day, I remembered it facing the other way, which I think is the right way? It was facing me to the south, right? Well, I know what I didn't see, but I can't figure out how it's possible that someone can be killed right in front of me yet I can't see it. But I didn't see what was right in front of me, and that seems really, really wrong.

I decided quite awhile ago that this wouldn't be another one of those cloak-and-dagger-life-in-academia blogs. You know the ones I'm talkng about? The ones with authors who all seem to be sporting flashy noms de guerre and all refer to their family members with catchy pseudonyms or abbreviations? (Note to those blog people--if you're in academia and you identify your subject of study and the fact that you're in a tenure-track position in a major midwestern state school, I can find you in less than 10 minutes whether you want me to or not.) I hate the kind of rhetoric that floats out from behind these masked identities. People seem to think that because they are "anonymous," they are somehow protected from institutional control, and thus their writing is more "real" and "accessible" since it is "uncensored" and "tells it like it really is." My opinion? We could use a little more self-censorship on the web. If you can get fired for saying it in public, make a choice: either say it outloud anyway and really challenge the system, or keep it to yourself. Speaking out when there is nothing at stake isn't particularly useful. More importantly, it isn't particularly interesting (to me).

That's actually two decisions I made: 1) don't write a whiny "the academy sucks and this is why" blog with a fake name and location (I'm at University of Illinois @ Urbana-Champaign if you couldn't figure that out for yourselves) and 2) never read anonymous blogs again. Decision #1 wasn't particularly drastic--I don't write in any form of journal much anymore, so not going through the effort to write long (yet mysterious) passages on the view from the second floor of the ivory tower isn't exactly a hardship. Decision #2 required some thought, but then I realized, of all the anonymous blogs I read, I only ever enjoy one. I'd much rather read Francis' thoughts on can openers or Josh's take on Rex Morgan than...well...I won't link to the kind of writing that bores me to death. There's critical, and then there's mean, and I'm not in the mood to be mean.

Left Bloomington on Saturday, drove to Illinois w/Garry and Amanda following. G & A did the hard parts of unloading the truck, but at least we took them to dinner at Dom's. Slept on the floor so they could have the bed Saturday night. Too old for this kind of stuff. Trying to get everything organized, Catherine is focusing on the kitchen. Trying to remember this downward mobility is temporary and I'll eventually be back in a nice, clean, stable, lower-middle-class home. Met w/advisors, bought the books, classes start tomorrow. I guess they'll be keeping me busy.

A Lifetime of Birthdays

18th - Nike golf shoes and a golf bag from Village Green in Port Orchard
19th - On the ranch. Elsie's sour cream white sheet cake w/guitar.
20th - Would have been on the ranch. A vague memory of watching TV at my grandmother's.
21st - Just back from the Soviet Union. A barbeque w/my parents and aunt using the green sauce I smuggled out of Soviet Georgia.
22nd - Must have been at my parents in Loomis. Living in Seattle.
23rd - First summer in Bellingham, just back from the Soviet Union. Must have been at my parents.
24th - Leaving for L.A., driving to David's in Eugene from Seattle.
25th - Working for Ron, must have been at my parents in Loomis.
26th - First birthday w/Catherine, Oregon Zoo t-shirt.
27th - Can't really remember.
28th - Can't really remember.
29th - Must have been the year we went to Ashland/Jacksonville. Dinner at the Greenleaf Restaurant.
30th - Woke up puking in Beloit, Wisconsin. Arrived in Bloomington, dinner w/David and Jen, Kes was fed up w/me.
31st - Moving to the house, staying at David and Jen's. Spent the night at the Grant St. Inn, salmon dinner at the Uptown.
32nd - Might have been the year we went to the Indiana State Fair to see Reba.
33rd - Can't really remember.
34th - Can't really remember.
35th - Woke up in a cabin on Skykomish River, went for a run. Drove to Seattle, dinner at the Mongolian barbeque, Catherine bought me a couple of books at Bailey/Coy. Stayed on the MV Challenger, had a daytrip to Tillicum Village. Biggest birthday ever.
36th - Woke up in Pokagon State Park. Catherine gave me Douglas the skunk. Ended up at Bear Creek Farm for the night. Pretty well documented online.
37th - Low key, just back from vacation. Bought an ice-cream cake from Ritter's, had Garry and Amanda over.
38th - Indiana State Fair to see Garrison Keillor. First birthday party ever. Garry and Amanda hosted surprise party w/Diane and Garrett, Henry and Erika. Grace slept on my lap.
39th - Can't really remember, other than the fact that Catherine hooked me up with high-speed internet for a present during the first week of classes.
40th - Dinner with Dana, Craig, Jonah, Evie. Catherine arranged for us to take a sail on the lake while we were in Chicago.
41st - Trip to the National Corvette Museum and Mammoth Cave, Kentucky.
42nd - Bhopal in silence (2009).
43rd - Sugarland w/Little Big Town at the Indiana State Fair, movie (Nanny McPhee Returns), lunch at Bucceto's, chocolate cake.
44th - Bowling. I had to teach on my actual birthday (2011) but Beth W. took me out to dinner (donation by Catherine).
45th - Dinner at Bucceto's, chocolate cake. Mammoth Cave, Kentucky.
46th - Thai food in Charlottesville, first day in Esmont.
47th - Niagara Falls, overnight in Buffalo, moving to Boston.
48th - Attempted to make my own cupcakes. Tropical sprinkles with plastic zoo animals (2015).
49th - Saturday rocket launch with CMASS, Sunday visit to Gropius house, Thai food for dinner, camping the next weekend.
50th - Started the day before with a total solar eclipse! Catherine bought me a Burke whistle, which I played for the first time at the rental house in the Alvord desert. Lisa tried to make a cake, but it ended up as chocolate mousse. Liz drove up from California. When we got back to Massachusetts, there was a Pikachu cake!

51st - Not a big celebration, feeling blue because of Fern and Lee. But another Pikachu cake! Two lovely books from Catherine (a medieval bird book, a book on underwater archaeology). Maynard Community Band concert.

52nd - Catherine bought us tickets for a weekend in Rockport! Summer Celtic Sojourn, "Celtic/Appalachia" and "Strings on Strings." Fantastic! A nice Airbnb in Gloucester. French bakery on the final morning. Pikachu plays the fiddle cake!

53rd - A Happy Pandemic Birthday. Made a peach cobbler. Catherine gave me two Carpenters albums (vinyl), four books (Maya glyphs, Egyptian hieroglyphs, two hiking books), zoo membership, pizza, played bocce.

54th - Camping at Massasoit State Park. Cut short thanks to Hurricane Henri. Run in the rain at the park. Fungarium book, virtual ukulele camp, carrot cake, zoo animal (Vicki the Sloth Bear)

55th - Camping at Lake Dennison, a little bit of stargazing. Lemon cake (1/2 100 days of violin reward), banjo uke. Great bird songbook, Danish string quartet CD.

56th - Another fantastic lemon cake. Went for a boat ride on the Blackstone River on Sunday. A run in the morning, out to dinner in the evening. A Low D Whistle, a book about the East India Co., an alabaster bowl and scarabs from Egypt.

57th - Up at 4:30 for a run (short 4.5 miles, cut-back week while training for NJ 50K). Cute Pokemon card from Catherine. Had a normal work day, violin lesson. Had an S&T folk get-together on Saturday after, with a birthday cake featuring chickens and hay bales. Presents: new blankets, book on women in the Valley of the Kings, sea monster tshirt, running socks, Taylor Swift music books, Shokz headphones.

Tonasket High School Class of 1985 20th Class Reunion.

T minus 7 and counting.

От старых друзей весточки нет, грустно.
А на душе от свежих газет пусто.
И от несвежих - невелика потеха.
Правда вот был армейский дружок - уехал.

Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.
Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.

Запил сосед - у них на фабрике стачка.
С чаем беда - осталась одна пачка.
На кухне записка: "Не жди, останусь у Гали".
По телеку рядятся, как дальше жить - достали.

Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.
Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.

Скорей бы лед встал. Пошел бы тогда на рыбалку.
Чего бы поймал - знакомым раздал, не жалко.
Луна появилась и лезет настырно все выше и выше.
Сейчас со всей мочи завою с тоски - никто не услышит.

Ой-йо, ой-йо, ой-йо.
A если не услышит, ой-йо!

So that's it, then. My boss handed me my last paycheck, thanked me for my work, and shook my hand in farewell. One year of work--finished. I feel a little sad, because these past two weeks, with the clock running out, I liked my job. It was a lot like it was at the beginning, with a lot to do, much to be taken care of. I'm consoling myself with the knowledge that my affection for this position surely would have been short-lived; reality has a way of showing up again in the end.

My boss is going to be in a world of hurt without me, I can say that. I don't think he's realized how much I've been doing around here. Even worse, I don't think he realized how much more I could have done, if only he'd given me the chance. His loss. Now he doesn't have anyone to help him. Not that I'm irreplaceable, but he'll have a hard time, I think. I'm proud of what I've done in the last year. It's a heady feeling, looking around a construction site, knowing that a certain wall is located just where it is because I told them to put it there. I could have had them put it a half-inch or a half-foot in the other direction, but I didn't. Good, strong stuff.

Anyway, that's over and done with, and we'll just have to see what happens next.

On a partly un-related note, I've decided this is a good time to take an extended vacation from the chore of updating this page. I've been keeping an online life chronicle for four years now, and I stopped learning about myself in the process of doing it about two years ago. For the past six months or so, this journal has been limping along on crippled legs. For the last two months, it's been kept alive only by the internet equivalent of an iron lung. This seems like the right time to let it go for awhile. Feel free to check back in a few months--only about half of the goodbyes in the world turn out to be forever.

We had a great weekend. I am in love with the Raymonster. Seriously.

Yesterday was a surprisingly good day. It's like everything good was waiting to happen on one particular day of the year, and that day of the year was apparently February 28. Who knew?

1. Realizing you don't suck, you just need to get your skates sharpened.

2. Informing your boss in a no-nonsense voice that No, you cannot stay on an extra two weeks.

3. Arriving home to find the order from Powells has *finally* arrived.

4. Being accepted into the grad program of your choice.

5. After two years of fussing, planning, waiting, buying a new drum set.

6. Managing to wash a week's worth of dirty dishes and discovering that you still have time to read before bed.

If I'd known how much better work would be once I'd given my two-week's notice, I would have quit a long time ago. I hand in my resignation, my boss hands me back my dignity. Nice trade. Somewhere in there is a heavy dose of irony, but I don't have time to look for it right now.

In other news, the afghan I'm working on is going well. I've got about a month of crocheting on it ahead of me, but I think it will stretch longer because I'm going to start this one as soon as I get the yarn. Working w/the afghan hook all evening tires out the hands; working a second quilt w/a K-size hook will be a nice alternative.

Anyway...I lack the motivation to document the details of my life, so I'm not going to do it for now. I'm going out of town for the weekend, maybe something so exciting will happen while I'm gone that I will be compelled to return to the keyboard afterward. On the other hand, maybe I'll just return home to my recliner and spend some quality time with a skein of yarn.

It's been a horrible, terrible experience--the kind of time when you find yourself standing on the bank of the river, wondering what it would feel like to drown. At least, that's where I've been the past several weeks. To his credit, my boss didn't make it worse when he could have, and I'm really not sure why, but I'm pretty sure I don't care anyway. In a couple of weeks I'll start a new job, and maybe we'll back away from the flood waters for awhile.

Mary Ann's article.