Good luck charm?

Yesterday, a bird pooped on me.

I was sitting outside trying to calm down before class--I was fired up about the lousy feedback I got on that paper last week and anxious about going before the firing squad with the next one--and had just started to cry a little (Press pause for a minute here. I think people who don't cry a lot just don't get this. It's like turning a valve to let some pressure out, that's all. It's not always bc we're sad. Got it?) Okay, so I'd just started to cry a little, and splat! there's bird crap on my brand new jacket.

Bird crap will snap you out of a funk pretty quick if you have any sense of humor at all. And I guess mine is still in tact, because I giggled, got up, went inside to clean it off, and went on with my day.

My presentation was only a little bit painful, and now it's over. But I'm still a little raw about it. And not looking forward to writing my seminar paper for this course if it's going to get the same kind of critique. I'm learning, right? I'll be better next semester.

This reminds me of something I was talking to a friend about while waiting for the train last night. As Ph.D. students, we're in this strange position where some profs treat us like colleagues and others treat us like students. And then there are some who treat us like students but expect us to operate on the same level as colleagues. Eh, this is all getting kind of convoluted, but here's what I'm trying to get at: I'm not as well read as my profs, I'm not as experienced as a teacher, and I've never done a panel presentation where people asked questions to try to implode my argument--and I'd like for someone to teach me, or at least let me know what the expectations are before I'm in water above my head and just barely floating.

I admit, a big part of this is my fault--I don't ask for help until I'm in trouble. But part of that is that I'm usually good at school stuff and don't need help. After I screw up, well, then I know to ask for help, but up until that point, I think I can get by the way I always do.

I'm trying to turn this into a learning experience instead of what it feels like right now: that I've been slapped on the wrist and and sent to the corner to think about what I've done. I know it's not that personal, but it just feels shitty. So...how do I make that productive? How do I laugh at the bird poop on my jacket and then get to work on my next paper?

Counterproductive

I have (day)dreams of living a normal life...getting up in the morning, driving to the office, sitting in my cubicle for the next 8 hours, driving home, cooking dinner and watching TV until bedtime. Going on actual dates with my boyfriend instead of just talking on the phone 2 hours a day (some days, not all!) and having something to talk about besides how I'm (not) adjusting to life in Chicago.

I am really, really torn. A couple days ago, I was torn enough to cry for oh, I don't know, about 4 hours straight. Today, I've got that under control, but I'm still feeling really--off.

I'm not a quitter, so even though I have major doubts about the rightness of me being here, I'm in it for the long haul. Unless something more practical and more pleasant somehow hits me upside the head. Hence the title of this post: Counterproductive. This little emotional crisis I'm having is definitely not helping me get stuff done. Not helping me write poems, even though I play the angsty poet card all the time. Not helping me be successful at anything.

I took the MFA path to see if I could really be a writer. And I found out I can. Am I taking the PhD path to find out if I can really be a scholar? Because that's what it feels like, but that's not exactly what I'd intended. Do I really want to teach? Or do I just want the benefits of an academic schedule? These are questions that I am constantly asking myself...and I can't come up with an answer.

Another issue I'm having is that my family is really, really important to me and it is absolutely breaking my heart to be away from them. I thought because I wasn't married and didn't have children that I somehow didn't have roots and could go where ever I wanted. How stupid am I? My home is my parents and my sisters...not northeast Ohio. They used to tease me about what a Mama's girl I was. When I was little, I hated sleepovers because I got homesick. When I went to girl scout camp, I had to sleep next to the troop leaders or I wouldn't sleep at all. Everyone said I would never move away...and I hated it. I hated thinking I was that needy, that dependent. And now I realize they were right. Sure, it's gotten easier since that first week when I was blocking my door with piles because I didn't trust the deadbolt...but it still doesn't feel right.

People are telling me I haven't given it enough time...but in my experience, when something is this hard to adjust to, it's usually because it isn't right.

Alas, like I already said, I'm not a quitter. So nothing is going to change, except now the whole world knows how I'm feeling. That's okay. I'm kind of an open book anyhow.

Tears & Rain

It's a soggy morning in Akron. In more ways than one.

I've always had this problem where the only way I am able to express negative emotions is by crying. Whether I'm angry, frustrated, stressed out, embarrased, or sad, I cry. This has perplexed my family, friends, and especially ex-boyfriends all my life. This morning it befuddled Nephew/Roommate, although I don't know why because he's been on the recieving end of my crying jags more than most people in my life. Once it was over whether or not to put vanilla in our french toast batter. Once it was because he wasn't playing with my barbies the way I wanted him to. (He was the only boy in the family until he was 10. He didn't have a choice.)

I knew it was coming. I've been feeling like my insides were trying to explode for about a week. I'm glad it happened over a stupid roommate squabble instead of a stressful situation at work. That's always embarrassing. Hard for people to take you seriously when you're weeping, you know.

Anyhow, I got it out of my system and I'm better now.

Any other cry-ers out there?

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Oh, and say hello to Jen, the newest NEOMFA blogger. Jen, I'm so glad you're blogging!