It's Official

It's official- I am a Master of the Arts. My defense on Friday afternoon went as smoothly as these things possibly can. I was still relatively blase about the whole process and tired of my subject, but I suppose that is somewhat normal after working on the same thing for over 2 years.

My best friend since elementary school showed up to watch. She was the only spectator in the room and I'm grateful that she did decided to come despite some bad weather. It was nice to have someone else there besides the 3 Professor's who were examining me.

I was asked the next day how it felt. To be honest it just feels like another day and nothing much has changed. Perhaps that is because it is so anti-climatic after such a huge push and so much effort. Or maybe I won't really process it and feel the difference until the day I graduate and receive my degree parchment. Another big reason why it is just another day for me is because there is no break between MA work and Ph.D work. I have to spend some significant time in the library in the next few days to finish up a big project for a class, prepare a presentation for the same class this week, complete all the readings for this coming week and finish the edits for my MA so I can hand in the final, clean copy on Monday afternoon to the old university. I also have a 30 page paper to finish researching and write up which was from a course I took last semester. The pressure really isn't letting up and I'm not so sure how that makes me feel about the course I've set myself on.

I received the above pictured flowers from the Jock to congratulate me on finishing my MA. That is a whole other story right there.

An Incomprehensible Loss

There are times in a person's life when words fail. Now is one of those times. A very good family friend and a man I consider as a brother has experienced a heartbreaking loss this week. He and his wife were expecting their first child this coming May. Late last week she went into early labour, and despite the best efforts of the Doctors they were only able to stop her premature labour for a few days.

On Monday morning she gave birth to a tiny baby girl. Their little angel weighed in at barely a pound and a half at 23.5 weeks. She was born alive, but once the umbilical cord was cut she didn't make it. A private funeral is being held tomorrow followed by interment. This is a loss I just can't make sense of.

I can't even begin to understand what the family is going through, let alone his wife who returned home Monday afternoon, without her baby. They are a young couple, only a year or two older than myself, and were so excited to be starting their family. I sit here in tears for them, but I know my grief is nothing compared to their own. Tomorrow while I'm defending my Master's thesis they will be burying their tiny baby. Life just does not make sense to me right now.

Life Moves Forward

From a Recent Ice Storm

The date for my thesis defense is January 26th from 1:30-3:30. I know I should be nervous but I'm not really. I just want this last step over and done with so I can move on with my life.

Family History

While slogging through one of the readings I have to finish before class tomorrow I came across a line that really struck me.

"Any life story, written or oral, more or less dramatically, is in one sense a personal mythology, a self-justification."

This really brings into fresh focus my paternal Grandfather and his desire for one of my cousin's and I to collaborate in writing his biography. It is a request that I have a hard time acquiescing to for various reasons. I have difficulty putting in to words exactly why this project makes me cringe, but this line really sums it up for me- personal mythology and self-justification.

Ironically I'm more qualified now to write an accurate history of his life because of my academics, but it would be a biography that would most likely displease him. My biography would be quite different from my younger cousin's interpretation of his life which would dwell more on the myth of the figure than the reality. Also, she's just finishg up a degree in Criminology and English which again shapes her perspective. I've made no moves whatsoever to begin this project, however my cousin has bought him a tape recorder to record his personal anecdotes and things he believes are important aspects of his life.

At some time I'd like to write my family history since it is complex and interesting, but my grandfather will be one figure in the story and not the key component. I think I'm more interested in the lives of the women of my family and their personal stories.

A Surprising Discovery of Emotions

Optimism. For the first time in a very long time I feel optimistic about the future. However, I'm scared to let myself dream.

I'm scared that if I allow myself to hope and anticipate that it will all come crashing down around me. Just when I feel like my dreams are a possibility again, I find myself tempering my new found spark of joy with a healthy dose of pessimistic caution. Too much has happened to me in the past year for me to blithely abandon myself to the possibilities of what may come.

I desperately hope that I have turned a corner and the worst of it is now behind me, but to assume as much would be woefully ignorant of me.

The Downward Slope

These Orchids were one of the Christmas presents from my Father to my Mother this year.

Tomorrow I go to pick up my thesis from my advisor. It is the last round of revisions before I send it out to my committee to read before my thesis defense. I know I should be nervous but I just want it done and out of the way already. The copies of my thesis will be in my committee members hands by Monday morning sometime, and I hope to have a defense date set for the following Monday. This truly is the downward slope of an uphill battle and I'm exhausted. I haven't slept or eaten properly in well over a month. I've been averaging 4 hours a night or less to finish this up so I can begin my Ph. d this semester. I can't wait to graduate from my MA.

A Quiet New Year

I spent New Year's Eve at my parents house. The house was virtually empty since it was just my parents and I at home last night. For the most part I spent the evening in my father's office, resignedly working on my thesis in the hopes of completing it before the end of the year, while my parents watched a movie in the next room. I did however, take a break from work to spend a little time in front of the fire reading a book and enjoying something other than hard work. It was kind of a nice way to spend the night and I didn't miss the crowds and feverish celebrations at all.

Merry Christmas Mr. Intellectual

I miss you, but I can’t reach out to you anymore. I don’t know if you’re still dating her and still against having anything to do with me or not. It’s only a matter of time before we run into each other somewhere. I want to know how your first semester at the post-graduate program went and how your family is doing. I want to know if you’re happy and still as deeply passionate about History as you used to be. I want to see you smile.

Right now I would give just about everything to turn back the clock to three years ago when we celebrated our last Christmas together. As difficult as that was, it was much simpler than what I’m trying to handle right now.

I hope above all, that you are happy with where you are in your life right now.

Home for a Rest

I came back to my parents house a few days earlier than planned. Originally I was supposed to head home Saturday morning for the Christmas festivities. However, that plan changed rather quickly as I started to have a personal meltdown over the difficulties I'm encountering with completing my Master's degree. Between the stress of finishing and my issues with my advisor I was sliding fast.

I don't do well during the Christmas holiday's to begin with. Something with having to go places I'm not particularly keen on going, and putting on a good face to keep up appearances. This is my first Christmas that in addition to the depression I'll be dealing with PTSD and it wasn't going well. The fact that my Mother emailed me this past Saturday and said that I seemed "fragile" was a clear indication that if I didn't do something soon I'd either be institutionalized or something far worse.

I think this is one of the first times that my Mom has caught wind of exactly how desperate my situation can be at times, which means I'm not holding it together well at all. So I decided to come home to rest and finish up in a supportive environment where people understand what I'm up against. I haven't disclosed anything to my current house mates and I doubt I will anytime soon given how intensely private I am.

I've managed to sleep better since coming back to my own room with my comfortable bed and surrounded by favourite things. It also meant I could take some pictures of a few of the other things I collect, like my tea cups. This is one of my favourite ones. It's a Royal Albert pattern called "April Showers". It is actually a cup and saucer that my mother received as a wedding present, but recently gifted to me. I had found the same pattern in a raspberry and yellow combination at an antique store a year or so ago and bought it. It was then that my mother presented me this one as a
gift. Buying antique tea cups and china was actually one of the first things that got me into antiquing and collecting many years ago, before I was even a teenager.

The Razors Edge

I feel like I've been near the razors edge for the last little while with my thesis work. I'm so close to finishing my Master's and truly starting my Ph.d, free from the constraints of an unfinished degree. However, after a progress meeting this past week with my advisory committee I feel like I've been pushed off the edge. My head advisor and I are having what can best be described as a personality conflict. I'm extremely concerned that she's going to block me from completing this degree before the start of the Winter term in January. I wish I was over reacting, but I'm not and this whole situation has created quite the emotional turmoil for me right now.

Snow Day

Winter arrived with a bang last week, dropping several inches of fluffy powder on my neighbourhood. Despite not wanting Winter to come yet, the Canadian in me got the best of the situation and it was quite nice to sit inside and watch the storm come through. The huge flakes were pretty, and everything finally felt Christmasy enough for December.

Akin to Drowning

They say that you shouldn’t jump in after a drowning person, that even the strongest swimmer could die while attempting to rescue that person. Drowning people pose a risk not just to themselves but also to the potential rescuer because in their panic it’s possible that they will pull you down with them.

Depression is a lot like drowning. Your pain and inability to “make” yourself happy can pull down the person you are in a relationship with. Their natural instincts are to jump in and save you, because they love you. Despite the fact that in most cases they really have no idea what to do, and are not qualified to help you on their own. After a while they become tired, frustrated, and confused when all their efforts produce very little results. They take it personally, like it is a personal failing on their part because they couldn’t “make” you happy.

If it were just a matter of sheer will power, as a person with clinical depression I would have made myself ecstatic a long time ago. I really don’t enjoy feeling suicidal for the better part of my day, or watching the person I love hurting because of me. At times I think obsessively over what it is that causes me to be this way and why I can’t be happy- do I even know what happy is?

After bearing witness to the slow and painful breakdown of my relationship with Mr. Intellectual due in large part to my depression, I find it difficult to form new relationships. I never want to go through something like that again and feeling responsible for bringing down another human being.

When I look into the future, I see myself alone. Through somewhat twisted logic I just don’t feel right asking someone to take me on, it just doesn’t seem fair. When I’m alone I can cope somewhat better. It’s easier to control my environment and I don’t have the external pressure of living up to expectations or of maintaining a relationship. Each and every relationship I try to sustain brings up this point again and again.

I really don’t have the answer on how to fix this, or what anyone should do. My solution of course, really isn’t a solution at all, but rather an avoidance of the problem all together.

Not Ready for Winter Yet!

From my brother's garden this past summer

Today was quite cold and snowy, and even though it's the beginning of December I'm just not ready to face up to another Canadian winter. In protest I went through my pictures from this past summer to remind me that winter doesn't last forever here, it just feels like it some days. You can't help but think of warm summer sun when looking at tiger lilies.

A Bad Night

He came home drunk and quarrelsome in the early hours of the morning, seething bitterness and malcontent. I was working late, my mind lethargic from a lack of sleep and slow to grasp the situation. Comprehension dawned on me too leisurely, but I quickly countered by retreated into myself as protection.

Words, sharp and barbed, penetrate yielding flesh and leave me reeling. I curl protectively around my vulnerabilities and set my mind free. It’s not enough, the damage is done and my thoughts crystallize on the hurt. I start to question what I’m doing and what I ever get out of this “relationship.” A heavy sadness descends to encompass me, and tears well up behind closed eyelids.

I hold back the feminine instinct to smooth things over, and apologize regardless of who is right or wrong. Instead I sign off and crawl defeated into bed, the covers pulled up tightly to my chin. I know it’s a desperate bid to forget what just happened, but to stay awake is to prolong the anguish.

"...because of, or in spite of."

This semester I've dealt with an unusual situation within the course I'm a graduate teaching assistant for. The long and short of it is that the sessional who is responsible for teaching the online course has essentially abandoned the course and his responsibilities towards the students. In light of this I've had to step up and take on more than my fair share of the work, considering I'm just a lowly Master's student and paid only to do the grunt work of marking assignments, midterms and the final exam.

I was called into a meeting with the chair of the department at my former University where I'm TAing the course to speak about the absent professor. After a discussion of the problem, in which I was told that this individual would essentially be blacklisted from teaching at my former institution for his lapse in duty and completely unprofessional behaviour, it was determined that I would be handling the course as best as I could on my own. I was already responding to emails, discussion board postings, requests for extensions due to medical or compassionate reasons and a host of other student related duties not officially on my work contract.

I took this on because of my students. My mother used to always have this phrase she would tell us while we were in public school and having a hard time with a teacher. I always found it to be annoying and immediately rolled my eyes when she'd tout the one out. She said that we learn because of, or in spite of certain teachers. This is an "in spite of" situation and I genuinely want to see my students learn and succeed regardless of the professor's falling down.

Over the last few day's as the course is winding down and students are gearing up for final exam's I have received a number of really touching emails from my kids, thanking me for all the work I've done for them and with them. Just when I'm reaching the end of my rope, and wondering why I'm doing all the work I am for a mere pittance compared to what they're paying this guy who's supposed to be the professor, these emails show up in my inbox. It's humbling and inspiring all at the same time, all while reminding me why I am here and doing what I'm doing.

I am here for day's like this.

Vanity Plates

I love vanity plates. I like the idea of personalizing something so impersonal as a car to reflect your style. It also makes long trips a little more fun trying to decipher some of the more complex license plates.

Back in high school I bought Mr. Intellectual vanity plates for his first car as a birthday present. It was a little hard to pick something like that for someone else since he had no concrete ideas of what he wanted as a vanity plate and I couldn’t straight out ask without giving away my gift idea. I eventually hit upon Catch 22, which was his favourite novel at the time, and still holds a special place in his heart as far as I know. It was a great surprise and I was actually impressed that it was still available for order and no one had snatched it up ages ago since it’s such a ubiquitous saying in society now. I still love that plate, and if given the chance would take it for my car in a heartbeat.

Catch 22 survived two cars in Mr. Intellectual’s life, however at last check it has been removed from the road. He got a new car a little over a year ago and the plates stayed with his last car, which his Dad drove around for a while. They have since been removed and are sitting in his room at home. For whatever reason’s he has chosen not to use them anymore. It's one of my favourite gifts that I ever gave him and it makes me a little sad to see them put away.

That being said, I was never able to come up with a vanity plate of my own that I was truly happy with as a personal reflection of my style. It wasn’t a pressing issue since I never had my own car and as such was an irrelevant concern, but it was fun to think about. I wanted a plate that reflects my passion for history, my love of education and my playful side. The idea of having “DR HISTRY” was one choice but seems a little pretentious and what happens if I don’t end up finishing my doctorate? My other plate idea was “19141918” for the years of WWI, 1914-1918, since that’s going to be my area of expertise once I’m done my education. Both are currently available as of this morning when I checked the MTO website, but I’m still unsure of having them permanently on my car.

As much as I like “DR HISTRY” I think I’ll leave it alone until I finish the doctorate and then re-evaluate my feelings on its level of pretentiousness. I think in the meantime I have hit upon a choice that I can be happy with indefinitely since it’s properly ambiguous. Recently I’ve been thinking of the Latin term “ex libris” quite a bit, which roughly translates into “from books.”

The only unfortunate part of this plate is that someone already has it, which isn’t surprising. If I want the plate I have to go for “EX LBRIS.” It’s tempting to grab it right now before it’s gone, however eventually Ontario will have to go to 9 character license plates, and when it does I can get the full ex libris since the space counts as one character.

The other thing holding me back is the price tag. At $239.35 it isn’t exactly cheap, but I do remember spending $500 on Mr. Intellectual’s plate since 8 character licenses had just come out and everyone was running to grab the vanity plates they had coveted but couldn’t quite get with only 6-7 characters. I was in high school and my overhead was almost non-existent which is far from the case these days so I’ll just have to shelve this idea until I start making more of a living wage.

The Office

I made an effort tonight to watch tv since I rarely watch anymore. I missed the show, The Office and wanted to see what was happening, not to mention I needed a laugh. I wasn't disappointed, but I did miss quite a bit since last season. It reminded me though, that I should have the DVD's on my Christmas list, including the British version since that was my first exposure to it, and still my favourite.

Dreaming of Spring

The Dying Days of NaBloPoMo

With a mere 3 days left of the NaBloPoMo challenge, I'd be remiss if I didn't say I was glad to see it ending. It has definitely been a challenge to get to the computer everyday and put something up. I found Friday's and Saturday's to be especially difficult since that's usually when I'm out with friends in the evening or over at the Jock's house.

In the beginning I laughed at the little vignette Mrs. Kennedy of Fussy, and the instigator of this whole endeavor, included within the instructions for NaBloPoMo. Something along the lines of posting every day, including taking time out of Thanksgiving dinner to update her "blob" and incuring the wrath of her mother for doing so. While I thought I'd never be the one doing that, I was sadly mistaken. Three times now I've snuck away in the middle of either a house party or a gathering of friends to find a computer and update my blog.

It's unfortunate that I wasn't aware of NaDruWriNi ahead of time, since that would have made things easier and a lot more entertaining. I always got my post's up before I got too drunk to make sense. Apparently, I was doing it all wrong. Interestingly enough this has spawned National Drunk Blogging Day.

I'm some what impressed with how long it took me before the burn out caught up and the post's became more filler and less meaningful. My one fear of the 30 day challenge is that as soon as it's over I'll take a huge break and go back to sporadic posting. I think a more realistic blogging goal is to aim for 3 to 5 good posts a week, and take the weekend off unless inspiration hits.

I seriously love the newest NaBloBoMo seal. It's so apropos.

Bump & Grind

In fall I purchased my first car- a 2000 Buick LeSabre in bronze, which is really a tan colour. I was sad to give up Betsy, my mother's sky blue 1989 Chevrolet Caprice Classic, since that was the first car I learned to drive in and spent the majority of my time on the road with. It was also a seriously pimping ride, as compared to the old man mobile I now own. However, the new car is more reliable, gas efficient and an all around nicer ride. It is a car I'm grateful to have.

This past Friday during the morning rush hour commute through town on my way out to the highway I had a minor fender bender. Some middle aged yuppie in a Jaguar rear ended me at a stop light. There's some minor paint transfer- his black on my tan - that isn't noticeable until you're told it's there. I was just annoyed that this happened in the first place because of his carelessness, however it was such a low speed impact no major repairs were needed and I'm hoping that I can buff out the paint transfer.

I take a certain amount of sick satisfaction in the fact that it was a Jag that caused the accident and he'll be paying more to fix his car than I would be. Had it been worse I would be quite upset over it all. As it stands I'm just thankful it wasn't any worse and no one was hurt.