Meeting Your Maker

Sometimes, after a night of rumble-tossing guts and nightmares, you wake up to a morning that couldn't have started any worse. And then worse sours into something you can't swallow but must but cannot but absolutely have to!

And then you almost crash on the way to work and you tell the other driver that's he's #1 in your book, but you're not entirely sure that it wasn't YOUR fault because in the moment you honestly couldn't have cared enough about crashing to try and avoid much less assess it in the dwindling aftermath.

And then you get to school and your back gives our and you run your shoulder into a locked door for no reason and you skip breakfast and you don't say "good morning" to the library staff like you usually and you pile awful on top of awful until you finally get to the place where people are required to leave you in peace.

And then you get back from a one-quick-second-and-I'll-be-right-back trip to the bathroom to find your iPad is missing. And you look everywhere. And then you look EVERYWHERE. And then you feel something like giving up only set on fire.

And then you punch-kick-chaos your way down to the front desk like a rabid tornado. And she's not going to believe you and YES you can describe it and she doesn't understand that your academic everythings are on that iPad and ok of course you'll wait and you KNOW she's just going to come back and say, "I'm sorry. We don't have it" because that's what the day had been.
But you wait anyway, brooding like a thunderhead, sapping the happiness and electric joy from the air around you, clenching your fists, unclenching, clenching again, weaponizing the blood and water in your veins.

And then they find it. And they give it to you. And you're going to be late for class but hats ok now because this. And then you say thank you too many and not enough times, depressurized with gratitude, future-shamed and guilty of what you might have done. And the security guard takes you aside and says:

"It's none of my business but you seem like a man who carries all of his problems at once. Maybe you should start carrying what you can. Believe me, the other troubles well be right there waiting for you once you're strong enough."

You say "thanks" again, but it means something different this time. And then it hits you - maybe you're the problem.

And you think about that for a while. And you take the long way to class so you can sup and get breakfast. And you smile and say hello because it's who you are. And you raise your hand in class even though you don't know the answer. Because not knowing is OK. And you get that now.

And you start your day again, this time carrying only what you can. And you get on with getting on. And you do just fine.

Sanctuary

There’s a peaceful almost humbling serenity about the Quiet Floor of the library, a citadel of nothingness perfumed with the dignified scent of aging yellowed paper.

There is a tyranny of silence here, thick as wool, at once indifferent and foreboding. Nothing makes a sound, save the lowly air exchanger and it is careful, pious, dutifully imperceptible. Even footfalls and rustling jacket seem muted, muffled, reverent.

It’s the only place I can think of on campus where people come in need of lacking. Less is more here, more is far too much, and none at all will do quite nicely if you please. None at all is what we’ll have and keep it coming, thank you.

Heads bowed, eyes open, fingers on keyboards make a chattering of mechanical teeth, a hundred ceremonies intersect and overlap, the cacophonous nothing of disparate unions.

Closing In

In many ways, I'm having a different experience than other graduating seniors. While many of them a scrounging for internships or fretting about resumes and interviews and their first fully for real and for true full time job, I'm very much looking forward to getting back to work. If I learned anything in the last two years, it's that work is where the money is. And while that might seem self-evident, it took me *checks calender* two years to be able to appreciate that.

Coming back to school, I imagined having my mind expanded and horizons broadened, driven to daily fits of intellectual ecstasy. Instead, it's just been a lot reading, a lot of writing, and a lot of spending.

The fact that I'm a primary source of income representing a necessary evil for an entire group of people who literally have better things to do than to lecture me on the 6th Amendment for 90 min and then read my hastily-written-the-night-before-or-morning-of paper about it - that hasn't been lost on me. In fact, there's hardly a professor who doesn't just about groan aloud at the thought of shepherding undergrads through a class they don't like toward a degree they'll likely never use.

And, sure, that's cynical. But it's also mostly true - at least, a version of the truth.

But I needed (ok "needed") the credentials if I ever hoped to get beyond the type of jobs I was getting. Though, all of them, honest and worthwhile ways to make a living, they mostly bored the #$@*& out of me. I wanted something more meaningful than a paycheck. I wanted a personally satisfying career. And, hey, if it happened to pay well, I wouldn't turn down the check.

Two years later and I'm on the verge of being one very big step closer to that goal. Along the way, I made some friends and learned a great many things about myself and what I might want to do when I grow up. It's an exciting place to be and I cannot wait to be finished. As interesting as this semester's classes are, I can already feel myself looking ahead, far ahead (but not so far ahead) to the day when I'll finally be doing something that I love.

Until then, a paycheck is fine to start. After two years of spending, I'm more than ready to get out into the real world and get my hands dirty again.

UGH, May! Hurry up! You're taking forever!

Getting On

About 5 hours of studying/writing in and I'm not even halfway done with my homework for this weekend. I was hoping to knock out most of it so as to have some playtime on Sunday but it looks like I'll have my nose in the books all weekend.  But *shrug* it's my last semester. 11 weeks from now, I'll have a diploma in my hand. I can go without beer and TV for 11 weeks. Right?

 Right, you guys!?!?!? *stretches collar*

The Talk

At the encouraging of a good friend, I wrote Fluerette King, director of the Rainbow Center here at UConn, to discuss what I had experienced over the course of several visits there. She responded promptly thanking me for the email and asked if we could meet.

Today, she and I spoke for 90 minutes on a great many issues, my email among them. Regarding the email, she advised me that, upon receiving it, she printed it out, and distributed it to her staff (with my name redacted). She then had a discussion with her staff about the letter, after which they broke into smaller groups to discuss possible policy changes. They've since made some revisions and are in the process of implementing them. She also made sure to discuss the letter with the students who regularly visit the Rainbow Center.

This woman does NOT mess around. I liked her instantly.

I was humbled by her candor and forthrightness, and greatly appreciated the lengths to which she went to take action. I assured her that I would visit again and look forward to my next opportunity to do so.

Pretty sure I made a new friend today.

Bluster

I nearly died getting to campus today - UConn decided that classes would be in session from 10 AM on. My first class which started at 10:10 AM had been cancelled. I've just received notice that my other class for the day has been cancelled, along with a meeting I had scheduled with my adviser.

There is no reason for me to be here now and given that the roads have only gotten worse since I've arrived, I might be stuck in the library for the night.

I'm not entirely sure that UConn considers commuters when deciding whether or not to stay open. It certainly doesn't seem that way

All About It

So. This happened.