Half Sour Pickles.

Hi.

This is Abby and Katie. 

Who's Katie? You might be wondering. Or, which Katie. (Abby's note: I know a lot of Katie's, which is a good thing. In fact, Katie (the one pictured below) had me check how many were in my phone as of this post. There are 12. 10 of them I chat with regularly. True story. Katie says "not surprised"). 

THIS KATIE: 

This is us in high school. We were on a field trip at the St. Louis Science Center. Yep. We're still goofy. 

So, we've been hanging out in Connecticut all week :) Here is a photo chronicle of our trip. 

Our adventures began with a trip to Salem, Massachusetts on Thursday afternoon. It took us FOREVER to reach Salem, which should have been around a 2-hour drive, but there was lots of traffic. However, the upside, was that we found really cheap gas for Abby's car, on a much diverted route in a foiled attempt to avoid said traffic. Here are some pictures of Salem :) We went on a guided evening tour! 

Katie is fairly convinced we saw some supernatural activity. She just likes this picture ;) And hey, there's no  reason it should have colored streaks. It was dark outside! *cough* 

 

On Friday, Abby was supposed to have an outdoor concert, but due to the extreme heat it was cancelled, so we went shopping...more like an excursion in the air conditioning. We found some absolutely, amazing delicious coconut chips at Trader Joe's. The bag is almost gone, which is totally unfortunate. In fact, we're eating them now. 

...now the bag is gone. 

Anyway, then it did cool down, so we spent the evening at a nearby lake.

The next day we adventured to Niantic, CT. Niantic is home to a yearly celebration called 'Celebrate East Lyme," which featured fireworks in the evening. We're not sure what the festival was really about, but there was lots of street food, and to Katie's dismay, we did not see any ticks (get it...Lyme?...Lyme Disease?...). We went up early and explored a place called the Book Barn. It was seriously book heaven. The picture doesn't do it justice...it went on for multiple buildings. 

Oh look, here we are again! Waiting for fireworks! 

On Sunday, we went to Abby's favorite Sunday hangout: the Farmer's Market (mentioned in various other posts), and saw Monster's University. The two of us agree, Pixar has done it again! So cute. 

Anyway, these were our smoothies from the Market! Abby's was the green one (pineapple, mango, coconut and it turned green with added kale) Katie's was the tan one ("Almond Joy" almonds, bananas, coconut, and cacao)

On Monday, Abby went to work. BUT when she came home, we went to the Cedar Hill Cemetery in Hartford. It has a handful of famous people buried there, including Katharine Hepburn, J.P. Morgan, Samuel Colt and Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet. The Cemetery is expansive and had some beautiful headstones. This one was our favorite, mostly because it was somewhat very odd. 

It's the plot of Mark Howard, who was, according to our self-guided tour booklet, a "prominent figure in the insurance industry." Descriptive, right? 

Abby's been telling Katie to come visit her all year, and her wish came true! We spent copious amounts of time watching Season 2 of How I Met Your Mother, eating delicious things including homemade kale chips, pesto, gluten-free cheese and garlic biscuits (a delicious success!) and enjoying some good old Abby-Katie company. Or maybe it's Katie-Abby. 

Whatever. 

It was great!

Abby's New England Bucket List. Checked off Niantic and Salem!
(Why yes, those are Abby's bunny salt and pepper shakers hanging out on the list). There are many more adventures left -- and many adventures aren't on the list since they were completed before the list was compiled in June -- but there's another year left in New England to make it happen!

P.S. Wondering what "Half Sour Pickles" means? Us, too. Just kidding. We had dinner at a place that served "half sour pickles" which for some reason we found very amusing and fascinating. We'll let you look them up yourself. 

Summering in Storrs

Hi blog friends!

Here's a recap through pictures of what I've been up to!  All year I've said that New England doesn't feel like home...but after exploring so much of the area and getting to know the community where I live, I'm re-thinking that statement. Hmm..

3 weeks left of summer until Assistant Residence Hall Director life starts again. Here's to cramming in more adventures!

Visited Providence 3 times...and I will be there again this weekend. 

Went to Waterfire (also in Providence!)

This is a beautiful lake 2 miles from my home. 

 Rolled down a giant hill with my friend Pat. 

Spent 48 glorious hours in Illinois for my mom's birthday! 

 Also found this gem while I was there: 

 Spent a day adventuring in Boston, and found this awesome frog in Boston Commons. 

Spent a day in Newport, RI, touring the mansions. This a view from the famous Cliff Walk. 

Visited Fort Griswold, a revolutionary war site. Climbed the 134-foot memorial. 

Went on the USS Nautilus, the first US Submarine to reach the North Pole. 

And, made some homemade granola bars. Delicious! 

New England Summer!

I spent the first two weeks of "summer" (summer = anything post-semester) wondering why I'd decided to stick around New England. The majority of my close friends adventured to far away places for internship opportunities, or graduated and are moving for their jobs. My roommate moved, and I found myself wandering around the apartment not knowing what to do with my kitchen, now foreign without her kitchen appliances, or the empty bookshelves in our my hallway. Right before my roommate moved, I found out I'll be moving sometime in late July anyway, so now I have no incentive to re-decorate or fill those shelves...I'm not a fan of this in-between world that I seem to suddenly exist in.

Thankfully, work picks up this week. I've been working with the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, serving as an Academic Advisor for first-year and transfer students who come through orientation. Basically, I spend an hour of one-on-one time with each student and advise them on which classes to take in their major, which general education requirements and competencies they need to meet, and by the time we're finished meeting, the student is registered for their first semester! Coming out of a year in ResLife, my first few advising sessions felt like I was shorting a student, as I'm used to working with the same student on a fairly continuous basis. I attribute the awkwardness to knowing that their advising session was a "one and done" type of meeting; I already had one student who was, for lack of better terms, sad and confused that I wouldn't be his permanent advisor (I found that somewhat hilarious as I literally serve as a guide to walk students through the registration system and course catalog, but hey, he liked me, I guess).  So far, I like it, though!

To be clear, because I've already been asked to clarify a few times, I'm also continuing to work at the Asian American Cultural Center this summer (hurray!), and since I'm living in ResLife housing, I have some special projects that I'm working on this summer to cover my apartment/rent.

As anticipated, I LOVE HAVING EVENINGS FREE! It's been wonderful to have time to either take to myself or to spend with friends. I definitely needed a break from the evening work world, and it's nice to break from academics (though I keep finding myself reading more journal articles and books on my own...).

To illustrate my new-found appreciation for New England in the summer, here's a collection of pictures from the weekend, taken by my friend Allison Hopkins. You can find more of her beautiful photography here.

On Friday, I went to a Greek Festival in Hartford, on Saturday I went to the beach, and today I went to my favorite Farmer's Market, followed by kayaking.

 

Imperfection Takes Courage.

It does. This year, well, this year was about embracing all of it. 

As always, there is a sense of optimism and accomplishment that comes at this time of year. I’m proud of the academic work that I’ve produced this year, and I’m actually beginning to feel optimistic about next year. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, so in an effort to better explain, here goes: 

This year wore me out, to my core. I know graduate school is a "learning process" but it was at the expense of me. I couldn't find a single place where I could be myself. I fell into the oh-so familiar trap of assimilating. I told myself that it was the socialization process, though I knew, even then, that it was pretty much bullshit. 

In the Fall, the bright, shiny newness of graduate school wore off by October, as expected. But from there, it was a swift downward spiral into stress and frustration. I enjoyed my students and the coursework, but there were other obstacles within the program design and strategy that just didn’t jive with me as a person. I tried to advocate for myself (and for the most part I believe that I did what I could) but I kept running into the same walls. By April when I was still running into those walls, my resolve was so thin that I began to seriously reconsider what I was doing in Student Affairs.

For the third consecutive year, I fought with my health. From April/May 2012 until late October, I felt pretty great. Then I started the fighting the battle again, and it’s been so hit and miss. I’ve tried lots of new things this year and some days I remember remarking that this was the best I’d felt in years. Other days, it was the worst I’d felt in years. I think things are improving, but I’m ever-skeptical of what obstacle will pop up next.

At the end of the day, though, I have soldiered on, as always. I held my resolve (barely) and I managed to continue to have conviction about why I entered this field, and why I was choosing to stay in it. However, that particular resolve didn’t help when the “fit” factor just wasn’t there.

Luckily a few things did fall into place. I chose to work in the Asian American Cultural center (AsACC, pronounced “A-Sac”) as part of my coursework for practicum, which is basically a 3-credit internship. The people and students that I met were open and engaging, and they welcomed me for exactly just who I am. To say that AsACC is what I needed is a vast understatement.

In the past two weeks, I’ve put things in line in an intentional effort to try to improve my experience here. I designed and have been approved for an independent study as my elective in the fall relating to how students understand ethnic studies, I’ve decided to return to AsACC for my second practicum, I’ve been reassigned to a new area in my assistantship (this is a good thing!), and I just joined a community band for the summer that rehearses once a week.

This semester became about recognizing that I'd lost myself...for what felt like the millionth time...and trying, desperately, to make myself feel whole again. Part of putting myself back together was actually about making myself whole in ways that I had no idea that I’d ever not been. In the words of one of my professors, I “dug a little deeper." I’m ending on a high note, with optimism that the next year will be different in an encouraging and better way.

:) 

I'm not sure what this summer will bring; my roommate moved out today (booo. so sad), and I've been told that I'll be moving off campus prior to the start of the school year due to a housing crunch. That's a soapbox rant for another day. But somewhere in-between that, I've started my summer job (not enough experience to yet judge what I think of it), and a few friends are lined up to come visit! It's finally time to explore New England and start to appreciate the region of the country that I do live in. 

Made it. 

Halfway to my master's degree, and intent on finishing.

Finished with coursework for this semester... I feel like this:

(the second minion from the left-- that's the one I feel like, right when he starts singing at 8 seconds in. Look at that elation! Then, the end describes my semester perfectly. Glad it's over!)

Time to close some halls. Send the students home. Going to enjoy SPRING! 

You know what's fun about having a blog? When your friends who blog have birthdays, you can write posts about them!

You can find my friend Monica's blog HERE!

Her birthday is tomorrow (well, by all accounts it's already her birthday, since she lives across the ocean), so here goes a post!

Monica and I have been friends since we were five (we met in Kindergarten). We attended school together from Kindergarten through 12th grade! Magically, we're still super close friends and now that she lives in Wales, I dream about being able to go visit and I also dream about showing her all the things I love about New England. In fact, I think for both of us, this is the first time we've lived somewhere that we've never gotten to see where the other lives. Crazy.

That aside, technology is awesome and we catch each other on Skype and via text message. I'm a pretty horrible text-corresponder. I forget about my phone and see things people have sent me hours and sometimes days after the fact, and I'm almost never 100% engaged in a text conversation. In fact, when I went to text Monica to wish her a Happy Birthday, I discovered a text she sent me two days ago. Typical. With Monica living abroad, one of the hardest habits I've needed to break has been the instinct to pick up my phone and call her whenever. Today, I literally picked up my phone and got as far as looking at my "favorites" list, only to realize that she's not on it...this doesn't happen all the time, but it happens occasionally....and it makes me wish for our wonderful adventures, and more moments like this picture:

Yes, we're upside down. Yes, there is snow on the ground (it was March). No, it wasn't that cold. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MONICA! 

Secretly on Your Side...

This song has long been on the "I-just-need-to-remind-myself-that-I'm-going-to-make-it" playlist.

With my Assessment Presentation looming within the week, I thought it was time for a reminder. The end is in sight! 

 

Warm Weather Happiness!

My hands are probably going to be died greenish-blue for the next few days, but it was well worth the strangely discolored cuticles!

Why?

My students make my life.

Today, the Area Council that I advise (a student organization that programs and builds community in the residence halls) put on a great event which included a volleyball tournament, T-Shirts, and tie-dying [[tie-dying = why my hands are colored...]]

When this group formed in the Fall, we struggled for membership, to have effective meetings and to have attendance at events. Today, the group itself is over 20 members strong, and over 150 students stopped by to partake in the festivities.

I tried to find the words of my appreciation, or why today was meaningful, but I've been struggling. So I'll say one thing, and I'll let one of my students say the rest.

I wrote "when this group formed in the fall, we struggled..." Up until the last few weeks, I would have said "they struggled." But their causes and struggles became mine (in a good way), because we laughed together and stressed together. Sure, it's arguably unhealthy to take on some of that weight, but when you get invested in people, it's hard not to. As an advisor, I was the one who had signatory authority on purchase orders, or who had the authority to determine particular waivers or liability pieces...but past that, my "authority" was not authoritative at all; as an advisor, it was about letting them do their thing, and giving them space to learn, debrief, try again, succeed, fail, realize on their own something could be approached differently...As an advisor, I had to take on their cause because I was part of their development. Being me, it just so happened that it hit me on my heart. :)

Now that I've gushed, I'll leave you with this, written by the President of my Area Council. He asked me to forward the note below to the students mentioned since he doesn't have the complete list of participants:

"Hello everyone! I wanted to personally thank you on behalf of the Area Council and myself for all your help and hard work in making [event name redacted] a successful event. All of you are an integral part of not only Area Council but to our college experience. You are all leaders, mentors, but most importantly friends to all of us. We really value all that you do. I am really glad to have met so many of you and hope to meet all of you at some point. You have impacted my life in so many positve ways and I know that I will forever cherish the memories that I have made with many of you. To all the seniors I wish you the best of luck in all your future endeavors. You will be missed very much. To all the other RAs keep being great and I look forward to another great year with you. Thank you again for everything." 

RA= Resident Assistant 



Two words: Super. Proud.

"Maybe stories are just data with a soul"

I know, before you say it...too many videos and not enough writing. I might have brought this one upon myself, since when I posted Sarah Kay's TEDtalk I mentioned I have a few TEDtalks that I watch repeatedly....and so far quite a handful of people have requested to see more. So, here's another :)

For Bad Days..

Always a worthy watch when you've got a few moments :) 

Not Cryin' on Sundays.

Musical Musings.
Title from Macklemore & Ryan Lewis' song "Same Love"

As a grad student in education, I often feel displaced. I do not have a connection with the arts in my current role which feels strange, after years and hours of being connected. During my first semester, I naively thought that I wanted to be 100% invested in being a student in a field other than music. Higher Education and Student Affairs? Sign me up. All in. Yet, I realize that during my graduate school search, I found myself mindlessly clicking links on each school’s ensemble page. I guess even a year ago, contrary to what I said aloud, I wasn’t ready to be “finished” being a musician.

I never intended to so hastily put my oboe on a shelf in the closet, but in the end, when I moved into my new apartment, that’s exactly what I did. I thought about playing it. When the heat kicked on in the fall, I dutifully refilled the little humidifier in its case. Sometimes I even imagined it was lonely, but I consoled myself thinking “at least it’s got an English horn to be lonely with”…it sounds like I jest, but it is actually quite true.

Then, in late December, a gig came up with a jumbled quartet of student affairs musicians (oboe, bassoon, horn and cello). As I expected, playing was two things. The first: a feeling so familiar that it was comforting. The second, the familiarity of frustration: the frustration of not being able to produce the sound I knew I had once been able to, the frustration of spending money on reed supplies, the frustration of not having made a reed in months…and the list, of course, is endless.

In the past few years, I struggled to make music something that I did for just me. I was caught up in the competitiveness of college ensembles and the expectations that came along with them. I so desperately wanted music to feel rewarding…and when it finally did, in the late fall and spring of my senior year, I was beginning to make plans to move away from it.

When I picked up my instrument again, in my carpeted bedroom, on a reed that was probably too old to have been put back in its case to begin with (presumably from May), none of that mattered. I sounded horrible. So. What. The familiarity of it all encouraged me to keep practicing.

When I was sixteen, music had rescued me from an injury that changed my high school sports career, and I found that I actually had a certain proclivity towards it. All those years of private lessons where I never practiced seriously had been making a difference. It was the first time I felt like I was choosing something that had more meaning than scoring above a 143 in a diving meet, or winning another cheerleading jump contest (which I did do both, and proudly). It had a different type of meaning.

In college, I fought with music for all it was worth. The academic study was intriguing, and it helped that I grasped onto concepts fairly quickly. Playing my instrument was another story. I made myself crazy, and I plodded along. The moments where I knew I loved being a musician were limited to a handful of moments in concerts or elation in a practice room when something finally fell into place. I suspect this is totally normal in a developing musician's life, yet it was so draining.

When my grandmother passed away this January, for the first time in my adult life, I actually knew why I had chosen to be a musician. It began when I chose to play at her funeral. I picked something out that sounded like her, though I did not know it at the time. I was worried about picking something “funeral appropriate”. I consulted with my former oboe professor/mentor, and he recommended the piece that I’d already pulled out of my pile of music the night before. (The relief and affirmation from that conversation is probably another conversation all on it’s own about my, I don’t know, growth into a competent musician).

Before the funeral, the Rabbi asked me what I wanted him to say since he would be introducing me. I didn’t really know. I only articulated I wanted to be the last person to add anything and then I mumbled something like “this is just my way of saying something.”

 And it was.

I missed one note in the entire thing, which is probably the least amount of mistakes I’ve made in any musical performance in the past 10 years (granted, it was probably only a two minute long piece, if that). But still, let’s not lose track of the significance. I played well because I was the master of those moments, and I knew it.

I know it is an age-old cliché, but music speaks. In my college admissions essay, I wrote about music rescuing me from my ACL injury. I wrote “for a brief moment, I let the music surround me. It is almost as if it is something tangible, almost as if I could reach out and touch the sound – its timbre, its breath, and its vigor. For there is magic and adrenaline when the conductor lifts his baton…I believe in music. I believe in creating music and being a part of music. I believe that music is not just a lifestyle, but also a way of life…” I lost track of that conviction somewhere in the past four years, and rediscovered it, fleetingly, during the English horn solo in Dvorak 9 and an oboe studio recital last spring.

Recently, in class we were discussing a study that had been done on music majors in terms of identity and “fit” within larger student bodies, and something came up about the “language” that musicians speak. My class joked, but it made sense to me. It means something when you feel like a Chopin Nocturne, like the first movement of Sibelius’ Second Symphony, or the bassoon solo in Stravinsky's Rite of Spring.

It is little things, like why I feel in love with Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, a musician/rapper combo from Seattle. His music feels like a mix between spoken word poetry and ballad songs. Ballad songs, which we spent a few weeks picking apart in a History of American Music class—not coincidentally one of my favorite music classes to date (and where the previous Johnson & Larson article from the entry “Musical Metaphor” came from, as well). But more than that, his music has an authenticity to it. Maybe he’s a great performer. Maybe he’s an activist. It doesn’t matter, though, because it is all part of the picture of being an artist.
If you're not familiar with Macklemore, he's known in the mainstream now for his song Thrift Shop. I also suggest Same Love (highly recommended: talk about having a magical way with words) or My Oh My, or the entire album, The Heist).

It is why I took the time to read all of the open letters from the San Francisco Symphony musicians who are on strike. It is why Nicole Cash’s single paragraph about belonging is not just about fiscal transparency and a better contract, and why Nadia Tichman’s paragraph about the work never stopping and the process of landing a job in a major orchestra are not just about the unfortunate situation of the strike.
More info, if interested: http://www.musiciansofthesanfranciscosymphony.org/

It is about a livelihood, and expression. I think that is what the arts are supposed to be about. We choose to be artists or to relate to artists because something in us resonates with the practice or the performance, the personality or the person, the message or the thought-process.

I’ve always said that life is about sharing our stories. We are all we have. It is also about giving ourselves away. We are all we have to give. I suppose I give, in part, through music. I’ve missed it. I’d like to get into the habit of giving back.

"You will put the win in winsome..."

If you're not familiar with TED talks, check them out. I have a few favorite talks that I watch repeatedly. One of them is this:

Just an update. Nothin' special!

Some weeks, it feels like a victory to make it to the weekend; this week was no exception.

I met my parents for dinner Friday night since they were nearby helping my sister move, and my dad remarked, for the second time, "It's amazing that you have a full-time job during grad school." Now, hypothetically, I'm not supposed to, but when you add up the hours, I do. My assistantship takes care of tuition and room/board, so I feel like I can't complain. But sometimes I want to, because it's just so darn exhausting. Full time grad course-load, 20/hrs assistantship (in reality many, many more), 10/hrs practicum per week...plus homework...sigh.

I know it's worth it, and I know that the work I do is worth it..but the exhaustion is exhausting. 

Thank goodness Spring Break is less than 2 weeks away, and, though I work an "adult" schedule, I am lucky to be in an assistantship that allows me to take advantage of the student schedule. I'll be happily hanging out with family on the California Coast. Commence countdown to bliss!

A week ago, my week blended right into my weekend and kicked off into a full week with no breaks due to interviews for candidates interested in the program that I'm currently enrolled in, interviewing for a new staff of resident assistants, interviewing for learning community resident assistants and Asian Nite (the only non-interview component). Asian Nite is a cultural talent show put on through the Asian American Cultural Center.

My apartment-mate and I hosted two hopeful candidates for our grad program last weekend, and it was hard to ignore my 1-year ago thought process. I was concerned that I wouldn't get the opportunity to be in a grad program...and I not only ended up with choices, I ended up where I wanted to go. Looking back, that's a whole conversation in there about privilege.

So many of my cohort-mates were describing how surreal it was to be here, now, on the other side of the process: hosting candidates instead of being candidates, shuttling candidates to the airport instead of being shuttled, serving as the interviewer instead of the interviewee. As for me, I'm just relieved! There was a level of excitement and feeling like the world was waiting at my feet as offers for graduate school became real, but the process was grueling. I'm more than happy to put it behind me! Whew.

Maybe I'll be more articulate and descriptive next time, but for now, I'm off to attempt to put a dent in my reading for Law & Ethics class...

Musical Metaphor

"Our understanding is woven into the fabric of our experience. Our understanding is our way of being in and making sense of our experience." - Johnson & Larson

I came across this quote about a year ago, in an article called "The Way She Moves" written by two musicologists examining how musical metaphors shape our understanding of music. It seemed particularly pertinent to my entry entitled "Words and Worth."

When I (re)read articles like this, I seem to miss the musical world at an exponential rate...probably thoughts for a future post about musical identity, particularly within the context of my current lifestyle and graduate program. Hmm...

Here's a link to a .pdf file of the article. It's lengthy and you don't need to read it in order to appreciate the quote, but in case you're curious...just food for thought. 

The Way She Moves PDF

Happy Valentine's Day

I might have had one of the best Valentine's Day in years. I haven't done anything remotely remarkable the entire time that I was in college.

I didn't do anything particularly remarkable today either, sorry to disappoint, but I did just have a generally solid day.
Except I did spill salad dressing all over my bag today. Woops.

For starters, I received some fantastic mail. I suppose that's what happens when I don't check my mail daily (my mail isn't delivered very close to where I live, so I only check it every-other day at most). My mom sent me an awesome care package with more cake and conversation hearts than could possibly be healthy, and I also had a three (three!! so many!) packages from friends, filled with surprise CDs, and a DVD of a concert from WIU. I also was able to call the oboe studio during studio time, which was just general happiness. :) Aww, so much love!

Part of my mom's package. Deliciousness. 

I also spent the evening at a program with some of the residents in the building that I work with. The Hall Director team that I work with has an ongoing (monthly-ish) program that is a "cafe" of sorts. We bring in coffee, tea, and hot chocolate and discuss current events. The program looks different each month, so for example, we had a cafe program that focused on the presidential debate this past November. Since it was Valentine's Day, we created a campaign for why residents love living in the building, had fresh (coming out of the oven in real-time) cookies, and wrote letters to members of the US Armed Forces.  We actually had a great turnout, wonderful community, and company.

Here's a small sampling of the campaign. My area is "Alumni Quadrangle" hence the I  "heart" Alumni sign" that someone contributed. 

Also, here's something one of my students showed me today that actually made me laugh out loud. Worth looking at for a smile! http://www.buzzfeed.com/erinlarosa/10-brutally-honest-valentines-from-kids

Words and Worth

The purpose of this blog will certainly not be political, and I'm reticent to post anything vastly related. I suppose that's my disclaimer. It figures that my first substantial post begins with a thought about the State of the Union Address. Woops.

I wasn't able to listen/watch the State of the Union address live tonight because I was at my Area Council's weekly meeting (let me just mention what an awesome group of students that is!). When I arrived home at 10:20, I popped some popcorn, poured a glass of water, and sat down to read the transcript of Obama's address.

As always, I find his speeches incredibly articulate and if it's possible for a politician, heartfelt. Am I skeptical of the "buy-in factor?" Why, sure. But since I've read most of his recent public addresses as transcripts after-the-fact, I enjoy the way he writes. Of course, tonight there were ideas that I could get on board with, some where I queried "how the HECK are we going to do that?" as my inner skeptic snuck out in full form. Yet other times I found myself caught up in an inspirational tizzy that reminded me of the 2008 fervor of "YES WE CAN!"

...Silly. I recognize that. But what is it that drew me in?

Recently, I've been reading a dissertation by one of my professors that grew out of a curiosity conversation and has since turned into an assignment by a second professor.

I'll get back to the question I posed. Just follow me for a second longer.

It's a qualitative study about female honors students, but that's not why I'm telling you this. I'm making  note of it because it is written so eloquently. So. Eloquently. The words melt off of the page...I never imagined that I wouldn't be able to put down a 232-page piece of academic work. This dissertation tells the story about how we connect with one another and how we view our relationships; a story about what we can learn from each other and what can tear us apart. I've yet to reach the analysis and implications section, but when I do, I imagine it might be somewhat magical. Then again, some of the conclusions will probably remind me of what issues must be addressed, especially in my line of work. But I digress.

The point that I'm trying to make is it that in both Obama's speech and the dissertation I'm reading, the words reached out to me because I could relate. The ability to relate is compelling. Believing in our ideas, in who we are, is compelling. Conviction is compelling.

I spent the majority of my first semester as a graduate student doubting why I was in pursuing a masters degree. I'm not like the majority of my classmates; I have vastly different ideas whether they are small, like how to engage in a particular debate, or larger in the realm of ethical decisions. I learned incredibly quickly that I don't fit "the" mold for my chosen field. For a few months, I lost track of direction. I found myself wrapped up in my own confusion, wondering why my reasons for pursuing this field felt so different from my peers, and even my supervisors or professors. But of course, what I've remembered is that being different is not what matters. What matters is communicating my own ideas in a way that allows the people that I interact with to be able to relate to me. At the end of the day, I have a conviction for why I'm pursuing the work that I am. But, intimidated by my peers and work groups, I gave up on sharing myself, for fear of something perhaps trivial, but mostly that I did not know how to categorize or verbalize.

Our relationships often define who we are, sometimes just parts, or sometimes it feels like all of us, so what (or who) are we without the human connection? So often in my classes we discuss how to reach people. How to "meet people where they're at," and how best to support or challenge them. Sometimes both, sometimes neither.  I've been reminded that my words matter, and the words around me often matter even more.

While I'm not sure that I'm totally on board with all of Obama's closing remarks... In fact, you would probably find me hanging out in an inner tube beside the Obama-boat, but hey, at least I'm not stuck on that Carnival Cruise ship in the Gulf of Mexico right now, I loved when Obama said this:

"Our rights are wrapped up in the rights of others."

So are our feelings, and our thoughts. So are our relationships. And for me, so is the way that I create meaning.

A bit of WIU Happiness

Few things make me prouder than watching this project grow into a sustainable annual event.
See here!

Welcome!

For years, I've toyed around with the idea of starting a blog. Well, wait, there's already a caveat to that statement. Throughout high school and the majority of college, I kept a blog with a handful of friends-- it was a way to stay connected, have an audience for many rants, and to be heard when I had something to share. While I stopped blogging with that group for a variety of irrelevant reasons (mostly, I outgrew it), it began my interest in blogging to a larger audience.

I've missed the chance to share my thoughts, or to just post a link to an article or particularly funny video. Mostly, I want the world (or, more accurately, you) to share in the things that I find captivating, hysterical, or sometimes outrageous....And my less notable day-by-day life. 

Throughout the past few months, when I've chatted with people about starting a blog, everyone offered me pieces of advice. Some said "blog regularly so you'll actually do it!" and another said "pick a theme, that way more people will read it." Most people just warned me that I wouldn't have time. Well, audience, I have no plan for this blog. This blog, well, it's going to be about me. I have a feeling that it will include a variety of grad school musings, thoughts related to my current job, adventures with friends and family...and everything in-between.