Catching up on drafts: The first

First:

Woo-freaking-hoo!!!! I am done with this semester! The last semester of classes (for now, but maybe forever)! It just hit me walking back from dropping off some paperwork. I am SOOO happy!

Next:

Lots of people and websites do "best-of" lists or "a look back at the past year" this time of year, and usually these are fun, silly, and sometimes pointless. However, if you only look at one this year, you need to see The Big Picture's The Year 2008 in Photographs (click here for Part 1 of 3 to get started). This collection of 120 pictures (40 per installment) is an incredible look at the many, many different facets of this amazing world we live in. These photographs have a way of making the world feel so small, making the connections between all people so real and palpable. "Intimate" is an excellent word. So is "moving," "profound," and the ever popular hyphenated, one-word impostor: "don't-miss." So don't miss it!

Organized Living

I don't know why, but lately when I've seen something about "being an organized person," I feel a couple tiny hackles being raised inside me. I think organization is keen, I think organization is neat (pun intended), but I don't think organization is everything.

I don't think creativity can thrive in an organized world. Maybe for some people, but certainly not for me. The best ideas come from a jumbled up place inside. They are a brilliant flash uniting disparate threads of thought, coalescing in an unplanned instant.

I don't want to be an organized person. I wouldn't mind being able to find things when I need them, but I don't want to lose the spark that comes from the spontaneity and flexibility that comes from a little disorganization. I'd rather spend my time living my life than organizing it.

If you like pretty pictures

Check out Google's new archive of photographs from LIFE magazine. Pretty incredible stuff.

Also...

I am also very, very thankful that they finally caught Bri's killer. I am thankful for all of the people who put in thousands of hours of work, both the police and volunteers, and am thankful for the technology that made it possible to match his DNA. More than anything, I am thankful for the friend of his girlfriend who was suspicious enough to call in the tip to the police. I honestly cannot believe that they were able to find the man who terrorized our town within a year and before he struck again. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Time to Give Thanks

I am thankful:

For my wonderful friends, who I can always rely upon for anything.
For my amazing family, though I wish we could all live closer.
That both my husband and I have found a profession that we love, are good at, and can get paid to do.
For our good health and general happiness (seriously, quite, quite thankful).
That both of us have much more job security than most (kids will always need teachers, and we are in high-needs areas).
That our families are in good health.
That everyone in our lives is moving on a forward path towards what they really want.
For Nutella.
To have the opportunity to live in one of the best places in America.
Last, but certainly not least, my beloved husband, who is more than I could ever have asked for.

Chicago, Chicago

I thought I had no concept of Chicago. I thought it was merely a placeholder on the flat face of the Midwest; a blank metropolis in the middle of the generic "American-ness" that is the supposed heartland of this nation. It held no allure for me; I did not feel the tug of curiosity that impels the traveler to fill in the details of place along with name.

Or so I thought.

Even upon landing in the dark of winter evening, as the low houses flashed past the windows of the taxi, even then I could feel the city's essence. Hard working neighborhoods, staunchly neat and unpretentious, neither city nor suburb, gave way to huge, hulking shadows of scattered high rises looming over unseen streets.

Unbidden, fully-formed myths of Chicago sprung to my mind from the depths where they had been fed for years by poetry, songs, and stories I didn't remember digesting. In the pizza shop, I saw a tall man in an impeccable coat whose immense breadth immediately called to mind Sandburg's "City of the Big Shoulders":

HOG Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders

A small detail on a bridge reminded me that this was the home of the Prairie school of architecture, Frank Lloyd Wright and that gorgeous aesthetic I had loved in so many other places. And yet it seemed to be so at home here, in a way that I had not felt seeing the style elsewhere.

Everywhere, details sang out to me that this, this place I had never given a second thought was the home of poets, architects, writers who have inspired me and fed my artistic soul for years.

Chicago

HOG Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas lamps
luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it
is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to
kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the
faces of women and children I have seen the marks
of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who
sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer
and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing
so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on
job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the
little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning
as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with
white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young
man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has
never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse.
and under his ribs the heart of the people,
Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of
Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog
Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with
Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Carl Sandburg

Great minds!

Filler time

I have several drafts started for posts talking about this amazing election, but I also have a paper due tomorrow and have written exactly one paragraph. So I decided to post this adorable video of a little girl singing the CU fight song. They played it at a game recently on the jumbotron and it was pretty awesome to hear the whole stadium singing with her. She has a great future as a cheerleader (in the original sense of the word).

Trying to process it all

I started this post last week, and I've decided I just need to post it:

I have started a couple posts about my reaction to the election this week, but I find I can hardly put it into words yet.

I still feel as though I am in a dream and am operating in some kind of alternate reality. Did this really happen? Am I just imagining all of this?

I really felt as though the very foundation of my world had shifted on Tuesday night. No longer did the old paradigm hold.

It feels like a movie; I now realize I had this same disconnection from a sense of reality when watching the attacks on 9/11. I simply could not believe it was happening, in the realest sense of the phrase. However, that felt like some awful disaster movie. This feels like the best feel-good, hopeful movie ever. And more indie or based-on-a-true-story than the cheesy, unbelievable Disney movie Palin would have been.

I mean, being raised as a die-hard Democrat over the past twenty years, I truly have no idea what it is like as a conscious adult to agree with the people in government, let alone have helped elect them. I keep wondering if Republicans felt this way when Bush won, either time. Was there rejoicing in the streets? Did they celebrate then end of the "reign of terror" of Democrats? Or maybe in retrospect, one can see that extramarital affairs just are quite on the same level as destroying the world economy, shredding the Bill of Rights, entangling us in an extended war in an area of the world that already hated us, etc. etc.

To sum up my feelings about the last time we got a new president, please read this frighteningly accurate article from the Onion from Bush the Second's inauguration:

Bush: 'Our Long National Nightmare Of Peace And Prosperity Is Finally Over'

You can safely say that my feelings

Another first

Also...

This is the first time I've voted for a WINNING presidential candidate.

I am SO hopeful!!!!

A Day of Firsts

This is the first time I've really voted FOR a candidate, not just against one.

This is the first time I've understood what it means to run a positive campaign, not just a less-negative one.

This is the first time I've felt like a part of something bigger, something momentous, something historic.

This is the first time I feel hopeful, and the first time I understand what that feeling actually is.

This is the first time I've seen a politician actually act *presidential*.

This is the first time I have felt so, so proud to vote.

This is the first time I've felt like I've seen the potential future of this country and cried for joy.

The unseen eye

I had a weird experience today that is becoming more and more common. A girl I had never met before was waiting in the hallway with me to speak to a professor. She looked and me and said, "I think I've observed you in the clinic downstairs." Since undergraduates in the program need to have a certain number of observation hours (25 in all), and since they can watch our sessions in the clinic on the first floor, this is not unheard of.

The weirdest part of it all is realizing how very many people have likely watched me in sessions that may or may not have gone well, and knowing that they now have some impression of me as a clinician, as well as knowing that I might have shaped their view of the field in some way. Frightening, since I'm by now means an expert at what I am doing and and still learning so much every day.

Then again, maybe I'm not nearly as well known in reality as in my head, and perhaps it's only a few people who have observed me. Either way, it's nice to get to meet some of those people who you never even knew were behind that one-way mirror.

On having no time

I just have time for a quick note this morning before I set off on my typical twelve-hour day of meetings, clients and class.

I have been thinking a lot about the passage of time, how short life really is, and the way we spend our time. I think seeing my husband only for an early morning goodbye kiss when he leaves for work and a goodnight kiss when one of us comes home late at night while the other is still in bed might have something to do with it. On good days, we get to eat dinner together at 9 PM before we both retreat to our computers to finish our work for the night. I know this is a necessary time in our lives to get to where we want to be, but I don't love it.

Is my time best spent in endless meetings and three hour classes? What exactly is all this "work" I need to do everyday? What purpose is it all serving? Some of it is useful, either to me or to someone else, but some of it simply is not worth the time spent doing it. Not that I have a choice in the matter right now. And I will probably always have to do pointless work to some degree, but I hope I can do it more mindfully and balance out its utility and importance with the time I spend doing it.

It's a small, scary world.

You may have read about six-year-old Cole Puffinburger. He was kidnapped last week from his home in an awful, drug-related attack in Las Vegas. This all happened literally one street away from my brother-in-law's house and two streets from my mother- and father-in-law's house. As in, Google the street name (I found it on the Review-Journal's story) and their streets are in the same close-up screen. Add to this the fact that my mother-in-law teaches kindergarten and could have been Cole's teacher if he had lived on the other side of a street. And Cole's father was in the same graduating class from high school as Peter. These are, quite literally, the people my husband grew up with.

Thanks be to God, Yaweh, Gaia, Allah, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or whomever else you'd like to thank, Cole was found perfectly unharmed and is safe now. Sadly, I think he is in the minority for missing children. I seriously cannot believe that he is OK and that they found him so quickly (relatively speaking).

The most frightening part of this for me is that my in-laws want to leave. They already have a house in Michigan waiting for them. But the housing market in Vegas is so awful, they can't leave. They say it seems like everyone on their street is just waiting for their chance to put their house on the market. What if they can't leave in time? What if the neighborhood just keeps deteriorating and there is no option to leave? This scenario has played out in many other cities hundreds of times through history, no doubt, but that never makes it less frightening for those living it.

Do five people read this? Here's hoping!

The Invisible Hand

As someone who really does not understand economics, I can't elucidate the murky dealings that led us to our current state, but with each fresh collapse and merger of another major bank, the same image keeps popping into my head. I see a mansion built on shifting sand whose foundation has been eaten away and is now collapsing dramatically into the ocean. Unstoppable tides tear it down; the only thing that could have saved it was to have built the thing with caution and foresight in the beginning.

I feel as though all of this could have been foreseen. And it is all connected: housing loans, sub-prime mortgages, bank failures and now the collapsing stock market. Each built on the other, and when pieces of the foundation of our economy were washed away by the inevitable tides, the entire house began to disintegrate.

The question is: now what?

Joy and Sadness

Joy: I have found a wealth of incredible new blogs that fill my heart and mind with wonderful inspiration for adorable and practical projects.

Sadness: I do not have the time to complete such adorable projects, no matter how practical (or adorable) they might be.

I will share the love in case you might have the time. In the meantime, I will download some of the patterns, bookmark sites and add feeds to my Google Reader and put them away for a rainy day (or after graduation).

How About Orange with adorable and FREE patterns, ideas, downloads, links, etc. etc. etc.! Already, I am desperate to find some sweet fabric to make my own bag like this:


I mean, how awesome???

Other sweet sites (mostly found through the above blog):
Free easy sewing ideas and patterns (The Sewing Republic)
More Teh Awesome sewing lovelies (handmade kate)
FREE lovely gorgeous print ornaments (Briar Press)
Fun things that I don't know what to do with yet, but I like looking at (and FREE!) (A Print a Day)

And if you do nothing else, look at the tutorials on How About Orange. I can haz some free taime?

Beautiful, true video

Don't be scared of the ASL. It's gorgeous and eloquent (and mostly voiced by another poet). Great message. Incredible poem.

Update on life

Sorry the posts have not been very regular, or very good when they do appear (for those of you still reading). I'm hoping we will soon get over the initial bumps that are inevitable at the beginning of every semester (where am I supposed to be now? What should I be doing?).

I am taking five classes, plus I have four clinic assignments and an off-site clinic assignment (where I do therapy stuff with a non-school organization). AND working my three very part time jobs. Phew! But it's my last semester of classes (yay!) and I think I've had enough experience that I can handle it.

The husband is busy teaching at school, writing lesson plans, grading tests, preparing classes, and doing all that work that never gets counted in the estimation of how many hours teachers work. Granted, the first year of teaching is always the hardest (so I hear) because everything has to be made from scratch and there are no lessons to fall back on. HOWEVER. When people talk about how "overpaid" teachers are, I would like them to see my husband waking up at 5 AM to finish prepping for the day to get to school by 7 AM, where the kids come at 7:30, then teaching 5 sections (I think, maybe four?) back to back, to coach cross country after school (when he doesn't desperately need that time to make copies, set up labs, etc. He gets home about 8 PM, depending on what meetings, prep work and other obligations he has, eats dinner, then goes upstairs to work again until collapsing at 11 PM. Then he wakes up and does it all over again. Yeah, he's totally overpaid.

So that's the skinniest of the skinnies here. School, school, play, school, sleep. Eat, rinse, repeat.

Worth a watch